Phoenix Hawk Chapter 4
Disclaimer: same verse as before...Italics indicate mental spell/speech
A meaty fist swung seemingly from nowhere, startling the little owl into screeching flight and slamming into Harry's jaw, dislocating it instantly. He'd turned his head towards his owl, and that made it easier for his attacker to target him. He stumbled and fell against the building of the restaurant, clutching the white-hot painful jaw, blinking away the sudden tears. The owl continued screeching and arrowed down to attack his owner's attacker.
"Bloody bird!" a recognizable voice cried in outrage. The voice helped Harry focus past his pain. Temporarily robbed of the ability to speak did not mean he was defenseless. Harry's mage talent surged up, a small tidal wave, in response to his desire. A simple flicking gesture with his right hand had his ginger haired attacker scrapping boot heels against the ground as an unseen wall of force impacted him and shoved him away.
Hagrid came out of the Three Broomsticks by then. "'Ere now, Ron Weasley, what's gotten into ya?" he exclaimed, confused. He moved forward to put a stop to the brawl. "'Arry, are you all right?" he turned to his young friend after seeing that Ron was unable to move. Harry grunted, waving his hand at his face. His jaw was already swelling from the dislocation.
"Ah. I'll get Madam Rosemerta to lend us a hand," Hagrid said, ducking back inside, and calling for the publican.
This gave Harry a brief respite to cross the street to Ron, still held in place by his spell. He quickly cast another wordless one, temporarily giving him speech, mind to mind.*
*Damn you Ron Weasley. What the hell was for?*
"Potter! You bloody freak, what the hell," Ron shouted. Another silent spell and Ron's voice was silenced.
*Shut up and listen. I have a feeling you're here because of your aggrieved sister. Well screw you, Weasley, screw you both. She doesn't know know when to quit, and I've had it with the pair of you. When Rosie gets here, the Hit Wizards will be called.* Ron's eyes got large in his face. Harry'd never done that before when they argued.
*Yes Ron, you're going up on charges for assault. I'm well passed tired of the abuse heaped upon me by certain members of your family. After this, WE ARE THROUGH.* Each word of his final sentence was punctuated with a stab of mental pain strong enough to cause a migraine. All three eventually caused Ron to collapse against the magical force holding him, moaning in pain, eyes screwed tightly shut. Harry let the spells go, falling to his knees with his own pain. The young owl returned to him, hovering before him and making low hoots, concerned for its master. Harry reached out a trembling hand to touch the owl on the breast feathers.
Rosmerta and two of her waitstaff came out of the Three Broomsticks to help Harry and Ron. "All right young bucks. St. Mungo's has been called as well as the Hit Wizards. They'll get this mess straightened out. But you'll both come with us back inside. Up ya get, Mr Weasley," Rosemerta had Ron by the arms, while her two helpers assisted Harry back inside. Harry's little snowy flew up to perch on the roofline, out of the way.
Back inside, Rosemerta brought both young men to the same private room Harry'd used for his lunch with Hagrid, but wisely sat them across the room from each other. The jostling that Ron received succeeded in making him sick enough to vomit on the hardwood floor.
"And I'll thank you not to do that again, sir," the young waitress said, conjuring a bucket for him to use and vanishing the previous sick.
Harry was gently placed on a transfigured couch, and given a conjured ice pack to hold against his swollen jaw. Hagrid rejoined them after a few minutes, leading three Healers in green robes and four Hit Wizards in red, with an Auror in a blue robe, trimmed in red.
"What seems to be the problem, Madam Rosemerta?", the Auror asked.
"Not really sure Auror Smythewyck. Everything was fine today, I can tell you that," she nodded her head sharply for emphasis. "Lord Potter came to lunch with Hagrid, and left, but then, Hagrid came back a'shoutin' for Healers and Hit Wizards," she concluded.
"Hagrid?" the Auror asked for clarification.
"Tha'd be me, Auror. Rubeus Hagrid. I'm Groundskeeper up at Hogwarts," the half giant rumbled, standing by Harry.
"Did you see what happened?", Auror Smythewyck asked.
"Just where Ron Weasley was being held against the wall of the shop 'cross the street, unable to move. Harry'd already been hurt," Hagrid simply explained.
The Healers bustled about, triaging the two young men and taking time to confer with each other.
"Healer Jameson?", the Auror asked next. One Healer broke away from the others, and walked to the Auror.
"Mr Weasley seems to be suffering from a migraine, cause unspecified, while Lord Potter has at least a broken jaw. Oh, and it appears that Mr Weasley has bruised knuckles on his right hand," the Healer, a middle aged man, informed him.
"Hm. Consistent with a punch being thrown, but I'd like to hear it from them. Can they be healed here?", Smythewyck wondered.
"Yes, Kendra and Tom can perform the spells now in fact," Healer Jameson indicated his peers in green. Kendra went to Harry and began casting a number of spells to take down swelling and reseat his jaw back in line, as well as adjust the stressed tendons. Tom went to Ron and at least handled the migraine symptoms of nausea, blinding pain and sensitivity to light and sound. One of the Hit Wizards stopped him from healing Ron's hands, just by mentioning "evidence".
Harry rubbed his face, noticing a lingering tenderness. He looked at his Healer.
"Yes, Lord Potter. There will be some residual soreness. I strongly suggest soft food for the rest of the day, if not liquids. You can talk, but I'd prefer it if you didn't after interview," Kendra told him. He smiled at the young woman in green, her blue eyes sparkling from a small, oval face and under pale brown hair cut in a stylish bob. He nodded agreement and then looked at the Auror.
"I exited the Broomsticks, and was surprised with a fist to my jaw," Harry explained quietly, with no preamble, and voice devoid of emotion. Ron grunted from across the room but everyone save the Healer working on him, ignored him. "My new owl was frightened off. I hope he's not hurt," Harry finished.
"Sounds straight forward, but these things rarely are. May I retrieve a Dictation Quill and Parchment?", the Auror queried. Harry nodded. Meanwhile, the other Healer finished with Ron.
"You'll be fine now, Mr Weasley, but come to St. Mungo's if you experience any return of symptoms in the next 48 hours all right?" Ron was told.
"Yeah sure. I'll do that, thanks," Ron muttered, head in his hands.
"Mr Weasley, if it's okay with you, I'll record Lord Potter's story, then excuse him to get yours?" Auror Smythewyck informed him. Ron accepted this idea, and Smythewyck recorded Harry's version of events. Harry expounded a little, having gotten some honeyed tea from Rosemerta for his throat and mouth. He informed the Auror and Hit Wizards of the spells he'd used but requested that they wait on a demonstration of his rather rare ability until after he'd healed. They agreed, with the provision that he'd show the whole DMLE.
Once he was done giving his statement, Harry was free to leave. He asked the Healers to send their bills to him, and passed out his owl address card again. This caught both Ron and Auror Smythewyck by surprise. Usually the injured party got the free healing, not the attacker.
Smythewyck was relatively new to the British DMLE, having been signed away from South Africa shortly after the war ended. He knew in broad terms who Potter and Weasley were, but refused to treat anyone special. This would be an interesting case once his superiors got wind of it.
"All right Mr Weasley, your turn. The Dicta-Quill will record your answers, and then you are free to go," Smythewyck explained.
Ron Weasley then explained everything. From seeing his petrified sister manhandled through the Floo, the anxious wait until the spell wore off. Her dramatic retelling of the fight SHE had with Harry Potter at the bookstore, that apparently painted Harry as the aggressor. Smythewyck wasn't so sure, but didn't interrupt. Weasley kept on, saying how this had been the last straw, and didn't Harry appreciate everything their family'd sacrificed over the last 7.5 years? So Ron convinced himself to come to Hogsmeade and confront Harry over the slight on his sister's honor. Thus, the attack. Smythewyck just accepts all the information, prompting Weasley to keep going whenever he falters. Ron's not sure what to make of Harry's freakish silent casting abilities. Hadn't known his former friend could do that. Tells the assemblage anyway. How after he'd thrown the punch, Harry had twitched a single hand, and practically thrown him across the street and pinned him to a wall. Then entered his mind, spoke to him, ended their friendship and let him go. The Hit Wizards and Healers were shocked and confused. No one had that kind of power! It was one thing for Harry to calmly describe these as things he'd cast, but the import of the results was huge. Smythewyck just accepted this information too. There was more in the great wide world than the Brits had ever forgotten about.
"This information is now 'need-to-know'. Talk about it only with those present in this room, or your direct superiors as regards this case. Is that clear?" he growled out. The Hit Wizards immediately nodded. The two younger Healers looked to Jameson, who nodded, covering for all three of them.
"Go home now, Mr Weasley. If we need you, or your sister, we'll contact you," he said, tone only slightly softer than gravel.
Ron nodded wearily and stood. He left after thanking the Healers for their prompt attention. He asked Tom to send him his bill anyway. Tom nodded noncommittally.
"Well folks, what another fine mess we've gotten into," Jameson said when it was just the eight of them. Smythewyck smirked before rolling up his parchments and sending everyone back to Diagon Alley.
* - No, this isn't Legilimency, defined at HP Lexicon as mind reading, and it's not Occlumency, as that's occluding, or hiding, the mind. This is one of Harry's new talents.