Yikes, this chapter took forever! I was all set to wrap it up on a slow twenty-five pages just in time for Halloween when I remembered that John would probably want to know more about the wizarding world and ended up making this monstrosity instead. A good lesson in the importance of keeping things brief- which I am apparently incapable of.
Oh, on a separate note, I'm sure you guys have noticed weird repeating lines and awkwardly set paragraphs in all of my works. I proof the crap out of this stuff before publishing it, but this site messes it up! It's seriously infuriating, I can edit it as carefully as possible in that copy/paste window that's glitchy as hell and something will still be messed up when I republish it!
So, if a glitch is really distracting just tell me about it, because I can't catch them all and at this point I don't want to.
Anyways, this is officially the last chapter of my minicase. After this we're going to the second case in the series, one of my favorites! If you have any requests or suggestions feel free to leave them in a review!
Harry slept feverishly, shadows danced behind his eyes and unintelligible whispers brushed his ears.
He never truly woke up, exhaustion weighed his conscious down like a stone and all he had were flashes of light and sound when he rose close enough to the surface.
Instead, he lay in a daze just as he had in John's arms how many hours ago, letting time slip by passively.
When Harry did finally wake, it was with the same sluggishness. He collected himself first, plucking up scattered recollections and piecing them back together at his leisure until he eventually sorted through the utter chaos of his case's final night. He barely twitched upon returning to consciousness, just let his eyes flicker open to take in his surroundings.
He had expected the hospital room, the burning ache that flared terribly bright around his hands and faded to sparks down his torso had already given him notice of how injured he remained. But he hadn't expected the face peering down at him.
"Ah," Hermione said smugly, "I knew you would wake up soon, the nurses thought for sure it would take another day."
"You...what?" Harry croaked, mouth filled with ash and throat scratchy.
Hermione pressed a cup of water to his lips, hand already placed lightly on his chest to stop him from rising to drink.
Harry rolled his eyes but let her worry in her own way, sipping the wonderfully cool water and letting it roll down his throat like rain in the desert.
When he was done, she placed it back on a stand and gave him a critical once-over. "Now before anything else, are you in a great deal of pain?"
Harry gave a raspy huff of laughter. "I'm fine, nothing hurts worse than it should."
Hermione hummed skeptically and pressed a button by his bed. Harry watched, not truly concerned. She would never harm him, but he hadn't even noticed the button before, and it was so intrinsically woven into his medical equipment that he couldn't find the source.
A rush of near drunken warmth flooded his system and placed a great deal of fuzzy distance between Harry and his pain. He felt a previously unnoticed tension seep from his bones, leaving him pliant on the cot.
Harry sighed, so that was the button for painkillers.
"That's what I thought." Hermione sniffed and absently smoothed a hand down her pencil skirt.
"Now that you're settled in, it's time for why I've come." Harry shrank away as her hair seemed to crackle with static charge and her shoulders hunched aggressively forward.
His fear was heightened when she cast a wandless silencing charm across his cot, her brown eyes electric all the while.
"Harry James Potter!" She fumed, suddenly towering over his bed-bound form. Harry didn't doubt for a second that if he threw himself off the bed she would merely levitate him back on and tear into him over worsening his injuries as well.
"If you were anyone else I would suspect you were trying to find the most difficult, agonizing, convoluted way to break the law! Do you realize just how much foreign affairs I've had to deal with in the past twenty-four hours? You managed to get three entire ministries caught up in a single crime! And one of them is Japan's, perhaps the most uncooperative ministry in existence!"
Harry opened his mouth to say...anything, really, so long as it calmed her down- but Hermione didn't give him the chance.
"If you were anyone else on Earth you would be covered in so much red tape that you'd die in a Japanese jail cell before your case even got to the right court, so count your bloody lucky stars!"
"I-Is this about the muggle thing? Because I-"
Hermione made a noise of absolute despair and threw up her hands. "An English wizard who told an Australian muggle about magic in Japan! The Australian secretary literally threw your file at me as soon as I floo-ed in, he wanted nothing to do with it!"
"But I-"
"Oh Merlin, the signatures. I had to get so many ambassadors to sign forms just to make it legal for them to sign more forms and-"
"I'm not going to apologize, Hermione, it was to save his life." Harry snapped, his voice growlier than he intended with his scratchy throat.
Hermione finally stopped talking, drawing back abruptly.
She flapped about for a moment, opening and closing her mouth, a thousand different things clearly fighting to come out. Finally, she grimaced and reached to pat his leg. "I know you did, I didn't mean- I wasn't- I'm just trying to get you to understand that what you did was dangerous."
Harry remained unmoved. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, he's my friend."
Hermione sighed. "I don't doubt it. But I'm your friend too. And as your friend, I'm telling you to be more careful. At least be conscious next time you get yourself into international politics so I'll get a heads up."
Harry stared her for a moment, not entirely convinced she felt John had been worth his trouble. However, Hermione had been the one to clean it all up and had gone all the way to Japan to check up on him, so he begrudgingly let it go and allowed a sheepish smile to curl on his face.
"I'll try not to, but you'll have to take it up with the squib poltergeists out to get me."
Hermione straightened, eyes alight. "Your case involved a squib ghost? Did you see it? How did it behave? Was it similar to wizarding ghosts or was it just like muggle ghosts? Because I just read this fascinating study where muggle ghosts were found to be much more-"
"I only saw the ghost once." Harry cut in loudly. "She wasn't like a magical ghost at all, could hardly speak let alone behave like a normal person. She didn't look like a muggle ghost either, she was all…" Waifish, distorted, vicious… "she didn't look human."
Hermione looked put out by his less than colorful words, but he must've looked worse than he thought since she didn't pursue it. "Well, next time you come home be sure to visit and let me put some of those memories in my pensieve. It can be my Christmas gift."
Harry laughed. "I'd give it to you anyways, I always do. The Undersecretary of the Ministry of Magic deserves more than an old memory for Christmas, what would the press say?"
Harry didn't miss the prideful tilt of her chin, splotchy with the red spilling over her cheeks. Before she could gather something modest to say, however, there was a polite rap against the door.
Hermione swiftly dispelled the silencing charm as a nurse bustled into the room.
"Oh, Mr. Potter! I didn't expect to see you up until tomorrow!" He cried and hurried to check his charts and vitals.
Harry rolled his eyes over Hermione's triumphant huff, some things never changed.
The nurse didn't catch the exchange and began explaining his charts and treatments in a gentle tone that would've no doubt greatly soothed someone who wasn't used to waking up in hospital beds.
It was mid-afternoon the following day, and Harry had second-degree burns on his hands and arms, and first degree burns littering his chest and face. There were also bruises on his back from his rough landing after Yoshimi's explosion and a moderate case of smoke inhalation that was being carefully monitored. Because of the smoke inhalation, he would be kept overnight for further observation but the nurse assured him he had responded well to oxygen the first night and the air humidifier placed in his room.
Harry nodded patiently through the entire spiel, not asking many questions and allowing the nurse to believe it was his sore throat. In truth, Harry was already planning to make a quick trip to a Japanese magical market apothecary upon release. A good burn cream and a potion or two should cut his recovery time in half twice over.
"And what about John Brown? The other foreigner who was with me when I was admitted?" Harry asked once the nurse had run out of things to prescribe him.
The nurse blinked and glanced at Hermione before answering. "I'm unable to disclose another patient's information, but he's recovering nicely."
"Do you know where he was put?" Harry asked.
The nurse blinked again, and Harry was growing rather irritated with the abruptly slow responses.
"He's only just woken up." Hermione piped over his shoulder, "Don't worry, he's just groggy."
To Harry's utter bewilderment, this drew an amused grin from the nurse who looked him over indulgently.
"I see, well don't worry Mr. Potter. Your friend insisted to be placed quite close by. And because we would save on humidifiers…" The nurse gestured to something on the other side of the room.
Harry followed the motion, shifting gingerly to peek past Hermione. She scooted obligingly over to give him a better look at what was behind her chair.
There was John, fast asleep on the other hospital bed. His curtain had been yanked away and his blanket only covered half his scrubs with the way he's spread himself in a wild disarray of limbs. His blond hair was scrubbed clean of soot and in a tangled mop of cowlicks. Small bandages and burns dotted his skin.
"He woke up earlier for lunch so I'm not sure you'll hear from him again tonight. But if all goes well you two will be discharged together."
Harry let out a sigh of relief. Though there was a slight wheeze in John's breath, he looked world's better than he had collapsed in front of Yoshimi's boiling remains.
The nurse bid him goodbye soon afterward and Harry slumped back against his pillows with a hiss.
It took a minute to blink his eyes back open, his extremities felt a little numb.
"You never told me what the verdict was after saving me from international prison." He murmured, licking his dry lips.
Hermione quirked a smile and brought the cup back to his mouth, giving him another cool sip of water.
"Given that the muggle is a priest and the wizard is a Chosen One, all three ministries have decided it was a special case and you made an incredibly tactical decision to reveal magic to Brown so that he may also help magical ghosts with his prodigal skills as an exorcist." She said it in such a mocking voice that Harry feared she may actually be quoting one of the ministries, but he didn't dare wonder which.
"They wouldn't have said that if I wasn't...who I am." Harry grumbled.
"Not in a million years." Hermione sang, "Good thing you're you."
Harry didn't have the energy to sink into further embarrassment, so he let it go in an agitated and slightly breathless sigh. He let his eyes fall closed again, the darkness behind his lids a relief from bright fluorescents.
"How's the Minister been treating you anyways? Everything good?"
Something tugged on his bangs, so Harry peeked up with one eye to find Hermione combing her nails through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.
He let his eyes fall shut and enjoyed the rhythmic massage, a quiet hum in his chest.
"You can ask me when you wake up. Now be good and follow your friend's lead." She sounded distant.
"Hmm….is this the...medication?" He mumbled suspiciously.
"Partly, just because you're so stubborn I'd doubt you'd rest without them."
"But I…"
Whatever protest was on his tongue was lost, because he fell asleep before he could finish.
When Harry next woke, it was to blinding sunshine in his face as the rising dawn blazed into his room's window.
With a hiss, he carefully extracted himself from his covers, burns searing only a few degrees cooler than when he'd received them. His hands were the worst and so he was especially careful to keep them palms-up in his lap, shiny white bandages wrapping them up like baked potatoes.
John gave a snort in his sleep, kicking his blanket completely off the bed while he did so. He made for a comical picture, but Harry couldn't bring himself to smile. Not when their last conversation had finally come back to him.
Harry watched John for a while, lip pursed and heart thudding too hard.
Hermione had protected him from the more distant consequences, but he still had to deal with the immediate ones. He still had to explain to John exactly what had happened and what he was.
It was scary just to think about, but the priest's initial reaction lead him to unwittingly hope for the best. He hadn't freaked out, he had even told Harry he liked him after learning of magic. But then he said they needed to talk, and Harry was sweating just thinking of what John wanted to say to him.
Regardless, he couldn't put it off. He'd agreed to tell John and his friend deserved the truth over an obliviate any day.
Harry had walked to his death, not out of sheer courage, but out of a dread sense of responsibility. He drudged it up then, letting it sit on his chest like a cold weight to crush his panic
A quick glance at the mounted clock told him it was still rather early, so they wouldn't be discharged for a few more hours.
Harry sucked in a breath and held it until his lungs began to protest, might as well get it over with while they were alone.
Harry couldn't use wandless magic the way Hermione could, but she'd known that. Peeking over his bed, Harry found his satchel packed and waiting for him. He hadn't brought it, and he doubted either of the bed and breakfast hosts would've remembered it, so Hermione must've thought ahead and tracked it down for him.
He slowly pulled his wand free of the bag, his hand hurt just curling around the handle so he kept it in the loosest grip possible. He silenced the door in a single flick, feeling a little more settled with his holly wand on his lap. However, it felt like he was gripping the sharp end of a heated knife just holding the wand, so he let it drop onto the covers just close enough to draw in a heartbeat should anything happen.
With one more quick glance at the clock, he took the plunge.
"John." He called. "John, wake up."
John continued to snore, drooling a wet spot on his pillow.
"John! John Brown!"
John kicked in his sleep, snore catching obnoxiously in his throat.
Harry picked up one of his pillows and flung it at John, catching him in the face.
John gave a surprised shout, throwing himself upright only to whip about in hazy confusion.
"Are you finally awake?" Harry asked a little exasperatedly. Honestly, even Ron was a more graceful riser than the priest.
"Wha...What? Something attacked me." John mumbled dazedly, before his wide blue eyes finally focused on Harry's face. They sharpened with returning clarity.
"Harry! You're awake!"
Harry smiled at the warm announcement. "I woke up after you fell asleep yesterday. How are you feeling?"
John resumed his search. "My throat aches something fierce and I won't say no to a weekend off, but my nose hurts now. It didn't before, I'm sure. Something hit me while I was…"
He finally looked down and spotted the offending pillow.
Harry gave a laugh when John's face twisted in incredulity.
"You threw a pillow at me!" He accused.
Harry snickered. "It was the only way to wake you, I thought priests were supposed to be early risers! You sleep like the dead!"
John flushed. "Priests are allowed to use alarm clocks too, besides you're just soft-spoken."
Harry quirked a brow, now that's something he'd never been called before. "Soft-spoken, huh?"
John nodded firmly. "Definitely. Most people shout when they're scared or angry, you just get quieter. I imagine it's good for intimidation."
Harry snorted. "You just haven't seen me angry, no one is soft-spoken then."
John waved his hand as though brushing his words out of the air. "Yes, yes, I'm sure. Now, what was so important that you saw fit to bludgeon me as I lay defenseless here in this bed?"
Harry's smile froze, his wand a very noticeable weight on his lap. He stared down at it for a moment, floundering over how to begin.
"I, er, I just- You wanted to talk. About me….about what happened."
John didn't speak for a moment, Harry could feel his gaze even as he dared not look up.
"Right, that thing you did. You called it...Appear-ating?"
"Apparating. It's when a wizard teleports from one location to another." Harry correctly cautiously.
"A wizard...That's what you said you were." Harry couldn't detect any malice or disgust in John's voice, just the same kind of simple confusion he'd displayed that night.
"What does that mean exactly?"
Harry took in a deep breath and looked up, accidentally making eye-contact with John. The other had an increasingly familiar line between his brows, he was beginning to recognize it as concern.
"Um, a wizard -witch if it's a girl- is someone who is born with magical powers. There's a lot of us in hidden communities, we're not allowed to expose magic to muggles- those without. So you've never heard of it before."
John hummed thoughtfully. "What do you mean by magical? Like pulling a rabbit out of a hat? Or something more spiritual?"
Harry shrugged helplessly. "A little of both? But so much more. There are loads of different kinds of magic. Transfiguration, where I can turn one thing into another. Charms, like creating light, curses, divination, warding...With enough power and creativity, a wizard could do about anything."
John's eyes grew, he leaned forward in bed and gripped his sheets tightly in his hands. Harry leaned away in his own bed, searching him for any sign of hostility.
"Show me?"
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Please? I'd love to see you do a spell!"
Harry nodded before he really registered what he'd done, and picked up his wand in a ginger hold.
He eyed his fallen pillow for a moment before deciding what spell he wanted to show John.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" With a swish and flick that was more muscle memory than thought, he levitated his pillow above John's head, letting it hover in his grasp.
John gasped, something Harry dared to hope was wonder on his face. Tentatively, the priest reached out and touched the pillow, which bobbed merrily with the motion.
"That's incredible." John announced, looking back to Harry. "So you've done magic like this during our case? When?"
Harry let the pillow drop to the floor so that he didn't have to hold his wand anymore, thinking back to the bed and breakfast case.
"I don't like to use magic during non-magical cases, so I didn't do much. I used magic to douse the fire in our hallway that first night, and then again for the basement fire. And of course, you know about when I apparated...oh, and I conjured the bin and water you exorcised Yoshimi Hata in."
John grinned. "So that's how you got water on the ceiling! I figured you must've somehow used the bathroom sink, but I had no idea how you got so much water out in so little time!"
Harry hummed neutrally, he wasn't sure what to do with John's easy going response.
"Er, any other questions?"
"Why do you keep it a secret? You said it was something like psychic powers and loads of psychics make public livings off of their talents, like Masako Hara. Why bother keeping it to yourself?"
Harry chewed on his lip for a moment, there was more than one reason. But how to articulate it? Could he do it without frightening John? "Not every spell is...harmless. There are a lot that are just meant to hurt others, and muggles don't have any defenses for it. So it's easy to get scared, that's how the witch trials started. After that, we made it a law not to reveal ourselves so there wouldn't be any more angry mobs. That's the biggest reason, anyway. Now, I know there's a new fear about the muggles using their greater numbers against us, but no one's in any hurry to see if that could really happen."
John was quiet again, looking thoughtful. "How could a spell hurt someone? Do you mean like a curse? I wonder if I've ever unknowingly dealt with a wizard's curse."
Harry shook his head. "It's different, barely any field of magic deals with ghosts. When I mean curse, I mean...like there's a curse that can break your bones, and there's one that slashes deeply, and one that feels like knives stabbing into every inch of skin."
He felt a little ill at John's horror, hastily continuing. "Of course most of it is illegal! We have laws too. And prisons and courts, no one is allowed to hurt people like that anymore. And the wizarding world's medicine has a lot to offer too!"
When John remained silent, Harry continued rambling. "That reminds me, I'm going to a wizarding apothecary to get my burns looked over so I can heal faster. A lot of potions are too much on a muggle's system, but there are low-grade salves I can get you so that your burns heal quickly as well."
"Harry-"
"Do you not want to? I completely understand, but what about scar-reducers? I can ask a potion master for the best option for you if you want?"
"Harry,"
"Not that I think scars are ugly! If you don't need any scar-reducers, no harm done. They're a pain to apply constantly, anyways. But what about painkillers? Burns are pretty painful as far as injuries go, and-"
"Harry, let me speak!"
Harry nearly fell off the bed, his breathing choppy. He was so stupid! Why did he bring up a curse like the Cruciatus? Why use one of the very worst spells as one of his first examples? Just because Harry saw them far more than the average wizard didn't mean John would even see a similarly colored spell in his life!
And now he had babbled like an idiot just to stuff those words as far back in their conversation as possible. Merlin, Hagrid did a better job introducing magic then he did. At least he didn't describe an Unforgivable right off the bat.
"I would greatly appreciate it if you could give me a salve for my wounds, I agree that they do hurt badly for such small burns." John spoke gently, his voice like a cool hand on Harry's burning face.
"Y-you do?" Harry dared ask, settling back into his bed as the high ringing he hadn't noticed before began to ebb.
John nodded, an excited grin tugging at his cheeks. "It sounds amazing. Who wouldn't want to be healed through magic? What makes a salve magic, anyways?"
"Er, the ingredients, I suppose. Things like unicorn horns and phoenix feathers. Oh, and potions are brewed in cauldrons."
John oohed childishly. "Did you say unicorn? Are unicorns real? Truly?"
Harry cracked a wobbly smile of his own, he remembered being similarly awed by his first encounters with magical creatures. "Truly, they're a sight to see if you have the patience to get one to approach. All sorts of magical creatures are real, I know a bloke who works on a dragon reserve in Romania."
"Dragons are real." John echoed wistfully. "When I was four, I wanted to be a dragon."
Harry laughed at that. "When I was four, I wanted to be a spider."
John quirked his head. "A spider? How unique, did you like how they spun webs?"
"Something like that. But moving on, if you do want to use a magical salve to heal quicker I'll be going to an apothecary as soon as I'm discharged. Muggles aren't normally allowed, but you're an exception if you'd like to come along."
John spun and planted his feet on the floor like he was prepared to go in his scrubs. "I would love to go with you! A magical shop...I suppose a secret community needs one of those."
All at once, he paused. His smile twisted into something nervous and hesitant. "You wouldn't get in trouble bringing me along, though? How am I an exception?"
"The...well, the Japanese, the Australian, and the British ministries of magic all know about you now. They were notified the moment I apparated with you so that a squad of aurors could be sent out to wipe your memories and arrest me for breaking the law. Thankfully, a friend of mine came to our rescue and cleared you on account of you being a useful exorcist."
John's eyes were impossibly round as he mouthed what Harry had just said to himself. Harry gave him a moment to process, it was rather startling to realize your country held a government you weren't allowed to know of before.
"I...had no idea punishments could be carried out so swiftly. How do- how can you use magic to erase my memories?" He asked seriously.
Harry gestured toward his wand. "There's a spell that erases memories, it's easy to mess up but only the most talented are allowed to do it, and it doesn't hurt."
John stared at Harry's holly wand for a while, the sparkle of wonder dimming in his eyes. However he didn't stay down for long, and soon peeled himself away.
"Who was your friend? I would like to thank them personally for standing up for the both of us." He still looked nervous but he said nothing of canceling their trip to the magical market.
"Her name's Hermione Granger, she'll probably be here later since she visited yesterday afternoon"
To Harry's utter bewilderment, John's eyes lit with recognition.
"Hermione! You've spoken of her before. I had wondered what happened to her, it's wonderful to know you both remained in touch."
Harry cocked his head. "I don't remember ever bringing her up, when was this?"
"During that schoolhouse case, when you got a concussion and thought you were still home...less…" He trailed off uncomfortably. "Ah, I'm sorry. I suppose you wouldn't remember talking about her."
Harry flushed at the reminder of his embarrassing injury, and flushed even darker when he remembered John's heartfelt talk about what he believed had been a run-away situation.
"Um, yeah she was with me. But we weren't truly homeless or anything, just…" On the run. Being hunted. In hiding. He didn't know what to say next. "The tent was a temporary thing."
John held his hands out in surrender. "I'm not here to judge you or pressure you to say anything," He said sympathetically. "Just know I'm here for you if you'd like to talk about it."
Harry sighed in exasperation. "Why don't we get back on topic. Is there anything else you'd like to ask about my being a wizard?"
John thought for a moment. "Why be a runemaster? Why work for...erm, muggles? Isn't that boring when you could be around dragons?"
Harry was already shaking his head. "Not at all. I love being a runemaster, working for both magical and non-magical clients has allowed me to see so many different and new things I would've never seen if I'd become an auror or something. I like what I do and I like to travel, you couldn't have paid me to stay back home."
John didn't look like he quite understood, but nodded acceptingly nonetheless. "So, being a wizard is a genetic trait? If it's a whole community, can you inherit magic?"
Harry hummed affirmatively. "It's passed down, yes. Though there are wizards who come from muggle families, they're called Muggleborns. And every now and then a Pureblood family- I mean a family with parents who are wizards whose own parents are wizards- a child is born without magic. Those are called squibs."
To John's credit, he was following along nicely. "What happens to parents if they don't have magic? Surely they don't have their memory wiped or something?"
"No, they're exceptions too. Usually a professor from a magical school visits to explain everything, or so I've heard."
John gasped. "You have schools too? As in schools specifically to teach magic?"
"Yeah, the standard length of magical education is from eleven to seventeen, though it varies from ministry to ministry. At that time, children are pulled out of the public education system and graduate in the magical community instead."
Harry glanced at John slyly. "So it's common for wizards to look like high school dropouts looking only at non-magical records."
It took John all of ten seconds to grasp his meaning and actually bounced to his feet in excitement. "The guests during the fires! They were wizards!"
Harry happily confirmed. "The ghost Yoshimi Hata was attacking wizards, that's why the fires were so sporadic."
"But why? You said these wizards aren't related to satanic witchcraft, so what could she have against them?" Harry wasn't sure if he should correct that statement. The Bible was absolutely talking about magical witches and wizards, but it was incorrect in linking them to devil worship. He decided to leave it up to semantics.
"That confused me too. But when Yoshimi blasted me into, whatever that was-"
"A table." John supplied.
"Yeah, a table, she possessed me after that and told me it was because she was a squib who forbid wizards from coming into her home. I think her parents abused her for being a squib, she admitted to killing them and tried to kill me too. She also referred to us as demons."
John stared.
Harry stared back, unsure.
"You were possessed and attacked by a ghost who admitted to murder and called you a demon, and you didn't think it was worth bringing up before this?"
Harry waved it off. "Wasn't really worth talking about, I dodged most of the hits and you exorcised her remains almost immediately afterward. There wasn't a lot of time for pointless conversation while the basement was on fire, you know? Anyways, that's why she hated wiza-"
"Oh no, you don't." John interrupted disapprovingly, tugging his rosary off his neck and approaching Harry's bed.
"What? What happened?" Harry scooted away, dodging the rosary.
"You've dealt with ghosts before, you should know better than this." He scolded. "Yoshimi was powerful enough to build a connection with you if she wanted, especially after being driven out of her corpse. If nothing else, this could leave you open to more possessions later."
He finally forced the rosary over Harry's head while he spluttered denials. "Now hold still! You're lucky I've memorized the right blessings, I left my bible at the bed and breakfast."
And so Harry found the rest of his morning eaten up under John's condemning gaze and half a dozen different prayers.
Sure enough, Hermione returned upon their discharge, dressed and ready to follow him straight to the closest Japanese wizarding marketplace.
"We need to stop at the Eastern Manor Bed and Breakfast for John's things first, if you don't mind." Harry brought up first, gesturing to poor John who had nothing to change into except for his soot-stained and partially burnt pajamas.
"Oh, right. I completely forgot about your clothes." Hermione admitted sheepishly.
"No worries, mate! So you're Miss Hermione?"
"Just Hermione is fine, and yes. You're John Brown, of course." It wasn't a question, she probably knew more about him than Harry did after cleaning up his case.
John still bobbed his head enthusiastically. "I am! Thanks so much for helping Harry and me out when he broke the rules to save us! From what I understand, you're the only reason I can remember it at all!"
Hermione smiled, that glimmer of pride she had been quietly polishing since becoming Under Secretary shining through. "No need for that, Harry's my friend so of course I'd help him."
John laughed. "He does seem to be rather prone to trouble, Harry's quite lucky to have so many friends willing to help."
Hermione laughed louder than John. "Oh, you have no idea! We spent our school years together and he's always jumped from mess to another"
"I'm sure I have an inkling by now, this is the second time he's wound up needing medical attention in as many cases." John nudged Harry playfully.
"Trouble just finds me," Harry grumbled, edging away. "Come on, our cab is here."
They all climbed into a taxi Harry had the foresight to call before being discharged, as none of them had cars and it wasn't dark enough to covertly apparate.
Oddly enough, neither of his friends chose to sit in the front with the cab driver, instead choosing to sit on either side of him in the back seat.
The trip was blessedly short and they were soon on that spacious, chipped porch once more.
Harry could smell the acrid scent of smoke and burnt wood from the door, but he could still hear Suguro and Hiruma bustling about inside.
John quickly skipped ahead and rapped on the ornate door, his own hands not bandaged mitts like Harry's.
In the span of four heartbeats, the door was thrown open and Hiruma stood, already babbling excitedly.
"Oh, I'm so glad you're okay! I was so worried about the both of you! I can't believe what happened in the basement, and with the ghost, and the body-"
"You forgot your bag, right?" Suguro cut in tersely, heavy work boots blackened with soot and a face mask dangling from one ear. It was clear he had been in the smoke-choked basement before their arrival, no doubt rifling through Izuhara's scorched belongings all morning.
Hermione gave a shallow bow of apology. "Yes, I'm afraid I completely forgot about John Brown's bag when I came here earlier for Harry's."
Hiruma stepped back and hustled them inside, her own hands were stained black as well, and there was an apron conspicuously draped across the stairway banister. "No trouble at all, I'm glad you stopped by!"
"Misao has been dying to know what happened in the basement since you left." Suguro sighed, plodding behind them.
"I was worried about them, Jou! Getting the details of what happened with the fire ghosts is hardly important when the men we hired wind up hospitalized." She snapped, setting out cups of honeyed ice tea on the coffee table centered in the front room. This didn't stop her from sending furtive looks in both Harry and John's directions.
"You wouldn't mind telling us what happened though, would you?"
"I'm afraid we can't stay for tea, but you deserve to know what happened with the ghost that has been tormenting you for so long." John agreed, and Hermione sat herself down with an impatient twist to her smile. Hiruma followed suit, a far more gleeful gleam in her eye.
"Before going to bed that night, we believed you had three ghosts." John began. "But later, I had an epiphany. Every fire throughout the house always started on the same wall as the dumbwaiter, which would explain why Harry couldn't detect it within the confines of his glyphs."
"When John told me that, I realized that meant there was only one ghost in your house, and that explained how the spiritual energy being detected was so weak for three separate individuals, it was actually one powerful spirit." Harry continued, eagerly sipping the sweet tea to soothe the scratching ache in his throat.
John picked up the explanation just as smoothly, and it was entertaining to see Hiruma and Suguro's heads swivel back and forth between the two of them.
"We...were a little excited after that discovery. Harry remembered that Hiruma opened the basement dumbwaiter, so we both hurried down there to look for any artifact or body that could house your ghost."
"It was pretty dumb." Harry admitted.
"That could've gone very badly." John confirmed. "When Harry looked into the dumbwaiter, he confirmed that there was a body stretched out across the entire length of the shaft."
"Remember when you told me about Yoshimi Hata dying of an accident in the home? I think she fell from the top floor of the dumbwaiter and Izuhara considered it too much work to gut three levels of wall to pull her out, it was...quite gruesome." Harry stopped talking, Hiruma was looking a little green and Suguro had moved to the other side of the room, further away from the basement door.
"Just as we discovered that the fire was coming from Yoshimi and not the dumbwaiter itself Harry was blasted into a table and a fire started in the basement, the biggest and fastest yet. It quickly caught onto Izuhara's old things and the whole room caught fire."
"Oh my goodness!" Hiruma burst out. "How did you escape?"
John faltered, but Harry had already been concocting a believable lie and took over.
"When we moved the furniture around earlier that day to look for possessed artifacts, we had unintentionally created a path through her old things where there was nothing to set on fire. Once John woke me up, we made it out of the basement and started throwing buckets of water on the fire."
Suguro hummed in acknowledgment, the soggy burnt remains had no doubt been a confusing thing to wake up to.
"The bucket gave me an idea and I began dumping water down the dumbwaiter until I'd washed all of Yoshimi's bones into the basement, where John and I collected them and brought them up by our room so he could fetch his bible and exorcise the remains."
"But why put them in a tub of water? The police collected them and thought we were going to try washing and displaying her bones." Hiruma asked, her cheeks flushed with humiliation from the exchange.
"I hope you didn't get into any trouble for that." John cried. "Her remains were still on fire and it was the only way to keep from burning the hallway too."
"It's fine. The bones are older than we are, so we aren't considered suspects or anything. They just think we found them during an accidental house fire and tried to turn the body into an attraction." Suguro waved away.
"Which we would never do! Honestly, what a disgusting thing to accuse us of." Hiruma humphed, only drawing an exasperated sigh from Suguro.
"And that's that! She's been exorcised, you no longer have human remains in your home, so case solved." John announced, breaking up the rising tension.
Suguro visibly sagged in relief, a few severe lines on his forehead smoothing away. Hiruma smiled wanly, more exhaustion than celebration. No matter their lackluster reaction, it was clear the two were more than happy to finally put the fires behind them.
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Why was Yoshimi starting fires in the first place? Did you figure that out?" Hiruma remembered, glancing toward Harry specifically, no doubt remembering their last conversation.
John stalled, flicking uncertain eyes to both Harry and Hermione, but neither even blinked. "She was burning the house because of your guest's religion." Harry spun.
Hiruma blinked. "Truly? Which religion?"
"Er, Christianity." That was rare enough in Japan, wasn't it?
"Ah, but isn't Father Brown a Catholic priest?" Hiruma asked in confusion.
"I am, but Harry is Christian, Protestant I mean. There's a difference. That's why we experienced fires and you didn't while living by yourselves." John cottoned on.
"Huh, wonder what she had against Christians." Suguro huffed, and Harry shrugged.
"Sadly, neither of us are mediums. So we'll never know." Hiruma looked a bit put out by that, but she didn't stay down for long.
"I guess that explains why it affected so many foreigners! Thank you so much for helping us! You've saved our home and business, we can't thank you enough." She bowed tearfully, so John gave her a pat.
"It was our pleasure, I'm glad we could help you."
"Now, the bag?" Hermione finally piped, having been completely silent throughout their visit.
"I'll go get it." Suguro trudged down the hall to where he and John had been rooming together.
Harry didn't remember sleeping away his twenty-four hours at the hospital, so it felt a bit abrupt how suddenly the case was solved and they were finished with the couple.
"Be sure to stay with us whenever you're in the area, we'll give you a room for free!" Hiruma cheered. "I can't believe it's finally finished."
With a few more bows from both hosts, Harry, the newly dressed John, and Hermione were back on their way.
Once the door was closed and they were on the sidewalk, John let out a huge breath. "Lord, please forgive me for lying to those kind folks." He prayed remorsefully up at the sky.
"It was hardly a lie, my family is Christian and so are a lot of witches and wizards. And you were only following the law." Harry comforted.
John nodded solemnly, a hand tugging at his rosary.
"Quick, no one's on this street right now. We should apparate to whatever marketplace you want to go to." Hermione glanced meaningfully at the quiet neighborhood.
John swallowed. "Um, do we have to go by that...apparating thing again? Couldn't we call a cab or even walk there?"
Harry smiled apologetically at the poor priest. "Sorry, John. The only wizarding market I know near here is still a town over. At least you know what to expect this time."
"You don't have to go if you don't want to." Hermione reminded. "You can just wait here until Harry gets muggle-grade burn cream to send you off with."
John immediately shook his head. "I want to see! I just...really don't want to apparate."
Harry understood the feeling, and gave him a sympathetic pat before looping an arm around the priest. "If it makes you feel any better, I doubt it will ever be as bad as the first time I apparated with you."
John didn't reply, which was answer enough. Hermione gently placed a hand on Harry's forearm and Harry apparated to the nearest apothecary he knew of.
Taguchi's Potions was a small shop on the corner of a quiet wizarding marketplace, run by an old man and his daughter. Harry had delighted upon discovering the shop, for besides potions, Taguchi boasted a host of ingredients and poultices that were hard to find anywhere else. It was where he'd chosen to pick up more of his pain relievers after the schoolhouse case and one of the few places near a city that sold homebrewed salves.
"Harry!" John broke his reverie. "Harry, look!"
He was pointing across the street, where a hag was selling charmed hats that switched patterns and colors at random.
"Do you...want one?" Harry hazard a guess.
"Don't be silly, Harry. Where would a muggle keep a charmed hat? He'd never be able to wear it out." Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled them both into the apothecary. "Now pick up some potions so we can finally treat your lungs before something aggravates them."
John visibly wilted under Hermione's logical words, so Harry plucked a few dragon scales from a basket to place on the counter. Muggle or no, he wasn't cruel enough to send John off with only balm as a souvenir.
"Good afternoon, sir." The old man at the counter bid cheerfully. "Will that be all?"
"Not quite, do you have anything to treat burns? And something for smoke inhalation?" Harry gestured to the bandages wrapped around his hands.
Taguchi's eyes widened and he ducked into the storage without another word, mumbling thoughtfully under his breath.
"And if you have anything that is muggle-grade as well, I would appreciate it!" Harry called after him, though he didn't get a response.
"What are these for?" John asked curiously, plucking a sparkling ruby scale to admire in the light.
"Call it an early birthday present, they're dragon scales for you." He explained happily, smile widening at the look of exhilarated disbelief on the priest's face.
"But what if someone else sees them?" Hermione hissed.
Harry wasn't bothered. "He can just say they're plastic or from a novelty store. Who would believe they're real scales?"
"Oh, thank you so much!" John burst out excitedly. "I'll be sure to keep them out of sight, I promise! Real dragon scales! From a real dragon!"
"My daughter's partial to the scales as well, she likes to polish them before shelving." Taguchi greeted upon his return, dumping two tubs of salve and a bubbling potion vial on the counter next to the other scales.
"I don't have anything muggle-grade that'll fix something like smoke inhalation, but this balm will heal second-degree burns in three days without any side effects." He pointed to the lighter salve. "Apply it in the morning and before bed and you won't have nary a scar."
John nodded his thanks, appreciative, but much more interested in the red scale in his hand.
"This one is magical grade, put it on third-degree burns and it'll clear up overnight. There'll be some scars, so just keep applying every day before bed until that's gone too." He continued, pointing to Harry's salve.
"And the potion?"
"For your lungs. You can take it now, if you'd like. The only side effect is some nasty coughing fits for the first minute or so."
"How much?" Hermione asked before Harry did just that.
"Seven galleons altogether." Taguchi declared.
Hermione's brow quirked. "For two salves and a potion? I can't imagine the scales being that much more expensive."
Taguchi scowled. "Muggle-grade burn cream is finicky to brew, so it's expensive."
"Surely not that expensive, hardly any muggle-grade ingredients are difficult to come by."
"Fine. Six galleons and ten sickles, but no less. I burn through a lot of those ingredients getting it just right." Taguchi barked.
Before Hermione could haggle more, Harry jammed the correct amount into his face, having dug it out of his bag as quickly as possible. "Six Galleons and ten sickles! Can I have the scales bagged separately?"
They were shoved out the door moments later, John clutching the bag of dragon scales to his chest like a treasure while Harry sorted through the bags Hermione carried for him.
"...And here's your salve! Remember, put it on your burns twice a day in the morning and at night for three days and you'll be fine."
John pocketed the tub and dug into his own bag. "I can't thank you enough, how much do I owe you?"
Harry flushed. "You don't owe me anything, I couldn't even find something for your throat."
"Without your help, I would've had a lot more than a sore throat to contend with, I insist! How much is this balm?" John said stubbornly.
Sensing an ideal revenge, Hermione interrupted Harry before he could wave away the price. "Two-thousand one hundred and sixty yen."
"Which is hardly worth demanding repayment! Really, my wallet can handle a little pocket change." Harry snapped at Hermione. He didn't like advertising how much money his family had left him, but asking for repayment was pitiful considering how wealthy he was.
"Stop arguing, Harry. I'm perfectly able to make my own decisions, here's the money." John thrust a handful of notes out toward him, his lip pursed irritably.
Harry stiffened. He hadn't meant to offend John at all, but money was such a...sensitive topic. From being berated for his financial burden by the Dursleys, to tip-toeing around Ron and his hand-me-down robes, to being included in hundreds of wills from grateful witches and wizards whom he'd never even met after the war...It was just uncomfortable and he'd rather avoid the topic. Still, it seems he'd made a blunder anyways.
"Right, okay." He murmured awkwardly, pocketing the money in his duffel. He immediately regretted that action upon having nothing to do with his hands.
"Best take that potion now, just in case you have an allergic reaction." Hermione announced after a brief period of silence.
"But I don't have any allergies."
"That's what Ron thought right up until he had to take Skele-gro, he had hives everywhere."
Harry frowned. "When did Ron need to take Skele-gro? Is he okay?"
Hermione nodded reassuringly. "It was just a few months ago chasing down a-" Her eyes darted to John. "...sympathizer. He was patched up within the day so it wasn't worth mentioning. Don't tell him I said anything, he was rather embarrassed that he needed help with his creams." She confided.
Harry dutifully kept the grin off his face, poor bloke. "It's a promise."
Hermione uncorked the potion vial and gave it to Harry, though with the way she was eyeing his wrapped hands she had half a mind to feed it to him herself.
Harry hurriedly took the vial and dumped the contents into his mouth as quickly as possible, shuddering at the slimy fish aftertaste it left in his mouth.
Hermione watched him closely, John must have taken her story to heart because he was eyeing every patch of visible skin as though Harry would turn purple at any moment.
Harry swallowed, focusing on the burning sensation of his raspy throat and the wheezy ache in every pull of his lungs. It didn't change, though, he still felt as though he were fighting off a chest cold.
"Huh, I guess it didn't-" Harry didn't finish that sentence, too busy doubled over and doing his best to hack up both lungs. It was uncontrollable, his chest heaved and he gagged violently, his lungs felt like they were going to crawl up his throat themselves.
Even the hag, from the corner of his watery vision, was peering curiously across the street at his hunched form.
Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Harry roughly mopped at his eyes and wiped the drool from his mouth as he sucked in air.
"Are you okay?" John demanded, pulling him upright.
Harry swallowed again, and this time he couldn't feel a thing past some residue breathlessness. "Yeah, yeah I'm great, actually."
Hermione remained quiet for a moment longer, studying him like an insect under a magnifying glass, before smiling happily. "That's good! It was odd to hear your voice so gravelly, you sound angry."
"Well, at least I don't sound angry anymore." Harry slanted an apologetic look toward John. "I'm sorry I couldn't find a potion you could take, though."
John laughed nervously and took a step back. "No worries, I think I actually prefer having a cough over whatever you just took."
Harry couldn't argue with that, so instead he apparated them to the closest hotel for John and parted ways with Hermione.
"Be sure not to overwork yourself." It was one of his customary goodbyes when it came to his ambitious best friend.
"I could say the same to you, and it wouldn't hurt to write more often." Was her well-worn response.
"Thanks for bailing me out again, I know it wasn't easy."
She laughed. "I've had a lot of practice over the years."
Then, Hermione turned to John. "It was nice meeting you, John. It's good to know that Harry has acquaintances here."
John smiled. "Actually I consider us to be friends. I'm glad I met you as well. Harry only mentioned you the once, but I admit, I was very curious about you."
"How interesting." Was her only reply, and then she was gone with a sharp crack, headed for the Japanese Ministry of Magic for their international floo.
Harry tucked his apothecary bag into his duffel and looked to John. "Well, I guess I'll see you around. I'm glad we could do another case together."
John reached out and clasped his less bandaged hand between two warm palms, he gave it a delicate shake. "I'm glad as well, I rarely ever get to conduct cases with others without some rivalry. It was a wonderful change."
Harry couldn't really relate, very few spiritualists felt threatened by a Runemaster after all. But still, he appreciated the sentiment.
"I never get to work with people who know about magic excluding my clients, that was nice too."
John brightened, clutching his bag of dragon scales all the tighter. "Thank you for trusting me! Our Lord made the world a very big place, but it's amazing how little we really know about it."
John was nothing like every priest Harry feared as a child, and he wasn't sure if it was just John's uniquely kind spirit or the Dursley's own threats that made every gentle gesture so noticeable. Whatever the reason, Harry left John at the hotel with an affectionate pat and an unspoken wish to work together again soon.
It was a surprisingly calm and happy way to end such a volatile case, like water washing over Yoshimi Hata's burns.
He hoped she was at peace, wherever spirits went. From one hated child to another, he hoped she found a place where others could accept her too.
Haka no hi:
Haka no hi are mysterious, supernatural fires, or kaika. They spout forth from the base of graves.
The cause of haka no hi is unknown. It is commonly believed to be a result of failure on the part of the grave's owner to reach enlightenment and pass on to Nirvana. The flames are thought to be residual energy from worldly attachments, or else feelings of grudge or resentment, coming from the remains interred in the grave.
That's right! I tied the case to some ancient Japanese lore, too!
John strikes me as a dragon kind of guy, I don't know about you. Also the type of person to buy crappy souvenirs from street vendors. (and definitely the type to slowly acclimate his flighty semi-abused friends into being hugged, because he's a secret hugger.)
You guys are so sweet! I seriously love writing for you all and thank you so much for all the reviews! I read every single one and it makes my day!
I only got one question and that was regarding John and Harry's relationship.
They're buddies, no romance there. I might poke some fun at them or tease it a bit because I think misconception humor is hilarious, but their relationship is strictly no homo.