Chapter 15: Way Back Home - Bing Crosby
POV: Hermione
Hermione shivered uncontrollably as the night wore on, the sweat matting her hair to her forehead actually beginning to freeze in the chilly late autumn air. Balancing carefully on her broom, she withdrew her wand and murmured a quick charm to shield herself from the bracing wind.
After nearly an hour of enduring the brutal pace that Jonathan was setting through the woods, even though she was reasonably sure that he wasn't going as fast as he could out of consideration for her, she had grudgingly resorted to flying by broom.
Jon was very diplomatic and kept silent as she pulled the broom from her bag and didn't comment as she struggled to mount the cursed device. She had never taken to flying and much preferred to apparate where she needed to go… she really needed to look into finding a way around the radiation issue that affected them when they tried to apparate.
Swallowing her anxiety and reassuring herself mentally that she would only slow him down by trying to keep pace slogging through the wilderness, she took off unsteadily and flew slowly over the treetops, the sedate speed she allowed herself in the air enough to match Jon's increase in speed on the ground.
Hermione gulped as the broom wobbled beneath her. This was hard enough to do on a good broom let alone the rickety cast off she rode. She started and nearly fell off as a splinter jabbed her in bum, her muffled cry thankfully inaudible to Jonathan trudging below.
Grumbling, she coasted above the General, still shivering despite her warming charm, while he forged a path through dense growth with remarkable alacrity. He moved as if an arrow, following the straight path left by the robotic butchers. She couldn't shake the feeling that they didn't bother hiding their tracks either because they were unconcerned of anyone following them or because they were counting on it.
They had made remarkable progress in the hours since they had parted ways from the refugees, enough that she didn't recognize exactly where they were. She could see the devastated city scape of Boston to their south, and if she wasn't mistaken, up ahead was the feeble glow rising from the settlement of Oberland Station.
She circled overhead lazily as Jonathan seemed to have slowed for some reason, she could see him crouching through a break in the canopy and lowered herself to the ground, curious as to what he had found. She stumbled a little coming off her broom, muttering to herself as she tried in vain to lend some grace to her landing. Thankfully, his attention was fully on whatever he had found, as he merely grunted when she moved to stand by his shoulder.
"What is it…oh." She began, her eyes widening as she saw what had captured his attention.
It had been a small campsite, two or maybe three people having stopped here for the night. Now it was an abattoir, strips of bloody flesh strewn about the small clearing as if a whirlwind of razors had swept through and flensed the tissue right off the people's bones. She hugged herself and held back from gagging at the powerful coppery stink smell of blood that pervaded the clearing.
"Three people, looks like they were heading for Oberland, maybe in response to their radio beacon."
"How do you know they weren't traders?" Hermione asked, careful to keep her eyes off the numerous signs of their violent deaths.
"No significant amount of goods, no brahmin. It was just them and what they had on their backs." He held up a pipe pistol and inspected it carefully, even going so far as to smell it.
"It hadn't been fired. They were killed before they could even put up a fight. We might have heard it otherwise… this happened fairly recently."
"How recent? Are we closing the distance?" she asked, nervous anticipation sending tremors along her limbs.
He stood up and wrapped an arm around her, perhaps mistaking the source of her shivers, "The blood is still dripping. The bones still have residual heat. Thankfully, the tracks from here don't lead to Oberland… though that may be a sign that the ones who did this recognize that this settlement won't be as easy to take as the Slog was."
It was no small wonder, Oberland station was fully under Minuteman protection. As it was on the fringe of Minuteman protected territory, it still had an active garrison in addition to its own militia. Nearly a dozen turrets kept careful watch all along its perimeter. Though no one from Salem had come to help put up walls yet, the settlers had constructed an ugly yet sturdy fence of junk that enclosed their settlement all the way to the small coastline to the west.
"Are you ok? I think we can catch them tonight if we hurry."
Hermione nodded, "I am. Let's stop the bloody tossers."
He raised an eyebrow at her vehemence, as Hermione was not one to swear often. Though he tried to restrain himself, he felt his mouth twitch into a small smile at the fierceness of her countenance.
She blushed a little but steeled herself nonetheless, she was more than ready to mete out justice.
POV: Daphne
"First things, first. I'll take that transmitter off your hands." Danse announced, once they had left the chaos of the facility behind them.
Daphne handed it over carefully, the delicate looking device looking small in his massive armored fist. She glanced around the outside, pulling her jacket tighter around her frame as Danse continued to talk, his words muffled somewhat by her inattention. Her thoughts drifted to Harry, wondering if he had made it to the police station yet.
Daphne shook off the thought and looked back toward Danse, who was holding out his laser rifle with a pensive look on his face.
"Sorry, my mind wandered for a moment there." Daphne blushed. She took the offered weapon with a grateful nod, but held the heavy weapon gingerly, as if unsure what she was supposed to do with it.
She noted the aggrieved look on his face and apologized again, "I'm worried about my comrades moving through Cambridge. I'm hoping that they will have reached the police station by now."
Danse nodded in understanding, "A good soldier always keeps his… or her, mind on the mission. A great soldier manages to do that and their teammates as well."
"I don't know about being much of a soldier." Daphne laughed.
"I disagree. Though your talents are… unusual, you wield the tools of your craft well and even more importantly, you kept a cool head in very troubling circumstances. Which is why I feel confident that you could find a place among the Brotherhood of Steel."
Daphne choked, not sure if she had heard him correctly, "Are you asking me to join?"
He nodded, "Affirmative. You would be a real asset to the Brotherhood. And on the plus side, you will always have people backing you that are willing to give their lives for you."
'I already have that.' Daphne thought to herself, thinking of Harry and the others. She didn't want to downplay the singular honor he had paid her though, for no one had ever spoken so openly of her worth like this except for Harry. She could admit, quietly, that there was some small part of her that was appreciative and intrigued by the invitation. But her first and main loyalty was to Harry and the others at Salem.
"That's quite an offer. I… could I have some time to think it over?"
"Of course." Danse replied, "It's a big commitment and not entered into lightly. There would be no more mercenary work, you'd be part of an army, and a big part of that is following orders. I can understand your hesitation, but I can tell you… it's worth it."
Danse then gave her the radio frequency to contact them anytime she wished, with the assurance that she would always be welcome at the police station. Seeing that there was no more to say, for the time being anyway, they began the journey back to Cambridge, the lamps built into his armor stabbing into the deepening night like twin lances.
POV: Harry
Harry let the door slam behind him, not caring if the others thought it juvenile or not. That so called 'Knight' was lucky that Harry was much better at controlling his temper (and his magic) than he was as a younger man, or else he might be experiencing life as a lighter than air balloon floating away over the Commonwealth.
His ill-temper evaporated instantly as a beautiful blonde with alighted softly from her broom in the courtyard and hurled herself into his waiting arms.
The scent of her hair made him feel a little faint, as did the comforting warmth of her in his arms. He turned his head and met her lips with his own, his glasses fogging with the heat of their passion.
She broke off contact long enough to catch her breath but held on, her chin resting on his shoulder.
"It's so good to see you. I feel like it's been forever instead of a few days."
Harry nodded in agreement and sighed, as if expelling all the negativity of the last hour. "You should come inside… there are some people I'd like you to meet."
Harry grinned at the way her face brightened, the thought of meeting other magicals, not to mention Morgan Le Fay herself, was an intoxicating feeling.
Ignoring the scowling Knight as he led her inside, he moved to the back left area of the police station where the others had set up for their temporary rest. A tiny wrought iron carriage rested on a dusty desk, the mechanical horses neighing impatiently despite being only an inch tall. Next to it, a large trunk rested with hand and footprints impressed on the dust immediately in front of it. Harry opened the trunk and held out his arms magnanimously, grinning widely at the glee in Daphne's face.
That delight would only grow as she gawked at the menagerie, the creatures within cavorting freely within their respective environments while watched over by the irascible pukwdugies. The diminutive caretakers ignored her arrival for the most part, though one deigned to look up and scowl at her proximity to his charges.
The woman gliding over to them looked as though she had just stepped from an illustrated history book, her pale skin was flawless and her eyes speared her in their hypnotic gaze. Her dress was a black diaphanous material that flowed around her like the wispy suggestion of clouds at midnight. Daphne felt uncomfortably inadequate next to this sublime creature, that she was a witch of considerable renown and notoriety only made that gravitas overwhelming. Daphne clutched harry tighter, feeling as though she was going to fall into the black hole of Morgan Le Fey's presence to be lost forever.
"Ms. Greengrass I presume? Harry has spoken of you to me. You are even lovelier than he suggested."
Daphne forced a swallow and attempted to force words past her suddenly dry throat. Sensing her discomfort, Morgan sat and smiled at her reassuringly.
"Try not to be nervous, my dear. I don't quite live up to the legends surrounding me. In fact, I spent the majority of my life on the run from the Ministry of Magic and the American Congress. I can't tell you the number of times I made myself at home in some damp cave or in the boughs of a tree. Plus, magic has advanced quite a bit since my time, I'm sure there are a great many things you could teach me."
"Teach you?" Daphne gasped, her mind not quite willing to work through the logic of her statement.
"It would be an honor. And a singular pleasure to be in the company of fellow witches and wizards that aren't trying to capture or kill me."
Daphne actually felt some of her anxiety melt away at the woman's reassurances. She smiled at sat with her, and within moments was engaged in a very stimulating conversation about her education at Hogwarts. Morgan seemed genuinely enthralled by the experience of 'modern' witches attending a learning institution specifically geared for them.
POV: Harry
Harry left them to their conversation and ascended the spiraling staircase that led to the entrance to the pocket dimension. He was intent on meeting with this 'Paladin Danse' to get his measure and diplomatically thank him for allowing them to take a break within his temporary headquarters.
His timing was perfect, as the impressively girded Paladin entered the police headquarters just as he climbed from the trunk.
"Congratulations sir!" The sour knight exclaimed, surprising Harry with his display of positive emotion. His attitude toward Danse went up several notches though when the Paladin made it clear that he could not have completed the mission without Daphne's help. Harry felt a twinge of jealousy at the obvious respect in his tone as he spoke of her accomplishments, but it was buried beneath the surge of pride he felt for his girl.
Harry waited quietly while Danse received a report from the Knight and Scribe. He stepped forward when they mentioned his party's arrival, his hand extended in friendly greeting.
For his part, the paladin quickly recovered from any shock at his sudden appearance and took his hand carefully in his own armored grip. He pumped Harry's hand once and released, stepping back with a thoughtful look, as if appraising Harry in some way.
"You are Harry Potter, I assume?"
"In the flesh." Harry grinned, "Good to meet you. Thank you for extending your hospitality. It's good to stop for a bit and take stock in a safe place."
"It's the least we could do after the aid Ms. Greengrass gave us."
Harry ignored the exceedingly loud eye roll from the Knight.
"I'll be happy when you folks get on your way." He said tersely.
"That's enough." Danse barked, his considerable eyebrows drawn down like storm clouds over his eyes. "Attend to your duties."
"Yes sir!" Both Brotherhood members affirmed, coming sharply to attention and tapping a fist over their chest in salute.
"I apologize for his disrespect. Knight Rhys is a loyal soldier, but he tends to view anyone not of the Brotherhood with an overt and hostile suspicion. We've lost over half our squad and that has put a lot of strain on him."
"No apologies are necessary. His protective instincts does your team credit."
Danse smiled at the diplomatic answer, "And your friend Daphne's willingness to aid us is a credit to yours."
Danse stalked a short distance away and handed the pretty young woman a strange looking device. They exchanged a few quiet words before she moved off with a determined look and he returned.
"Was that the device Daphne helped you retrieve?" Harry asked.
"It is. A deep range transmitter. It will enable us to contact our headquarters and report on our situation." The Paladin replied, though something in his tone made Harry think that he was unwilling to share more.
"Let me ask you something, Mr. Potter."
At Harry's nod, the man continued, "I have to admit to a great deal of curiosity concerning your people. I assume that like Ms. Greengrass, you are also one of these… magicals?"
Like Danse, Harry was reticent to give out too much information about his people, especially to an obviously military organization, but he satisfied the man's curiosity by telling him a little of the wizarding world.
"That's… fascinating. Though somehow that word doesn't seem to do your report justice."
'Report?' Harry thought.
"Forgive me, I am not used to addressing civilians outside of an official role. And though I've seen what Ms. Greengrass could do with my own eyes, I feel somewhat at a loss to describe it when I make my after action report."
Harry felt a brief burst of alarm, of course the man would have to report the encounter to his superiors… Harry briefly toyed with the notion of obliviating the man, but he was not as precise with it as Hermione was. And Morgan Le Fay certainly couldn't do it, given how Tacitus acted, she would likely turn Danse into a vegetable.
Harry heard a sharp intake of breath from the towering Paladin, the man's gaze locked onto something behind Harry. He turned as saw Morgan gliding to join them, a demure smile seemingly meant for the tall man himself.
Danse coughed emphatically, making it obvious to all concerned that the man had forgotten to breathe for several moments.
"I thought I recognized the voice." Morgan purred, her hands stroking the breastplate of Danse's power armor. "It's been a long time, Lancelot."
Confusion warped the man's face at being addressed thus, "My name is Danse. A Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel."
"Of course you are." Morgan breathed, her face mere inches from Danse's. The man gulped audibly at the beautiful witch hovering in front of him, his face going even paler as she traced his jaw with a single immaculate finger.
"So very long." Morgan breathed again, smiling in amusement at his consternation.
"Hrrumph." Harry coughed loudly, attempting to break the enchantment Morgan was unintentionally(?) weaving over the poor man.
She settled back onto the floor, and allowed the Paladin to retrieve some measure of his composure.
"A pleasure to meet you, Ma'am." He stated flatly, attempting to modify his tone so that it was clear that it was indeed not a pleasure.
"In any case, I'm pleased that my Daphne was able to help you." Harry stated, only somewhat emphasizing the 'my' part.
Danse swallowed visibily and tore his eyes from the witch, returning his focus to Harry, the look on his face torn between relief at the interruption Harry provided and regret that he had.
Ignoring the heavy glower from Knight Rhys, Harry motioned to Daphne, who had just joined them, and Morgan, "Well, we've mucked things up enough for you. We'll be on our way now. Salem would welcome you if you ever have the occasion to be up our way."
Clearly taken aback at the offer of hospitatily, Danse merely nodded in reply, though a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.
Harry went back and retrieved the trunk, lifting it easily with his magic and directing it to follow him out the door. Morgan and Daphne followed behind him in silence until they were well away from the imposing edifice.
"That was interesting." Harry murmured, including both Morgan and Daphne in his questioning gaze.
For her part, Daphne looked a little flustered, "I did what I think you would have done in my place." Daphne stated, a little defensively.
Harry opened his mouth to reply but Morgan cut him off, "And it certainly didn't hurt things that 'Danse' is easy on the eyes."
Daphne blushed and sputtered, her eyes wide at the scandalous implication.
"Calm yourself, Ms. Greengrass, it was a jest. Though he is as handsome as I remember."
"What do you mean? You've met Danse before?" Daphne asked.
"Not when he went by that name." Morgan replied cryptically before removing the tiny carriage from… somewhere and coaxing it to resume its previous size.
"Do I do that?" Daphne whispered to Harry.
"Do what?"
"Talk so infuriatingly oblique? My grandmother did the same thing and I had always assumed it was a witch thing and that I'd start doing it before reaching my dotage."
"Not that I'm aware of. Hopefully you hold off on doing it when I'm too old to know what you're saying in any case."
Harry laughed as she playfully slapped his arm, though she was pleased to her core at how he accepted as fact that they'd be together long enough for that to be a concern.
"Speaking of which, I found your birthday present. I'll just wait for a more auspicious place to present it to you than the filthy streets of a ghoul infested burrough."
Her curiosity piqued, she pressed him for clues, though it appeared Harry had kept his ability to keep a secret from his adventures at Hogwarts.
POV: Hermione
"Die!" He screamed with a bellicose roar, a curse that would have turned her blood cold had it not been fired by the same need for justice that drove her.
They had rushed the final few yards to the attackers, meeting them beneath an ancient overpass which seemed to form a convenient border with the Glowing Sea. The 'creatures' had slowed their pace, as if waiting for them to catch up. And when they turned, there was no surprise writ on their faces… if that all too human emotion was even possible for these abominations.
Four of them formed a guard of sorts for the fifth, a nightmarish amalgamation of man and machine. A largely naked… and aroused human torso was strapped into a robotic frame, the stumps of his arms and legs directly linking him to the monstrous engine. The others were little better, being smaller versions of their ward except that only their faces hinted that they had ever been human. It was disconcerting that the faces morphed between hatred and abject sorrow, their features exaggerating the emotions as if it was the only means by which these creatures had to express their torment.
Drool slipped from the central figures meaty lips as he leered at Hermione.
"The master has told me of your coming. He knew that you would answer this challenge."
"Who? Who is your master?" Hermione screamed, her voice giving substance to her revulsion and defiance.
"You will know him soon enough. For now, we do what we must." The words were difficult for him, as if the biology of his throat and vocal cords were compromised by his transformation. With that as his preamble, he launched himself at Jonathan, who wasted no time firing at the fleshy portion of his form.
The others came forward as well in a macabre pantomime of his movements, their cruel claws extended before them to rip and tear at their flesh. Hermione grimaced as she thrust her wand forward and stole their momentum with a wave of stunning energy.
Taking advantage of the lull in their assault, Jonathan pressed forward and grasped the leader by his throat and crotch, grunting with the effort as he lifted the heavy creature up off the ground.
The man actually laughed as he was lifted, even as he fought to bring his own wicked implements to bear on his opponent. Jonathan suffered a few scratched but achieved his aim, pushing the robot-man directly above him and pulling him down forcefully on his bent knee.
Metal crunched as it met the armored joint of Jonathan's knee, the man bending unnaturally and sparks flying from the obviously damaged mechanism of his body.
Throwing him with disgust, Jonathan stood up and retrieved his rifle, though he turned just in time to witness the man regaining his feet and straightening his damaged spine with a screech of tortured metal.
"My turn." He gurgled, the words coming out like thick liquid vomit. His arm suddenly extended to twice its length and his claws rake the air right in front of Jonathan. The general twisted out of the way with supernatural speed but was a moment too slow as his other limb came sweeping in with a scythe like blade.
It stuck fast in his chest armor, though she could tell that the blade had cut far enough to lacerate flesh from the angle of the black metal and the sharp hissing intake of breath from Jonathan. The creature tugged on its blade but found it stuck fast, looking up with something approaching panic as Jonathan jammed his sidearm into its neck and pulled the trigger several times.
"Your turn to die!" Jonathan snarled, his bullets making carving the creature's throat into ruin. He shifted his aim upward, so that the last few rounds blew out and up though the abomination's head, blackened flesh erupting from the back of the disintegrating skull.
With an impetuous shove, Jonathan hurled the creature off of him, his face twisted into an expression of disgust.
Almost absentmindedly, Hermione sent a bead of expanding force at each of the four robotic minions, crushing them and hurling their limp bodies away. They landed in a heap of twisted metal, sparks flying in a shower of illumination as they writhed feebly in their death throes.
She turned to Jonathan at his pained grunt, her eyes widening in concern as he pulled the scythe blade from his chest armor and dark blood poured in a ghastly waterfall from the rent chest piece. She rushed to him as he groaned again and collapsed to his knees, his face going pale from the blood loss.
She forced him onto his back with trembling hands, his failing body offering not even the slightest resistance to her paltry strength. This concerned her more than anything, as even at his weakest, he was many times stronger than any other man she had ever known.
Biting off the cork from a small tincture, she let fall the last few precious drops from her vial of essence of dittany. To her relief, the bleeding slowed then stopped entirely, new skin appearing as she used a finger to wipe away the old blood. She fell back with a relieved sigh as Jonathan coughed.
"Thank you, my love. That was worryingly painful." Jonathan murmured, not even attempting to get up as he would have in the past. His eyes closed and it appeared to her that he had fallen asleep.
She reached for his hand and took comfort from its warmth, and the strong steady beat of his pulse beneath her questing fingers.
An eruption of wet gargling screams shook her from her reverie with the cold fingers of dread. She looked over at the monster's body and recoiled at the fountain of blood which sprayed from a rupture that appeared in his chest. The blood was thick and black, like old motor oil, and smelled even worse, sloshing and pattering on the ground all around the horribly mangled machine-man.
A black mist rose from its mouth as the blood spatters lost their vigor, reduced to a trickle that ran down the creature's sides. Hermione grasped both her wand and Jonathan's hand all the tighter as the wraith coalesced above the ruined flesh, forming a vaguely man like shape bedecked in flowing black robes.
The creature chuckled, its voice echoing within its cowl and sounding as though it came from far away.
"Well done to both of you! I wondered how well you would do against my former lieutenant! And I must say, you did even better than I imagined! Even that muggle friend of yours did better than I had thought."
"Who are you?" Hermione asked through gritted teeth, her wand aiming at the creature with clear menace burning in her eyes.
"Oh how rude of me! One should always remember their manners! I am Jeremiah. You are Hermione Granger and that muggle there is Jonathan."
Hermione took the opportunity to stand, keeping her wand pointed at the black apparition. It was just a sending, she realized, and that anything she did to it wouldn't affect the dark wizard in the slightest.
"I've been trying to get in touch with you for some time now! I would like to offer you and your people a place at my side! We magicals need to stick together, yes?"
"You want us to join you?!" Hermione cried, incredulous. "You are a murderer! I've read what you did to the original inhabitants of Salem!"
"They lacked vision." Jeremiah interrupted, his voice suddenly cold and menacing. He sighed dramatically. "You aren't really open to the idea right now, are you?"
"Never! You ordered the attack on the Slog, you are behind the Rust Devils attacks on innocent people throughout the Commonwealth! How could you believe we'd ever join you?!"
"It was worth the attempt. Just remember… I tried to do this the courteous way. I lament my lack of patience. I'm afraid we're just going to have to do this the hard way. I don't take no for an answer. "
The wraith dissolves almost instantly, whisked away by ethereal winds. An odd silence pervaded the area and made the hair stand along the back of her neck. She scanned the horizon but saw no threat, but could not allay the fear that something was horribly amiss.
She moved to crouch down at Jonathan's side when she froze, her eyes having glanced over the bloody ruin of Jeremiah's 'lieutenant'. Her heart quickened in her chest as she made out the pattern on the baked asphalt, the blood spread out in a way to form an ancient and dark rune. She had just enough time to shield herself when an explosion of inky black tendrils erupted from the air above the pattern, and 3 forms stepped from it, the hoods of their dark robes thrown back to reveal sneering faces.
They were so young! She gasped to herself, horrified by the twisted evil on the faces of people who could not have been long from their awkward teen phase. The central witch would have been a beauty were it not for the cruelty twisting her face into a foul mask of humanity. Her hair was long and shaved at the sides, and her robes were worn over gunmetal gray combat armor etched with the Rust Devil's symbol on her breastplace, a stylized mechanical skull with spear like blades spread behind it like a fan.
The apparent leader sneered at Hermione, "Too bad Potter isn't here. I would have relished the chance to pay him back. Guess I'll just have to take it out on you!"
It felt to Hermione as if she were watching some light show, bereft of sound or feeling, just flashes of light that danced at the edges of her vision. She was strangely dispassionate, like an uninterested observer instead of a participant. Harry told her about it, that sometimes the mind does things to protect itself from the chaos and horror unfolding around them.
Block, shoot, move. Duck, renew, shoot, shoot, shoot. It started to take on a life of its own. Her limbs and lips moving as if purely on instinct and her active consciousness was just along for the ride. She looked upon the frustration clearly writ on the faces of the trio that faced her and that reminder of their humanity brought reality slamming back into focus.
The shouts, the crackling energy coruscating all around them, the tinkling of shields as they absorbed bolts of power. Despite her extraordinary performance, she was tiring, her arm felt as though it was made of lead. She had been shielded for a time from that all too mortal feeling of exhaustion, but adrenaline could only do so much.
As if sensing that their triumph was close at hand, the trio stepped up their attacks, leaving Hermione unable to counter as she did all she could merely to defend herself from their assault.
Suddenly, the wizard to her right let loose a broken scream of pure agony, his youth betrayed by the almost childlike shriek that broke from his lips. A dark shadow rose from behind him and pulled the serrated knife from his back. The young wizard crumpled and continued to wail in agony, his limbs stiffening as his bodies trembled from the unimaginable pain.
Distracted from the ongoing battle with the tired witch, the others froze in shock at the sight of Jonathan rising as if a spectre, blood dripping from his blade.
"Kill the fucking muggle!" The dark witch screamed. Turning back to Hermione and renewing her attack.
Hermione barely managed to suppress her grin… this witch was nowhere near as good as she believed herself to be and alone, she was almost no threat at all.
In moments, the angry woman's wand was sent sailing through the air and Hermione blasted her in the midsection with a focused stream of lightning. It speared through a gap in her armor while tendrils of white hot energy danced and arced along her limbs, gleefully spreading along the metal the witch had foolishly girded herself with.
The wizard facing Jonathan conjured a stream of fire against the advancing super soldier, though the jet of flame was paltry and sputtering, as if reflecting the unease of the wizard wielding it. Jonathan ignored the licking flames even as it erased his right eyebrow or blacked the skin along his hands. With a sudden lurch, the soldier grasped the man's extended arm and whipped him around, a loud pop echoing off the overpass as his shoulder became dislocated. The wizard barely had the time to inhale for a scream before he was pulled into Jonathan's less than tender embrace. His cries were choked off with an abruptness that was frightening in its finality as the soldier tightened his arm around the wizard's neck.
With a grunt of effort, Jonathan wrenched his arm violently, nearly tearing the young wizard's head from his shoulders.
The witch drew in a haggard breath as Hermione stood over her, the defeat in her eyes a palpable thing. Hermione wondered as the witch cocked her head up and to the side, as if listening for some distant signal. She sagged as if relieved, Hermione taking a step back in surprise at the relief painted clearly on the woman's face. A black cloud erupted behind her and pulled her into its embrace. It twisted in midair and vaulted up into the sky, leaving a confused and tired Hermione to gaze up after it.
POV: Jeremiah
The chamber echoed with his laughter as he stepped away from the settler's corpse, the man's purpose as a temporary scrying pool fulfilled. His abdomen had been hollowed out and the empty space filled with blood and oil, giving him the pool he needed, the magic fueled by the man's departing life force.
He wiped an errant tear from his eye as he regarded his daughter, his magic having deposited her on the metal stairs leading into their latest conquest.
"She is quite beautiful isn't she? Ms. Granger."
Ivey squeaked an agreement, her brush with death and the fear that a greater punishment yet awaited her at her fickle father's hands pressing on her with a titan's strength.
"Now, now. Don't fear, daughter. I don't blame you for this. In fact, I rather expected the extraordinary Ms. Granger and the meathead to be a bit of a challenge. I especially underestimated the soldier. It appears some muggles are made of sterner stuff than what we are used to." He gestured toward the dead settler on his table as he vocalized that last observation.
Standing at his gesture, Ivey walked beside him as he casually strolled up the stairs and through the yawning gear-shaped portal. The scent of machined metal and hot electronics was a balm to her soul, and her heart slowly regained its steady rhythm when it appeared that her father did not mean to place her back into the penitent engine.
"It is unfortunate that our mercenary friends have been unable to procure one of the new Salem folk as of yet." He paused as if considering something and startled her with a sudden snap of his fingers.
"Those raiders near The Slog… what were they called?"
"The Forged." She replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes, the Forged. Delightful. They fell rather easily to Ms. Granger powers, but still present quite a menacing air with their metal armor and proclivity for flame. I wonder if they could use some leadership? I'll have to think on that."
She murmured something vaguely affirmative as they entered the security foyer in the incomplete vault, just in time to meet with a pair of Rust Devils who held a limp ghoul in Vault attire between them. Seeing their leader, they dropped the woman between them and bowed respectfully.
"Oh, how disgusting." He recoiled from the 'Overseer'. "My new world will have no room for your kind, abomination."
The defeated Overseer looked up with rheumy eyes and fixed him with an incredulous look. She was the abomination?! He was surrounded by desecrations of machine and flesh and he had the nerve to call her the freak? She tried to stand as if in answer to his disgust.
"Crucio!" He shrieked, the red energy splashing against the woman's back and hurling her forcefully back to the cold metal floor. She writhed in agony as it played over her limbs, setting her nerves alight with furious pain.
Panting heavily from his sudden rage, Jeremiah wiped the spittle from his mouth and stood back with a sneer.
"Take this wretch outside and crucify her." He handed a small vial to one of the Rust Devils, "And force this down her throat. It will keep her alive longer."
His eyes gleamed with ardor as he added, "A living, screaming lawn ornament is much better than a corpse, yes?"
He returned his attention to his beaten daughter and actually managed some measure of affection in his next words, "Get some rest, Ivey. I want you to gather a force and purge this site. We will make use of the material here and build another stronghold for our expansion."
He patted her on the shoulder and gently urged her to go, which she seemed strangely reluctant, as if as soon as she turned her back her father would bury a dagger in it. Which he had done before, so he could forgive her hesitation.
He walked outside, in good spirits despite the recent setback, confident that his vision for the world was well on the way to fruition. He blinked as he beheld the morning sun cresting the horizon and let his smile widen as his other worthy children, all thirty of them, bowed to their father. Beyond them, hundreds of Rust Devils knelt in homage to their master, the scores of lethal robots emulating their human counterparts as well as their mechanical limbs would allow.
Jeremiah felt the swell of pride as he beheld the extent of a mere fraction of his power, the majority of his Rust Devils sequestered in hideaways throughout the Commonwealth and in their secret sanctum within the Glowing Sea. He moved through the crowd, smiling at his people as they offered him worship. He paused and grinned as a hammer hit a spike, the Overseer screeching as the cold rusted metal pierced her wrist. He continued to watch as the other spikes were hammered in, the ghoul thrashing against the agony. He waited for his favorite part, when the T shaped frame was lifted and the woman's wounds bore her full weight. She gasped, fighting for breath that wouldn't come until she forced herself to rise and take the pressure off her lungs. Curious… he thought that ghouls didn't actually need to breathe.
He moved on, a positive skip in his step and offered the Rust Devil in courier livery approach him. She seemed excited, and it infected Jeremiah as he took the paper she offered.
"Ah, Publik Occurences." He recognized the newsbill from that newspaper that operated out of Diamond City. His eyes drank in the news and with a flourish, he held up the paper in triumph.
"The Mechanist is defeated!" He shouted, to the answering cheers of his followers.
He laughed and cheered with them, happy regardless that it was others who had caused his main competition's downfall.
"You are now a Lieutenant." He announced to the messenger, whose face lit up at the promotion.
"Get the word out to all groups. The Mechanist is gone. Ransack the Commonwealth!"
"And the north?" His new lieutenant asked.
"Leave them for now," he paused, considering the question, "Offer a new contract to the Gunners. Tell them that I will pay a premium if they will bleed the Minutemen for me. They should agree, a stable Commonwealth protected by a group of citizen-soldiers is certainly not fertile ground for profit to a mercenary group!"
The last several weeks had seen the ranks of his forces grow as raiders fled the blue tide, the Minuteman flag flying over the entire Northwest Commonwealth. The pesky muggles were even extending their influence east even while Salem secured their own domain in the Northeast. The entire north was no-man's land for anyone under a raider flag, for the magicals in Salem and the General's forces were effective at excising the raiders from their lands.
But that was all about to change. He'll let the Gunners bleed them from the south, while the new players from the east took their pound of flesh. Oh yes, glorious war was coming, and with it, a literal harvest of flesh and metal to satiate his appetite and fulfill his destiny.
POV: Harry
Harry couldn't quite contain the glee that lightened his heart as the carriage approached the shining white walls of Salem.
"Looks like you are building a new Camelot here, Mr. Potter." Morgan remarked, pursing her lips in thought as she regarded the pristine concrete surrounding the town.
Cheers arose from the militia men once they approached closely enough for Harry and Daphne to be recognized. The gate opened without delay and a small crowd came out to welcome them back.
Harry's grin could scarcely convey the warmth at the sincere smiles on the settlers faces. Even those settlements protected by the Minutemen didn't have the aura of hope glowing from its populace. These people were healthy, well-nourished and above all, filled with hope. It was a powerful affirmation that he and the others had done the right thing by opening the town to muggles and being open about who they were.
"Barney!" Harry shouted, as the older man marched determinedly through the throng. Barney's grin easily took up his face as he pumped Harry's hand heartily.
"Good to have you back! I hear you've brought some new folks?"
Harry was about the answer when the crowd suddenly went quiet, a low murmur replacing their joyous shouts, as if everyone became afraid to speak above a whisper. Turning, Harry could see what had so affected the townsfolk, as Morgan had exited the carriage, her otherworldly beauty capturing the attention of every soul within eyesight.
Daphne grumbled, "If that's going to happen every time she comes outside, maybe she needs to live somewhere else."
The living legend glided forward just as the Harry's friends joined the crowd to welcome him home.
"Bloody hell Harry!" Neville rarely cursed, but given the circumstances, Harry could hardly blame him.
"Mr. Longbottom. I hear you are quite the expert in herbology. You and I will have much to discuss." Morgan purred.
Neville stammered ineffectually and barely managed a nod in affirmation.
"And you are Ms. Moon? I understand you have taken it upon yourself to begin the education of the other magicals you have discovered. I have three more charges for you, and some materials that will no doubt prove useful."
Lilith's smile was beautific, and it was easy to tell that Morgan had a great deal of respect for those who lived to teach others. Those two should get along famously, Harry thought.
"Alright! Alright! Let's stop all this gawkin! Mr. Potter needs to be brought up to speed, so the rest of you, get back to your work!" Rook commanded, his gaze brooking no argument. The others moaned in dismay but moved to do as he directed, even as he gently guided Harry to their unofficial town hall, the old church.
"Susan is doing well. She's remaining at Vincentville and my boy Adam MacTavish is leading militia patrols to keep the area safe. They've got about forty folks up there now, mostly farmer folk, though a few have a bit of grease monkey to em, so they salvage material from the fish packing plant. The dynamic duo, Walt and George, have completed another boat and it's up there now to give them some airpower."
Harry absorbed the information, his concern for Susan allayed somewhat by the fact that she is throwing herself into the work of building up a new settlement instead of sinking into depression. Still, he needed to see her soon and check on her himself.
Barney went on, gesturing at the map he had laid out, "Croup Manor has been rebuilt, Luna and Soleil are there now helping them get along. They've got about two dozen folks, they've been surveying the houses nearby and based on what they've said so far, it will make a fine town with a little work."
"Just out of curiosity, are we spread too thin? Seems like we got people all over the place." Harry asked.
Barney shook his head, "We've had a few more folk come in since you were here last. The new settlements are attracting folks too… people just looking for a place to settle down. Salem still has almost two hundred people living here, we may need to start shifting people away if this keeps up."
"I haven't really looked, how many people can Salem support?"
"If we stay within the walls? I'd say four hundred at the most. We can always spread out beyond those, but we'd be hard pressed to keep folks safe. That's why they're looking at the neighborhood near Kingston and Croup Manor so hard, plenty of houses there and some of them are in really good shape all thing considered."
"Tell me about Kingston." Daphne put in, curious as to what progress had been made since she left.
"Well, since you left, they've finished up the house and that's about it. We've got some turrets and a patrol in place. Preston from the Minutemen gave us a couple of refurbished protectrons from their new robot factory and we've put them to work helping secure that area."
"If you are open to it, I'd like to take a look at this lighthouse." Morgan put in, surprising everyone with her presence.
"I can show you." Daphne said sweetly, quietly hoping that Morgan would decide to settle there.
The witch eyed her askance, her long midnight tresses wafting back from her pale face. Her lips pursed into a small knowing smile as she nodded at Daphne, acknowledging her offer.
They spent the rest of the day going over details of the settlement's growth, with Neville happily chattering about his successfully transplanted crops at the newly established settlements.
"I want to know a little more about the robots that the Minutemen have been offering us." Harry put in, realizing that George and Walt have yet to make an appearance.
Somehow noticing who Harry was looking for, Barney thrust his chin in the direction of their warehouse "Those two are holed up in their workshop. They've built some kind of contraption based on the blueprints Sturges gave to them in addition to the three robots they've brought with the last trade shipment. That's all I know, so you'll have to ask them yourself."
Harry stretched and stifled a yawn, looking out through the windows and noting how the daylight was swiftly taking on a ruddy color.
"We've been at this for a while, let's leave it for now. I'm famished and I bet you lot are too. Let's call it a night."
Though a gentle dismissal, the entire group moved en-masse to the café, the enticing smells issuing from the expanded kitchen forcing a ferocious growl from Harry stomach.
"Good lord Harry! I need to do a better job at tending to you, you clearly don't take care of yourself." Daphne poked at him, eliciting a chuckle.
"I wouldn't mind that at all." Harry answered, throwing an arm around Daphne's shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze.
They arrival was well-timed, as they approached the door just as a group were leaving, opening up plenty of space for them to tuck in. Harry and Daphne squeezed into a booth while Morgan and Cait took a seat opposite them.
Harry couldn't help but chuckle a little at the sight of Morgan Le Fay trying to maneuver into a booth while still maintaining her normal poise and gravitas.
It felt good to be back, maybe this time he would be able to stay for a while and attain whatever sense of normalcy can be wrested from this world. Daphne took his hand under the table and squeezed it affectionately, and his heart swelled with the love he had for her. He felt himself falling into the depths of her eyes when the table lurched, jolting him from his reverie.
"Ok you two. Eat first, then you can go all googly eyed on each other." The matron chided, albeit gently.
Harry's eyes gleamed as the women set a metal casserole dish on the table.
"Is that?"
"Toad in the hole. My grandmother taught me." The matron said brightly, beaming at the pleased faces from Harry and the others.
"Well? Don't wait for it to get cold! Tuck in!" She ordered, the group immediately setting to with no further prodding.
Harry stabbed a steaming length of sausage and tore into it with gusto, prompting a giggle from Daphne at his bestial behavior. He growled playfully at her and unbidden, an image of Ron coalesced in his mind. A memory of his best friend annihilating his food in proper Weasely fashion. A brief stab of remorse hit him, nearly making the effort of swallowing his mouthful too much.
Harry mumbled a curt apology and staggered up, moving like a broken marionette as he abruptly left the café.
He took in a deep breath and felt a hand on his arm, Daphne's face creased in concern as she asked the obvious question with her eyes.
"It's nothing, I'm alright." Harry said, weakly.
Harry nearly laughed at the look that overcame her, a look that almost every woman he had ever known had mastered and was specifically designed to discomfit their men. Did they take a class on how to do that?
"I was just remembering Ron. That dish was a favorite of his and…"
He didn't have to say more, as a cloud of emotion passed over Daphne's face as if the spectre of memory was washing over her as well.
She took a shuddering breath as if to dam the tide of emotion and all he could do was to take her into his arms.
The next few days passed without incident, though each one seemed replete with excitement as more and more of Morgan's influence became unveiled.
She took to the Kingston lighthouse with her usual calm acceptance, stating that it would suit her purpose. Harry and the others were gifted to a rare sight as she wove ancient magic not seen for centuries and made the lighthouse into a true magical wonder.
The tower rose and twisted, reaching double its previous height. The power of her extension charm made the interior a match for the great hall of Hogwarts, each level carefully crafted to suit the needs of both the current settlers and future generations.
Lilith was beside herself at the numerous classrooms which the pukwudgies were busily stocking with the supplies that they had brought from Ilvermorny. Morgan crafted a wondrous astronomy lab at the pinnacle, similar enough to the one that Harry knew so well that he had to remind himself that he hadn't stepped back in time.
The other creatures in the menagerie were quickly found homes in the extensive suites that Morgan crafted in the new dungeon of the tower. She seemed sad as she did this and Harry could easily enough guess why. In her time, these creatures lived wild and free in the world, owing nothing to the races of man. Now they were essentially imprisoned in metaphorical cages, despite how much effort the ancient witch put into making them as much like their natural habitats as possible.
"Can you promise me that someday they'll be set free in a world that they can thrive in?" Morgan has asked, her voice so soft that it sounded more like a sad little girl than a century's old witch.
Harry shook his head sadly, "I can only promise to do what I can to pave the way for that future."
She nodded, knowing that no one could guarantee any outcome, especially with the world as it was.
Harry considered her words as he flew back to Salem later that day, his thoughts awhirl with all the changes that were taking place and all the work that yet remained.
"Harry!" a distant voice called.
Looking about, his musing was shattered by a ray of warmth as he beheld Hermione and Jonathan walking along the road beneath him.
He landed with characteristic grace, leaping from his broom and landing lightly on his feet, before rushing to embrace his friends.
Jonathan winced slightly as Harry hugged him, making the wizard raise his eyebrow questioningly.
"A little wound. Still a bit sore." Jonathan explained, waving away Harry's concern.
"He was stabbed through the chest with a scythe from a mad cyborg. Hardly a 'little' wound." Hermione growled.
Jonathan patted the air as if to forestall her ire and to Harry's surprise, it actually seemed to do the trick. Hermione really did love this man if she was able to drop an argument so readily!
He walked with them as they journeyed the last few yards into the settlement, Harry eyeing them both and waiting for the expected reaction.
"What in the blazes!" Jonathan gasped, as he came in sight of the first of the changes.
Harry's chuckles doubled as Hermione added her shock to the soldier's, both of their eyes wide with awe.
Morgan had altered the walls of Salem soon after arriving, increasing their height to nearly epic proportion. Every hundred or so yards was an ornate arch carved into the wall, into which stood a silent guardian made in the likeness of the knights of old. One even seemed to resemble Jonathan, and a few of the others seemed familiar as well.
"Did she?" Hermione began.
"She sure did." Harry answered brightly, "There are surprising gaps in her knowledge, though in retrospect, she does come from an age before wands were widely used. Still, she remembers things from that age that are absolutely astounding. Remember those statues at Hogwarts that could be animated in defense of the school?"
"I do. I remember seeing their shattered remains on the bridge, they held off Voldemort's giants for a goodly time as I hear it told. Wait… are you telling me that these can animate too?"
Harry grinned as he nodded. He followed her gaze to the nearest colossus, the smooth grace of the stonework doing nothing to diminish the scale of the silent defender. A dozen twenty foot tall statues that could come to life to defend the settlement? Any attacking group would be in for quite a surprise for the few moments of life before they were smashed into paste.
"You should see Kingston Lighthouse." Harry remarked as the two recovered their wits enough to continue walking into the Salem.
"I can only imagine." Jonathan breathed.
Harry smiled, "It's like Hogwart's reborn, but different enough to be something completely new. There's books, quills, parchment, botanicals and most impressively, a number of creatures we thought lost. A small army of pukwudgies are hard at work making the tower a proper school. You should see Lilith, I thought she was going to cry when she held her first class with the children."
Hermione's eyes fairly glowed at the news, "I'd love to help her out and try my hand at teaching."
"Those kids are wonderful. Morgan brought two more with their father. With Cait finally home with us, we are really turning things around for magicals."
"And muggles too?" Jonathan asked, not quite masking the seriousness of the probing question.
"Muggles too." Harry confirmed with a smile, "We are building a better world for both of our people."
"The Minutemen will respect your borders and will always answer if you should call, Harry."
Harry nodded, though Jonathan picked up the reticence of his response.
"You don't believe me?"
Harry was quick to answer, lest he offend the good natured man, "I believe in you. I believe that you would absolutely keep your word. But as wondrous as you are with your gifts… you won't be around forever. The Minuteman failed once already. My concern is for the future."
"Then you'll just have to help me do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen."
"Happy to."
Hermione sighed happily at the industry taking place in the settlement, with people going about their business with a spring in their step and hope radiating out from them like a palpable aura.
They made their way to the Church, while catching each other up on recent events. Jonathan was grieved to hear of the attack on Abernathy that had led to Harry's meeting with Morgan.
"Thank you Harry, truly. You put your life on the line to help protect my people and I am forever in your debt. I'd like to thank this 'Morgan' as well. Were it not for you both, Abernathy might very well have been wiped from the map. This new raider gang has me concerned too. For so many to appear and so far within our territory concerns me deeply."
Further discussion was interrupted as a gaggle of children were being herded, with limited success, by an exasperated Neville. His efforts were not aided in the slightest at the gentle teasing he was enduring from Fingers and Cait, who had found in each other kindred spirits.
Harry could only regard the man with sympathy, as the bulk of their teases seemed to revolve around a very subtle (for them anyway) intent for both women to bed the stuttering wizard.
His face as red as the new crop of tomatoes he had cultivated, relief flooded over his face as he saw the three of them arranged around the main map table.
"Children! Children! Look here! Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger and General Jonathan are here!"
Neville was pleased for the brief instant it took for him to realize that the announcement did not have the effect he had hoped. The children did indeed surge forward in excitement toward the three 'Heroes'… but that left him alone with the two women, who used the opportunity to enclose him in their trap.
Somewhere beneath Fort Hagen...
"I don't know how you think this will play out, but I can tell you this. It ain't gonna play out the way you want."
"Big words from a man on his knees." She purred, her eyes boring into him like a predator. Nora paused in front of the mercenary and knelt down until she was eye level with him.
"I've lost my mind." She confessed to him. "This world has stripped me of my sanity just as you stripped me of my husband and son. Though it take me through hell and back, I will find my Shaun and maybe, just maybe, reclaim some of my humanity. There are answers in that head of yours, and I'll have them, one way or another."
"Even if I told you what you wanted to hear, it won't go your way. He's out of your reach. Hell, he's out of anyone's reach. He's in the Institute and there is no way anyone is getting in there without an invitation. And darling, this is one party you are going to have to miss."
He surged to his feet, utilizing surprising strength and speed to throw off the firm holds of the muscle Nora had brought with her. The cruel Disciple flew over the consoles and crashed heavily against the rubble strewn floor as the Operator was knocked cold and slumped down. The wild man from the Pack howled in dismay and charged at the mercenary, his cry cutting off in a sudden choke as Kellogg caught him by the throat and lifted the burly man off the floor.
Nora wasted no time on surprise and hurled herself backward, drawing her pistol and firing several shots into his legs.
He seemed to barely react to the lead perforating his flesh, twisting and hurling the colorful raider straight at her.
She leapt straight over the flailing body and rushed in straight at the man, her Vats activating as she closed the distance.
Kellogg drew his .44, the same weapon he had used to execute her Nate. Her attention narrowed to a laser focus, time slowing to a crawl as the neurons in her brain fired faster and faster, compelled by the wonders of Vault-Tec technology. She heard the oil spring tension of his trigger as he squeezed it, the hammer slowly moving to the rear.
She grasped the barrel of the pistol and pushed it up and back toward Kellogg's face, his eyes widening in surprise as the hammer rocketed forward and struck the firing pin. The explosion blossomed from the barrel as the round tore through the minute space between the muzzle and his chin.
In a grotesque frame by frame account, Nora watched as his face disintegrated as his skull fought to resist the kinetic energy of the heavy round tearing through his head.
Time resumed its normal flow, the mercenary's blood raining down on both her and the hapless merc. Pieces of his largely destroyed head spattered as his body slumped forward onto her.
Nora gagged at the smell of blood and filth filling her nostrils and curiously… of burnt electronics. Curiosity overcoming her distaste, she shifted the man's heavy body to peer closely at the red ruin left of his skull. She saw a glint of something shiny and dug her fingers into the scattered bits of bone and brain to dig out the device.
She pulled it free and let the body continue its fall as she inspected it. It looked like a smaller brain with wires and components attached to it. She was no technical wizard, though she suspected that Nick may be able to shed light on the technology or at least tell her who would. As if thinking of him summoned the detective, his voice drawled from the entry to the underground abattoir.
"Damn kid. Sorry it went this way."
A half smile curled a corner of her mouth as she held up her grisly prize.
"It's alright Nick. I think this will have the answers I need."
A/N: I'm very sorry that this update has taken so long to post. Especially as I technical owed an update to my other fic on here. Between wife, four kids, full time work and full time school, I just find very little time to write and even less motivation as I'm usually exhausted by the latter two by the time I do get some spare time. But I've been pecking away at this chapter for the last month or so, and I apologize if it seemed jumpy. Happens when you stop writing for a while and try to pick back up where you left off… more than once. I do need to get to work on the other fic though, as it is nearing end-game where as this one is only just really building up to an end-game.