Harry Potter and the Lost Generation ch13
Disclaimer; J.K. Rowling owns the rights to Harry Potter and I'm not her.
Harry sat in the Ye Olde Fighting Cocks, the pub that would one day be England's oldest pub. It was already three hundred years old in this time. First opening its doors in 755. This is where Harry brought Teddy for his official first pint. He had little doubt his godson hadn't partook while at Hogwarts, Harry himself having tried fire whiskey after winning his first quidditch match. The youngest seeker in a century was glad that Fred and George couldn't get their hands on a good Stout, otherwise he may have developed a drinking problem back then. Stout tastes like a bitter treacle while Fire whiskey tastes like burning ass.
The pub was surprisingly clean and the food was simple but very good. The beer was piss warm but that wasn't a problem with magic. Harry listened to the conversations around him, keeping his hood up and blending in with the pubs rough crowd.
What Harry heard was disturbing. Grotesque murders were happening almost daily throughout the country. People were discouraged from travelling alone even in the daytime and never at night. The Norman conquest was well underway and most of the men around him were either too old or injured to fight. Harry wondered briefly if his Oaths to Queen Elizabeth would come into play once William became King. It wasn't as if he wasn't already trying to protect the realm.
000
Harry cast a sobering charm on himself as he exited the pub. With an hour before sunset, he started walking the road towards London. He hoped to run into trouble. He was in full armor with weapons at the ready. Using his staff as a walking stick in his left hand, his right hand available to draw his wand, sword or gun depending upon his needs in the moment.
As he walked, Harry thought about his last visit to the Veela Enclave and Matriarch Collette's tantalizing offer. Katie was gone almost a year now, though he still loved and missed her everyday, the prospect of having regular sex again was extremely tempting. Harry had never been one for casual sex but the idea of no strings attached sex with the Veela Matriarch was very appealing. Three years was a very long time to go without, especially since he and Katie had made love at least three times a week until she was no longer able. She even encouraged him to find a prostitute before her death. He hadn't of course, he'd taken his wedding vows very seriously and had never been tempted to stray. Now that she was gone though… Harry just felt guilty at the prospect.
000
Harry had been walking for nearly three hours and it was well after dark. He was using a his night vision spell in lieu of carrying a lamp. Before sunset he'd seen a few people who warned in off walking alone at night, while they rushed home themselves but since then att had been quiet.
Suddenly the normal sounds of the night died away. The crickets and night birds silenced themselves as Harry continued to walk as if unconcerned by the sudden and total silence around him.
The area around him was mostly farmland with the occasional tree or bush dotting the landscape. From the corners of his eyes he scanned the area expecting an ambush. He saw nothing off to the sides but could just make out two figures on the road in the distance.
Harry continued on at a leisurely, nonchalant pace as though he hadn't a care in the world. Had he not been listen for someone sneaking up behind him, he may have whistled a jaunty tune. Getting closer to the two characters on the road ahead, he began to analyze their features. Neither were particularly pale, nor were they shabbily dressed. That likely ruled out Vampires and Werewolves. Neither held a wand so either they were extremely confident or they were non-magicals.
"Good evening, gentlemen." Harry said with a nod as he approached the pair.
"There is a toll for traveling this road at night." The one on the right said.
Harry looked at the weedy fellow and was rather unimpressed with what he saw. The man was short, 5'2" at most and maybe 140lbs slaking wet and wearing boots. He carried a rusty long sword on his left side but looked far too frail to use it.
"Oh, I wasn't aware of that. To whom am I to pay this toll and how much is it?" Harry asked with a pureblood sneer.
The man on the left piped up. "You'll pay me and I'll take your entire purse."
This man was quite a bit larger than his friend but Harry could tell that the man's size was mostly fat. He carried a cheaply made hammer strapped to his back.
"You are certainly free to try, however I must warn you that it is never a good idea to meddle in the affairs of wizards. I offer a single gold piece for you to allow me past without any unpleasantness." Harry said fishing out a coin and tossing it to the larger of the men.
The man caught the coin and pulled the hammer from his back.
"I shall take the rest from your corpse." The man growled.
"So be it." Harry said lightly tapping his staff on the ground, freezing both men in place. "I did warn you. Now where is the nearest keep? Who's lands are these?" He asked releasing both men's heads, allowing them to speak.
Both refused to answer, so Harry cast a weak legilimans and got his answers. Taking his coin from the fat one, Harry continued. "You are in luck, I will turn you over to Lord Bronson and let him decide your fate." Then he grabbing both men's shoulders and apparated to the wooden castle he'd seen in their memories.
000
Harry pounded on the main doors of the castle and waited.
"Who goes there?" Came a gruff voice from the other side of the door.
"Harfang Blackwell, I captured two highwaymen on the road and wish to turn them over for the Lord's justice." Harry called back.
Soon after he heard movement on the other side of the door. A thump followed by a scraping noise and the door opened. With a wave of his hand, Harry levitated the two bandits in front with him and entered the castle.
On the other side stood an old and somewhat hunched old man. What little hair the man had was completely white with age. His armor was an older design but well cared for. Beside him stood a very regal young lady. She couldn't have been more than fifteen. With red hair and piercing blue eyes, she looked quite a lot like Ginny had at that age. She was visibly pregnant, probably about six months along and her stress was visible on her face.
"Sir, ma'am." Harry said with a slight bow. "Where would you like me to put them?"
"My guards will be here in a moment to take them." The young women proclaimed. "How did you come across them?"
"I am traveling to London and had heard about the recent spate of attacks. I decided to investigate, after a few hours of walking, these two accosted me demanding my purse. As you can see, I was less than accommodating." Harry said with a cheeky grin.
"Traveling at night is very dangerous with most of the men away, fighting in the war. The bandits are only a small part of our problems."
"I'm sorry my Lady but who are you?"
"Where are my manners? I am Lady Amelia Bronson, these are my husband's lands. You are Harfang Blackwell?"
"I prefer Harry but yes, Lady Bronson."
"Why are you not away at the war? You appear fit to fight." She said eyeing him wearily.
"Well I'm a Welshman, who lives in Alba. No one has asked me to fight and to be very honest, I don't believe wizards should get involved with the politics of non-magicals." Harry answered truthfully.
"But you could help us win so easily."
"And therein lies the problem ma'am. Where is the honor in that? Besides it isn't what wizards can do that is the problem, it's what we cannot do that will cause trouble."
"What do you mean?"
"To most non-magicals what we do looks like miracles. Wizards and witches are just regular people with a gift. We are limited by our knowledge and strength like any other. So people will see me healing catastrophic injury or defeating hundreds of enemies on my own and believe me to be godlike. I am not a God and magic has limits. Eventually someone will die because magic wasn't enough to save them. Perhaps it will be a child and their mother will insist I bring them back to life. While there is magic that can return the dead to life, it is both evil and vile. The balance between life and death is the realm of the gods, one should never assume that they are welcome in the realm of the gods. So I would have to say no to that heartbroken mother and she will hate me for not helping her child. If magic could stop death, I'd be at home with my wife and not here talking to you." Harry finished sadly.
"If you are so interested in staying out of our business, why are you out at night capturing bandits?" She asked a little snidely.
"About a month ago I killed a number of Vampires attacking the citizens of Scone. I was unavoidably detained and before we could clean out their nest, they fled the city. When I heard about the murders, I believed they'd come here but after learning the details, I think it is a wizard or wizards that are attacking people. While I might not be interested in fighting in your wars, I will do what I can to protect non-magicals from my kind."
"Why do you believe it is magicals attacking the people?"
"While I have not yet been able to investigate the scene of a murder myself, what I've heard from witnesses suggests ritual magic of the blackest kind. Anyone performing such magics must be stopped."
Just then two obviously drunk guards stumbled in and grabbed a hold of the bandits.
"I haven't taken their weapons." Harry said before hitting them both with overpowered sobering charms. "A sobering charm." He directed to Lady Bronson. "Be careful." He said to the guards, as they unhappily dragged the still petrified bandits away.
000
Soon Harry departed from the Lady Bronson and was again walking an isolated road. This time he was much closer to London. He'd seen no one in his hour or so of walking but he felt as though he was being watched. As he prepared to fire a homenum revelio, he felt rather than saw a spell heading in his direction.
Harry stepped to the left, out of the path of what appeared to be an incredibly weak piercing hex. Using his staff to cast a flare into the sky, he drew his wand, cancelled his night vision and cast a shield charm over himself.
Turning towards where the spell had originated from, he saw an old, stooped wizard in green dueling robes with what appeared to be his son and grandson at his back.
"Is that your idea of a proper greeting?" Harry called to the group.
"T'is when meeting murdr'in scum!" The old man spat.
"And which of us are this supposed murdering scum? Because I think a weak piercing hex like that isn't likely to kill anyone. My name is Harfang Blackwell by the way. Who might you be?"
The stooped man stood just a bit taller. "Salazar Slytherin and I 'spect you're that murdra."
Harry couldn't help himself, he laughed.
"Choo laugh'in at boy." Slytherin said angrily.
"I'm imagining what Helga is going to say about this and don't get me started on Godric. Heck, even Gwyn is going to give me a hard time." Harry said continuing to chuckle.
"You know Helga and Gryffindor?" He said saying the former with fondness and the latter with a sneer.
"Ay, Helga is my friend and her great granddaughter Gwyn is my apprentice." Harry said putting his wand away.
Salazar lowered his wand. "If you're not out looking ta kill, why're ye out affer dark then?"
"I never said I wasn't out looking to kill, I'm kind of hoping the killer will attack me. I haven't had a good duel in months." Harry said matter-of-factly.
Slytherin smirked at Harry's statement. "Ay, fair nuff."
Harry looked upon the pale, ancient wizard. He was extremely gaunt and appeared ill. The men with him appeared to be holding him up and judging by how weak his spellwork was, Harry concluded that the man was likely dieing.
"Sir, I don't mean to be rude but you appear to be rather unhealthy, I would recommend seeing a healer soonish."
Slytherin deflated. "Nuthin the healers can do."
"Is it just age or have you been cursed?"
"A bit oh both."
Harry drew his wand. "May I take a look? My wife was a healer, who researched curse cures."
Slytherin looked at Harry wearily but eventually nodded.
Harry cast a series of diagnostic charms and analysed the data.
"You have Basilisk venom in your blood, I can see the curse that seems to be keeping it at bay weakening. I might have a solution for neutralizing the venom but it'll be risky. You'd need to perform a cleansing ritual on yourself, the dark magic in your core would slow the healing. The problem is the cleansing ritual would likely break the weakened curse on you."
Harry conjured himself a chair and sat, thinking.
"I think I can do it. Do you live nearby? I'll need a few hours to prepare, if you are interested." Harry finally said.
000
A/N: Updates will likely be sporadic over the next three months or so. I've gotten some temporary but well paying work. Since my savings were down to being just enough to cover rent and food for the next two months, it couldn't come at a better time. Unfortunately, the camp has no WiFi and I'm not paying for roaming data fees just to upload here. Schedule is three weeks on, one week off, so I'll hopefully update on my week off.