Harry couldn't quite believe that he was in Burundi. He had side-long appararated with McGongall, Hermione, whom was confidant enough to make the trip by herself had appeared moments at his side and Ron, who didn't want to 'stuff it up' had made the trip with Lupin.
It was the middle of July and therefore not the wet season of Burundi. The heat was stifling. Ron was hastily pulling of all items of clothing that could be spared with out being declared indecent. Lupin was sweating and contemplating discarding his robes. Both Hermione and Harry were gasping. The only one who seemed un-perturbed by this was the upright professor who simply strode of into the desert with a purpose.
Hermione was staring around in interest. She had read about Burundi before disembarking and had gobbled up the information. It had not seemed an appealing place to live with 90 of the population relying on agriculture to live. Hermione was no farmer. The capital was Bujumbura and the languages spoken varied wildly, the three most used were Kirundi, Swahili and French.
Ron was not thinking about all the interesting things that could be gleaned from being in another country. He wasn't excited to be out of Europe and back in Africa again. His thoughts were limited to and repeatedly 'Bloody heat.'
Lupin's thoughts had been mostly concerned with a woman but he found his attention suitably distracted with the 'Bloody heat' his former student was currently ranting about.
McGongall didn't think much about anything other than her purpose, which was to deliver Harry to the wild mages. They lived in a secluded mountainous region, separated from the muggles of the dry continent. She was also slightly worried for a reason she kept closely guarded. Dumbledore had sent her a separate letter detailing some information he thought prudent not to reveal Harry. The wild mages cooperation had not been given unconditionally. They had promised to let Harry try and earn his right to be protected by them.
McGongall could see why Dumbledore hadn't divulged this information with the boy. He was too well acquainted with the boy's personality and character. Harry would accept, if offered, support even if it was acknowledged begrudgingly. He would never try and pass a test for something he didn't truly want. He wanted to be a noble brave individual.
She also knew that too much rested on the heat mages agreeing for her liking. If the heat mages rejected them there was no chance the cold mages would even admit Harry into their domain. Heat mages were, as a general rule, much more approachable and welcoming then their icy counterparts. The cold mages would honour their promise if Harry proved himself in the heat kingdom. If they went back on their promise the honourable heat mages would never let them live it down.
Harry was also thinking about the upcoming meeting with the heat mages but not with the same apprehension that dominated McGongall's thoughts. He was thinking about them with a scowl and resentfully. He was seventeen and he didn't need a baby sitter. The only possible person who could persuade him to do this was Dumbledore and he was dead. Harry considered this a last honouring of his memory.
Of course Harry didn't understand what it meant to be coming under the protection of the mages. Not many witches or Wizards did. They didn't teach about them at school except for a quick mention in History of magic that you would have had to be awake to catch… and nobody ever was. Only Lupin and McGongall knew. Hermione did, to a small extent, know what to expect but not like her older companions.
Lupin felt more akin to the wild mages than he had let on to anybody. That was partly why he volunteered for this mission when nobody else dared. He knew what it meant to live askewered from the rest of the wizarding society. To be feared for something he couldn't control.
And then nobody could think hard at all. They were climbing a mountain, taking it in turns to swig from a bottle of water that kept replenishing it's self.
"Are we near?" Ron demanded flustered and angry. It was getting darker now and he wanted to be inside and safe by the time darkness fell. He was also cranky that they couldn't have gotten closer to the actual location.
McGongall ignored him. It was the fourth time he had asked that question in the last five minutes.
Hermione glared at Ron as if he was making the heat worse with his moaning and grumbling. Harry didn't even register the question. He just wanted to get this over and done with. It was with deep relief that he saw a large shape looming on the mountain.
It relieved everybody. They finally had something to head towards instead of endless red desert and an unseeable mountaintop.
They could hear shouting too. It began as one voice crying, "mwanga."
The cry was repeated by a third voice, "mwangas! Mwangas!"
Eventually the whole mountaintop was filled with crying people. Harry felt nervousness stir in the pit of his belly for the first time.
"Les mwanga sont venus! Quelqu'un Pyralis alerte et le maliki. La danse continue toujours."
"That was in French," Hermione whispered.
"You speak French?" Ron asked both impressed and incredulous.
"A little. But not enough to know what they are saying," She replied with a flush of pleasure. She liked it when Ron admired her.
McGongall proceeded on as if oblivious to the shout.
Finally one member broke away and stood in front of them. She was an older woman.
"J'mappelle Harnepher. Bienvenue au domaine de la chaleur," She said quickly.
"We don't speak French," McGongall hurried to make known.
"Neither do we really," The woman said in accented English, "we speak a mix of Swahili and French. Our language is different. Very literal and easier to learn."
There was a strange silence as nobody could think up a correct response to what the woman said.
She sighed, "Let us begin again. My name is Harnepher and welcome to my home. The sanctuary of the heat mages. If you would follow me I would take you inside. We are having what you mwanga might call a party," She turned and walked back towards the house.
"You mean this isn't all of your company?" Lupin asked and indicated to the people standing outside.
"No. Merely tonight's guard. The rest are at the partie inside."
They walked past the people who were watching them silently. Harry thought he heard a few excited whispers but he was now more aware of the growing drumbeat from inside the building.
Harry's senses were overwhelmed the minute he stepped into the room. There were people dancing and laughing and swinging around in time to the beat. On a big chair up against the wall sat a man who was clapping his hands and laughing. Nobody even looked up as the wizards entered.
In the middle two people danced faster and more furiously than any of the others. People were beginning to step back to watch the couple. The man was very handsome. With flaming red hair and brown eyes he was tall and well muscled. The girl was not unpleasant but not what one would call a beauty. Her face was flushed and sweating and her black hair hung loosely to her shoulders obviously dirty from the sweat and smoke in the room. Her eyes were large and looked to be entirely black and her nose was hooked. Still her smile was broad and her eyes glowed.
"Bet she's the heat mage," Ron whispered.
Harry turned around surprised. She didn't look like champion material.
"Don't be absurd Ron. She's much to young. Probably only a little older than us," Hermione stated.
"No seriously. No guy that good-looking is going to dance with a girl like her if she wasn't important," Ron claimed. Hermione glared daggers at Ron and Harry turned back to the girl.
He thought Ron was being a little harsh. She wasn't ugly and Harry was quite sure that smile would grow on you after a while.
"Maybe she is a nice person," Hermione admonished, "You don't have to be beautiful to make men like you. You've been spending to much time around Fleur."
"I'd advise you to keep this arguments for another time," Lupin whispered in their ears and Hermione and Ron fell silent.
Their attention was completely captivated by the dancers and unless Harry was having some vivid daydreams the pair were smoking. The floor around their feet glowed red and he was certain that sparks danced around both their fingertips as the joined.
Eventually the music stopped and the pair finished with a flourish. The clapping was loud and voracious. The man on the large chair stood as soon as the drum beat and applause had died.
Welcome Mwangas and sorcières. My loyal friends you may remember Albus Dumbledore who visited not long past," He proclaimed. Many in the crowd nodded before he continued, "It seems he is dead. You have my respect and sympathies," The king said bowing his head to Harry.
"Dumbledore was a good man and wizard who treated us with esteem," The man told the approaching group, "So I welcome the chosen Harry Potter and let him trial for our protection. Come closer Mwangas."
"What does Mwanga mean?" Ron hissed.
"I'll take a wild guess and say wizard," Hermione muttered back.
The man was very dark skinned and his white teeth flashed in the smoke and gloom.
"I am Agnimukha. Sovereign of the heat mages. You request a trial?"
McGongall and the others bowed before the professor spoke, "We do!"
"Trial?" Harry spoke unable to stop himself.
"You thought we would willingly enter this role of protection?" Agnimukha asked his tone light but his eyes hard.
Harry became aware that many of mages were glaring at him and it came Hermione's lecture came flooding back. About the separation from the rest of the wizarding world and how they were thought inferior. Most of these people had probably been dragged away from their parents as well. Harry recognised this from another race. The centaurs behaved exactly the same way when told.
"No," Harry quickly said, "I just wasn't told in great detail what was expected. I'm honoured that you would even consider accepting me to trial."
Lupin smiled his approval but Harry's stomach was dropping. There was no way he could back out. He tried to steady himself. He had competed in the triwizard tournament after all.
Agnimukha smiled warmly again. Harry literally felt the heat emitting from the surrounding mages.
"We heat mages value courage and bravery. It is a simple task. Lay one hand on our shujaa. Our champion Pyralis."
The girl they had been talking about stepped forward to stand by the chair. She was wearing leather like the rest in the room and she wasn't smiling now.
"She is you're champion?" McGongall couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice.
"She is young but she has earned her right," the king defended her.
"Mon nom est Pyralis et je SUIS sorcière de feu!" The girl snapped, her tone feisty.
"Yes Pyralis, we know," The king laughed, "No need to defend your claim."
Harry stared at the girl. He had to lay a hand on her to win her protection. But what protection could she offer him. McGongall was giving him a stiff nod so he sighed.
"If you want," Harry breathed. Pyralis smiled and tied back her hair. It wasn't a pretty smile. In fact the effect was overall displeasing. She moved to the centre of the room and the crowd stepped back.
"Well I was right," Ron declared triumphantly. Hermione managed to send a withering glance his way and muttered something that sounded like 'superficial' under her breath.
Pyralis was stretching her arms; her attention on the ground and Harry was suddenly struck by how much she reminded him of Snape. He had an unpleasant urge to throttle her. She smiled as one woman walked forward and muttered, "Enseignez aux mwanga arogant une leçon!" and with the smile she didn't remind him of Snape any more. The traitorous potions master never smiled.
Hermione placed a hand over her mouth, "oh. I understood that," But she stubbornly refused to translate.
Everyone cleared off the floor leaving Pyralis and Harry facing each other.
"Don't worry Harry. I can't be that hard," Ron yelled encouragingly.
At that exact moment Pyralis opened her palms and flung them out violently. In her hands now rested a sword and whip made entirely of flame.
"Well… that was impressive," Ron mumbled hoarsely. Hermione gasped and Lupin looked hopelessly at McGongall who stared wordlessly at the heat mage.
Harry shook his head. He didn't need this. But he could guess now why Dumbledore thought that the mages would be good allies. He was also now sure Dumbledore had been mad when he was alive.
"Don't worry. She won't actually hit you," Agnimukha called and when Harry looked at him with disbeliefthe king finished with, "On purpose."
Harry looked back to see Pyralis getting blindfolded.
It started to feel remarkably hot all of a sudden.
Harry most definitely didn't need this.
AN: Again not much to say. It'd be nice to get any kind of review but hey if you guys just wanna read it that's cool! Oh and I don't own anything you recognise!
MD666