B"SD

Neither Assassin's Creed, nor Harry Potter belong to me.

Chapter Six

For the first time since they had arrived, the atmosphere in the studio was relaxed. Rebecca and Lucy sat off in one corner coming up with theories on how to get back to the future, while to entertain themselves, everyone else ate Leonardo's food.

"What year is this wine from?" Ezio asked dryly, winding his fingers around the bottles neck.

"1475," Leonardo replied uneasily as he watched the red liquid fill another cup. Ezio handed the cup to Ron, who chugged it down greedily.

"I've never had muggle wine before," he blurted, "especially not ancient muggle wine…"

"Oh please," Hermione scoffed, "there's not much difference between muggle wine and wizard wine."

"Have you two come up with anything over there?" Harry called to the two assassins anxiously.

Lucy sighed, "I'm afraid not. It's tough work- I'm still not sure how we got here." The blonde shrugged and poured herself a cup of wine.

"Great," Ron frowned into his cup, "Always count on muggle science to screw you over."

"You know you could probably do more to help than complain," Shaun snapped and gulped down a quarter of his cup.

"Like what?" Ron retorted, "Your machine got us into this!"

"Boys, I think we're getting a bit tipsy!" Hermione separated the two warily.

"Hermione, no one's getting-"

"I'VE GOT IT!"

The loud cry nearly forced everyone out of their seats. All eyes in the room turned to Rebecca, who was beaming as though she had just won the lottery.

"I know how to get back!" She repeated, panting.

"Great, now tell the rest of us." Harry nodded.

"Okay," Rebecca took a deep breath, "The animus won't reboot and it won't let us leave- that only happens when it's currently accessing a memory sequence."

"What does that mean?" Ron asked helplessly.

"I wasn't done!" She muttered, "I think the only way for us to get back is to finish the memory block we're on."

"So basically," Desmond simplified, "We have to help Ezio finish whatever he's doing- and then the animus will let us leave?"

"Yup!" Rebecca grinned.

"When we left, the animus was set to sequence six…" Lucy mused, "That's 1479-1480. That's the year Leonardo da Vinci moved his studio to Venice and Ezio came with because-"

"Hey!" Ezio broke in, face contorted in confusion, "What in G-d's name do you mean by my 'memories'?"

"And how did you know I was leaving for Venice?" Leonardo asked curiously.

"We're from the future," Shaun replied, "We know everything."

"Since Ezio and Desmond's DNA is the only thing keeping us here," Rebecca warned sternly, "if we get too far away from either of them the animus will de-synchronize."

"What happens then?" Hermione asked carefully.

"Then the animus shuts down- reboots- and…" Rebecca bit her lip, "when it restarts we could be anywhere in Desmond's bloodline. We'd be separated, definitely. Across hundreds of years."

"So basically," Harry said, "don't get de-synchronized."

"Will someone please explain to me in simple Italian what just happened?" Ezio groaned.

"What just happened, Ezio," Desmond smiled, "is that we are going with you on your road trip to Venice."

"No you're not!" Ezio yelled, "You really are not! You can't!"

"It's the only way for us to get home," Harry shrugged, "and besides, I think you'll find us useful."

"I need to get out of this madhouse," the assassin moaned and stood abruptly.

"Where are you going?" Leonardo asked.

"To see Lorenzo," Ezio replied, heading for the door.

"Lorenzo?" Hermione repeated, puzzled. "Wait, like Medici? Like THE Lorenzo di Medici?"

"…Yes…" Ezio's eyes darted around uncomfortably.

"You shouldn't go outside alone," Hermione was on his arm in a split second, "a Death Eater might recognize you! I should go with!"

"Hermione…" Ron groaned.

"Please, Harry?" Hermione whined, "I want to meet Medici!"

"I'm glad you're asking me!" Ezio muttered, slapping his forehead, "what ever happened to my privacy…"

"Alright," Harry sighed, "but be back soon."

"I'm just going to tell him I'm leaving to track the Templars in Venezia," Ezio cried, "I'm not even going to be there that long!"

"It's long enough for me!" Hermione giggled and dragged Ezio out the door.

Leonardo sighed and put his hands on his hips.

"Well," he said, "who wants to help me prepare the wagon?" Silence met his offer. The artist seemed to sag as it lengthened, watching the others stare into space or fiddle with their clothing. "Oh, come, come," He said, pleading, "I'll pay you?"

It took a few more minutes of cajoling, but eventually Rebecca got to her feet. "Okay," she said with a sigh, "What do you want us to do?" Leonardo beamed.

"Well, the first priority is to pack provisions."

"Sorry?" Desmond asked.

"Things to eat."

"Oh," Desmond said, looking puzzled, "I thought you said provisions." Lucy rolled her eyes, straightening up.

"We can take care of that," she said, nodding at Desmond, "You want us to go to the market, or do you have enough here?"

"How long will it take us to get to Venice?" Rebecca piped up.

"It's a short journey," Leonardo began.

"Oh good," Ron said under his breath.

"-Merely a week or two, if the weather is good." Jaws dropped all around him.

"…okay," Lucy said, "We are definitely going to stop at the market." She pulled an unwilling Desmond toward the front door. "We'll be careful," she said wearily as Harry opened his mouth to protest. The pair stepped out into the Italian sunshine. "We'll be back in an hour or so. Help Leonardo" she added as she slammed the door behind them.

Leonardo turned back to the group. "Well." He said. He looked around the studio and grimaced.

"I think we should attend to the paintings first."

The packing quickly got underway. Under the nearly obsessive direction of the nervous artist, Shaun and Rebecca carefully rolled and wrapped up the pile of sketching, paintings and diagrams. Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were banished to the back room to pack up Leonardo's clothing and sundries.

Shaun cast a disturbed eye over yet another drawing of an undressed model. "Does he think, perhaps that clothing that people walk around naked all the time? Because this is beginning to become frightening."

"Oh, for G-d's Sake," Rebecca said, snatching the drawing out of his hands. ("Careful with that!" Leonardo cried out.) "It's the Renaissance. It's what the artists do."

"You'd think that, being the supposed period of Enlightenment of all of Europe, they would have learned to make clothes now."

"They…" Rebecca scoffed. "It's about studying the human form and how the body works."

"Sure it is," Shaun said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "Didn't most artists end up stealing bodies from graveyards to use as models?" Leonardo cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I think I will just go check on the others," he said, all but fleeing the room. Shaun snorted in laughter, watching the blond man scuttle out. Then he turned back to the pile, only to meet Rebecca's death glare.

"What?" he asked defensively.

Harry and Ron, meanwhile, were perplexed over the faintly foppish Renaissance styles that filled Leonardo's wardrobe. "It's not that bad," Harry shrugged, folding a cape into the trunk that stood on the floor between them. "They're all the sort of thing Nearly-Headless- Nick would wear. If he was able to change clothes, that is."

"Still doesn't make them any less funny looking," Ron insisted, crumpling up a velvet vest with massive sleeves.

"No," Harry conceded, "But it's not like we haven't seen worse. I mean, just look at the Quidditch World Cup." He smiled, remembering the disastrous outfits that had resulted from the various wizards attempting to dress up as muggles. If he remembered correctly, hadn't there been a man walking around in a woman's nightgown?

Ron laughed appreciatively, grabbing a pair of what looked like pantaloons and stuffing them down into the trunk. "Merlin," he said, standing up and cracking his back, "How much clothing does one man need?"

"We're almost finished," Harry said, grabbing another shirt.

"Good," came a voice at the door. Leonardo stood in the doorway, fidgeting slightly. "Then, if you don't mind, I'll just go out to pack my machine…" his voice trailed off as he turned awkwardly back around.

"Machine?" Harry and Ron exchanged glances. They shoved the rest of the clothing haphazardly into the trunk, closed the lid with difficulty, and followed the man into the main room. Rebecca and Shaun had finished with the last of the drawings and were watching as Leonardo struggled with a confused contraption made of wooden beams and stiff paper. He managed to heft the entire thing almost to the center of the room, before he noticed that he was being observed.

"What have you got there, Leo?" Shaun asked, trying to hide his smile.

"Eh…" He said, sweating slightly, "Does someone want to go out and bring the wagon and horses around?" The other four exchanged looks.

"I'll go," Rebecca said.

"Yeah, me too," Harry added.

The stables were small, dark and cool compared with the bright hot day outside. With a little prodding, the horses were coaxed into their reigns and out of their stalls. Then Harry's eyes fell upon the wagon.

"This is it?" He said, eyeing the tiny vehicle with concern. "Where's the rest of it?" Rebecca came to stand next to him. She swore under her breath.

"Where are we all going to sit?" she asked. "Is it even road-worthy?" Harry shrugged helplessly.

"Guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said.

"Yeah, if we ever make it there."

Together, they managed to hook the horses up to the wagon, which seemed even smaller next to the two beasts, neither of which were even that big themselves.

"Somehow," Harry said as they led the horses out to the front of the house, "I'm getting the feeling that we're not going to enjoy this trip."

A/N: Wow, no Italian in this one.