Thank you to everyone who reviewed in spite of my lack of replying!
Now then, here we are at the next chapter. Sorry for the late in the day update.
Keep in mind while reading this, that I've never been to the Middle East, and while I did a lot of research, there's bound to be some things that are off. If any of my readers have been to, or are from, the Middle East, I'd like to apologize now in case I accidentally offend you. That said, most of the places that have been mentioned thus far, and will be mentioned, are real places, and the only thing I've taken liberties with are the distances.
Moving on, I'm wondering if any of my readers have any skill with a pencil, as my own is fine, but limited, and if any of those who do would be willing to draw something for me, for this story. If there is, pm me, and I'll get back to you.
Alright, onto the chapter. Enjoy.
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He had consulted the Imps before he decided to head out to Ibri. Magical travel in the Middle East was not the same as in other places. Here, portkeys were used only when traveling over a thousand miles. If it was closer than that, you did it a different way. There were laws in place to ensure this. Where other places had brooms, they had magic carpets instead, but the use of them was highly regulated by the government, and it was dangerous to fly one when there was always the looming threat of a sandstorm, because the protective magicks on them were not strong enough to stand up to an act of nature. He could have apparated, and taken breaks along the way, except he didn't know how to, and apparition licenses were, once again, highly regulated. This basically boiled down to having to use muggle transportation, especially since Ibri was about two hundred miles southeast of Dubai.
In the end, Harry found himself on another bus. There was a television at the front of the bus, and the driver had very loud music videos playing, something Harry had not only never seen before, but which he also couldn't understand, since none of the songs were in English. The loudness of them coupled with the sounds of laughing and chatter coming from the other people on the bus led to the inevitable headache that Harry now had. Smoke wafted into his face and he waved a hand and coughed, glaring at his companion.
"Can't you do that later?" The other only smirked at him, and then obnoxiously flicked some ash in his direction. He glared, and the smirk only got louder.
On top of everything else, the grumpy patron (whose name he still didn't know) had, for whatever reason, decided to come with him.
It had happened entirely without Harry's consent. One moment, he had been eating a wonderful stew kind of dish that Sa'id had made, and the next the innkeeper and the grumpy patron had begun chattering away in another language, and Sa'id had turned to him with a smile.
"Ah! That is a wonderful idea!" He had said, and the smirk on the young man's face had told him he wasn't going to like it at all. He had agreed, because he couldn't actually stop the other from riding on the same bus as him, Sa'id had given a rather heartfelt speech revolving around his belief that no one should ever have to travel alone, and he didn't know if he would run into anyone else who didn't know English, so having a translator would come in handy.
Still, if he had known that Arabian bus drivers apparently had a great love for loud videos, or that buses here had no restrictions on smoking, or that the young man would find small ways to annoy him the whole way, he would have gone up to his room, grabbed his things, and hopped out through the window to just walk the way there. Alone. In silence.
He rubbed his temple, and the grumpy patron began snickering again. He didn't even bother to look at him, knowing it would do no good. Ash landed on his leg and he wiped it away with a muted snarl. He was, slowly, coming to truly hate cigarettes. Several minutes later he realized the other had stopped pestering him, and turned to see if he was still alive. He was, and his head was up, his mouth slightly open. He was asleep. Completely, utterly, fast asleep.
Harry's mouth dropped open and he stared. It was still noisy on the bus. How could he have possibly fallen asleep?! Almost as if to spite his disbelief, the other gave a soft snore and shifted his head. Harry sighed and turned back to the window to watch the desert go by. He should have just hired a translator to travel with him.
Someone who was quiet. And didn't annoy him. And didn't smoke.
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Ibri turned out to be a wonderful change from Dubai, at least from Harry's perspective. Dubai was a massive city with over two million inhabitants. Ibri, by comparison, was much much smaller, with less than one hundred thousand people. It was still large, but small enough that Harry was much more comfortable. There were no really tall buildings here, the largest place being an old fort that was still well maintained. There were some tourists here, likely to see some of the many ruins outside the city. There were a large number of craft shops here, and the majority of the building had been there for more than thirty years at least. To Harry, it had an 'old town' sort of feel to it, and he was happy with that.
The bus ride had been about eight hours, with a single stop at an area that looked to be used only by the bus itself and had restrooms and a gas station. After the trip, Harry's head was pounding violently and he felt exhausted, so they checked into a hotel. Or a motel more like. It was small, bigger than Sa'id's place, but still small, and there was only one room available. It had two beds at least, and Harry was really too tired to give a damn, so they bought a room, and settled in. Harry dropped his bag and sword and flopped face-down on one of the beds with a groan, not even bothering to look around. Something poked at his side, and with a wince he pulled off Draco's dagger and tossed it on the floor somewhere. He heard a chuckled from somewhere else in the room.
"Fuck off. Just leave me alone for the next twelve hours." His words were muffled by the bed, but the stifled laugh let him know he'd been heard. He sighed, and the room drifted into blessed silence. Soon the teen was asleep.
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When he woke up it was dark. He couldn't tell if that was because it was night time, or if the curtains were closed or something. A glance around the room revealed that it was newer than the one at Sakin Bustan, with painted walls the teen thought might be blue. The furniture was nicer, though just as sparse. The bed he lay on was small, a twin only, with coarser linens than the ones on the bed at Sa'id's. There was another bed, not far from him, and Grumpy was sprawled sideways on it, his back to Harry. The teen yawned and rubbed his eyes, standing up to go towards the one window of the place. It was covered in thick curtains and he pulled one aside to look out. The sky was mostly dark, with the smallest hint of light peeking out over the horizon. It was sunrise, Harry thought, and crawled back into bed, curling up under the blankets. Far too early for him to be awake just yet.
He drifted in and out of sleep for a while after that, and awoke fully when a pillow was thrown at his head. He pulled it off and glared, but Grumpy only grinned, entirely unapologetic. His glare intensified.
"You're a menace."
"So I've been told."
"I'm really beginning to hate you."
"I'm really beginning to give a shit... Not." Harry grumbled under his breath and rolled over so his back was to the other. He started and looked back up when another pillow smacked the back of his head. "You're wasting daylight. You wanna find this Mahdi guy or what?" Harry sighed, and debated in his head whether or not it would be more beneficial to stay in bed, wait till Grumpy left, and then take off back to Bogdon before he came back so he would never have to deal with him again rather than go looking for the elusive author with him. Unfortunately, he didn't have much choice.
"Fine. Just let me take a shower first."
"Whatever."
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The water, not as well filtered as he was used to, had the slightest taste of sand to it. He didn't mind though, if anything it helped, making it easier for him to imagine himself back at Hogwarts, swimming in the lake with the merpeople. He put a hand around the shell he had been given. He had never taken it off, since Moonscale had made it for him. Even in the shower, he kept it on. He felt better knowing it was there, even if he had yet to try and use it to contact the merpeople.
He felt better by the time he got out, no longer so annoyed by Grumpy's antics now that he had showered. He got dressed and put the glamour and everything else back on, making sure to tie up his hair with the bit of rough string Grumpy had given him, though he was much more gentle on his hair than the other.
Then they left, walking through Ibri to find the right address. They were sidetracked however, when they hit the main marketplace. Harry looked around himself in wonder. There were people selling all kinds of things. Craftsman who had made their wares themselves. There was beautiful pottery, carefully molded and painted by hand with wonderful designs. There was clothing and glassware, instruments and weapons, leather goods and even a place that sold animals.
It was amazing. Harry had never seen a marketplace before (not that he had ever really seen much of anything before) but even he could tell that this one was incredible. There were a number of tourists here who seemed to agree, all wandering around, pointing and smiling and taking pictures. Grumpy seemed greatly amused with his fascination.
"I'm sure the person we have to see would prefer an afternoon visit to a morning one." He said, so they wandered through the marketplace and looked around. After a bit they were forced to stop in a bit of shade, because the heat was starting to get to Harry. "You should get a thawb. It would help you."
"A what?" Grumpy rolled his eyes and pointed towards a stand selling the white robe things that he had seen even on muggles out here. They were long, going all the way to a person's ankles, with long sleeves. He looked at them skeptically. His jacket had long sleeves, and he had long since stuffed it into his bag because of how hot it made him.
"Go. Buy one. I'm tired of you complaining about the heat."
"I don't complain!"
"You don't need words to complain you idiot. Now go. Or I'll tell people you're insulting them whenever you ask me to translate." With a heated glare and several muttered insults Harry went to do as told. The man at the store smiled brightly at him, and helped him to get on. He recommended a Keffiyeh also, which seemed to be a checkered red cloth that went around his head to protect it from the sun and the shopkeep even showed him how he could wrap part of it over his mouth and nose when it was windy so he wouldn't get sand anywhere. He felt a little ridiculous in the getup, but he thanked the man all the same.
He was surprised, when he came out from the shade, and noted that he felt cooler; not so much that he wasn't still hot, but enough that he wasn't likely to have to stop so often. Grumpy gave him a particularly smug look that he ignored. They looked through the marketplace a bit more, and then they returned to their initial search.
This led them to a small stone muggle home, and Harry stood back a pace while Grumpy went to knock. A large man answered, and he looked at them both suspiciously. Harry's companion began talking in that language again, and barely a minute later he and the man were chatting and laughing like old friends. Harry watched this with disbelief and irritation. Apparently, Grumpy was perfectly capable of being a proper human being when it suited him. But not to Harry it would seem.
After a few minutes the man began gesturing and then looked to say goodbye to Grumpy, who responded in kind with a smile. Grumpy turned to him with a smirk, likely perfectly aware of Harry's thoughts on why the young man was such an arse to him.
"Well?"
"He says Mahdi stayed with him for a couple months, and then left. He went to Nizwa."
"Nizwa?" Grumpy nodded.
"It's east of here. We can take another bus."
"You're coming with me then?" Grumpy smirked.
"Of course. Without me you'd probably die of heatstroke."
"No I wouldn't!" He looked pointedly at the thawb Harry wore. "Shut up."
He just laughed.
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Nizwa was something like a hundred and forty miles away. Not as far as Ibri from Dubai, but far enough that it would mean a six hour bus ride. Harry absolutely refused. He would not be forced to sit there next to a smoking Grumpy for hours on end with a migraine. Never again. Not in a million years. Instead, they found a man who was willing to loan them a pair of camels. Or, to be more accurate, he needed something delivered to Nizwa, and his usual workers were gone, so as long as they did it, they could then leave the camels with one of his friends, who would bring them back after they got a couple days rest.
It was an old fashioned manner of travel, and it would take them two and a half days to get there, stopping to rest and sleep twice for the nights. Still, in Harry's opinion, quiet travel on a camel where Grumpy would be far enough to smoke without getting smoke or ash on him was like a luxury cruise in comparison to six more hours trapped on a bus with the infuriating young man.
So off they went.
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Riding a camel, Harry soon learned, was not as stress-free as he had initially believed. Camels were large clunky animals with coarse fur that took long sloping steps when they moved. This equated to mean that they were hard to climb onto, you rocked about quite a bit once you were on one, you had to wear long pants and socks so you didn't get itchy, and and after about half an hour, you started to hurt.
They had been forced to stop after only ten minutes so Harry could correct his mistake of wearing shorts and sandals for the first time beneath the thawb, Grumpy laughing at him all the while. Now, they had only been going for an hour or so more, and Harry's thighs, ass, and unmentionable regions ached. Still, it was quiet enough, and Grumpy kept his camel enough paces ahead of Harry's that while the teen could still smell the smoke, he wasn't suffocated by it, and he didn't have to hear if the other decided to say something to him.
All in all, a more painful trip than it would have been on a bus, but not as irritating at least. They stopped only twice after that before nightfall, both times to empty themselves. Harry learned the hard way that how embarrassing it was to pee on a bush in out in the open where anyone could see (not that anyone actually did). Then, finally, nightfall began to arrive, and they stopped. Grumpy set up a sort of tent for himself that was too small to fit Harry, and the teen himself laid out a tarp and a rolled up blanket to use as a pillow. Sleeping on the ground wasn't the most comfortable arrangement, but it wasn't so bad that Harry wouldn't be able to get to sleep, not with his calves aching like they did and exhaustion setting in.
They tied the camels onto spikes they pounded into the ground, and the beasts laid down and seemed quite content to rest and ignore the humans for a while. Grumpy set about making a fire (though why he didn't just use magic to do so...) and didn't answer him when Harry asked why; since they didn't exactly need the heat or anything. In the end, Harry fell asleep staring up at the sky; the first stars beginning to make themselves known.
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Harry grumbled as he was woken up, someone shaking his shoulder roughly. He growled at them, and they stopped. Thankful, he settled back down, then something hard smacked him in the face and he jumped into a sitting position with a snarl. Grumpy just smirked at him, his face barely visible in the firelight.
"What the hell? You do realize it's still night time?!" Grumpy rolled his eyes.
"It's your turn to keep watch."
"Huh?"
"Are you stupid or deaf?" Harry blinked.
"What do you mean keep watch?" Grumpy sighed.
"We're in the middle of the desert with all sorts of creatures running about; some of them sihr. Do you really think we're completely safe here?" Harry sat up straighter. "Keep the fire lit and keep an eye out. I'd like to get some sleep too you know." Harry watched him as he ducked into his tiny tent without another word, and heard him settle down. Had he been awake this whole time?
Harry sighed and stretched, cracking his back and then moving to sit closer to the fire. He threw a couple more bush branches on it, and poked at them with a stick until they began to light up. Then he sat back and just watched the flames. Somewhere a bird called out, and the camels shifted and made noise in their sleep. The flames were beautiful like this. When they weren't rushing towards him in preparation for killing him, it was like watching a dance. He lost himself in it, and, without meaning to, was soon lost to dreams of dancing fire fairies.
He wasn't sure what woke him when he next opened his eyes, but the world was still dark and the fire had gone down a bit. He grunted and put some more wood on it, bringing it back to life a bit. A snuffling sort of noise caught his ears and he looked up. There was nothing there, and he squinted through the darkness. He couldn't see anything, so he turned his attention back to the fire. Another sound rang out, like the sound of snapping wood, and his eyes moved up again. That hadn't come from the fire. His eyes scanned all around him and he even turned to look behind him, but there was nothing.
The camels suddenly chuffed and moved up to their feet, moving around nervously. He stood to go to them, and then saw something white out of the corner of his eye and turned to look at it.
Sheer terror washed over him like a bucket of ice, making him feel colder than any dementor ever had. His eyes went wide and he froze in place like a statue. It looked almost like an inferi, with graying white skin that looked rotten. It was pulled taut over a bony frame like a skeleton with skin and no muscle. But it was the face that caught him. There was no mouth, no ears, no nose. Just large eyes, like baseballs. There was no iris to them, and no pupil. They were brown and milky and filmed over. But they were looking at him. He knew they were. His breath stopped, fear keeping him from breathing properly; from running away or screaming as it came closer to him. It shuffled on bare feet, slowly, ever so slowly.
It came closer and closer, and then its' hands came up, and reached out for him. He watched, like a statue, and then those long fingers touched him, and suddenly the fear was gone. He could breathe again, but he still dare not move. The creature's eyes closed, and he began to feel numb. Then they opened, and this time they were green all over; green like his eyes. It let him go, and shuffled away. He stood there, unmoving, and didn't turn to watch it go.
What seemed like hours later he finally shivered and blinked, and then looked around himself. HIs eyes fell on Grumpy, who was half outside his tent, and watching him carefully with a blank expression that looked strange on a face that was usually adorned with a smirk. He knew the other had seen it.
"Wha-" He swallowed, his throat dry. "What was that?" He breathed.
"An Alu."
"What?"
"They wander the desert and eat the fear of the people they find."
"... Fear?" Grumpy shrugged.
"They scare people, and then they take the fear away, and they don't give it back. It's like... Like a gift, or a curse maybe. I can't explain it well. They're harmless really."
"Harmless." Grumpy nodded. "Right." Harry fell onto his bottom, his legs no longer able to hold him up. He swallowed, and then there was a canteen in front of his nose. "Thanks Grumpy." He took it and drank and then sat there with it in his hands.
"Grumpy?" Harry shrugged.
"You never gave me your name. I need to call you something." The other chuckled, and they sat there in silence for a time. Harry stared at the canteen, lost in thought. What... It had done something to him. He knew it had. He didn't understand what it had done. But it had done something. He wondered if Mahdi would know anything about Alu when they found him. Or if there was something in one of the books back at Bogdon that had something on them.
"Muhammad." He looked up.
"Huh?"
"My name. It's Muhammad." He blinked.
"Oh."
They didn't speak again the rest of the night, and they didn't go back to sleep either. Harry wished he had just agreed to ride the bus.
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The next day was the same as the first. It took them nearly three hours to get the camels to be willing to move; the beasts still as badly shaken as Harry had been by the visit from the Alu. By the time they got them to go, they were running late. Other than that, the day passed by just as it had the previous. Aching calves, blistering heat, and itchy camel fur.
At least until they stopped. They were both tired, and in slight pain, and they had been moving slower that day than before, so when they came across the empty little shack along the path they decided to stop, even though it was only afternoon, and the sun wouldn't be down for another couple hours. The place was empty, aside from a few bugs, and there was an overhang on one side that made a large patch of shade for the camels to rest in. The place itself was tiny, only a single room, but after the previous night they both found it preferable to sleeping outside.
Besides that, the wind was picking up, and Gru- Muhammad, had begun muttering about sandstorms. He had roped Harry into helping him tie a large tarp up tightly around the posts that connected to the little overhang the camels were under, so they would be safe, and then they barricaded themselves inside, propping a half demolished bed (the only piece of furniture in the shack) up against the door to keep it closed.
Harry sat propped up against a wall, his backpack in his lap with his arms crossed over it, and Muhammad sat on the other side of the room smoking another cigarette. Harry eyed him. He wondered how many packs of the things the guy had, since he was certain he hadn't seen him without one in his hand for more than an hour at a time. He was a chronic smoker.
"What's so great about those things anyways?" The young man glanced up at him.
"Hmm?"
"Cigarettes." Muhammad shrugged. "Then why do you smoke them?"
"It keeps me calm, and I don't have to eat as often."
"Why would you care about that?" Muhammad eyed him.
"Not all of us are rich. When you have to live off very little, food becomes hard to come by. Cigarettes though are easy. They're everywhere. Most people will share a smoke before they'll share some change." Harry blinked.
"Oh." They drifted into silence, and Harry picked awkwardly at a nail.
"You want to try?" He looked up, the other was holding the lit white stick out towards him. He opened his mouth to object, and then reconsidered. Why not? He scooted across the floor until he was only a foot or so away from the other and then took the thing from him. He stared at it. "You just put it in your mouth and breathe into your lungs." Harry swallowed, and put it up to his mouth. He sucked in. "No no no. Breathe. If you just suck you don't get anything. He tried again, and then broke out in a fit of coughing, his lungs suddenly burning and his eyes watering. Muhammad patted him on the back.
"How- cough- how can you stand that?!" The young man chuckled.
"Relax. It's always like this the first time. Just calm down and take more. Your body gets used to it quickly." He gave him a dubious look, but tried again all the same. It burned still, but not so bad this time, and he only coughed once. By the fifth puff his lungs barely hurt at all, and he was surprised that he actually did feel calmer. "Told you so." His companion took out another one and lit it, and as they smoked together Harry didn't feel so awkward. He felt calmer now than he had since the previous night.
They were silent, and after several minutes, Harry's cigarette became too small to smoke anymore so he rubbed it out into the wooden floor. He felt relaxed, all the swirling emotions from earlier toned down now.
"I think I understand now." Muhammad smiled, and Harry blinked. It was the first time he had seen him smile. Actually smile rather than just smirk.
"It's not bad huh?" Harry shook his head.
"Isn't it bad for you though? Smoking?"
"Not if you are Sahir. Your sihr protects your lungs. Besides, it's not the tobacco that makes people sick, it's the chemicals."
"Chemicals." He nodded and took another puff on his own cigarette.
"They use chemicals when they take care of the plants, and they add more to make it more addicting, so it's harder to stop." Harry nodded in understanding.
"... You said they make you eat less?" He shrugged.
"They make you hungry less often, and that makes you eat less."
"I see." He paused. "Muhammad?"
"Hmm?"
"Why did you tell me your name?"
"Isn't that what you are supposed to do?"
"You wouldn't tell me before."
"So?"
"So I want to know why." Muhammad looked at him.
"Why does it matter?"
"I-" Harry sighed. "Nevermind."
"... I didn't want to."
"What?"
"I didn't want to tell you my name when you asked."
"But you wanted to tell me later?"
"Yes."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"... Okay."
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The next morning the sandstorm hit them, and they were trapped in the little shack as a result. The walls around them shook violently, and Harry worried that the place wasn't strong enough and would come down around them. His nerves had Muhammad slipping another cigarette into his fingers and he accepting it in spite of himself.
There was a phrase somewhere that was something like 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do'. This wasn't Rome, but a lot of people here, not just Muhammad, smoked, so he figured that he could too so long as he was here. He firmly told himself that he would quit when he returned to Bogdon.
Harry waited for the storm to pass, and tried to focus on a book he had brought with him, Muhammad busy reading what looked like a magazine across the room. For a moment, he mourned the loss of his ability to see people's inner beasts, and wondered what Muhammad's would be. He liked to think he was a fox. A desert fox prone to mischief. He stifled a chuckle at the image of the young man with huge twitching fox ears and a bushy tail. The other looked up at him with a raised brow and he only shook his head. He was promptly ignored after that.
They ate dried fruit and strange bread that looked almost like thick tortillas, which Muhammad told him was 'pita'. They had been eating similar foods since they left Ibri to travel on the camels, and Harry missed Sa'id's wonderful cooking terribly.
The sandstorm finally passed about halfway through the day, and Harry was thankful for it. In the heat of the sun, the little shack had quickly become a hot box, so being able to get out was nice. It was still hot outside, but it wasn't as bad. The tarp had held, thankfully, so while they had to dig the bottom of it our of the sand, the camels were fine and seemed perfectly happy to leave. The storm had delayed them even more, and they would have to stop for a third night. It was troublesome, and Harry was getting anxious, but hopefully the delay wouldn't cause them too much trouble.
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Their third night passed them by without further incident, and Harry shared another cigarette with Muhammad before taking the first watch, waking the other up for his in the middle of the night when he could barely keep his eyes open. It was late in the afternoon when they finally made it to Nizwa, and the friend of the man who had given them the camels let them stay the night with him. He even fed them some stew. It wasn't as good as any of Sa'id's cooking, but it was better than the dried foods they'd been eating on the way there.
The thick blankets laid on the wooden floor of the little house felt heavenly after sleeping on a thin tarp for three days that barely gave any cushioning between him and the ground. Muhammad seemed to agree, because he didn't even have his usual before-bed cancer stick before he fell asleep. Harry joined him fairly quickly.
In the morning they wandered into town, finding their way to yet another address. Muhammad spoke with the darkly robed woman who answered the door, and she seemed very friendly, but Harry felt his stomach drop when she inevitably closed the door and the young man came back to the street and him.
"He's not here is he?"
"No." Harry groaned, and the other chuckled and handed something to him. he blinked at the piece of paper.
"What's this?"
"It's a map. The man you're looking for lives in the mountains, to the North. He comes by every couple months or so, for supplies and to visit. He was here just last week, so he won't be back for awhile, but you can follow the map to go to him instead of waiting." Harry snatched the piece of paper away and stared at it like it was the holy grail. Then the other's words caught up to him.
"Wait. Me? Not we?" Muhammad nodded.
"Since you know where he is now, I'm going back to Sa'id's. I like it there."
"You're not coming with me?" He shook his head.
"No."
"But..."
"Come on. We can look around town and spend one more night at the hotel. So we can rest before we have to leave." So we can have one more day together went unsaid, but Harry heard it anyways.
"... Okay."
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Muhammad shook his hand with a grin the next morning, before Harry turned towards the mountains. He would be hiking on foot, since there wasn't really another way to get to Mahdi's home. What kind of person lived on a mountain anyways? He had barely taken five steps from the other when his name was called.
"Harry!" He turned back, and just barely managed to catch the thing that was thrown at him. He blinked, and Muhammad tossed him a grin over his shoulder before running off. He watched him go quietly and then turned his attentions on the little bag he had been given. Inside were two packs of cigarettes, a pack of matches, a stack of pita bread, and an amulet.
It was bronze, with an image of a fish engraved masterfully into it, and more of that beautiful language he couldn't read scrawled all along the edges. He felt the magic on it as soon as he touched it and frowned. There was a note stuck to it also.
To keep you cool so you don't die of heatstroke. Idiot.
His brow twitched but he put it on carefully...
And as coolness and blessed relief from the heat washed over him he promptly cursed Muhammad for not having given it to him sooner.
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The talisman was a godsend. Where before he had been stuck in the blistering heat, the native clothing only offering enough relief to keep him from dying of heatstroke (as Muhammad was so certain would happen to him). With the thing settled around his neck though, he felt only uncomfortably warm. He still sweat, but it was no longer unbearable, and if he stopped moving for time, or was in the shade, it was actually nice. He grumbled a bit at the thought that the other had probably had the thing the entire time, and wondered if it explained how he seemed to be so unbothered by the heat.
It was especially helpful given that travelling over rough ground and occasionally having to climb was more physically challenging than walking on flat ground or riding a camel; no matter that his thighs and ass thanked him for that being over and done with. He vowed to deal with the bus in the future, or find some other method of travel. He would never again ride a camel if he could help it.
The Jabal Shams mountain range was actually more Northwest than just North of Nizwa, and it was defined by grey and brown stone and dirt and the very occasional bush. There was a tiny dirt trail that cut off from the main road near Nizwa to lead into them, and it was this road he found himself traveling along. He only stopped to relieve himself, and otherwise kept walking. It still look him almost until nightfall to make it into the mountains themselves, the trail thinning out more and more, and then it jutted sharply uphill. He followed it, having to doubleback once because he had thought he was still following it but wasn't, and found his way onto an outcropping at the side of the trail where he chose to make camp for the night.
It was high up enough that he hoped nothing would bother him, not that it looked as though anything could live up here anyways. The higher up he went the less vegetation there was, and nothing could live without food...
At least nothing that didn't feed off something else, like dementors or that Alu thing, but... Dementors prefered colder places, so it was unlikely he'd find one in a desert, and the Alu had been creepy, but once it had left he hadn't felt scared anymore, and he didn't feel that way looking back now either. Besides, it hadn't actually harmed him, so it wasn't that bad. All the same, with any luck, he would be left alone.
Indeed, the night passed without issue, and Harry woke unaccosted and uninjured; all of his things where they had been when he fell asleep. So he continued on. The trail led him higher up, and he found himself forced to double back several times to second day to make sure he was going the right direction. About halfway through he was forced to rest and relax his legs.
He had barely gone a mile more when he tripped (his balance sucked with his tail subdued by the glamour, but he was too paranoid to take the band off even out here). He reached out to catch himself, and a sharp rock sliced through his hand. He hissed and blood flowed freely from the wound. He stayed on his knees while assessing the damage.
The rock had cut fairly deep, slicing right through his palm. He cussed. In all his preparation for coming out here, he had never thought to pack bandages, but if he tried to heal the wound with magic... He might succeed... Or he might blow up his hand. With a sigh he tore the bottom of the cotton thawb off and wrapped the strap of cloth as tightly around his palm as he could without cutting off the circulation.
Then he kept going. He was relieved when the path flattened out a bit, though it began twisting this way and that. It was better than walking uphill or having to climb. Mostly it was just tiring, and he stopped several more times before nightfall. Once to change his bandage, once to eat, another to smoke a cigarette.
He was surprised how different it was to travel alone than it had been to travel with Muhammad. They didn't even talk much, but it still felt so much quieter without him there. He had grown used to the sound of another person's breathing and movements and the click click sound his lighter made every time he lit up another cancer stick. The woosh sound the matches made when he lit one was so different and foreign by comparison.
Muhammad loved to annoy him, and he had gotten used to the little things the young man did like flicking ash at him or whistling in a high pitch or throwing things at him. He had gotten irritated often, that was true, but without all those little things life suddenly felt very dull. He wondered at what point exactly, that Muhammad had gone from an annoyance to a friend.
He wished he had tried to convince the other to come, or that he had brought someone from home with him in the first place. True that it was more dangerous for him to travel with someone else, but, honestly, he was lonely.
It was a strange state for him. He had grown up with the Dursleys, who, in his childhood, had never treated him well or wanted anything to do with him. The lies they had spread and the way Dudley would pick on anyone who was nice to him had led him to not have any friends, so he had grown up mostly alone. He had read books and hidden away in his cupboard. He had always prefered the quiet.
But then he had come to Hogwarts, and had made his first friends, and then it seemed like he had never been alone. Even during those summers before his family had changed their tune, he had still had Hedwig, and even if she hadn't been able to say anything back, he had talked to her, and she had listened and made little crooning noises. He hadn't been alone since the day he met Hagrid, not really, and when he was it had never been for very long.
He didn't even really count his trips to the Keeper's library, because he had only gone there when he needed to be alone. But now, when he didn't he suddenly was.
He didn't like it.
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The only redeeming feature about at hot night alone in desert mountains, Harry decided, was the view of the sky. As high up as he was, there was nothing to mar his view of the night sky and all the stars it held. He could see them all; the beautiful and incredible milky way. It reminded him of those few nights sitting beside a centaur and gazing upwards, except that then his view had been narrow because off all the trees around him. Here, there was nothing but the sky, and Harry relished in it before going to bed.
The next morning he took a look at his map to ensure he was going the right way, and marked his progress on it. He was about halfway there as far as he could tell. That would mean one or two more nightly stops before he arrived, and then he would be at Mr. El-Amin;s home, and hopefully, the man wouldn't just turn him away after how far he had come. He had come out here with the optimistic hope that he would somehow be able to convince the hard to find author to help him, and he was prepared to throw aside his pride and grovel on his knees if that was what it took.
He set out with his goal reaffirmed in his mind and a cigarette in his mouth. His body had begun to grow used to the harsh travel, and though he knew his feet were covered in blisters, they were also numb, so he hardly paid any mind to it. He didn't need to stop as many times this day, and it was almost dark when something other than the path caught his attention. A far off booming hit his ears; a strange sound that was very misplaced considering he had heard nothing but wind and his own sounds for the past couple of days.
He turned around to look, and his eyes fell on dark clouds in the distance. His eyes narrowed. Rain in Oman was very very rare, but when a storm did come it could last anywhere from ten minutes to several hours. The ominous clouds were far away, but they looked to be moving fast in his direction. He probably had a few hours before the storm hit him, but it would hit him. He nodded to himself and looked around, climbing up just a bit off the path to get a better view.
There was a small cave just a little ways up, and upon sight of it he went right for it. He was only a few feet away from the entrance when he tripped again. He caught himself with his hands and cussed violently. When he got up he glared down and tried to find whatever he had tripped on this time. When he saw, his glare vanished and he stared, mouth slightly open.
For Harry had tripped over a naked man.
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I remember this chapter as being really fun to write, but at the moment I can't remember why.
The Alu is a real mythological creature, I just took a bit of creative license with its' appearance and behavior. As for the smoking thing, sue me. I'm not promoting smoking, as, yea, when you're an ordinary human being like all of us, it's bad for you. But I live in Vegas, where everyone and their grandma smokes, and have very few members of my family who don't do it. Besides that, Harry is an older teenager, and needs something semi-rebellious to do, even something as small as cigarettes. So I apologize if you have a problem with it, but I'm not changing it.
Besides that, yes, the naked man is probably who you think he is.
Now that I'm done, I'll see you all next week. Have a great week yourselves, you don't have to stay out of trouble, but try not to get caught, and come back for more next Friday.
Sincerely,
Mr. Hate.
P.S. One of my reviewers asked why I'm 'Mr. Hate', and what it is that I hate. Anyone care to take a guess?