Phoenix Hawk Chapter 14
Disclaimer: Still don't own, just playing in the lovely sandbox
Warnings: We're headed for a fight, and there isn't much here, just the very end.
Pumping black wings, the dark colored vulture approached the one tent set aside from the others, arrowing in for a landing. Passing the wards with a slight judder, the bird landed beside the fire and morphed into a windblown Harry Potter. Yuku was there by the time he was finished setting himself to rights.
"Your Hermiones is waiting," she told him.
"All right. Here, record what these watchers have, I'll look at them later. Thank you," he handed over two small, glass cubes and Yuku nodded before popping away.
Harry straightened with a sigh, and ran a hand through his shock of black hair, eyes going unfocused for a moment while he gathered his thoughts.
"Harry?" a soft feminine voice startled him from his reverie. Hermione stood uneasily at the entrance to his tent. He couldn't identify the expression on her face.
"How are you, Hermione?" he asked stiffly. He walked forward, intent on entering his tent, but she didn't move.
"Animagus?" Her query held a depth of curiosity he wasn't sure he could assuage.
"Yes, among other things. Inside please?" he pointed past her shoulder.
"Oh, right," she turned back under the canvas flap, leaving him to follow. How did every encounter leave her feeling as though she were still an untried teen? Bumbling and uncertain, or so she believed, she walked over to the hardwood table Harry used as both desk, and eating surface.
There were a few piece of paper scattered across the top, and while Hermione had been curious, she'd refrained from snooping. Time and the war had caused her to grow up in so many ways. Now, to convince Harry of that.
Harry followed her in silence, mulling over what he thought she'd want to know. He wasn't comfortable talking about all of it. He was nervous she'd not believe him or worse, would ridicule him. Seeing her take a seat at his table, Harry nodded and went to the kitchen alcove.
"Drink?" he asked, opening the ice box, revealing a collection of various colorful soda cans and bottled water.
"Um, Coke is fine, thank you," she replied, lacing her fingers together to keep from fidgeting.
He brought over a red and silver can, and a clear plastic bottle of water, putting the can close to Hermione before settling in another chair. "All right," he started, eyes hardening and his face closed off, as though he was attempting to ward off a stream of potential vituperation. "What do you want to know?" He broke open the water bottle and drank half of it quickly, waiting for her answer.
"This isn't an interrogation, Harry. We were, ARE, friends, and its about time we started acting like it," she snapped, trying to keep a tight rein on her temper.
"Well, you have a point. I'm just, tired," he took another swallow from his drink. "After Ron and Ginny, I stopped trusting people as easily as I once had." He finished off the bottle, and rose to get another. Hermione simply sipped at her soda, thinking over his admission.
"That's valid, Harry. They weren't kind at the end," she said finally, a little distracted. Harry made a noncommittal noise as he came back to the table. "I'm sorry for that."
"Not your fault. Neither of us saw the 'real' Weasleys until after the war was over," Harry said, sitting back down. "So, my life in a nutshell." He rubbed his eyes, suddenly tired. He hated being alone.
"After the war, I noticed a problem with my magic. Minerva and Filius helped, but I ended up going abroad for more training. Started running my own company as well, with help from others you know."
Hermione accepted the limited information. It would take a bit more time to reestablish the previously tight bonds of friendship they once enjoyed. "Can I ask about the magic?" she asked, testing the waters.
"Sure."
"You trained with Filius?"
"Yes. He knows more about magic than was ever taught at Hogwarts, something about being part goblin. He helped immensely, and I owe him a great debt. He and Minerva were intending to implement some new theory to the courses last I heard."
Hermione mulled that over for a bit, sipping more soda. Harry let her, drinking his own beverage.
"I'd like to ask about your animagus ability, but I think that might be too personal?" she proffered.
He had actually expected that kind of question, and smiled reassuringly at her.
"It's fine. I discovered the ability in my last year at Hogwarts."
"But! You weren't ever in class with us!" she interrupted, pointing at him in accusation.
His smile turned a touch sly, "The Room..."
"Of Requirement!" Hermione shook her head. It was the logical answer, if Harry had depended on Minerva and Filius for extra tutoring, Hogwarts was the best place to be, and the Room of Requirement could handle anything. "So that means it survived the Fiend Fyre?"
"Quite well, though the room full of junk was a loss." He forbore to mention that the room continued on mostly due to the amount of magic the castle had stored within its stones. If she didn't know that, he'd let the school keep its secrets.
Hermione nodded, and asked, "I thought there was a potion involved?"
"There is, if you want to know if you have the power and if you want to know what kind of animal you'll be. For me, it was more an accident," he shared a more wry smile with that admission. Hermione grinned. Many things had occurred to Harry over the course of their schooling, 'by accident', and they had all, for the most part, come out okay.
"Minerva was showing me a complex animal transfiguration and I just, changed," he shrugged. It still wasn't anything special, as helpful as it had been over the last 5 years.
"Obviously, it's a large bird of prey," she said, leaning forward in her excitement. No one else in their class had bothered to discover the talent, so this was a unique opportunity for her. The intensity in her posture and on her face brought back a lot of memories for Harry. He had missed this, missed her. Privately, Harry hoped they could rekindle their friendship.
"Well, actually," he began, a faint grimace on his face, scrunching a line between his eyes and making his mouth frown. "Somehow, I can take the form of any bird of prey, assuming I've learned about it. It's useful, but just another skill."
"How many?" Hermione was flabbergasted, eyes gone wide with surprise. As far as she knew, this was unprecedented. She couldn't recall the history very well, but there was nothing about multiple forms!
"Current count is 15. I haven't had time to study more. Not sure I want to, really." Harry shifted in his seat, becoming uncomfortable under her stare, "It's nothing, Hermione, just a side effect of the war, and Dumbledore's great thinking." The sarcasm tinging those last words practically threw Hermione's curiosity into overdrive.
Before she could ask about that, one of the House Elves appeared beside Harry's chair.
"Yes?" Harry asked, looking down at the tug on his pant leg. The elf appeared afraid to Hermione, but she wasn't sure what the cause would be. Harry would never mistreat another creature.
"Ward stones, Master Harrys," the elf said, high voice trembling in fear.
"Damn it." Harry surged out of his chair and ran for the back of the tent to find the ward diagram he had drawn up for the camp. More than half of the wards glowed red, indicating a breach and ongoing attacks.
"Hermione!" he called, summoning her back into the depths of the tent.
"Harry, what's happening?" she asked, all her old imperiousness evident as she demanded answers.
"The camp is under attack," he said, showing her the 3D map. Based on a topographical map of the area, it was modified with some spell work so that it showed not only the actual lay of the land, but some of the air space around it. It was imperfect, as it couldn't update in real time, but it could show that there were people in the air.
Hermione was torn between amazement over the complexity of the map, and horror at the sight of the attack.
"What do you want to do?" she asked, deferring for once, to his obvious experience.
"Anyone else have experience dueling?" Harry asked. He'd prefer actual fighting experience, but knows that this is the best he could expect.
"Not that I'm aware of."
Harry cursed softly then called for Winky. The elf appeared and waited for orders. Hermione blinked in surprise, but stayed quiet.
"All right. Get the elves mobilized to pack out the camp," he started, bringing the map lower for Winky's benefit. "Get the dig site first, then, if you can, evac the archaeologists as well as their stuff. At the same time if possible." Winky nodded. "Leave the tents, those are expendable. Ask them not to engage whoever it is, but to head straight for the plane. We'll hold our camp last. Move fast, and good luck."
"Of course, Harry," Winky replied before disappearing.
"They won't fight, will they?" Hermione asked, realizing he hadn't actually ordered them.
"Not unless they have to. C'mon, there's someone nearby that we need to deal with," Harry answered, leading the way back out of the tent, drawing his wand as he did so. Hermione pulled her own from its sleeve holster and followed.
Outside the tent, Hermione watched as Harry managed to sneak up on the stranger attempting to break away from the wards. The man in shabby wizard's robes struggled with invisible ropes that let him pull away like taffy, but always pulled him back in, tightening like chains each time. To her, it looked like he was a fly caught in a spider's web.
Harry easily fired a rope spell to tie the man up, and then a different one to knock him unconscious.
"Can you get us inside your tent?" he asked her when he was done.
"I think so," Hermione answered, trying to remember what state she'd left it in.
"Good." He strode over to her, and gently, but firmly grasped her arm. She took a deep breath and visualized her target.
Hey all. I am so sorry this story is taking so long to update. It is by far the hardest one I have to write, and I have no idea why that is. Everything is plotted, it just won't write! Very frustrating. On top of that, I have a recurring injury to my writing hand. I'm doing my best to take care of it, and change how I manage to write. I hope now that I've gotten to some action for this story, things will pick up, but with the RSI, I just don't know where that leaves us. The story will be finished, but I want to do it right, not because I'm angry with it.
All the best, and thanks so much for sticking with me thus far!