Chapter 16: Happy Times – Bob Crosby
POV: Hermione
Hermione definitely had a spring in her step as she descended from the top-most floor of the tower to the middle levels, where 2 classes were taking place. She opened the thick oak door as quietly as she could and peered in, grinning with genuine nostalgia-laced pleasure at the 6 students waving wands in the air as Lilith repeated the incantation.
A squeal of happiness erupted from several young mouths as their mole rat tails spun up into the air, their hard work all morning finally paying off. Hermione shared a wide grin with Lilith, who had noticed her at the door, before closing it quietly and moving toward the second classroom.
She entered it and drew back somewhat at the scene before her, as Cait was suspended in the air with a foul look on her face. The other students were concentrating on keeping her up while Morgan moved about and tried to distract them with various items.
One she tickled with a feather, the girl's giggle and subsequent break in concentration causing Cait to tilt ominously.
"Damn it! If ya drop me, I'll smack the giggles right outta ya!"
A serious looking young boy wore a mask of intense concentration, not so much as batting an eye when Morgan poked him with a needle. The boy, an orphaned lad called Adam, wasn't as naturally gifted as the others. Despite that, he was the most advanced in his class, determined to make up for his shortcoming through hard work and focus.
Hermione continued watching as moved to an empty chair and sat, setting her journal open on her thighs and pulling the quill from its spine. She began jotting down notes about the tests she was writing for the students. She had a nearly eidetic memory for those exams she had taken at Hogwarts years ago, but knew that those tests would unfairly tax their students, as they didn't have the advantage of the numerous professors that she had learned from.
Neville popped in loudly, drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room. As such, Cait dropped to the ground only to halt mere inches from the unyielding stone floor, courtesy of Adam's seemingly unflappable focus. The fiery Irishwoman turned a baleful glare at the oblivious man, Neville craning his head around as if looking for something or someone.
"Are we lost again, Professor Longbottom?" Morgan asked, her voice sliding across the skin like a silk wrapped serpent.
"No! I was just, ah… Yeah, I am. We really need to label these doors. I'm looking for my potion's lab."
Though not terribly skilled at potions, Neville did know ingredients and aside from Harry and herself, the most qualified to teach that class. Though Hermione was fairly certain that Potions was only taught on Thursdays…
"You should be looking for the atrium, today is Tuesday." Morgan sighed.
"Oh!" Neville cheered up at the news, despite the unspoken exasperation Morgan clearly had for him interrupting her class, he did love to talk about his beloved plants.
If there was any place in the tower that he could find in the dark, it was the atrium and its attached greenhouse. He mumbled an apology and quickly withdrew, his footsteps rapidly diminishing as he ran down the stairs.
Hermione smiled in apology as Morgan sighed again, looking around and seeing that the lesson was clearly over for the day anyway. The ancient witch waved a hand and the students scattered, as despite her commitment to treating them gently, the children were terrified of her.
Cait was the last to exit the room, scratching at herself beneath her robes in a most un-lady like fashion.
"Is there anything I can help you with, Ms. Granger?" Morgan asked once her composure was restored.
"I wanted to get your opinion on the OWLs I'm writing, I know it's a little early considering we've only just started, but I wanted to get a good handle on how we can measure each student's aptitude and the areas that we should focus on for our curriculum."
"I'm afraid my input would be of little value, my dear. We didn't have schools or tests when I was a young witch. I was taught by my relatives as were many others of the day. In the rare case of the muggle born, if they survived discovery, they'd have to apprentice themselves to a witch or wizard who was willing to teach… and most were not." Morgan answered.
"Well, you are the most accomplished witch among us, perhaps of all time. Can you at least advise me on how important you think the old test subjects are, given how little material survived the Great War?"
Morgan sat in acquiescence, and waved at Hermione to continue.
She flipped her notebook back a few pages, "Okay. We had a written exam and a practical exam in twelve subject areas. Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defence against the Dark Arts, "Morgan raised an eyebrow at that one, "Ancient Runes, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy," Hermione mumbled out the next, her lips twisting in distaste, "Divination, Arithmancy, History of Magic, and Muggle studies."
Morgan considered the list for several moments, a perfectly manicured nail tapping against her rose red lips, "The History of Magic would be the most difficult I would think. I can teach what I remember, but that's hardly all-inclusive. Too much has been lost for us to be able to do much more than a rudimentary overview of what we do know."
Hermione nodded in agreement but felt compelled to add, "However, not teaching or testing in this area would be a severe oversight. Even the muggles have the saying, those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it."
Morgan began to reply but paused and looked past Hermione at the door, her mouth quirking up in a coy smile.
Hermione turned around to see what had grabbed her attention and smiled at Jonathan standing uncertainly in the doorway. He had kept busy the last several days by coordinating with his Minutemen via owl and radio for their assault on the Castle. They would always meet up at mealtimes and talk about their day and it seemed to Hermione that Jonathan was itching to get back into the action, perhaps a little discomfited at the comfort offered by life in Salem, as odd as that seemed. Still he seemed happy enough.
Hermione drew in a sharp breath of mild surprise as Morgan glided past her, the imposing witch interposing herself between Jonathan and Hermione. She couldn't help the flash of annoyance as she stood up and walked around the woman to see to Jon.
The atmosphere of the room seemed to dim as Morgan subconsciously warped reality around them. Hermione had noted that in the presence of men, the beautiful witch tended to automatically attempt to beguile them, most of the time without even meaning to. However in this case, Hermione thought with a flash of jealousy, Morgan seemed fully aware of and indeed reveled in the tension she was creating.
She placed a pale hand on Jon's chest and breathed in deeply, as if inhaling the essence of the man. For Jon, his face was the definition of trapped panic, his eyes darting about and his skin going pale.
"What a pleasure to at last meet you. My, aren't you a handsome one." Morgan purred.
Jonathan coughed to clear his throat and took a step back, "Yes, well, it was rude of me to not come to you earlier… to thank you for helping at Abernathy." He spoke stiffly.
Hermione came to his rescue by walking to his side, his hand seeking out hers with an almost desperate energy.
Morgan arced her brow at their hands, their knuckles going white with the strength of their grip on each other.
"You don't need to thank me, I did what I did for their sake, not yours. No insult intended of course, had I known such a delicious creature such as yourself was invested in them, I would have done more to put you in my debt." Morgan laughed lightly, her tone almost musical.
"Yes, well. Thank you. I'll not take up any more of your time."
"Oh no! Don't leave on my account." She whispered heavily, "I've always so enjoyed teasing the paragon of purity, and the centuries haven't changed you at all, my dear Galahad."
Jonathan shuddered at the name, making Hermione look up at him in alarm. His face had gone even paler than before, the color bleaching out like it was being washed away by a descending curtain of white paint. The man swayed unsteadily on his feet, his grip on Hermione's hand loosening. He took several deep breaths and murmured a farewell before turning away and hurriedly retreating from the room, pulling Hermione along behind him as if she were a kite.
He closed his eyes against the witch's laughter, which followed them down the spiraling staircase. Hermione struggled to keep up lest she lose her footing and end up being dragged by the fearfully retreating super-soldier. It unsettled her to her core to see him like this.
"Stop. Jonathan… you're hurting me."
As if slamming into a brick wall, the man stopped so suddenly that Hermione bounced off his back. He turned around, Hermione almost crying aloud at the stricken look on his face.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry." He breathed, his eyes roaming over her for some sign of injury.
"It's fine. You were just tripping me up going down the stairs so fast." She assured him, "Are you going to tell me why we're running away?"
Jon braced against the wall at the landing, his head hanging as he calmed himself through slow, deliberate breaths. He tried to speak but his voice came out as a dry croak, so he paused again and swallowed hard.
"When she called me Galahad, I… saw things. It was as if I wasn't in this tower anymore, I was somewhere else… a terrible world of nightmares and despair. There was a woman dressed in white, screaming as blood ran down her body. I saw a field of corpses, of men impaled upon lances like a field of the most macabre crop ever conceived. I walked a landscape where everything was dying and the eyes of starving children condemned me as I passed. I watched, my heart seemingly breaking as a man was borne away on a bier constructed on a long ship, pennants of a dragon flying atop the mast. I don't know what any of that means. Is it the future? The past?"
Hermione rubbed his arm comfortingly as he spoke, most of the images he described horrifying familiar in a way she could not quite fathom. The only sequence that she could connect with the name Galahad, was of the funeral he saw, Arthur of legend being taken to be healed at Avalon… where myth said was the abode of Morgan Le Fey.
"It might have been nothing." Hermione said, "You've been working so hard coordinating with Preston. It might just be exhaustion."
"Do you really believe that?" Jonathan asked.
Helplessly, Hermione shook her head no.
POV: Harry
He suppressed his curiosity as he watched a clearly upset Jonathan being led away from Kingston by Hermione, the young woman nearly bowing beneath the weight of the larger man as they walked slowly up the road leading to Salem. He would have stopped, but he somehow felt that whatever was happening to them, was a deeply private matter. Besides, the whooping teenaged Nat riding behind him served as an adequate distraction, though he made a mental note to check in with the pair later on.
He had left Salem just minutes before with the intent of seeing Morgan, Lilith, and Hermione, hoping that the trio had between them made some sort of progress in deciphering the metamagic formulas found in Shacklebolt's book. He had been accosted by the rambunctious Nat and reminded quite vociferously of his promise to take her for another broom ride.
Not having a good reason to deny her and being rather fond of the girl, he relented to her enthusiasm with a laugh and a nod of agreement.
Though initially in a hurry to get to the tower, he took his time and let Nat enjoy a long broom ride. They first flew to the north and circumnavigated the new settlement of Vincentville, Nat excitedly waving down at the startled settlers below. Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought that he might have seen Susan waving back as well. The hamlet was doing quite well, and its people looked industrious and happy.
They next flew over the eerily flat fields which was once the site of the Dunwich Bore. Harry had to tamp down on the uneasy feeling that came over him even flying over the place, though nothing of the original quarry was recognizable. Nearly Headless Nick had volunteered to keep an eye on the place in his wanderings. Harry supposed that no news was good news, as the naturally gregarious Sir Nicholas had said naught of the place.
They then flew low along the roads around Croup Manor, the house restored to its Pre-War glory and its inhabitants using it as a base from which they slowly but surely extend Salem's influence to the small neighborhood surrounding it. From what he could see, several of the homes would be fit for habitation sooner rather than later and the foundations of the wall that would encompass the expanded settlement were already laid, drawing a chalky grey outline around the future settlement. It was ambitious, as seen from above, for the layout of the curtain wall would encompass several square miles.
Finally, Harry corkscrewed the tower with ever increasing speed, thrilling his passenger though the wind of their passage swiftly stole what joy she tried to express. He slowed at the last moment and settled gently on the ground by the main door, eyes twinkling at Nat's reddened face and heaving chest. Her answering smile was all teeth, white and gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight.
"You want to come in with me? Take a look around?"
"Heck yeah! I bet you got all kinds of magic stuff in there!"
"Just be sure to not touch anything and stay close to me." The warning was barely heeded by the over-excited girl but necessary, as a farmer unwittingly released a swarm of billywigs just the day before. By the end of it, a dozen muggles were floating in the air and giggling hysterically, leaving Harry, Daphne and a troop of especially acerbic pukwdugies to corral them back into their habitat (the billywigs, not the settlers.)
Harry was reliving his arrival at Hogwarts for the first time vicariously through the expression on Nat's face. That memory was tinged with a hint of sadness, both over all that had been lost and for the girl, who was not gifted and therefore could never touch the deeper mysteries offered by their new school.
Nat's face was the picture of rapt awe, blissfully unaware of Harry's conflicted emotions. She watched the irascible pukwudgies attending to their duties, absolutely delighted by the hairy little fellows. She sighed in open appreciation as a young phoenix, given the run of the tower, flew in a spiral above them.
Thanks in large part to Morgan's command of magic, the interior of the tower was bigger than its exterior, which was much larger than the original lighthouse. They stood on the ground floor, which acted as a massive foyer which welcomed new students, the center of which was dominated by a wiggentree that Neville had delighted in finding within the menagerie. Bowtruckles abounded on the tree, though they were extremely difficult to spot.
Harry led Nat to the tree and whistled, hoping that the shy creatures would feel open enough to reveal themselves and greet the pair. His hopes were realized as a solitary bowtruckle unfurled from beneath a nearby branch and waved shyly in their direction. Nat squealed in delight at the tiny stick-like figure and clapped her hands with the boundless joy that young children often had. Emboldened by her reaction, the bowtruckle danced a little jig on the branch and bowed low to Harry and Nat's applause.
Harry gave Nat the penny tour, showing her the things that a muggle could perceive, the visual delights finding a firm hold of the young girl's heart. Her expression faltered as they approached the door to Morgan's study and classroom, "This is as close as I can ever be isn't it? I'm not magical like you."
Harry's heart went out to her and he hugged her with one arm around her thin shoulders, "You can visit anytime you want. In fact, there was a man, Argus Filch, who was born as squib. That's a non-magical person born to magical parents. He was the caretaker of my old school and despite his lack of magical ability, was always welcomed by the school, if not by its inhabitants… he was a singularly unpleasant man."
She nodded, only slightly mollified by his attempts to cheer her up. Glancing up, Harry spotted Lilith coming down the main staircase and intercepted her.
"Lilith, could you take Nat with you for a bit? Maybe show her a few things while I talk to Morgan?"
"I was just on my way to the Tranfiguration classroom, I need to set things up for class tomorrow. If Nat doesn't mind, I could use some help getting the place in order."
"Oh I would!" Nat exclaimed, her earlier despondency forgotten for the moment.
Harry nodded in thanks to Lilith as she led Nat down and away and turned to the heavy door leading to Morgan's domain. He knocked gently, sure that Morgan le Fey was fully aware of his presence. His assumption proved correct, as the door swung open on well-oiled hinges and admitted him into the brightly lit class.
An entire section of the curving wall was given over to a massive and intricate stained glass window which told the story of Merlin's discovery of Arthur. 'Interesting choice' Harry thought. A dozen chairs were arranged in a semi-circle facing a podium which stood just behind a silver symbol etched into the floor. He recognized it as a powerful protective spell-form, a persistent charm that aided any witch or wizard that stood within it. Though not as effective as a Patronus charm, it could even hold a dementor at bay.
Morgan herself stood at the window, looking out over the sea. Harry could almost imagine that if one looked hard enough, one could see England from there… though of course, that was impossible.
As if reading his thoughts, Morgan spoke, "I look out and imagine to myself that if the clouds would clear just enough, I could make out the green shores of my homeland. Silly I know. I was saddened to hear of its fate."
"It's not silly at all. It was my home too."
"Yes of course." She smiled as she turned to face him, "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"I was wondering if you had made any headway with the metamagic that Kingsley wrote down in his journal."
She shook her head, "I'm afraid not. The level of theory involved goes beyond my era and expertise. It assigns an almost arithmetic level of complexity and order that is far too alien for my understanding. However, Helena has taken an interest. As I understand it, House Ravenclaw were renowned for their academic achievements. She is studying it in the astronomy lab."
She turned back to the window and resumed her wistful and longing stare across the grey ocean water. Sensing that she wished to be alone with her thoughts, Harry mumbled in thanks and saw himself out. He climbed the stairs thoughtfully, his mind going back to the ruin that his home had become, the damage so extensive that it had led to their exodus here. He wondered if there were a way to ever get back and perhaps set some things right.
He pushed open the hatch leading to the pinnacle of the tower and the expansive astronomy lab that had been built there. He had relied heavily on his memory of Hogwart's astronomy lab to construct this one, and was aided a great deal by Helena Ravenclaw's own recollection of the place. She drifted above the balcony, Shacklebolt's journal open before her intense gaze. She murmured and the page obligingly turned, her lips sounding out the former Minister's ancient words as she read.
"Ahem." Harry coughed lightly, loathe to break her intense concentration.
She glanced up with an annoyed look that did not dissipate with recognition, "I suppose you're here to interrupt me too?" she breathed, her eyes once again glued to the contents of the pages.
"Someone else had come?"
She sighed heavily, a mortal affectation that seemed strange coming from an incorporeal ghost and closed the book with a wave of her hand. Harry was a little surprised that the journal responded to her like that, as ghosts were rarely able to interact with the mortal world to that extent.
Instead of answering him, she merely looked, her eyes speaking volumes as to the absurdity of the question. Harry blushed a little and attempted to salvage the situation… years of living as a ghost had not tempered the woman's haughtiness one bit.
As if to punctuate the tension, lightning flashed outside and a veritable curtain of rain began to sweep toward them from the open ocean. Harry drew his wand and inclined his head to Helena in a 'do you mind?' gesture.
He flourished his wand and closed the balcony doors and observation windows, saving him from becoming completely soaked by the autumn deluge.
"Anyway. As I am sure you are aware, I would like to know what progress has been made on the metamagic theory penned by Kingsley Shacklebolt. Being able to integrate that with the magic that is vulnerable to the ambient radiation would restore a great deal of our power."
"Is that your guiding star, Potter? Power?"
Harry gritted his teeth, "We stand at the edge of oblivion. We all represent the best chance of restoring magic to this world and just maybe healing it. If I have to seek power in order to do that, I will. I don't seek power for power's sake, or else I would have kept the Elder wand. I would much rather marry Daphne, raise a family, and live a quiet life. But someone has to be responsible for the safety of all these people and the legacy of magic."
"The muggles have a saying… the road to hell is paved with good intentions." Her voice softened, almost in sympathy, "I know you mean the best. I'm sorry if I seem harsh, but if you are to take on the task of being that hope for our kind, then I take on the task of helping keep you on the straight and narrow path. Falter, and it would spell doom for us all."
Harry nodded, though hardly mollified by her words. Still, he could logically see her point, he just wished she wasn't so bloody arrogant about it.
"I have deconstructed the spell forms that he drew and was able to follow his line of thought. The logic is sound and though magic doesn't always fit into tidy boxes, I believe that it should work. I just need to proceed carefully and meld some simple charms or hexes with the forms he has written. The trick is, finding someone willing to try them."
"When the time comes, I'll be the one to do it." Harry proclaimed.
"I'm not sure Daphne would be so pleased at that, and I don't relish the thought of crossing her."
"You leave her to me." Harry chuckled, "Thank you for the work… and for the…" Harry waved a hand to indicate her earlier behavior, successfully tamping down on the annoyance he felt at her attitude and lack of faith in his character. A gesture she seemed to understand as she replied with a small smile and a nod of acceptance.
Harry left her to the work, deep in thought as he listened to the rain pounding against the tower like a storm of gravel cascading down a metal grill. New England autumns were nothing to sneer at! He went to seek out Nat and get her back to Salem soon and keep him free from Piper's displeasure.
POV: Jonathan
"Well well well. If it isn't the Commonwealth's very own living super hero. How's it going Captain Freedom?"
Jonathan could only shake his head at the saucy reporter's greeting, knowing that if he showed too much discomfort with that ridiculous title, she would make sure it would make print and stick with him.
"Hello Piper. Keeping busy?"
"I've pretty much worn my pencils down to nubs." She laughed, "Publik Occurences is more popular than ever! Even with the owls to deliver editions to every settlement and the printing press that Harry fixed up, I'm barely keeping up with the demand. I gotta tell you, I'd have never thought that people would actually want my paper so much. It's a lot better than the natives running out the 'nosy reporter' with torches and pipe pistols."
"People are more open to the truth now that they see that there is hope to accompany it."
Piper cocked her head to the side and shifted her hips, the signature 'tell' for the young woman's mind cooking up an idea. It was usually accompanied by anyone who knew her well enough to recognize the signal to brace themselves (or run).
"Speaking of hope, I haven't really done a piece on the rise of the Minuteman General, the indomitable Captain Freedom!"
He groaned aloud, "For all that is holy, please don't print that."
"No problem," She grinned, knowing she had him in her clutches, "all I need is full access and exclusive interviews."
He blinked, his mind slowly coming to terms with the fact that she had so easily outmaneuvered him. He nodded dumbly, but brightened a little knowing that as tenacious and single-minded as Piper was, she was also a very empathic woman and a friend.
"When would you like to do the interview?" He sighed in mock defeat.
"Interviews. Plural." Piper looked around, "Are you busy now?"
A few minutes later found Jonathan squirming to get comfortable on an overstuffed settee while Piper scrounged up some sheafs of paper and a blank holodisk. With an 'ah ha!' of triumph, Piper planted herself on an office chair opposite him, balancing a clipboard on her knee while placing a recorder on the coffee table between them.
"Do you mind if I record this?" Piper asked, all business.
"Sure."
"Ok, let's get a feel for this, I'm just going to ask you some general questions about the Minutemen, just let me know if I'm asking anything too sensitive."
He nodded, resigned to the fact that nothing about this situation is going to be comfortable and figured it was best to get through this as quickly as possible.
"How did you first become the General of the Minutemen? There hadn't been one in years and many speculate that this was one of the many reasons why the Minutemen declined prior to your intervention."
"Preston Garvey was pretty much the last of the Minutemen. At the time, we'd worked together to help out Tenpines Bluff, Abernathy farms and to get Sanctuary on its feet. People were so grateful for our help that settlers from those places started to provide support and eventually recruits. Preston took on the task of training and organizing the men and women who came to join and pretty much promoted me to General by virtue of being no one else to argue with the decision."
"So it just as easily have been Preston who became the General? If you had refused?"
"I suppose, though when I suggested that, he was pretty firm that he didn't have the chops for it. He's a tactical thinker, a good field commander, but what was needed to truly bring the Minutemen back was a strategic thinker."
"And what makes you qualified?" Piper pressed.
"I was raised in a military environment. My education included Hobbes, Machiavelli, Jefferson, Napoleon and even Gaius Julius Caesar. Military strategy was an important component of my upbringing."
"Interesting. So now that the Minutemen exert influence over nearly a quarter of the Commonwealth, what are your plans for the future?"
"Well, some of that I can't discuss for the sake of operational security. But I can say that we've recently made contact with a woman living alone at Egret Tours Marina. She was in a bad way and accepted the offer of our support. There was a settlement that had recently been displaced due to an incursion by the Institute and needed a place to stay. I have a squad there now to fortify the place and bring it under our aegis."
"Fancy word." Piper smiled as she scribbled some notes. "Is there any truth to the rumor that the Minutemen are planning an operation to retake the Castle?"
"Well…given that the Castle is currently overrun with mirelurks, and that they seem to be protecting a queen of unusual size…"
"Mirelurks don't read my paper, Jon."
He laughed at that, "True, but the raiders that live in the downtown area near there certainly do. If you can promise me that you won't print this until…"
Piper nodded with a grin, easily able to guess the omission.
"Then yes, we are going to retake the castle. Preston is assembling an assault force even as we speak and Salem is going to give us a lift there, so that we don't get entangle with raiders or super mutants along the way or give any reason for Diamond City or Bunker Hill to get nervous."
"Well, I'm sure my readers will be glad to see the Minutemen flag flying over the Castle again. Now, on a different note… what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Ms. Hermione Granger?"
Jonathan gulped audibly.
POV: Harry
The rains had finally decided that the Commonwealth was wet enough before breaking against the irradiated wasteland called the Glowing Sea. The clouds parted somewhat, just enough to let a few stars peek down at the tiny people going about their lives on this brown and blue world. A wispy, silvery nimbus haloed the moon and amplified its glory across the sky, its soft light bathing everything in a dream like quality.
Harry took a deep breath as he stared longingly at the revelry taking place in the café, the matron having carte blanche to prepare a feast with the bounty of Neville's harvest and the new crop sources coming in from the other settlements. It struck Harry with a sense of profound relief and pride that Salem could now stand on its own, no longer even marginally dependent on the Minutemen aligned settlements for its basic needs.
Not that they wouldn't continue their relationship, people seemed happiest with the promise of an open and safe Commonwealth with which to trade. Several people, now that the roads were safer and with the rapid communication that existed between the two nascent powers, could visit other settlements without the specter of death looming over them. Parents became more hopeful as the pool of available young people expanded, providing a pool of eligible matches for their own children. Harry could only imagine what that must have been like… to have a child only to doom them to a solitary existence because finding someone of a like age for them to develop friendships or even future marriage partners… it must have felt like their futures were bereft of hope. As it was though, young adults freely moved between settlements, their safety all but guaranteed now that Barney Rook's Militia was able to extend the umbrella of Salem protection to a wide swathe of previously untamed wasteland.
The overwhelming thought of his own future made him reticent now, his eyes dancing with the lights spilling from the diner accompanied by laughter and music. He had eyes for but one person, who was showing an older man some dance steps in the cramped confines of the noisy diner. He could almost imagine her musical laughter as she caught the stumbling gentleman. She glanced out the window, as if sensing Harry's proximity and though he probably imagined it, gave a secret smile to the darkness outside like a beacon for him to find.
He had wanted to catch her alone but was loathe to pull her from the party, for any reason to celebrate was something to be cherished for as long as possible. Girding his resolve, he strode with purpose to the diner and wrenched the door open, immediately swallowed up by the clamor within. He stood there framed in the doorway, goofy grin and all, and simply stared at the object of his desire.
The music dimmed in his mind as he walked, dreamlike, toward his dear Daphne. He drank in the sight of her as she loomed ever larger in his vision, his breath coming in short gasps as his body reacted of its own accord to the love that suffused every particle of his being. She peeked out from behind the elder, who turned out to be Walt, and smiled while extending a hand toward Harry.
His palms wet with nervousness, he wiped them on his jeans and carefully pulled a cloth wrapped bundle from his pocket. Walt noticed him and stood aside with a conspiratorial wink, giving Harry the space. Daphne's smile widened, and as impossible as it seemed, became all the more beautiful. He wasted no time and pressed the small token into her hand, closing it with his own and simply holding her in place for a moment pregnant with anticipation.
She cocked her head quizzically, though her smile never faltered.
"For your birthday." He murmured, certain that she couldn't hear him.
She shook her head in confusion as his words were lost in the din. He opened his mouth to speak again when the music suddenly died, everyone pausing their laughter and shouted conversations to glance at the jukebox, its electrical cord held in Walt's hand as he shrugged an apology.
"It's for your birthday." Harry repeated, as everyone's eyes shifted to him and Daphne.
She beamed at him and carefully unwrapped the gift, her eyes going wide in shock and her free hand covering her mouth as she beheld the tiny offerings on display in her hand. She looked up at Harry and gasped again, as he had dropped to a knee, his eyes beseeching hers with that unspoken question.
She took up one of the rings and slid it onto her finger, tears glistening like diamonds on her cheeks as a sob escaped her. She fell into Harry waiting arms and managed to cry out, "Yes!" past the lump in her throat.
Gasps resounded through the diner as comprehension dawned over their audience like the dawn's rays breaking out over the Atlantic. Harry stood up, bringing Daphne up with him and they held one another, their tears reflected in the eyes of nearly everyone present.
"Three cheers for Harry and Daphne!" George proclaimed, breaking the spell that seemed to have enraptured everyone, their cheers echoing into the night and awakening an even greater sense of elation in the settlement. Harry allowed Daphne to slip the companion ring onto his finger, their hands lacing together so that the rings touched. He pulled her in and kissed her deeply, her lips so soft against his that he moaned with sudden desire.
Daphne seemed to share his mood, for she wasted no time in spiriting him away from the congratulating throng, heading straight for their shared room.
Dawn was peaking in through their window as exhaustion trembled through their entwined bodies. They had made love all through the night, only to fall asleep for a short time to awaken and make love yet again. He couldn't get enough of her and her of him.
Sleep threatened to put a pause on their pre-marital bliss as they finally collapsed, her head resting on his chest as she admired the glittering rings in the golden morning light.
"I took a lock of your hair and one of mine. I transfigured them into rings and the rest was hope that you would be foolish enough to say yes to me."
"What was foolish was how long it took you." Daphne teased, her eyes still locked on the rings. He had done lovely work, strands of bright gold intertwined with his darker veins of deep brown wood. She could feel his love for her bound into them, and managed to murmur, "I love you" before biology took command and sent her into a deep and contented sleep.
Harry stroked her hair from her face before he joined her in the arms of Morpheus, no care beyond the happiness of his future wife in his heart.
POV: Harry
"Ah, so the love birds finally make an appearance, eh? I think you're supposed to be married first, then have a honeymoon, Harry." George teased.
Harry tried to scowl at the man, but his giddy happiness would not allow even the shadow of an ill mood to fall upon him. He merely shook his head at the banter and shrugged helplessly.
"We can have as much of a honeymoon as we like." Daphne laughed, "before, during, after. I'll have my Harry as much as I want."
Everyone gasped at her tawdriness, though Walt seemed thoroughly amused as evidenced by the hearty laugh that nearly bent the man over double.
"Everyone's talkin 'bout it. Congratulations, by the way." Sturges put in, surprising Harry that the man had made the trip from Sanctuary to visit. Harry shook his offered hand with exuberance, his affection for the mechanic made plain. Sturges was one of the best examples of muggle-kind that he knew of, ingenious and kindness being the most prevalent and important of his many traits.
"Oh yeah, I don't have to tell you that this is going to be quite the extravagant affair! Word's already spread throughout the Northern Commonwealth. It's gonna be quite the shindig."
Harry had hoped for a quick and quiet ceremony, as to him it was merely putting a stamp of legitimacy on what he had almost taken for granted. But seeing the look on Daphne's face as a beaming Hermione, Lilith and Luna swarmed her and began jabbering about a dress, a cake and all manner of nuptial preparation that needed to be done. He tried to follow it but was lost in moments. Daphne took pity no him and squeezed his hand with reassurance.
She pulled Harry's face down to hers to plant a quick kiss on his lips and murmured to him, "Don't worry, my love. So many people are going to want to be involved that there will be next to nothing for us to do except make sure we show up on time."
"A thousand raiders couldn't keep me away." He swore quietly, Daphne throwing a wink his way as she was pulled from him by a jabbering coterie of excited women.
"Well, seeing as how you're free for the moment, why don't you come on over to the workshop and see what Sturges here has been helping us with?" Walt requested.
"Oh yes, I was wondering what had brought you all the way here from Sanctuary." Harry replied.
"Yeah, George, Walt and I have been cooking up a little something. You see, I spend my whole day fixing up every little thing that I don't get the chance to tinker as much as I would like. I go from one end of Sanctuary to another putting stuff back together while so many projects sit on the back burner. Then, we got some of those robots from the Mechanists, and they are a great help, but they can only do so much… which got me to thinking." Sturges explained.
They walked as he spoke, Harry following along only somewhat as his mind was more than a little pre-occupied. He barely registered entering the dark domain of the resident tinkering duo and was brought up short when Sturges held a toy up for Harry's attention.
"Um… alright, what is this?"
"Sproit." The toy said, its voice sounding more like the mechanism of a badly tuned clock than anything else. It was small, shaped like a simple box with simple legs extending out the bottom and long spindly arms extending from its sides. Tiny bronze wings sprouted from its back and a single glass eye blinked at him from its front. It hopped in place as if impatient for some reaction from Harry.
"It's quite cute." Harry admitted, though he had no idea what the tiny robot toy-like construct was for.
The robot seemed pleased at the praise and braced its miniscule hands on its sides, puffing out its 'chest' with pride. It snapped its tiny fingers and trembled with concentration, its single eye closed as it worked hard at… something. Harry became alarmed, wondering if the little 'bot was going to shake itself apart or worse, explode in his hand.
Pop! A tiny tool extended from the top of its head, the jaws of the wrench almost too big and ungainly for the robot to manage. It flapped its wings and juttered over to a large device with a console attached to its front and a number of actuator arms mounted to a series of rings that circumnavigated a welded metal deck. One of the arms hung slack from a middle joint, the bolt clearly loose even to a hopelessly non-mechanically inclined Harry.
The little robot chirped loudly and was joined by a coterie of similar robots, though no two looked alike. Several others held the actuator arm in place as another hefted a large bolt and placed it in position. With a clang of excitement, the original robot used its wrench to tighten the bolt and secured the arm in place.
The robots then lined up in front of the device and held up a panoply of arms as if to say, "Ta da!"
"They are delightful!" Harry exclaimed, more taken with how wondrous the little creatures were in appearance and temper than with the task they had just done. They seemed pleased at his reaction, even going so far as to congratulate each other with handshakes and little impromptu dances.
"We made these little guys using a process similar to what was used to make the owls. They seem to have a bit of personality, cute little things, and can fix darn near anything. We made them small enough to get to where they need to go to fix things the bigger robots can't manage. Haven't come up with a name for them yet though. You really like 'em?" Sturges asked.
"They're brilliant!" Harry confirmed.
"Pending the General's permission, we'd like the Mechanist to start producing these and shipping them out to all the friendly settlements. They can't fight or anything, but it should really make life so much easier on everyone. I had about half a dozen built up and sent to Sanctuary and Jun tells me they've already fixed the water purifier and started re-attaching all the plumbing. We'll have flushing toilets and working showers in no time!"
"Plus, they can prove themselves here by helping get your massive wedding ceremony put together!" George just HAD to add.
Any further conversation was halted by a red owl that flew into the open door and skidded to a halt in front of them, scattering tiny robots and tools as it slid. The little mechanics chirped their displeasure at the owl, which the messenger pointedly ignored.
"That's a Starlight owl." Sturges noted, the emblem for the trader settlement emblazoned proudly on the owl's chest.
He bent and accepted the message the owl presented with a murmur of thanks, his eyes narrowing at the tiny tube.
"It says, 'General's eyes only'. That's Preston's handwriting. You can tell by how it's barely legible." Sturges teased, handing it over to Harry.
"I'll get this to him, I think I know what it's about." Harry announced, a hint of seriousness intruding on the moment.
POV: Harry
"Preston and Roger have assembled more than twenty Minutemen at Starlight. He says they are ready for the attack." Jonathan read aloud to a small gathering composed of Harry, Daphne, Hermione, Sturges, George, Luna, Soleil, Barney and Sir Nicholas.
"So, time to re-take the Castle?" Harry asked, to which Jon merely nodded.
Harry shared meaningful looks at the others, "We'll have Captain Ironsides make immediate preparation to depart. Barney will put together a squad of his best blokes to come with us. We can be ready by no later than midday."
"Whoah. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the offer, but." Jonathan began.
"But what?" Harry interrupted, his face broadcasting his intention to be stubborn on this issue.
Jonathan sighed and glanced over at Hermione, "I was hoping that you could help me convince Hermione to stay here." He admitted.
"I'm standing right here!" She began, making everyone take an involuntary step back, "If you think you are just going to abandon me here while you run off and do what you always do and take reckless risks."
Jonathan looked helpless, his face becoming painted with something akin to distress as tears glistened in her eyes.
"You can't do this. You can't. My love for you is worth just as much yours is."
"I didn't…" He began.
"You think that you're the only one that is afraid? That you can put me in a glass case of imagined safety while you run off and be the hero? I would die if something happened to you. You can't. You… can't."
Jonathan's face crumpled at the pain and anger he had evoked from Hermione, for nothing else in this world could unman him in quite the same way as the thought of her anguish… anguish that he himself had caused.
"I didn't know if I could be brave knowing that you were in danger with me. I was selfish because I didn't consider that you would feel the same way. I only thought about myself and my own fear of losing you. I'm sorry, your love is everything to me, and I will never underestimate it again." He swore.
Taking it as an apology of sorts, Hermione grimaced and nodded her acceptance, wiping her tears away and steeling herself with determination.
Harry looked over at Daphne and saw the same fiery look that was in Hermione's eyes reflected in hers. He was silently thankful that Jonathan was the one to put his foot in his mouth, for it just spared him a great deal of suffering.
Harry cleared his throat, "So… Me, Daphne, Hermione, and…"
He mumbled a little as he noticed a man he didn't recognize raking the same spot by the window, the bald man too obviously not paying attention to what was being said to not be paying attention.
Harry picked up so as to not alert the eavesdropper, "Jonathan, Barney's squad and a few spare owls. We'll meet at the Constitution in two hours. Good?"
Jonathan agreed, "Sounds good. Thank you. I'll get my gear together."
Hermione left with him, while the others watched them leave the church. They all seemed to breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief as Hermione took the hand that Jonathan offered and they walked hand in hand to their quarters.
"Barney, will you have enough time to get enough people together?"
"No worries on that count, Harry. I got some boys and girls who are chomping at the bit to get some action now that it's so quiet around these parts. If you'll excuse me, I'll get em and join you at the ship."
"You're coming too?"
"You gonna stop me?" Barney challenged.
"Um, no. Glad to have you."
"Good. Fingers will be in command while I'm gone. Maybe keeping her busy will keep her off of Neville's back for a time. Though why he hadn't taken her up on her offer is beyond me."
"Fingers and Neville?" Harry was thoroughly confused.
"I guess she likes them shy types. Wants to make a man of him. She's a love 'em and leave 'em type though, and I'm guessing that he ain't, so I've been running interference."
Harry had had no idea. He realized that he spent too much time away to keep tabs on how everyone was doing, though in his defense, he wasn't that intuitive when it came to affairs of the heart.
He dismissed the Salem Militia Commander and bid the others farewell as he and Daphne walked from the church. He nudged her and urged that she follow behind him, subtly gesturing that she should draw her wand.
He was quietly pleased at the trust she showed him by not questioning his request, merely drawing her wand and looked around, alert.
Harry silenced their footsteps as they walked between stalks of waving corn, their heads heavy after the rains the day before.
"Did you get an earful?" Harry challenged, as the man was brought up short leaving the window where he had been eavesdropping.
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, sir." The man rasped.
"Oh drop it, Deacon." Harry demanded, recognizing him now that he was up close.
Deacon sighed and set the rake he had been using on the ground, holding his hands up at the threatening way Daphne held her wand toward him.
"I thought you were going to see those kids to safety?" Harry asked, his voice staying calm despite his distaste for subterfuge.
"I did. Then I was tasked to come here and get a feel for you and yours. There are people out there who are curious as to the nature of a group of witches and wizards."
Harry bent some of his power into his next question, meeting the surprisingly strong will of the unknown actor before him, "What people? Who are you?"
The man struggled internally, weighing the pros and cons of revealing the identity of his friends to this relatively unknown.
"We're called the Railroad. We help synths escape the Institute. Give them a chance at a true life and freedom away from those who would keep them enslaved. We have a hard enough time as it is, and we needed to know which side of the fence you folks stand on."
"Can't really say, I don't really know a thing about synths." Harry answered honestly, "Though I am a fan of freewill."
"Haven't had too many run ins with the Institute?"
Harry shook his head in the negative.
"Yeah, they made a big push against us, took our last headquarters, killed a bunch of my friends. Then suddenly, nothing. Like they've all but disappeared. We don't know why, maybe you're arrival had something to do with it. Or the Rust Devils, or those new raiders gangs from the West… there's too many variables even PAM can't give us anything."
"Pam?"
"Er… nevermind. Truth is, we hoped that at the very least, we could stay out of each other's way. We don't interfere in your business, you don't get in the way of ours. But I've listened to a lot of talk over the last few days. Between you and this new General of the Minutemen… I think we might be able to do each other a solid now and again."
"Ally with the Railroad?"
"Maybe not something quite so formal, but yeah. Let's be friends and all that."
"I've heard a lot about this Institute. So much that even the mention of them is enough to scare the wits out of average folks. Are they truly so awful? Are they really responsible for even half of what people think?"
"Listen, I'm a talented liar. It comes in handy in my line of work. You can use whatever mumbo jumbo you need to let you know that what I'm about to tell you is the truth." Deacon paused expectantly, as if expecting some grandiose flourishing and some kind of light show.
Harry and Daphne simple looked at him, mild irritation clearly writ upon their faces.
Deacon sighed, "On my way here, I ran across two men fighting. Now, usually that sort of thing is not something I get involved with, but here's the thing. They were identical. It's not outside the realm of possibility that identical twins would get into a row, but one of them was screaming in a way that made me doubt that theory."
He took a couple breaths as he considered his next words, "Against my better judgement, I intervened. Long story short, one of them was an Institute synth who had been sent to murder the original and take his place. The man had a wife and kids, and for whatever reason, the Institute wanted him dead and one of their programmed slaves to take his place. For what? An experiment? To put an operative in a settlement? To foment distrust? Who knows? That's what they are. That's what they do. They act with impunity. The lives of the everyday people of the Commonwealth and the synths they enslave mean nothing to them. We're all just variables in some experiment of theirs."
Harry steepled his fingers and rubbed his forehead, a headache threatening with the addition of yet another potential threat. For as much as he didn't trust Deacon, he also knew that at heart, he was a relatively good man and more importantly… was telling the truth about his encounter.
"Look, I know it's a lot to take in. But believe me that I don't mean you folks any harm… now that I have an idea as to what kind of folks you are."
"I believe you, Deacon. I've heard too much about this 'Institute' to ignore the possibility they represent a threat to my people. But I've got enough on my plate as it is, I simply didn't have the time or energy to discovering more about them."
"Well, in that, maybe we can help each other out?" Deacon asked, hopefully.
"I'll… think it over." Harry spoke slowly, his mind working, "Where can we contact you?"
"Follow the Freedom Trail." He answered cryptically, before turning and walking away.
Harry was torn as to whether he should apprehend the man or not, but decided that they had other things to take care of.
"I think Luna and Soleil could meet with them, if you think that forming a relationship with them is a good idea." Daphne proposed after the man had left.
Harry looked at her appraisingly, weighing the merits of her suggestion. Luna, though a bit odd, was a talented witch and Soleil was as savvy and tough as any muggle he knew. They worked well together, which made the coincidence of their names all the more poignant.
"Good idea. Let's talk to them before we head out."
POV: Preston
He bounced on his soles, the excitement building up in him becoming a palpable manifestation as he gazed over the horizon, waiting to catch the first glimpse of the General's arrival.
Roger had taken the force for a quick meal once they received word that the General would be arriving in a matter of hours from Salem. Preston gave no thought to food though, his stomach was too busy tying itself into knots to get more than a mouthful of water down.
He thought back to those who had fallen getting the Quincy survivors to their fateful encounter at the Museum of History. He murmured their names: Emma, Josh, Alex, Gloria, Steven… their names were a litany in his mind, a constant reminder of the sacrifices given by his comrades. He wished they could have seen this, the rebirth of the Minutemen and their return to glory. Soon, with the successful conclusion of this campaign, his beloved Minutemen will at last be once again what they once were: a beacon of hope for the entire Commonwealth.
He had become distracted, so his first indication that the General was approaching came from the nervous lows from the brahmin pens and the excited chatter of a mob of children, the little ones swarming the Pre-War awning where he had waited, jostling him with their excitement.
White teeth gleamed in his face as he saw the happy faces on the healthy and well-fed children. This is what he fought for, what he had sought meaning in all those years ago when he had volunteered and joined up with Colonel Hollis's group.
The Constitution sailed close with a majestic air, gliding up and tacking against the wind as it approached the settlement.
Preston could hear the creaking wood of the ancient vessel as robotic crew stomped and rolled across its deck, a Mr. Lookout floating off the rails with a thick rope in its claws.
The Minutemen had installed a thirty foot dock braced with thick steel struts which extended above the planks and forming a sort of frame. The Mr. Lookout jetted for the right pylon and looped the rope around it. It was followed by a second Mr. Lookout with another rope, who looped his line to the left pylon. With a groan of protest, the Constitution butted against the ramp and settled into a gently bobbing hover.
The intimidating presence of Captain Ironsides was the only thing that Preston expected kept the children from racing up the lowering gang plank onto the ship. However, even Garvey could see that even his imposing bulwark could not forever stymie the tide of a child's curiosity. Thankfully, Roger led the platoon strength Minutemen in a jog and formed a cordon around the entrance to the ramp, to the marked disappointment of the little ones.
Preston was all smiles as he dropped down from the awning and met his friend and commander at the foot of the ramp. The General was the picture of heroism and Preston was proud to note that he had dressed for the occasion in Minuteman colors with their badge prominently emblazoned on his chest armor.
"Good to see you sir." Preston grinned, coming to attention.
Jonathan waved off the formality and shook his hand warmly, "Good to see you too Preston. Are the men ready to make history?"
Preston turned to the squad and nodded at Roger, who turned and addressed the platoon, "The Castle awaits! Are you ready?"
"Liberty or Death!" They cried in unison, as if carefully practiced by the men and women and thus all the more powerful for their rehearsal. Their cry was a bellicose roar of defiance and set the watching crowd's hearts afire with zeal to witness it.
Jonathan's face beamed with pride as he clapped Preston on the back and waved for the men to board. Hermione stepped in tandem with the General and served well to represent Salem's dedication to her allies. The Minutemen saluted the General as they passed, and again as they passed Hermione. Preston grinned at the blush that bloomed on her cheeks as she recognized the awe that the men and women paid her.
The final four were girded in power armor, the heavy suits shaking the ground as they marched up single file to board the ship. Each one bore heavy weapons to support their brothers and sisters, three wielding mini-guns and one with a missile launcher, upon which some enterprising individual had written, 'Special delivery.'
Finally, a pair of modified sentry bots and a pair of assaultrons took up the rear, their powder blue paint so new that their casings gleamed in the sunlight.
"That's everyone." Preston affirmed.
"Alright, next stop… The Castle."
A/N: I gave some attention to my other fic, writing up two chapters for that story, so didn't have much time left for this one. Accept my apologies for the length of time I'm making you wait for each chapter. We are on Spring Break now, so I do have a little bit of time to do some more writing so that the next update should be faster. Thanks for your patience.