Phoenix Hawk Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Author makes no claims to the characters, spells, backgrounds or other recognizable entities from the Harry Potter Universe. It all belongs to JKR. I am just playing in the sandbox!

AN – sorry it took so long to get a new chapter out. Muse wasn't being helpful regarding a good plotline!

Harry woke to the tapping of an owl on the window of his bedroom. "Hrmpf?", he grunted, confused and only half awake. One of the elves appeared with a pop and opened the window.

"Silly owl wakes Master Harrys! What so important it can'ts waits?" Harry identified Ril by her voice. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his face with one hand. The Boreal owl hooted imperiously at the elf, flying over to the bed to haughtily stick its parchment bearing foot near Harry's face. The little bird's attitude was rather funny; it was so small, most wizards ignored it when they needed mail delivered.

"A'right, a'right. Gimmee a mo' then", he grumped, sitting up. He untied the parchment and the owl flapped its way back out of the house.

"Ril, could I have coffee please?", he asked, unrolling the scroll to read it.

"Yes Master Harrys," the little elf said before popping away. She came back with a coffee service, and served him a steaming mug with a splash of milk and 2 sugars. He took a couple of good swallows and reread the parchment. Ril popped away, services rendered.

"Well, shite. Winky?" he called on his head elf. She appeared, with a nearly silent pop, "Yes Harrys?"

"Vacation's over, Winky. I'm being recalled to the nearest Belfry office," he informed her. He drained the mug and put it on the nightstand so he could get out of bed.

"You needs the bug-outs baggie, then? I will needs to get it out of the planey," Winky thought about it a moment, but knew it wouldn't take but a few minutes to get his traveling pack.

"Yes. And until I know what they need, I don't know if we need to close up the manse or not. I'm going to Edinburgh, which is only an Apparate. How about a breakfast sandwich after I get a shower?" Harry told her, standing beside the bed and stretching.

"Done, Harrys. Will be waiting in the nooks when you gets out," Winky agreed, leaving him alone to get started.

Harry took a shower, taking time to meditate and clear his sleep muffled head. He pulled on baggy jeans, and a navy polo, then laced up black combat boots. Rather business casual, but good enough for what was presumably just an interview for a new operation. In the small nook of his bedroom, a tray sat waiting on the little table. This tray bore a silvery gray thermos, and a wrapped sandwich that Harry quickly picked up and unwrapped to eat. It was a muffin stuffed with a folded bit of scramble, bacon, and cheese; enough to satisfy Harry's early hunger, but not leave him feeling stuffed and sluggish. On the nearby winged armchair was a medium sized, black duffel. He strapped the thermos into a stretchy elastic along the top of the duffel and grabbed the bag's handles. He left his room and headed for the foyer of the house, the only acceptable apparition point he maintained within the property's wards. It was still only keyed to him.

"Winky!", he called, "I'll send word when I know what Belfry's got me doing." And he called upon his magic to Apparate towards the Edinburgh office of Belfry Securities.

Just a few minutes later, Harry appeared at the station Belfry had separated from their main building. He cleared security and went into the big, brick monster to find out about his new assignment.

"Hello there," he introduced himself to the front desk, "I'm Agent Harry Potter, reporting under an early recall."

"Oh, okay. Um," the young woman looked at the paperwork in front of her, "Looks like you're going to see Bellamy Friarson. And he's on the 3rd floor, office 325." She smiled up at Harry who grinned back.

"Thank you," Harry told the secretary as he moved on to the elevators. He went up to the 3rd floor, badged through the security there, and wandered down the halls to find office 325. He knocked on the closed door before him, noting the sensation of a ward line across the threshold.

"Come!", was shouted from the other side, dropping the ward long enough for Harry to step into the office.

"Mr. Friarson? Agent Potter, reporting as ordered," Harry said as he closed the door behind him. As the latch clicked, the ward surged back up, sending a frisson of energy up Harry's arm, like goosebumps. It made him a little uncomfortable, but felt privately confident he could snap the ward if he had to get out of the room in a hurry.

"Right, Potter," Friarson moved several files on his desk, looking for the one he needed to give his agent. Harry looked on, noting the apparent perpetual clutter of the man's office. The man himself did not inspire confidence. He was a small man, not like Flitwick, but short for a human. His hair was sparse and getting thinner, being a dishwater blond color that blended into his skintone. The squinty eyes of a mud puddle brown are nearly lost in wrinkly folds around his face and making for a thick set jowl.

Bellamy found the file with an abrupt "Aha!" and waved Harry to the stool in front of the man's desk that was the only seating besides his own to remain free of clutter. "This is your new assignment. A group of archaeologists working in Siberia," Harry's eyebrows rose, "found a pair of magical items thought long lost or nothing more than legend well before Merlin's time," Friarson explained.

Harry flipped through the file of info to see what he was up against. "Will it be just me, or a team?" he needed to know.

"Just you. The diggers only number 5, the camp is small. No problem, right?", Friarson said, moving on to the next thing before him, clearly dismissing Harry.

"Hm. All right then, thank you sir," and Harry left the man's office.

He ambled towards the security desk, intent on getting directions to the Supply group. They directed him to the basement levels of Belfry Edinburgh and on his way, he takes out his cell to call home and request they get the plane ready to leave. He received confirmation and hung up to go play in Supply.

He had that group of overworked and never appreciated – never by him – individuals put together a response kit for the wilds of Siberia, and a spare because who knew what was out there? He then pulls out of his own bag, a pair of translocator disks, cobbled together by the Weasley brothers and himself one drunken night. As soon as the Supply boys are all off doing other things, Harry triggers the minor spell in the disks that only he can use. While the spell is minor, the power behind it, is not. Harry has to concentrate for a full minute on each disk to move whatever they are attached to, up to a point. Bu they hadn't found that point yet. The kits would reappear aboard the jet, waiting for use.

When the kits are gone, Harry tucks the folder into his duffel, heads back up to the main floor and goes to the Apparition station. He signs out with the secretary, and then makes his way home. Next stop, Siberia.

Beginning to wish I hadn't started the writing style on the House Elves...hates it I do, precious. Oh, it's also not clear, but he is in England at the start of this chapter.