For those who came in late:

This is just a bit of fun. Although the fun's about to be interrupted real soon now. And this chapter fought like a bastard.

Yeah... about that:

After lunch, everyone had remounted and started southward to Pell's Gate, deviating from the road past a wayshrine ("Dibella's," Zul had identified it) to avoid Vindasel. Ra'jirra had stopped at one point, looking towards it and the figures wandering around. "Thought so," he said sourly, "the bloody conjurers are back."

High cloud drew across the sky like ragged net curtains, blunting the sun's rays. The first bridge had been crossed, and the children's attention was drawn to a stone adorned in red patterns.

"What's that?" Hermione asked before anyone else could.

"Doomstone," Ra'jirra said from up ahead, "They're all over Tamriel. If you visit them at night, you can invoke them for a boon. Lot like the shrines of the Nine."

"Isn't Quill-Weave writing a series about them?" Harry asked suddenly, "I remember seeing something about it ages ago in the Courier."

"Well she can't crank out books overnight," Ra'jirra grunted, "but I know she's wrong about the Doomstones."

"You and me both," Zul agreed.

"Hold," Ra'jirra reined in his horse and waited for the children to come to a halt. He dismounted, readying his bow, and squinted suspiciously at the far side of the large, very old bridge. Two metallic thumps behind them indicated that Zul gro-Radagash and Mazoga had also dismounted.

"I count four," the Khajiit said quietly, "I think there's an archer on the far side and the rest are – hold on, make it five. They've got some hedge witch."

"From Homestead?" Zul unsheathed his battleaxe slowly.

"Might be, doing well though. That big fellow's in steel, but check out him with the kynreeve's shield."

"Homestead then," the big Orisimer nodded.

"We should pay the buggers another visit sometime," Mazoga was wielding an immense claymore and an evil smile. "Naughty bandits shouldn't play in old castles."

Harry squirmed with embarrassment in his saddle.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco looked curiously at Harry.

"Remember how Dad was looking at me when we stopped at Fort Virtue? One time I... um... snuck inside and... well, I got lost," Harry's face started to turn red. "Dad had to put down a lot of ghosts and skeletons to reach me, and then this spectral warrior came out of nowhere. He was mad and I was..." he shivered. "I don't like the old forts any more."

"I'll deal to the archer," Ra'jirra was saying, "and the spell-slinger. You two get to have the real fun once they step on the bridge. As for you five –" his finger drew a circle around the children – "you stay on this side of the bridge and try to avoid anything coming your way. Don't interfere. Got it?"

One fairly quick and slightly unevenly matched dust-up later:

Hermione had come close to death barely two months ago – in fact she'd seen Harry inflict dreadful wounds on the troll – but the troll had been knocked out, not killed.

The slack face of the bandit, with its green skin and tusks, reminded her of that. The brains oozing out of the freshly cracked open skull, however, were novel. Not to mention nauseating.

Ron had also come close to death, but this was different. These weren't stupid trolls, but people. People who knew what they were doing, and knew when they were overmatched.

Notice had been served when Ra'jirra fired a high shot that didn't reach the ground, owing to an archer's shoulder being in the way. His cry had alerted the other bandits, who'd almost immediately formed a line across the bridge, one man in robes – probably the 'hedge wizard' the Arch-Mage had sneered about – hanging back.

All three had dismounted, Ra'jirra nocking another arrow before sending it aloft, while Mazoga, followed by Zul, started across the bridge in what wasn't a charge so much as an advance. All three adults knew better than to wear yourself out before actually going to work. They also kept to the left-hand side, meaning that any opposition would be met by the widest arc of attack.

The wizard jumped, apparently startled by nearly getting skewered. Looking around, he spotted the Orisimers and threw lightning at them. This caused their advance to pause and their tempers to shorten.

It also caused the other three to start their own charge, attempting to get the first blows in.

One of the bandits was a fairly large Nord, rendered frightening by streaks of woad and bulky fur armour, as well as a shield seemingly made out of the same evil red and black substance as Harry's magic dagger.

"Is that a... um... bound shield?" Neville was staring less from professional interest and more from abject terror.

"Nah, genuine daedric," Harry shook his head, "probably lifted off some other poor sod. Some dremora tote 'em as badges of office, or so Dad says."

The Nord in question had apparently decided that Mazoga was the primary threat, and was leading with his shield. The scowling Redguard beside him, on the other hand, recognised that Zul was just as problematic and pushed ahead, trusting the Nord to keep the orc bitch busy while he chopped down the other greenskin with a strangely shining axe.

Ra'jirra snarled "Why me?" in annoyance as bandit number three – an extremely angry Orisimer in steel, brandishing a huge hammer made of some greenish material – took aim in his direction. Loosing one more arrow more or less in the outlaw wizard's direction, he replaced bow with mace in his right hand, pulling a bound shield out of Aetherius with his left.

Mazoga's Nord charged shield first, lifting his sword for an overhand chop. The knight's reaction was swing her own sword across and back, bracing her forearm and dipping the point of the blade, before meeting that shield with her own shoulder. The Nord rocked back slightly and his own swing missed biting into the Orisimer woman's left shoulder by about two inches.

With an angry cry Mazoga sliced the blade into the Nord's side and across his belly, cutting into the furs, but the bandit was already stepping back and swinging that shield into position. Snarling with annoyance she lifted her claymore into a defensive position again and waited for his next move.

Behind her, Zul was in no hurry to learn what enchantment was on that axe, thank you very much. Looked yellow though, so it would probably mess up his armour or weapon. Said axe was being held low across the bandit's torso in a worryingly professional fashion. Deserter. Zul's eyes narrowed. He didn't like deserters.

A distant cry of "Wingardium Leviosa!" was followed by a startled yelp from the Orisimer bandit. While he was still gripping his war-hammer, it was apparently trying to fly away. Ra'jirra saw his opportunity at once and took it with a not particularly elegant overhand smash to the face.

It was almost a repeat of what happened at Halloween. The orc let go of his weapon and grabbed at his face – the Khajiit mage took another swing, this time smashing into the scofflaw's left ear – then jumped out of the way as the hammer, freed from both its owner's grip and the levitation charm, came down with a sound like a dropped pumpkin.

Beside them, Zul took the opportunity to get right in the Redguard's face, dropping his axe and slamming him to the ground. The two started to wrestle, the ex-Legionnaire trying to throw the angry and decidedly heavy Champion of Cyrodiil off and get his own weapon back, and Zul doing his very best to pull his opponent's head either clean off his neck or just turn it inside out.

"What the hell are you doing?" Hermione screamed at an unashamed Harry, "we were told to keep out of this!"

"We are involved," Harry snorted, watching his father step over the motionless shape and advance towards the remaining two bandits, "if they fall, it's up to us, and..."

He trailed off as Ra'jirra paused, then bashed his shield into the Nord's backside. The bandit stumbled, and Mazoga took her cue.

A summoned shield, applied to sturdy Skyrim buttocks, makes a dull sound, rather like whap. Skyrim males, when one skewers them around the kidneys, tend to scream like little girls.

Any gentlemen readers of similar descent who work in similar situations, and wish to avoid screaming like little girls, are advised to do two things: avoid being knocked off balance, and make sure that one's armour actually overlaps at the waistband. A third option is to avoid angering Orisimer of any sex.

Mazoga tore her blade free of the hapless Nord and kicked him in the stones. He doubled over in even more pain, dropping his sword as he tried to literally keep himself together, then went flying as she kicked him again in the head, gore spraying her liberally before she stabbed her claymore into the man's chest as though digging a posthole.

Ra'jirra meanwhile was exchanging spells with the hedge witch, trying to keep the sod from getting the archer back into service. Zul was still methodically banging the Redguard's head on the stones, and Harry was flexing his wand hand ominously.

"Shouldn't we just leave well alone?" Hermione was not getting hysterical. After all, they'd been told to stay out of it, and Harry had disobeyed his own father, and what would happen if –

"Spongify!" Ron sent an oddly fluffy-looking purple spell in the archer's direction.

"Seriously?" Draco stared at him incredulously.

"First one I could think of, okay?" Ron shrugged. After all, they were already in trouble, and why should Harry get all the credit?

The archer himself was seriously thinking of just making a run for it. But right now, he needed his bow – and there it was, a shape just behind the silver sparkles. He grabbed it and prepared to nock an arrow just as a flash of purple smacked into it.

An astonished cry left his lips as the sturdy oak wood drooped and flopped in his hand like fennel leaves, the string slipping off limply. Then awareness left him forever in a rip of red and black energy.

The hedge wizard fumbled a potion out of his belt as the fur-licker approached. He'd suspected something was dodgy from the way the three had ridden, and the fact their gear was in such good nick, but would the others listen? No. And it seemed the brats they were escorting knew something about spells. And this was a magicka potion. No running away then.

"Eat spell, furface!" He sent a fireball at his opponent.

Ra'jirra just snarled, then loosed Wizard's Fury down his mace. The effect was quite spectacular, the hapless wizard convulsing uncontrollably as he soiled himself, also catching fire and freezing at the same time. Ice crystals formed and sublimated into steam almost immediately in his flesh, creating horrific wounds.

The death-blow the Arch-Mage gave him was almost a mercy.

Ra'jirra turned from the corpse and headed back to the bridge. Mazoga had already shoved the Nord aside and was leaning on her sword, watching her husband retrieve his axe, take aim, and neatly behead the thoroughly unconscious Redguard.

"Deserter," Zul remarked, "Hate deserters."

"Time to chat with the Legion again," Ra'jirra huffed as he arrived. Despite having quite the experience and reputation, fighting is no career for old men. "Let's get the kids to Faregyl."

The three salvaged everything valuable from the bodies, including that really quite nice glass war-hammer, then ambled over to where the children sat on their horses. Menien blew and stomped a hoof, glaring reproachfully at Zul.

"Sorry," Zul grunted to his steed, "your job's guarding the children."

Menien just blew in annoyance. While guarding these two-legged colts meant he was close to some rather fine mares, said colts were still on them, which made relations difficult. As such the stallion felt a little cheated.

"Right," Ra'jirra said sternly, "We've some salvage to take with us, so some of you will have to tote a few things behind your saddles. Now who was casting?"

"I did," Harry and Ron said simultaneously. The old Khajiit just glowered at them.

Draco couldn't resist. "Ron cast a softening charm," he sniggered, then swallowed as Ra'jirra's glare turned on him.

"It still evened the odds, mister," he said at last, "but next time, when I say stay out of it," and he looked pointedly at Harry, "You do just that. Now we've got to cross that bridge, so keep your mounts on a tight rein."

And they did just that, all eight moving briskly. Neville, Draco, Hermione and Ron looked at the state of the bridge and found the backs of their horses' necks quite fascinating.

Hermione's attention was caught by Menien kicking sideways at something, and she involuntarily looked down.

It was a very grumpy Leyawiin mare that delivered Hermione Granger to Faregyl Inn later that evening. Vomit and horsehair don't go together at all.