Author's Note - Hey everyone! Sorry it took me so long, but I've had a hard time figuring out whether I'm putting in to much of the Other Character (Alice) in. I know I usually don't like reading stories when the Other Character plays a large part, especially when they seem so knowledgeable. It's annoying when it seems like they know what's going to happen and it's all playing out perfectly like they wanted, so I've tried not to do that. Although a large part of why I did this story was to open up to the idea that there is more than one form of magic that is used throughout the world... Hopefully I'm slowly getting there!
Chapter twenty-six.
Harry sighed and rolled his shoulder back, wincing. A niche of Death Eaters had been found and apprehended in Dover by a team of Australians, New Zealanders and Canadians and the Order had sent in a back up team, which had included him. The sky and landscape was dreary, the fog was rolling in and the sun had gone down, leaving Harry with the chills. Exhausted, he hauled himself to the nearest Healer tent. The fight had gone on longer then he thought it would, lasting the course of a couple of weeks and so many people had been lost.
Up ahead he saw the limping figure of a woman in an Australian muggle uniform help someone leaning heavily on her enter the tent. Only the Australians and New Zealanders had come in uniform, as all of them were professionals for their country's Defence Force, leaving a very small amount of civilian magical folk behind.
Shrugging to himself, he dragged himself up the hill and through the tall trees to reach the glow of the tents. People sat outside, lanterns set up and talking softly, those on watch nodded silently to Harry as he walked by, the rest were sleeping… or dead. He limped into the tent he had seen the two girls go into.
"Shh… Louie…Shhh… Come on, buck up! You've had worse scraps falling over!"
He peered in and saw the two girls from before, one was thrashing in the bed, moaning in pain as the other girl and a doctor tried to undo the curse and heal her. He limped in slowly and sat on a nearby chair. The ground was muddy after days of people trekking in from the fog and rain, so planks had been set up so the doctors and nurses could avoid the worst of it.
There was another nurse attending to the bed beside them, presumably checking what the affliction was so the doctor had one less thing to do. Eventually Louie's cries grew less and Harry started to doze in his chair. After a while the nurse came by and shook him gently, "Mr. Potter? Will you be needing a bed?" he looked up startled. There were no beds… He glanced over the nurse's shoulder; the girl who had been helping the doctor was crying silently and her friend was still, deathly so. The doctor grimly levitated the dead girl onto a small tarp that he knew would be taken outside later.
"Ah… No, I'll just see the doctor after he's finished with all the others… Unless you…?"
The nurse smiled sadly, "I'm sorry, I'm not qualified, but I think…" she turned away and walked over to the girl who was quietly wiping away tears. She whispered something and the girl nodded as the doctor looked thankful. The nurse came back over, "I'm sorry I can't do anything, but there's a qualified Healer from Australia or somewhere and she'll be able to help speed up the process."
"Oh. Thank you."
The nurse smiled and walked away. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watched the slow progress of the nurse running between two patients at a time, writing down the curse or hex and the doctor and girl walking opposite down the aisle of patients, smiling and administrating the hopeful cure. Every now and then one or the other would solemnly levitate a body over to where the tarp was. The bruised, wounded and dying slowly trickled in, taking up the beds almost as soon as they were emptied, leaving Harry sitting in his quiet corner. After a couple of hours, the girl finally reached him.
"Come with me." She said softly, smiling. Her eyes, although tired, critically examined him for any potential hidden wounds.
He got up awkwardly and followed her to a bed, where he sat down, wincing.
"Has Sister Marianna seen you yet?"
Harry shook his head in the negative. She nodded to herself, and then rolled up both his trouser legs to reveal a huge gash running down the left side. Without her wand, she began to chant lowly and applied a soothing potion to the spot. He tilted his head to one side, "That doesn't sound like any spell I know or recognise." He stated once she'd finished. She smiled and got up, leaning heavily on her left side, "That's coz it's not. You know, not all magic has its origins in Latin. That was one of our basic healing spells we had to learn from the Aborigines."
Harry's eyebrows shot up, "Really?" he asked, interestedly. She looked him in the eyes and smiled bewitchingly. He caught his breath; for some reason, his voice got stuck in his throat and his brain fogged up, not for lack of trying though, did he try to speak, as he desperately tried to remember what they were talking about. He still couldn't say anything, as she lowered him on his back and raised his shirt to start healing the abdominal gashes he had. He didn't hear her reply to his question, just gazed at her as she softly told him various things about her homeland and quietly worked on all his wounds. Eventually she said, "Okay, you're all good. But, just sit there and have a rest before one of the nurses come and set you free."
He nodded dumbly and slowly closed his eyes. When he awoke, it was past midnight and there was only a single lantern glowing. His nurse/doctor was sitting on the cot that her friend had been in, while the other doctor was healing a huge wound that gashed her side. She grimaced in pain and the nurse, (a different one, Harry noted) held her hand soothingly. He could just make out their low voices.
"Why didn't you get this done earlier, girl?" The doctor asked hiding his anxiety behind annoyance and she grimaced again.
"Sorry - Matt –Ugh – But those poor buggers needed –more - help than – me! Be-sides! I – bandaged –it! Ow!"
Harry looked at her again before slowly falling asleep, committing her face to his memory. He didn't want to think about the war, just her sunshine hair and golden eyes. She looked almost English, her skin pale, with the only evidence of sun being the splattering of freckles on her arms.
Alice sighed, she wished this war was over. She wished she could go back to New Zealand; 'the Land of the Long White Cloud!' With her parent's small cottage, surrounded by lavender and roses. Maybe even the Australian Academy of Magic again! A large ship, switching each term from being stranded in the high canopy of the rainforest in the north, sinking in the sand in the west, creaking on top of the Blue Mountains in the south or hidden with the other sunken ships in the east. So many places to call home!
She would be glad to be gone from England and it's bloodied past. But, she'd never fully be gone from it, what with her parents, her Aunty Cissa and Draco there. And dear Uncle Lusi buried there as well. She winced as Matt, an old school friend, put on some burning ointment. She knew the brew well, having had to make it countless times during the terms in Western Australia… The Pila Nguru's near the Nullarbor plains there had one potion that could work for a variety of conditions against curses, hexes, blood loss and heat stroke… It worked quite well with snake poison too…