Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three

Iolanthe

Chapter Eleven

Harry, the Shaman, and Two Critical Conversations

The shimmering blue light is only light if you are not physically in it. If you are in it, you feel like you are swimming in blue gelatin for several seconds, trying with all your might to hold your breath and swim upwards toward some air that you can breathe.

Then you become unconscious.

On the other side of consciousness, Harry found, there is a flat rock where you can sit down and hang your legs over a great void that goes down several hundred feet until it is interrupted by a pile of weathered and broken rock called scree, that has been building up for millennia. Harry also found that he could see a tapering snout in his field of vision directly in front of his face. The old man wearing a straw hat and a loose white shirt and jeans, seated to Harry's right, could have been Dumbledore.

"Excuse me, sir, I don't mean to be a bother, but it's just the two of us here and I don't know any other way to go about this. Am I dead?" Harry asked.

The old man stared out over the great drop. As Harry waited for the old man to answer, he noticed some kind of large, soaring bird gliding in circles and figure-eights some distance below where they sat. Harry had lost all sense of time, so he did not have a good estimate of how long it took before the old man spoke up.

"I was thinking I was dead," said the old man. "Now I'm not so sure. Your head?"

"My head?" Harry asked, raising his hand to his cheek. He felt the fur that covered a prominent jawbone, which he had somehow never noticed before.

"It seems new," said Harry, but he knew as soon as he said it that there wasn't a lot of information in his statement.

"You look like Anubis," said the old man. "This led to my thinking I was dead. I'm pretty sure I've never been dead before, although, during my training, I'm told I was unconscious for about six months. The only reason they didn't bury me was I didn't start to stink. At least, that is the story the people in the village told after I woke up. You really do look like Anubis, but this isn't how I perceive the underworld, so I don't know."

"I see," Harry nodded.

The sun went down and the mountains in the distance turned to purple then black, then they disappeared altogether before becoming purple, then orange, then sunburnt grays once more, all in a much shorter time than Harry would have thought met the regulations for an overnight.

"…your dilemma," Harry said, finishing his thought. He took a deep breath, held it and let it out through his nostrils. The old man did the same.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, looking over at the old man.

Harry saw his shadow as cast by the rising sun, taking note of his canine profile.

"You look like Anubis," said the old man. "I am Juan. They call me Don Juan, but I don't insist on it, from the other brujos.You are a brujo,I believe?"

"I'm a wizard," Harry affirmed. "In English. What kind of a brujo are you, Don Juan? Fighter, sage, potion-maker…?"

"I'm not sure of the English word," said Don Juan, "but I think you might call me a shaman? People come to me and bring me questions and the answers aren't in this world, so I go into the other world and ask around, see if there is an answer over there. Then I try to come back alive!"

Don Juan started laughing at his own joke, to the degree Harry thought he was in danger of tumbling off their perch. The irony of it finally got through to Harry and he started laughing just as hard.

"I…I know…" Harry tried, but couldn't finish. He stopped trying. Finally, he thought he might be able to finish.

"I know ALL about that!" he managed to get out. This got the two of them going again, but eventually they got control and wiped the tears from their eyes. Harry flipped his left hand out over the drop and the tears hit the stone, causing beautiful emerald green prickly pears to grow out of cracks wherever a tear landed.

"What sort of wizard are you?" Don Juan asked.

Harry was stopped short by Don Juan's question. He didn't know how to answer. He was no longer Head Auror, or even an auror at all. Not strictly speaking. He didn't patrol and he didn't hold down a desk. He was a part time instructor and a temporary courier.

"It takes a little while to tell," Harry said, to warn Don Juan in advance.

"Well, if we are dead, we have a lot of time to tell stories," Don Juan answered. If they hadn't just used up all their laughter, Don Juan would have had them right back at it.

"When I was one year old," Harry began, "A very powerful, and evil wizard killed my parents, to get to me. He attacked me, but my mother was more powerful than him, and her sacrifice protected me, nearly killing him. It was only through some vile and unworthy sorcery that he held onto life.

"He was physically unable to do very much for over ten years until some of his followers managed to get him his strength back and he made war, again, on all the witches and wizards who would not come over to his side," Harry said.

He might have been content to leave it there had not Don Juan continued.

"So you killed him."

Harry looked at the mountains in the distance and nodded.

"I let him try to kill me first, to stop the fighting. He cast a killing curse at me and I went down. I woke up in the place between the worlds, and my teacher met me there and we talked over some things. I had a choice. I came back to finish it."

"Sometimes," Harry said, "I…"

Harry pointed at a tree far below.

"Is that an ass?" he asked.

"Yes," Don Juan said. "We'd call it a burro."

"I don't think we're dead," Harry said.

"How did you get here?" Don Juan asked. "That might be informative."

"A criminal named Hoffman cast a spell at an object that had some magical protection. I didn't know what kind of protection, I'd just been told to stand back if anyone cast that spell on it. I jumped between this blue gelatin-like light and my wife, and then I swam through the gelatin and found myself sitting next to you."

"Ahh, you're still a warrior, then," Don Juan said. "You're always putting your life between danger and the people who don't deserve to die. Are you a nobleman in your society?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I am the hereditary head of two noble families. I was a magical police officer, what we call an auror, then I was the leader of all the aurors. I was injured in the line of duty some months ago and have just returned to service."

"Well, as a warrior, and a nobleman of good character, you probably have trouble explaining your actions to your wife," Don Juan observed. "In my experience, if she is a good wife, she will feel anger towards you for the risks her warrior husband takes, but she will also know her noble husband is honor-bound to stand for right. That's why we have nobles to begin with. Is she a woman of good character?"

"The best," Harry said. "She comes from nobility herself but studied healing because she likes helping people. She is unimpeachable. Too good for me."

"How did you get here?" Harry asked.

"I'm lying in a hammock someplace in New Mexico, in a shady spot next to a little creek, and I've been chewing peyote but it's just about lost all its juice," Don Juan said. "It's such a beautiful spot, I wish I could show it to you, but to be honest, this is a lot more interesting. Do you and your wife have children?"

"Yes, thank you for asking," Harry said. "We have a daughter, Iolanthe Astoria. Not yet two years."

"Is she a little bruja?" asked Don Juan, with a smile.

"Oh, she is the queen of the snakes," Harry laughed. "She spoke their language from birth. I discovered her gift when she was three days old. They all acknowledge her."

"Of course. It was prophesied," said Don Juan.

Harry turned his Anubis head and saw that Don Juan had become a snake. He was coiled up, with his tail sticking up over his back. Harry could see the diamond pattern and the rattles at the end of his tail.

"Yes, an adder told us. He wanted to meet Iolanthe. My wife was not pleased, but we talked about it," Harry said. He was speaking to a snake, so his English thoughts sounded very sibilant when they came out of his mouth.

Don Juan returned to his human form, stood up, and stretched.

"The peyote these days just doesn't have the staying power I remember from my apprenticeship," said Don Juan. "I would like to invite you back, any time you can come. I hope we have the opportunity to talk again. Don't risk your life to get here, Don Enrique. If you're supposed to come, the way will appear."

With that, Don Juan spread his arms wide and jumped off the cliff. Harry watched his white shirt and faded blue jeans get smaller and smaller as he got further from Harry and nearer the ground.

Harry wondered why his straw hat stayed on Don Juan's head. Don Juan's straw hat blew off his head. For a few moments Harry could watch both Don Juan and the hat make their way back to Earth, just before Don Juan winked out of existence. Harry stood there watching, until the burro took a little hop before quick-walking across the sand and brush toward the distant mountains.

Anubis stood up.

"This is called a mesa," he thought. He looked down at the side of the mesa and could just make out the places where he could put his feet to walk down to the level ground. If each of his steps were placed just so, it would be no more difficult than walking downstairs. Anubis had sandals but thought bare feet might be more stable, so he removed the sandals and carried them in one hand. He stepped off the mesa, his bare foot landing precisely within the outline of a foot on the stone. He took another step, then a third, then began hopping from spot to spot. Eventually he dispensed with the spots and hopped, looked for a place to land, then hopped again. Once he got his momentum up, it seemed it would be so much simpler just to fly, so he collected himself between launch and landing and sprang in the air, not bothering to come down.

Anubis spread his arms and discovered he liked the feel of the wind coming up under the skirt he wore. After a gentle landing on the hardpan, he leaned on his reed staff and slipped back into his sandals.

Anubis walked across the desert in sun, in cold and dry, and in snow. He wore only his skirt wrapped around him at the waist, and sandals. He usually carried his reed staff in one hand, parallel to the ground, moving it back and forth with his strides. He stepped off his path in a spring torrent and sank into a mud-bottomed puddle, up over his ankle and no sign of a hard bottom. Without breaking stride he put all his weight on his other foot and pulled up.

"Hun-nnh!" Harry Potter said, pulling his foot out of the mud as he looked down into Daphne's face. He was vaguely aware he was on top of her, so he got up being careful not to put weight anywhere except the bathroom floor and flew out to look at Hoffman, who appeared to be dead. Harry dashed back to the bath and held his hands out to Daphne, then pulled her to her feet.

"How long was I out?" he nearly shouted.

"You weren't out at all," Daphne said. "You pushed me into the bathroom and we kind of went down in a pile and you made that strange sound when you stood up. Let me check your crook. What in the world was that spell?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "I don't know who came up with it or who put it on that cylinder, but that is something I intend to find out. If that was an experiment I will have words with our minister."

"He's not dead, but he may be in some kind of state," Daphne said. "Pulse steady, respiration regular, pupils react to light. What does one do with an immobile magical criminal in New York City?"

Harry thought for a moment.

"Marigold must know the aurors. Can you run down and get the duty manager informed? This is New York, let them handle it. I'll keep a wand on him until you get back."

Daphne left and was back in minutes with a tall, thin witch. Harry thought immediately of Madame Ba back at Morgan le Fay's.

"He had gotten into the bathroom and came out with his wand up. He kept me in there until Harry got back and then he tried to rob us," Daphne explained.

"Let me get the aurors," said the manager, stepping out into the corridor. Harry heard 'precinct' and 'robbery' and caught a glimpse of an unidentified patronus dashing down the stairs.

No one was right nearby, so Harry thought it might be wise to pocket the cylinder. His instructions were to get it to Professor Goldstein, not turn it over to MACUSA's aurors. Liaison channels existed for that. His own ministry might not want to find out MACUSA's reaction to Harry transporting a dangerous item into the United States, whether for a solid common purpose, or not.

The aurors were able to apparate directly into Marigold's so they arrived in minutes.

"Gentlemen, I'm Harry Potter. Thank you for coming so quickly. This fellow got in somehow and wanted to rob us. He cast a spell and managed to get in his own way. Anyway, I'll leave him to you," Harry said.

"An honor, Mr. Potter," said one of the aurors. "I heard you speak at the seminar in London last year. Glad to see you're up and about. Have you seen this person before?"

Harry paused and considered his response. He did recognize Hoffman, although he had gotten his name slightly wrong, and he didn't want to be more misleading with the aurors than was absolutely necessary to protect his cargo. On the other hand, Hoffman was wanted internationally. One of the factors that had let him operate for so long was the scarcity of accurate information and photos. Harry had read the file on Hoffman and studied the photo, and knew almost as little when he'd finished as when he'd begun. The aurors who brought Hoffman in to any magical law enforcement organization would be legends among their peers. That prospect might be a bit of a distraction from establishing the actual cause for Hoffman's bold attack.

"Only in a photo," Harry said. "His name is Hoffman. Nothing in the file in London about a first name, birthplace, family, school, or previous convictions. He's been wanted for years, but no one has been able to catch him making a mistake, until now."

"Hoffman?" said the first auror.

He looked at his partner, who looked at Harry.

"Mr. Potter," said the second auror, "Are you saying this is the criminal who goes by Hoffman? Jewel thief, vault-breaker Hoffman?"

"To the best of my knowledge, yes," Harry said. "When he showed himself, I called him Huffman, and mentioned the only known photo, which you've both probably seen, and he corrected my mangling of his name. He definitely called himself Hoffman."

Harry, an auror, was pretty sure he knew what was going on inside his American colleagues' heads. They were going to get credit for the arrest of a thirty-year career criminal.

"Do you want me to truss him up for transport?" Harry asked. "My wife is a healer, and she says he's all there, but he has obviously put himself in some kind of a state. I suppose that could change without notice?"

Harry made it a question and looked over at Daphne, who nodded.

The aurors looked at one another and some silent communication passed between them. Harry was thinking a couple of New York aurors would not like it to get around that they'd relied on him for something like immobilizing a prisoner for transport. His reading was accurate, and one of the aurors began casting something that resulted in a vine like Devil's Snare materializing and wrapping around and around the criminal Hoffman.

"That looks undefeatable," Harry said. "Looks like our work is done, Daphne."

"Thank you for the rapid response, gentlemen," Daphne said as she lit up the room with an adoring smile for the New Yorkers.

Harry extended his hand to both aurors in turn, leaving no additional details or loose ends that anyone could think of. Hoffman was raised up with a well-executed levicorpus and the aurors departed, followed by Marigold's duty manager. Harry closed the door and put his finger to his lips, then cast muffliato.

"I wanted to go out to eat, but this makes it mandatory. We'll leave and spend the night across the street. Hoffman may have found us on his own, or he may be working with someone. That person could be on to this hotel. Are you ready to go?" Harry asked.

"All set," Daphne said. "Should I take my purchases?"

"I think so," Harry answered. "You've even got a shopping bag, so we're just a couple of shoppers grabbing dinner on the way back home, or to the hotel."

Harry and Daphne left, shopping bag in hand. Harry had seen a magical pizza place on the neighborhood map from the room and thought he could navigate back to it. They were in New York, after all, the very definition of being on the grid. All right angles.

They did find the magical pizza place, in the end, but first they had to walk a complete circuit of a city block and see it from a slightly different angle than they had on their first pass-by. Harry attributed the extra circumnavigation as a tribute to the occlusionary work the owners had done on their magical establishment. Daphne was of the opinion that Harry was lost and got lucky the second time they went by.

The pizza was good, though. They had two small pies, one a margherita and one with extra cheese, chopped broccoli, spinach and green onions. They split a small house salad and a bottle of Italian mineral water.

The pizza place was pleasantly noisy. Harry and Daphne kept the conversation focused on the remainder of their trip, avoiding mention of batons, cylinders, and rebounding spells. Harry thought of rebounding spells and his conversation with the brujo Don Juan. He considered what Don Juan had said about the outcome for Daphne of Harry's twin compulsions, to intervene personally to protect, and to stand for what is right. He wasn't sure how to phrase it, but he knew it was time for him to express his appreciation for her steadfastness in the face of his inability to stay out of dicey situations.

"When I got in that blue light," Harry began, "something happened. I can't explain it. I went to a place that looked like the American western movies. There were mountains, brushy plains, and a mesa. I sat on the edge of the mesa and talked to this old wizard. Now, maybe this is just coming up from deep inside my own head, I don't know, but Don Juan, the wizard, told me you probably get angry at me for putting myself in danger for others, but you also know, as a noble, I am honor-bound to stand for right. That is a difficult combination, and I resolved to tell you how much it means to me that you have the strength and patience to put up with it."

Daphne sat opposite Harry, a stunned look on her face. She leaned back against the booth.

"I think the typical couple gets here around their fortieth anniversary," Daphne said. "That is some deep understanding, Harry."

"Well, Don Juan was very old, so he had a lot more time to think these things through than I've had," Harry said. "Maybe he worked it all out with his wife over forty years and I just got the benefit of his insight. All I can say is, he described the two things I do that set you off, like he'd lived them himself. That's when I realized what my antics put you through, as if I were able to feel your feelings, and I resolved to pick my battles more carefully, and tell you regularly that your understanding keeps the world in balance."

Daphne had one hand on Harry's and the other around her water tumbler. She took a drink of the mineral water. Harry could see her eyes looked a little shiny. Daphne put the tumbler down and blinked once, twice. She leaned forward, her words only for Harry.

"You are a warrior, Harry, and you are a very good one," Daphne said. "Your heart is pure. I want you for myself. It's true, I'm that vain, I know it. Don Juan is right about honor. You are a noble, not from titles, because of your nature. I can't stop resenting it if you put yourself at risk, but my husband's honor is clean because he won't compromise with evil. Now that we've had this talk, we'll just keep each other balanced."

"Okay," said Harry. "I am mad for you, remember that for the next few minutes."

"Let me guess," Daphne said. "You aren't taking over as Potions Master at Hogwarts, are you?"

"No-o-o…" Harry said.

"But…" Daphne offered.

They sat in the booth, looking at each other.

"You figured it out? How?" Harry wanted to know.

"Lucky guess," Daphne said. "You're taking Slughorn's other job, aren't you?"

"Don't say anything, please," Harry nearly pleaded. "It's not public. How?"

"You're back in good health, Kingsley values your contributions, Slughorn must be ready for a rest, it's a department head job and you've got the time in to merit a promotion, Ralph Mann is doing well as Head Auror and you don't want to push him out, so there's that honor again," Daphne said. "What else?"