Phoenix Hawk Chapter 7

Disclaimer – same as before! Just playing! Ok, we've encountered the same issue here as I have with another story, that of chapter numbering. Prologue comes up as Chapter 1, and so on. So, I'm going to renumber these accordingly, please, PLEASE do not freak out when you get a bunch of chapter alerts. Nothing is changing but the chapter numbers, really. This is the correct number for this chapter.

"Siberia is beautiful, Mum. Not a frozen wasteland as so many assume. One of these days I might get to the bottom of that. Anyway, the objects we found had Donna in a tizzy. She made Elliott call the Home Office and they are sending security. Security Mum! Way out here!", Hermione huffed as she recorded a letter to her mother via Dicta-Quill. She was shortly interrupted when a cry echoed in the little camp, "Broom!"

All five members gathered in the large, open area between their tents to watch the rider approach. Hermione kept her wand loose, but ready in her hand, ready to fire off a disarming spell if the broom rider became hostile.

"Halloo the camp!" cried the rider when they were perhaps 100 yards off. The voice was oddly familiar to Hermione, but she couldn't immediately place it. The rider got closer, resolved into a male, with long, black hair of indeterminate length. Hermione squinted as the rider made a slow loop of the camp, looking it over, but making no threatening moves. The lanky frame was large, she could tell, but couldn't exactly tell how tall this man would be. The newcomer circled a few more times before landing smartly in the middle of the open space beside the fire pit.

"Hello! I'm looking for Elliott Romo? The museum called Belfry Securities to come take a look at what you might need," the young man states, waiting for the group to move. The women of the group feasted on the sight of the newcomer, collar length, jet black hair, bright green eyes in a carefree face of about 20. Overall, the young man was tall, nearly 6', with a lanky, muscular frame well used to doing an honest day's work, not at all like a typical wizard.

One of the men came forward, a short man, of blond, close cropped hair and pale blue eyes, "I'm Elliott. And you are?"

"Harry!", Hermione exclaimed, surprised, from where she stood by her tent. The newcomer gave a lopsided grin and acknowledged her.

"Hello, Ms. Granger, fancy meeting you here. Mr. Romo, I'm Harry Potter," Harry strode forward to shake hands with Elliott.

"Ah, a pleasure Mr. Potter. Tell me, is it just you?", Elliott was a little worried that the museum had only seen fit to hire one security guard, even if it was the famous Harry Potter.

"Yes, which is of no matter. Unless there's more to this camp and dig site than Belfry was told about?", Harry glared at the shorter man. Elliott instinctively took a half step back from that piercing look, and scrubbed a hand against the back of his neck, protectively. "Ah, no. This and the dig site is all there is, Mr. Potter. Shall I introduce you to the rest of the team?", he sounded shaky, and he couldn't figure out why.

"Please, then I would like to see the dig site to get started on establishing some protections over the area area," Harry responded, shrinking his broom with a negligent wave of his right hand.

Hermione's eyes nearly came out of her head at the casual display of wandless magic. Elliott brought her old friend to each member of the team. Harry was doing something at each meeting, but she couldn't tell what. All she could determine was the slow blinking his eyes did as he spoke a few minutes with each person. Donna and Kat simpered at him, but he was cool and professional. A far cry from their school days when he'd blush and stammer from a pretty girl's attention.

Hermione wondered at the enigma he presented her, just as the pair of them got to where she still stood at the entrance to her tent. Elliott began speaking, "And this is the last, but never least of our beauteous ladies, Hermione Granger. Though it sounds as if you two already know each other?" He stopped a few feet away, and eyed the two. He wondered what kind of history they had.

"You could say that," Harry hinted, but he'd let Hermione reveal their past.

"We went to school together, Elliott, in Scotland. And fought together in the war," she explained, and yet, didn't.

Harry noticed how little emotion she put into her statement, and carefully looked at his old friend. As with the others, he used his Sight to check her aura, and catalog what he saw. The aura was a good indicator for whether a person was under coercive spells and some potions. Two of the others bore such signs, something he'd have to take up with Elliott later.

Hermione now, she was as she ever was. Only her hair had changed, with a cut to bring it to chin length, and probably some kind of product to smooth the curl out of it. He nearly sighed at that. Her hair was nearly a trademark part of her, and for it to be gone marked a huge transitory step he wasn't sure he wanted to know about.

However, something had happened to send her out of Britain to complete her education in America, and then get a job with the Smithsonian rather than return to jolly ol'England. He wondered if the Wonder Weasel had as much to do with her decisions as he'd affected some of Harry's. Maybe they'd get a chance to talk about it. Maybe.

He finished his scan and turned to Elliott. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Romo." Hermione turned pink, being dismissed like that. Harry watched her out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a reaction.

"Ah, as to that, Mr. Potter. Perhaps one of the others could show you the site? I was in the middle of my reports when you arrived," Elliott nervously twisted his hands together.

"Oh, I see. Well, perhaps I can check with Ms. Vinatieri, or Ms. Crosby?", Harry poked, still waiting on Hermione. He did know that Crosby was one of the affected, and could take the opportunity to start his investigation.

"I could take him, Elliott," Hermione spoke up, suddenly and inexplicably nervous.

"Good enough for me!", Elliott says, smiling happily, "I'll be in my tent when you return." And he walked away from the pair of old school friends. He hated the reports, but as leader of the expedition, it fell on him to keep track of everything. The Smithsonian Museum of Magic was a particular entity when it came to tracking all the details of their expeditions.

Harry smiled as he turned back to Hermione, "So, this is the grown up Hermione Granger?" he asked, playfully.

She snorted, but smiled, "Yes indeed. Always the note of surprise." He laughed, a deep, rich sound that thrilled her to her toes. He'd never sounded so carefree in school.

"So, the artifact site?", Harry got down to business.

"Right, it's just this way, if you don't mind a short walk?", she indicated a path away from the tents, cut into the scrubby brush.

"Nah, though I assume you all apparate as often as possible?" He checked, wondering whether anti-apparition wards would be useful in his security plan.

"Most of the others do. I prefer to walk out in the morning and apparate back, unless I've found artifacts during the day," Hermione explained as they hiked the short distance away from camp to the claim.

"So aside from this big discovery, you are finding other items?" Harry sounded curious, keeping easy pace with her along the track.

"Yes! We have found evidence of a small settlement dating back to at least Merlin's time," she got excited as she always did when talking about her interests or work.

"That's good," he complimented. They lapsed into companionable silence. A few minutes later, they rounded a small hillock, and Hermione said, "And there's the dig."