Star Granger Season 2 - Chapter 8
Thoughts
"speech"
"Goa'uld speech"
SG SG SG SG SG SG SG
May 30th, 1999 - Guildford
This is not funny, alright? Just happened to take the south-west shore of England.
I'm in the air for more than two hours now, and dearly miss both our comfy carpet and Precious. Not being afraid of brooms or heights, does not translate into enjoyment. Harry must be actually suffering on his Firebolt by now.
You must be asking yourself what's taking us so long? Probably imagining one of us casting Point-Me charm a couple of times, and be done with it, Right? Well, obviously, you didn't listen during your fifth-year charm lessons. This spell was never meant for finding people, just to show the north. It's adaptable, which is nice, but it's a rather short-range magic.
Woulda been so easy to send him a letter and follow the bird, except for the mail ward.
I feel so stupid for that idea now.
There are probably better magical ways for locating people, but a certain bastard has turned Hogwarts Divination into a mockery for the last twenty years, and took rituals completely out of the curriculum for much longer. Finding someone who's still knowledgeable in this magic will take us much longer than the time we have. Therefore, zigzagging over the English countryside a hundred and fifty ft up in the chilly air, heading towards Brighton, Southampton, and then on to Plymouth - I am.
I even hate the setting sun right now, with all it's wonderful pinks and oranges.
R called and updated us that a new message had arrived, setting a delivery location to a place south of Wrexham, tomorrow late morning. It's accompanied by the regular threats.
Welsh?
Never mind, George and Katie are heading that direction.
It's already past five, when Parvati gets the first ping from the charm.
England, thank Merlin!
She has no idea where she actually is. 'Somewhere north of London' just isn't good enough. Neither is she that good with the Patronus messaging charm. It takes us almost three quarters of an hour for her to locate herself, and us to converge on her. She is somewhere between Leicester and Peterborough, going north.
We rush onwards and the course starts to settle over Grantham.
Nice castle!
The fellowship is planning search patterns, using much pointing and Quidditch derived terminology. I pull out a map, draw a line, and send Harry to the Sheffield area. A few moments later my mobile rings.
"Gainsborough."
Where?
I call him back with the map and use the time to notify R. Unsurprisingly, she knows where Gainsborough is. By now it's dark enough for Precious to be up and around. I also ask her for a tranquillizer gun. Moonrise is in twenty.
We're going to be late…
It takes us about half an hour to pinpoint Sirius' location to an abandoned factory. It has a rickety sign showing a dated lorry, and proudly spells 'British Leyland'. Daddy would have been all teary with nostalgia, about Stags and Spitfires.
Lovely, for the month they worked, I'm certain.
For an abandoned factory, the place is buzzing with activity, and as we move closer, some gunshots are heard.
Our friends are surprised to see a company of armed SBS waiting for us, hidden from the factory entrance. We thank them and bid our goodbyes. Our friends, Dumbledore's Army notwithstanding, are Quidditch players, or a Fashionista in Pravati's case, not professional trained soldiers. More gunshots are heard from the direction of the plant, and there's movement now – People running away. Our two black All terrain friends break through the gates, and try to escape west, over the Trent river.
Harry's wand still points towards the factory, and he shakes his head at R, as we walk briskly towards the now open gates.
= Clear = I hear R call, over the radio.
= Roger =, a voice (Kaden?) answers.
In the middle of the bridge, just a couple of feet over road height, Frankie drops its Disillusionment . It has nothing on a good old Bird of Prey, but both vans seem to appreciate it, nonetheless. The first van turns off the road, just before the bridge and gets stuck in the river bank. The other is blown up. People are trying to escape the sinking van, but we pay them little attention – Kaden's people will take care of them.
We move in through the broken gates. I lead with Harry and Bill at my sides. It's not that I'm the best soldier here,
Far from it?
But my brace's shield is a huge advantage for a point position.
"Tonks!" I hear Harry call out from my side. He looks back and shakes his head at nothing. A few steps behind us, Tonks drops her Disillusionment, looking very confused. I keep walking forwards. It is not the time to explain, but training has painfully exhibited that unless an action is very well planned and coordinated – Disillusionment is a call for friendly fire.
Just what we need today…
There are a few men in the yard with a will still to fight. They find themselves thrown out or our way. Bullets of blue light, and cries of pain tell us that the company behind us is doing its work clearing all enemy opposition.
Enemies! Dumbledore would have been so disappointed in us now. Remus too, comes to that.
The front door disappears before we reach it. I walk in, supposedly recklessly, and am welcomed by a few shots and a surprising ray of a snake gun. Bill disappears from my side only to reappear behind the corner. We hear a few shouts and people are falling on the floor into our sight. We split up. Harry and Fleur move forward, and into what once was the manufacturing floor. Bill walks to the right, along the corridor. Tonks comes with me to the left. I'm happy to see R a step behind me with a phaser light gun in her hands.
People (enemies!) we meet now are more interested in what's lurking inside the factory building. So, we stun them in their backs when we come upon them. We start to encounter wounded and mauled people now. Still, we move forward through the corridor, clearing the rooms on both sides.
I can hear growls now from deeper inside and cries of fear and pain. I want to rush forwards,
No!
Training prevails. "Tonks!" I stop her from doing just that. There is an anger growing inside me. Cold. Hard. Insistent.
I've never been this angry in my life.
= Hall is clear! = Sidney calls over the radio.
I mount a stairway. Probably used to separate management from the proletary, back in the day. Above is a wide walkway with large, glass front offices along it. I can see Harry in the far office pouring potions down Sirius' throat. He's still bound to the same chair of the video, looking quite beat up. Harry gives me a thumbs up.
A low growl comes from the centre office. And a wail.
"Here doggy!", says a clearly feminine voice, and almost makes me stop.
First thing I notice, entering the office, is the broken mauled body of our dear dear friend Colonel Maybourne. A snake gun is on the floor, about a foot out of his reach. He moans piteously, clearly bitten. Couldn't have happened to a nicer person.
That is cold! I scold myself.
Remus is there, transformed. His claws and mouth are tainted with dried blood. His body is riddled with freshly healed bullet wounds and electric burns.
Last person in the room is the woman. She's tied to the wall, though she managed to free one of her hands. Her watch is putting out a pointer red light, which she is using to entice Remus.
"Nice doggy! You like red light, right? Here, follow!"
Tonks sobs behind my back. I feel like I want to join her.
No time!
I take out the tranquillizer gun and insert a dart in. Not that a dart will do anything to a transformed wolf.
Remus hears us and turns on the spot. Just as he launches himself at us, I shoot him, and the portkey whisks him away.
I turn to the damsel but am stopped by Tonks. "Where did you send him?!" she hisses at me, holding my arm almost painfully.
Tonks? I didn't know.
"Sherwood Forest".
"Please send me there?" she is almost pleading.
"Sorry, Tonks. Work isn't done yet. We need you to be an Auror for a while longer?" Harry asks her. "Sirius is fine, he was shot, and roughed up a bit, but will be alright," he adds, to ease one of our worries.
"Think about it – American Muggles kidnap and hurt Lord Black to blackmail Lord Potter. Then set a werewolf off, who next killed and turned many of them? This is going to be an international nightmare unless we contain it and sweep it all under the rug. We can try and make you a hero, while at it," he manages a thin smile, finally.
I listen to them with half an ear, while watching R approach the bound woman. She looks to be the perfect English lady. Dark haired, blue eyed, dressed immaculately in a dark grey business suite, with a mid-thigh jacket. Her concessions to real life are her tight (yet tailored) riding pants, and flat comfortable boots.
If being tied to a wall by kidnapping American spies, and fending off werewolves can be described as 'real life'.
She has an elegant, yet rogue beauty to her. In my mind I can see Beatrix looking at her from head to toe, nodding in approval.
Blimey, she's like a feminine Sirius Black, without the wizarding eccentricity!
She eyes R curiously as she removes her cap and glasses, holstering her phaser.
"Rose dear, nice bumping into you!" she says in that perfect cultured tone, which is the outcome of years of exclusive private school education.
I'm gutted.
"Jane!" R replies with a kind, clearly fake smile. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"
"Queen and country?" Jane deadpans
"Reckoned you were celebrating. Didn't know you got into bondage, though."
"Was knee deep in the hoopla, before that beastly thing entered."
"Hey, that beastly thing, as you put it, is my uncle," Harry admonishes.
R shrugs in confirmation.
"Would you please?" Jane finally asks, pointing at her restraints. I twitch my nose, and she's free.
Finally!
That gains me a rise of her well-groomed brow. When it comes to refined sophistication, R has nothing on her. She's up there in the leagues of giants, like Beatrix, or maybe Fleur, in her teasingly French way.
All the boys think she's a spy,
she's got Bette Davis eyes.
Jane rubs her now free wrist, takes a few steps forward, and kicks Maybourne hard. You know where. She reaches into his front jacket pocket and takes out, first a small pistol, then an even smaller remote-control unit.
"Who handles the rubbish?" she asks.
"Auror Tonks here will do it," Harry responds. "We just need to bring everyone, dead or alive back in."
"Auror? And come to that, what did you do with his uncle?"
"Let me introduce you," R cuts in. "Jane, please meet Miss Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Jane Evans. Jane is a well-educated, well trained, MI6 agent, with a license to kill. She has recently gained a raise for her active love life. Hermione is one of the brightest minds in the UK. She's a founder of BCE Inc. She is my chief as well, from time to time."
Now I'm truly flattered!
"003!" I enthuse. "I'm such a fan!"
She smiles and offers me the back of her hand, to kiss.
I'm not worthy!
May 31th, 1999 – The Three Broomsticks
I can't stop crying. Harry can't stop crying. Tonks certainly can't. She looks small and dull, like Fawkes on a burning day.
Didn't even know about her and Remus
McGonagall is sitting near us with moist eyes as well. Sirius isn't crying. He's sober and doesn't even try to be funny.
This is much worse.
There is also this niggling guilt. Not only did we not meet Remus often enough, lately. We were actively avoiding him. It was quite understandable, with his guilt trips and blind belief in the old man.
We didn't even know he was with Tonks, for crying out loud!
He wasn't even a target yesterday. Just the collateral of some stupid people trying to reach Harry and I, through Sirius.
Last night was so hectic, we didn't even look for Remus. Only when McGonagall messaged to ask about him, did we go and look. His body was found by some family visiting the famous woods.
I feel guilty for those kids too.
Magic and transformation healed bullet wounds and snake gun hits, but his body failed almost as soon as he transformed back. He was so wounded that the MI5 involvement was needed for the local police to release his body.
We are finally getting ready to take Sirius home, when Tonks stops Harry, on his way to the Floo.
"You owe me some explanations," she says flatly.
He looks at me, and I nod.
"We'll meet you tomorrow at the lakeside tea house at the Battersea park. We'll talk there," he answers.
We get home just in time to hear the phone ring.
"Hi dear, are you all right?" mum asks worriedly.
"Not the best of days. It will take us some time, mum."
"We love you," she adds.
And it's only pure luck Remus and Sirius were kidnapped, and not them…
"I love you too," I sob. It was such an emotional day, my control is paper thin.
"Sorry to add to your day dear, but have you seen today's Sun, perchance?" Her voice is different, now. Dryer.
"Wasn't in the mood for sunsets, really."
"Not that sun, darling, 'The Sun'," she says. "You should really put your hand on a copy, before it's yesterday's news."
"Mum, just got home and out of my clothes." I complain.
Shouldn't have said that…
I can hear mum's smirk all the way here, through the phone.
"Mum says we should go to the news-stand and get today's Sun," I tell Harry.
"Yours better," he assures me.
Such a dear.
He's even dearer, since he puts his jumper on and goes back out.
"Thanks mum, Harry's on his way."
"Goodnight love. Don't be a stranger?"
This guilt again…
A few minutes later Harry comes back. He has a pile of tabloids in his hands – The Sun, Sunday's Sport, Daily Mail, Daily Star, Daily Express, you know? He's also laughing like a loon. I'm looking at him expectantly, but he can't stop laughing. He just gives me the tabloid stack and points on the front page of the top one.
I look at it and don't know whether to shout in anger, or cry in frustration, or laugh. Finally, a giggle escapes me.
There, spread on the front pages of this distinctive collection of choice journalism, under the screaming headline – 'Elvis is Back?' is a picture of a Disillusioned Frankenstein, passing in front of the construction site of the Millennium Eye.
We need better cloaking.
"This is nothing to laugh at!" I tell him forcefully.
Giggle.
He tries but can't really.
"Stop laughing!" I smack him lightly with a rolled Daily Express. Only makes him laugh harder.
"Hey, look, you're in it!" I tell him. There, at the bottom of the page, under the subheading 'Visiting regularly?' is a grainy picture of a light-blue Ford Anglia flying over Leeds, on its way to get whomped.
June 7th, 1999 – The Moon
It's my first day here, since last week. I receive condolences from every person I meet in the corridors. Asking how are we holding up? How is Harry doing? Is Harry's godfather doing better? Asking me to pass their condolences to Harry too. Harry himself is still locked in Wizarding politics. He does his best to tend to both Sirius and Tonks too. Both are understandably gutted, for completely different, yet remarkably similar reasons.
There is a bit of a celebration today in the lab. It's a bit muted, yet still...
Apparently, while we were fighting off bad guys, Calvin and Kazuko made some substantial breakthroughs. Calvin is gallivanting around holding his first crystal computer. He's a bit sheepish when asked for a demonstration. For now, all the sparkly computer is able to do is calculate the multiplication table, though it reaches as high as one thousand. It's yet to be fast in a noteworthy way too.
The breakthrough is in the discovery that one can't program those crystals the way we're used to. Each computer crystal is grown to do the specific task it was planned for. This breaks the familiar CPU-Memory-I/O architecture, which Earth computing is built around, together with the bottlenecks it creates. It also completely bypasses Moore's law limitations, since there are neither transistors, nor Integrated Circuits in those grown crystal computers. Clearly, we are years, if not decades, away from making best use of those advantages.
Kazuko's is more of a sidestep kind of breakthrough, by comparison. She still can't break into or understand any of the Alteran devices. What she did is to turn both Norse and Alteran Runes into programming languages.
At first, I though this is the most stupid idea possible.
What's the use of 'programming' more magic?
Kazuko was visibly disappointed with my lack of enthusiasm. For some reason she appreciates my opinion.
More than I deserve.
"Will you stop being such a witch?" Calvin chastens me.
I try?
"You turn Runes into a development language. Give it to people who have never even heard of magic. Power it with a generator or crystals producing whatever we would like to call it. In a few years we won't even recognise those programming languages Kazuko released, and wizards won't recognize the effects as magic. Certainly not any recognizable spells."
Didn't think of it this way.
"Sorry?" I mouth at Kazuko.
She smiles lightly and gives me half a hug.
"Brilliant!" Keira states. "And all this is dependent on our three generators, and those crystals we are yet to charge successfully. Permission to open up one of the generators to see how they're built?"
Can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs.
"You're asking me?!" I ask and she gives me that look.
"Girls," I say hesitantly after our serious conversation is done with. "I feel like we're too serious up here lately. How about we go out for a game of pool together?"
I'm getting hugs all around, and a kiss from Keira.
"I've been feeling that way for months now, but was reluctant to say anything," Calvin laughs. "Thanks boss!"
Hey!
June 11th 1999 – Mile End
This is one of those real places you go to for a game of pool. Not one of those sophisticated hangouts, with colourful drinks which cost a bomb. It's a place for you, me, and Mary to have fun, have a pint, and have a serious game of snooker – if that's your fancy.
We are hogging one of the tables near the bar where a bottle of Johnny and a jug of ale are waiting for those who don't play at the moment, beside a plate of fatty grub.
This is so much fun!
Keira demonstrates that a brilliant mind translates to a brill game. Calvin – not so much. Harry, Fleur, Bill, and I are obviously quite clueless about the game, though Fleur proved herself capable in handling long sticks after just a short while. R is incredibly good, just like with anything she handles, and Beatrix…
Sigh
Guys are cutting in on our 'girls table', especially when Bill's at the bar. This results usually in a lot of laughs, and one guy being thrown out of the premises for getting all pissy after losing a hundred quid to Beatrix. He was thoroughly goaded by me.
Sorry mate! (not really)
Finally, we start drifting off. R leaves with some businessman looking bloke, who chatted her up at the bar. Keira leaves with company too. The chap looks like a nice bloke, groomed, polite, and handsome. I can see Calvin looking on with some longing. I give him a soft smile. Fleur and Bill went to the loo, and never came back. I'm standing at the bar, clearing the last of my pint, waiting for Harry to return so we can walk home when,
"Granger?!"
It's Seamus, clearly hammered. Dean stands a step behind him, and Finch-Fletchley too. Both had more reasonable amounts of amber.
He leers at me, and for a moment I feel uncomfortable.
Bollocks, I had much worse!
Last one who did this, back at school, got smacked, and no – not the time you know about. That time in sixth year, when he had spent a couple of nights with Pomfrey precious, afterwards.
"Seamus, Dean, Justin," I acknowledge. "How's tricks?"
"I see Potter is treating you right? Good thing you had the Black and Potter fortunes to fall on, after dropping out! Little Blighter home with the elf? Certainly a yummy mummy!"
Now I'm tempted.
"Is everything all right, miss?" the bartender asks, picking up my empty glass. I smile at him, gratefully, and lay my card on the bar. R is off having fun, so this will be on BCE.
Dean shrugs as if to say 'Seamus, what can one do?'
"Hi there, Hermione" Justin greets me politely. "What brought you to this part of town?"
"We live around," I shrug. "I like the neighbourhood."
"Good work," he says softly.
Finch-Fletchleys are in finance. Right, he knows!
"Planning on going public?" he asks smiling.
"Fishing for insides?"
"My classmates are the founders of the most talked about Energy venture. What can I say?" he laughs lightly.
"Not with the Energy venture," I shrug. "We have enough regulation and people trying to nose in, as it is. There are some other ventures coming, and some interest from our employees."
Dean looks between us, not fully understanding the conversation. Seamus looks as if he can't form a thought right now, never mind an understanding. I smile when Harry is back and joins us.
"Dean, Justin, mates!" he smiles. There are some manly back slapping. "Seamus," he deadpans, at our old classmate's state of sobriety.
"Are you hiring?" Justin returns to our earlier conversation.
This unplanned conversation is turning towards an unexpected direction.
Harry raises an eyebrow, though Justin is all business.
"Mostly in science. I can ask. – Aren't you with your family's office?"
"Some experience outside the nest will do me good in the long run." He explains.
Right…
"Listen, I'll ask Francis, our CEO. We can meet for tea?"
When not on the moon, or something.
A few handshakes and farewells later, and we're out on the street looking forward to a nice stroll home. Being London, it starts raining. I'm looking for a dark alley to Apparate from, when Harry offers me an arm and a Conjured brolly.
I giggle. Life can be fun!
Huge shout to flyboy38, my beta, who takes the time to make sure the story is a much better read.
Also to Dalwolf For doing Brit-Picking for, well - you all, and help my British.
Cheers!
