Chapter Two: The Hound, The Pup and The Spider

Lyall pursed her lips as she scrutinised the house. It was a week since she made her bargain with an imprisoned god. Even brought low as he had been the Chaosbringer had hardly been toothless. It had taken a great deal of wit to steer the conversation as she had, and she still suspected there may be a sting in the tail that she would not notice till it was too late. He was hardly the first Other she had encountered but he was certainly the most powerful. Even one of the Sidhe Lords would stand lesser in comparison. So now she must deliver on her end of the bargain as no tale of Loki had made of him a forgiving god.

So she had been swift in tying off the loose ends that remained. She had returned the hysterical Lisa to her doubly hysterical father. All the while wondering how far the bonds of childhood friendship should stretch. There was a time when she and Duncan had been as close as any set of siblings. Then Duncan had moved to America and gotten himself a wife and child and cheerfully drifted away from her. For a moment she had thought she would be the cool aunt. She had half formed plans of whisking her pseudo niece away and showing her the Other. The places in the world still flourishing in old, wild magic. But, alas, she had proved to be just too...American. Too modern. Blind to the Other and the Nether both. Worse still Duncan, sweet and nervy little Duncan, had forgotten it too. ("I can't believe you still remember the games we played when we were wee, but I don't think they are really suitable for Lisa. You'll frighten her.") Forgotten her!

The last of her family. The last of the Hounds True Get. Sétanta had fathered many sons and daughters on Aífe. Only the eldest had met ruin at his fathers hands. They had been many for generations but now the line had diminished so greatly that she was the only one left. She was The Hound now and none could match her on the hunt.

Xavier had wittered on about mutations an secondary mutations. Tried to explain her knowing with modern science. The way she sensed a threat coming like a cat felt the oncoming storm. The way she found the safest path through any conflict or to the one thing she needed. The way when she didn't want to be seen or remembered the thought of her disappeared like morning mist under the rising sun. Precognition and latent telepathy he said. Fae blood she knew.

Her mother had never told her who her father was. Lyall would be damned if the kelpie laird of Loch Oich didn't have an awful familiar look to him though. He would never acknowledge a daughter though so there was no point in the asking.

None of which helped her now, save for in the form of procrastination. She knew she could find Jormungand and free him from whatever bound him. She also knew that there was something in this house that she needed to do so. Still she hesitated. There was a troublesome feel to this. Like her world would be forever changed, though she could not tell if it would be for good or ill. Considering she had already indebted herself to a god, she wasn't sure if she wanted to add further complications to her life.

The neighbourhood was eerily suburban. Every house so similar that a person could imagine they came from an IKEA flat pack. Every lawn was manicured to near plasticity. Even the cars in the driveways looked like they were the same make. Made her want to make a mess and ruckus. The house she needed was number four. She had arrived as the family were leaving with the two adults in ostentatious conversation about visiting someone called Marge. The whale in a boy costume whining all the way for more snacks. What she needed hadn't gone with them. She was relieved to note.

What could a family like that have that would lead to the release of the World Serpent?

Deciding she was unlikely to find out, she gave herself a shake. Something that had the distinct taste of magic lost its tenuous hold on her as she did. The ghost taste of copper penny blood caught the back of her throat. There was a way in, probably an open window, at the rear of the house.

Harry idly watched his friend spider spinning his web in the corner of their cupboard. He took a tiny sip from the bottle of water aunt Petunia had grudgingly thrown in after him before she left. His relatives were all off to see aunt Marge and Freaks weren't invited. Harry thought he would be having the better weekend here in his cupboard with spider than any of them would with Marge, Ripper and all the other dogs. He would have to be careful to make his water last though and he would be very hungry by the time he was let out again.

"What if they don't come back?" He had whispered to his friend. Spider, being more concerned with what architectural endeavours he could produce without the threat of aunt Petunias duster, hadn't replied. Harry didn't mind really. He knew the answer.

He squeaked in surprise as the door was suddenly pulled open. A lady stared in at him. She was pretty in a wild sort of way, Harry thought. Aunt Petunia would have said some very not nice things about her outside her hearing if she had been here to see her. Uncle Vernon would have given her the icky look and moustache twitch he gave all pretty girls when they weren't looking back.

"Hello there." She said to him in a low and husky voice.

"Hello?"

"My name is Lyall Cullan. What's yours?"

"Harry Potter, Miss." Her eyes turned to the Harry's Room he had scribbled on the wall with his crayon as he answered. "Aunt and Uncle aren't here for visitors right now."

"I'd imagine not. As they made much of being off to see some Marge with their...offspring."

Spider had left his web. It was now on the edge of his blanket waving two of his legs in some funny kind of dance. Miss Cullan watched and nodded like it was telling her something. Gently she picked up Harry's friend, lifting him so she could look at them both like she was coming to a decision.

"Tell me, Harry. How would you like to come with me on an adventure?"

"Would I have to come back?" Her eyes turned angry and sad almost at the same time before they went back to being kind.

"No. In fact, I promise you will never have to see this place or those people ever again."

"Can Spider come?"

"Of course. Do you want to bring anything else?"

Harry nodded rapidly and scooped up his toy soldier with the missing leg and his blanket. When he stood expectantly before her she gently set Spider on his shoulder.

"What kind of adventure will it be, Miss Cullan? Will there be a princess? Or a dragon? Or treasure?"

She smiled all the way up to the corner of her eyes. "We are going to rescue a Prince from another world on behalf of a god."

He was so excited he bounced and clapped with a little cheer. Her smile became a grin, sharp-toothed and restless.

"Shall we be off then?"

"Yes, please."

Harry wasn't sure but he didn't think adventures were supposed to start with a ride in a taxi. He had told Miss Cullan as the cab had whisked them away from Privet Drive. She had ruffled his hair (somehow avoiding disturbing Spider who had decided to nap there while they travelled) and assured him that adventures started with the first step out the door. The driver, one Henry Dingle if the ID card was to be believed, had loudly agreed. Soon enough they found themselves in London. Mr Dingle had asked Miss Cullan if she was sure this was the place she wanted to go to. Harry wondered the same as he took in the run down area they were in. Near the river it was all big factory buildings that looked like they had been empty for years. The street strewn with litter. Miss Cullan had taken his hand in hers, like a mummy would do, and told him to keep close. She led him to a space in a building that once had a door in it but now just had a ragged curtain of colourless fabric. They passed through and then down some stairs. Harry's ears popped as an old water swollen wooden door opened for them and the Miss Cullan welcomed him to The Market.

They must have been much deeper underground than he thought, perhaps he had fallen asleep and not noticed as they walked more than the one flight of stairs? He thought they were in a cave but the space was so vast that he couldn't see the walls or ceiling. A small town of higgledy-piggledy stone buildings spread out in all directions and a glowing red river wound its way through the middle. He asked Miss Cullan if the water was on fire but she said it was lava. Then he had asked if they were in a volcano as his teacher Mr Perkins said lava came from volcanos. She said no, they were just very deep down. That they were now Underhill. They made their way through a maze of cobbled streets, gas lamps and paper lanterns strung above them from roof to roof. The crowd of people parted before them like water running round a rock.

And the people were like nothing he had ever seen before. They walked and slithered; fluttered and trotted; lumbered and hopped. A really old man dressed in the Chinese clothes from the old movies Dudley liked had nearly landed on him, his body all stiff and his skin grey. Miss Cullan had growled at him, deeper and angrier than Ripper had ever managed, and he had hopped rapidly away. The crowd barked and whistled; hissed and trumpeted; rumbled and squeaked.

Harry thought this was the best place he had ever seen.

Miss Cullan tugged him gently over to one of the shops. It stood out from the others around it by dint of having a roof that was neither tile nor corrugated tin but was instead a giant plaid. Swaths and folds of fabric were draped from gable to gable. He was puzzled by how sure he was that it was a plaid as it was so filthy it had been rendered a colourless grey. It was almost like he was seeing it somehow with something other than his eyes. For a moment he fancied the peak of the unusual roof was pure, pristine white like it was covered with fresh snow but they passed through the door before he could look twice.

Inside was full of every kind of fabric in every kind of colour he could think of and a few more besides. Arranged on shelves and tables in rolls and folds and bundles and piles. He thought that if he chose to let go of Miss Cullan's hand and wander between the small fabric mountains he might never be found again. The air was heavy like just before a storm and smelled of cold air and pine. When they reached the back it was filled by a huge wooden counter. A strangely shaped basket filled with rocks sat in the left corner with an old fashioned hammer propped against it. A long wooden staff inlaid with silver hung between the prongs of a set of antlers on the wall behind the counter.

A funny little man (who Harry had mistaken for a mound of sooty, raggedy feathers) squawked politely as he bustled passed them. There was an old woman standing behind the counter. Her skin was dark and her features gaunt, simultaneously ancient and ageless. A sheet of white hair covered one side of her face, leaving her peering at them from one grey eye.

"Lady Beira." Miss Lyall said, bowing to her. Harry copied as best he could but he didn't think he managed the dignity she had.

"Hound." The Crone acknowledged with a regal nod, her voice cracking like a log snapping on the fire. "It has been many seasons since you graced The Underhill Market with your presence. A whelp at your side no less. How interesting." Harry couldn't help tucking himself behind Lyall's legs as that eye focused on him, a chill tracing down his spine as it did. "Mph. I would not have thought one of yours would be so shabbily attired."

"He has only recently come into my care. I would take him to no other than the Cailleachan to see him outfitted properly." Lyall seemed unperturbed by the implied rebuke.

"Of course you would not." The Old Woman bared rusty teeth in something of a smile. "Full wardrobe is it?"

"We will be travelling. A few changes for now. A coat and boots. The staples if you please." Harry peered up at her but her gaze stayed locked with the woman's, but she cupped a hand on the back of his neck in reassurance. He was going to have his very own clothes.

"So be it." Mrs Beira said before shouting towards the piles of cloth. "Brìghde. Brìghde! There is a fitting to be done!"

Another woman was suddenly next to them. Just as tall as Beira but softer in feature. Her waves of rich brown hair had flowers woven though them and her eyes were bright blue as they sparkled down at Harry.

"Hello Lyall dear!" She said in a voice soft as summer rain. "Who is this handsome young man you've brought us?"

"Never mind your gossip! There's work needs doing." Beira snapped before Harry or Lyall could answer.

"There's always time to make a new friend, sister!" Brìghde dimpled unperturbed. "Never mind the old grouch, my dears. She's always like this when its so close to my solstice."

"Bah!" Was all her sister had to say to that as she began to take the rocks from the basket and arranging them on the counter to a pattern only obvious to herself.

"Lets get you measured then Sweet Boy." Harry dutifully followed her to a small stool in the corner after a nod from Lyall who leaned indolently on the counter and poked a rock or two into different positions, unrepentant under the scowls and huffs it earned her. Though Harry thought her attention was more on him than anything else.

"My name is Harry, Miss Br-um"

"Brigid will be easier for you pet. English tongues are always slow to learn the right shapes I find."

Minutes later and Harry was outfitted in jeans, t-shirt and a cable nit sweater (also new underwear much to his embarrassment). He admired his very own clothes in the mirror. Miss Brigid had asked him what kind of coat he wanted. He had looked over to where Lyall was still tormenting Beira's rockery. Her coat was a patchwork of brown leathers with embroidered hares and deer being chased round the hems through heather and gorse by white hounds. Miss Brigid had chuckled and darted off saying she knew just the thing. She came back with her arms laden with a coat and boots.

"Here we go my lovely!" She said and helped him into the jacket. His wasn't leather but a patchwork of denim lined with fleece. The embroidery was slightly different too, as it was a bird who gave chase. Harry would wear it forever and ever. "Lets get these boots on and you're all done then."

Lyall ambled over at that and grinned at him. "Looking good, Wee Man." She told him.

Harry stood in his new boots while Miss Brigid pressed her thumb on the toe muttering about room to grow before telling him to take a walk. Feeling a bit silly he tramped to the counter and back. Dudley's old trainers had never been this comfortable that was certain.

"How do they feel?"

"They're great Miss Brigid!"

"You haven't seen the best part yet, lovey. Tap the heels three times and take another walk."

Harry did and when he turned to make his way back he saw tiny paw prints marked his path, glistening like frost. Lyall grinned before tapping her own heels and walking towards him, leaving her own larger paw prints alongside his.

"So Cool!" Harry whispered. "Are these really all mine?" He felt a little dizzy at the thought.

"All yours." Lyall assured him. Harry promptly threw his arms around her waist and burst into tears.

Later, Lyall carried Harry through the streets closest to the river. His head rested on her shoulder, heavy and listless after the crying storm. Lyall had held him close through it all, whispering soothing words into his ear. She had taken more clothes from a teary looking Miss Brigid and put them in her pack where she had stowed his blanket and toy soldier. With a last farewell to the stern faced Beira and a toss of a clinking pouch onto the counter they had left the shop. Harry didn't even have the energy to ask where they were going now.

Lyall paused at the steps leading to a squat little house that was closer to the river than all the rest and looked over her shoulder into the deep shadows made by two buildings.

"Bit out of your way, aren't you? Thought your lot stuck to the Mediterranean." Lyall said to the woman who wafted out of the concealing darkness. She was covered in veils and a long flowing multi-layered gown all made of a silver-grey diaphanous material.

"One of my children called me here." She answered in a strangely thready voice.

Spider skittered down to the ground and darted towards the woman. She and the arachnid seemed to hold a conversation that consisted of swaying eerily back and forth.

"Very well my child. Make your goodbyes." Spider waved its front legs at Harry and Lyall and darted into the woman's skirts. "You have been a good friend to my child young one. He seeks to punish those who have wronged you and his brethren. These Dursley humans will know what it is to have our attention brought upon them in such a manner. Your friend regrets he cannot join you on your journey but knows the Hound shall care for you adequately in his stead."

The Hound was muttering under her breath about pretentious Greeks.

"I would offer a boon." Suddenly she was in front of Harry her fingers tangled in his hair. She froze when she felt a dagger pressing into her belly. "I wish your pup no harm, O Hound." Lyall stared at her for a moment the dagger tip pressing a fraction to get across the point that wishing was the only harm she could bring to one under her charge before withdrawing the weapon. "One of my best weavings, Little One. Ill dreams shall be caught within and no longer trouble you."

"No more green dreams?" Harry mumbled as something cool settled over his scalp.

"No more green dreams." She was back into the shadows once more, her voice echoing behind her. "Arachne has declared it so."

Harry waved tiredly already missing his little friend. Lyall shifted her grip and turned once more down the stairs. His day finally caught up with him and he was sound asleep before they reached the door.