THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS, AND I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE DELAY!
May I start by saying, the aformentioned delay... Was so NOT my fault!
Ahem. My computer broke, so I had to send it to my cousin for him to fix it, and he took his sweet time, and I just got it back today. But it is fixed, and he managed to save all my files, so we're good.
So that's why there have been no updates. But, I will be making it up to you. The day after tomorrow, I'll be posting again, and so on every other day, until all of Part Three is up. I will then, unfortunetly, have to take an extended absence to work on Part Four before I can begin posting it, since, not having a computer also means none of the new chapters have been worked on.
But then I'll be back, I'm thinking after a month or so, since I want to have started on Part Five, before I begin posting Part Four.
Now then, let us move on, to the new chapter.
Enjoy.
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Harry grumbled irritably to himself as he went about sweeping up the goat pen, Bruce wisely not saying a word, though the Doctor shot him the occasional glance. He had been muttering since Muhammad had shown up the previous night.
Muhammad, as it turned out, had not only known where Mahdi was from the beginning, but the two were related; the Arab man being his Uncle on his mother's side. He had led Harry on a wild goosechase even after finding out who the teen was looking for. Harry had run all over the place like he had, and Muhammad had known where to go, AND was fully capable of apparition. He could have gotten Harry here within six hours, tops, but he hadn't.
Harry's irritation wasn't helped at all by the fact that the young man's only reason had been 'because he never asked' or by the fact that the person in question now sat on the fence watching them and not doing any work himself. He occasionally snickered at Harry, when he wasn't puffing on his cigarette. Harry could use one of those right about now, and that was just another thing that had him angry.
One day, he was going to wring Muhammad's neck. Preferably once Mahdi was done teaching him.
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"I hate you."
"Aw, I never knew you cared so much."
"..."
"You know, if you had just asked-"
"Shut. Up."
"It's your own fault for not thinking of it."
"I really really hate you." Muhammad gave him a very smug grin, and he ignored him to take another puff from his own cigarette, having inevitably opted to take a break so he could smoke. He and the other didn't say anything for a while, and were left with Harry glaring at the ground and his tail twitching spastically behind him, Muhammad smirking and looking sideways at him, and Bruce sitting on the ground a little bit away from them with an amused expression on his face (and he being the only one without a cancer stick, having politely declined when one had been offered to him).
Muhammad, other than his initial comment, had said nothing about Harry's appearance, just accepting it immediately, almost like Mahdi had. It made Harry suspicious, because it was almost as though the other had already known, except that he couldn't have.
"So how's Khal been treating you? Looks like he hasn't worked you to death yet at least." Harry glared at him a moment longer and then sighed. It took too much work to stay angry with Muhammad.
"Fine. I'm still not sure how what he's teaching me will help me, but I'm learning a lot." The young man nodded with a hum. Harry had never told him what he was looking for Mahdi for, but he wouldn't be all that surprised if he already knew or at least suspected.
"So you two are friends?" They both looked downwards towards Bruce. Muhammad said nothing, but Harry answered him.
"Something like that. This is the guy I travelled with from Dubai to Nizwa."
"The one you said you'd never ride a bus with again?" Harry nodded and Muhammad snickered into a hand.
"Aw, but that was so much fun!" He flicked some of his ash at the teen to spite him, and Harry flicked it off with a hand and scooted a foot farther along the fence.
"For you maybe."
"Exactly!" Harry sighed in frustration, and appreciated how Bruce tried to hold back his laughter.
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Life continued much the same as it had before with the irritating young man there, though it was a bit more lively. They continued to do chores, and after that first day Muhammad began helping them also, and every night he and Bruce would switch off between who went down into the basement.
On the Doctor's nights, he would come up less and less subdued than he had been at first, until he acted just the same afterwards as before and Harry would meditate and try to connect on his own to that old presence Mahdi told him was the Earth itself; sometimes succeeding and sometimes not. He was starting to believe him too. His turns with the man consisted half of learning how to wield his scimitar, and half connecting to the Earth with Mahdi's help.
But he still didn't know why they were doing this, or how this would help him to control his magic. Finally, after having been living and working and learning on Mahdi's farm for almost a month, he asked him. They were in the basement when he did, and getting ready for another session. Mahdi stared at him for a few moments after his question, and then answered him, his voice calm and gentle, the way it normally was when he was explaining something; as opposed to the sharp tone his voice took on when giving any kind of an order. Harry had a suspicion that he might once have been something rather like a drill sergeant, with that order-voice of his.
"To learn control, you must first learn how to ground yourself. You must be able to connect to the Earth and draw on her strength, to hold you up and keep you calm. Hiding your emotions will not change what they are, and what they are will influence how your magic reacts. You must learn to control it in different ways depending upon what you feel, and the Earth will guide you in this. Before, your magic was calm and you could bring it to follow your will in the same manner each time, regardless of what lay in your heart, but now it is not so. When you are calm, perhaps you must ease the magic out, while when you are angry you must force it. I cannot tell you this, for it is unique to all beings with wild magic. Only the Earth can teach you this, and she cannot do so until you have learned how to connect with her."
"But isn't that what we've been doing?"
"Not yet. A true connection is permanent. It is there always, maybe subdued, maybe just there in the far reaches of your mind, but still there; always. The more you connect with her, the more you grow closer to this goal, but until you have attained it, control of your wild magic is not within your grasp." Harry nodded, and they moved on.
The first time the Arab man had called it wild magic, Harry had questioned him, and the Arab had laughed. In terms of magic, wild and chaos were just different words for the same meaning. He had felt a little silly when he had been told that, because he had come across a number of books concerning wild magic in his search, and had disregarded them entirely because he didn't think it was the same thing. He had wisely refrained from mentioning that to Muhammad.
He wasn't as tired as usually after they were done, so when Mahdi went up to prepare dinner, Harry went outside to the pond, stirpped and settled in. He sighed as the cool water touched his skin. He had begun to grow used to the heat, but the touch of the water was still very nice when he could get away from the others long enough to enjoy it. The little pool itself had been made by Mahdi, with magic, and there were a handful of fish that lived in it, which the man had said he kept to eat on special occasions, that came up and kissed at Harry's toes whenever he was in it; entirely unworried by his presence there.
He leaned back against the bank and closed his eyes, thinking of home. How was everyone back at the castle? Were the ex D. A. members handling everything alright? Had Lucius made any headway? Were the twins alright? Were they safe? And Remus? Severus? Moody? Were they okay? Were they all still alive and well? Had Voldemort attacked anyone? Had the madman taken over the Ministry completely yet? Were the students at Hogwarts still alive? He dug a hand into the mud on the bottom of the pond.
"I hope Mahdi's right." He whispered to the ground. "I hope you can help me, and that you will, because I don't know what I'll do otherwise." A soft breeze rustled his hair and he opened his eyes.
He hoped it was an answer.
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Harry kept working diligently on the farm, meditating daily, and putting every ounce of effort he had into learning how to use the sword. He grew tanned as the days went by, and more and more, he found thoughts of home coming less and less, until he was just living as he was, his initial purpose nearly forgotten as he stopped counting the days.
It grew easier and easier to connect to the Earth, and it took him less and less strain to do it. He felt calmer and happier than he had in... Well, in as long as he could remember, and everything was well...
Except for one thing.
He couldn't even pin it down. It was like an itch in the back of his mind. A spark along his skin that made his hair stand on end. A sense of something coming closer and closer; not exactly impending doom, but something. He wasn't sure when the feeling began, but it grew stronger and stronger as the days passed him by.
The part that bothered him most, was that no one else seemed to really notice it. As Harry slowly became more and more stressed and tense, the others all acted just as they always had. They behaved as though nothing were wrong. He considered telling them, but every time he began to, he found himself stopping.
It continued on, until one day, after Harry lay panting from a sword spar with Mahdi, and began his usual meditation. It had been awhile since the Arab man had needed to guide him into connecting with the Earth, and now he only observed the teen. Harry touched at the presence in his mind as usual, looking forward to the event which, regardless of having become rather routine, was still as incredible and wonderful as the first time around.
But it wasn't the same as usual. As soon as he touched it, it turned its' attention to him, but it wasn't like normal. Where usually it was as though it had turned to look at him, this time it was focused, pointedly aware of him. He felt it, and then it rushed in to claim him, and the feeling that had grown in him over time popped inside his head like a bubble.
And Harry was lost.
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A seed was planted in the dirt, brought into her embrace and she curled gently around it, holding it, cradling it like a baby. Life-giving water cascaded from above, slipping into her soil and the little seed drank it in greedily. If she could have smiled, she would have done so. It grew, slowly, over great time; but time was meaningless to her. It became a tree, and grew higher, and when the cold came, it shed its' leaves and returned them to her, as tribute for cradling it as a seedling, and keeping its' roots safe and warm now. It grew larger and larger and larger, times of cold and times of warmth passed them by, and every year it gave its' leaves to her to fertilize her soil. Then fire came. Fire, powerful and all-consuming, and the tree went up in ashes; ashes that were returned to her like the leaves, and she cradled them close just as she had the seedling, and after more time, when the fire was long gone, a new seedling came, and the leaves and ashes of its' predecessor fed and nurtured it to become stronger and healthier than the one before it.
A wolf, young and strong ripped and tore at a member of a rival pack who tried to enter her den. She was vicious and ruthless, and when the rival wolf fell, it's blood sank into her soil, and she curled around it as the seed; waiting for it to decay so she could claim it and bring it home to her. The young wolf returned to her den, and the tiny crying pups that waited there for her; the rest of her pack would be there soon, and they would carry the pups away to someplace safer. One pup, little, never able to get as much milk as its' siblings, lay unmoving near the others, and the mother licked it gently. Her soil would claim this one with the wolf outside. They would make her soil fertile, and the plants would grow upon their graves, and deer would eat the plants, and the wolves would kill and eat the dear.
Somewhere a human babe gave its' first cry, as it came from its' mother's womb, bloody and hungry for its' first meal, and a murderer's boots crunched along the dirt where his victim lay; six feet beneath. A thin, thirsty child drank from a river of tainted water that would leave sickness in his belly to claim his life within a week; a rich man stuffed his gullet with wine at a company picnic. A young lioness took down her first kill, a hyena waiting nearby for the scraps she and her pride would leave, and the old antilope that she began dragging home would leave behind two younglings who would be among the few to one day die from age rather than claws and teeth.
The world turned, seasons changed, years passed, things were born and died, and everything returned to the Earth. Wars came and went, bad and good people went about their lives.
And Harry slept.
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Harry didn't move when he first awoke. He laid there, eyes closed, and just felt. The soft cotton beneath his body, the gentle wind drifting through the window. He smelled wood and stone and dirt and sun. He heard the goats outside, the chickens in the back, the crops as they swayed in the breeze and brushed against one another, and the sound of his own breath as it came and went. He tasted iron on his dry tongue, and more than anything else, he felt his magic, and the Earth.
She was there, just there in the back of his mind, not touching his consciousness, not paying him much mind at all; preoccupied with the rest of the world. He felt no need to bother her. No desire to interrupt her. Her purpose was so much greater than his own, and he had no need of her help now.
His magic swirled and brushed at his skin, and he guided it. The swirling madness calmed and settled grudgingly; too excited to truly calm, but willing to listen to him now. He had been trying the wrong way before, and he knew that now. His magic was part of him, bound to his emotions and his soul, but it was its' own essence too. He had tried to push and force it before, ordering it to obey him; but that wasn't the way, and he understood that now. Instead he guided and asked, not forcing, and his magic happily complied, now that he was asking, requesting, not ordering.
He opened his eyes. He felt different; strange. He felt new, and older, and younger, all at once. He felt like he had learned so much, becoming an old man, but knew so very very little; like a small child just beginning in the world. He didn't know how long he had slept, but he was unhurried as he got up, and took a shower (revelling in the water on his scales, and the smell and taste of soil that pervaded it), and got dressed. He came down the stairs slowly, knowing that Bruce and Muhammad were likely already working, and he found Mahdi in the kitchen, drinking something.
Tea, from the leaves of one of the plants outside, the Earth whispered to him. Maybe he should have been, but he felt no surprise at her share of knowledge. He sat down across from Mahdi, who smiled at him in such a gentle way he had never seen on the Arab man before. He's proud, the Earth told him. Proud of you. Harry smiled.
"How long was I out?" He asked out of simple curiosity.
"A week. The Doctor has been worried. He was very angry with me, when I was unconcerned." They shared a laugh at that. Harry had been in no danger. He didn't even feel hungry or thirsty despite how long he had been out, and he imagined the Earth had something to do with that, even if she whispered nothing on the matter to him.
"Dhat-Badan has treated you well."
"Yea." He didn't need to be told to understand that he was speaking of the Earth.
"You should find a name to call her. She has many names, but you will feel better when you choose one of your own to call her by."
"A name?" Harry considered it. Calling her the Earth didn't really seem to do her justice, because she was more than that.
"You could give her your own, also. You need not take on a name from others, if you don't wish to." The teen thought for a bit, and accepted some tea with a distracted nod when it was offered to him. He recalled the time he had been researching Latin and Greek words, when trying to create his own spells for class. What he had eventually made had involved the little pensieve the headmaster had let him borrow; something he actually still had, back at Bogdon, that allowed memories to be projected onto a room, and send people into it that way. It was a boon, in that it allowed for large numbers of people to view a memory rather than the one or two who could do so normally; depending on the size of the pensieve. He had stumbled through many words, but one stuck out. A simple Greek word he had caught onto, but that hadn't had any importance to his task at that time.
"Mitera." He muttered to himself, and smiled. It meant Mother, and it felt right. Mahdi smiled at him from across the table, but said nothing.
In the back of his mind, the newly named Mitera gave her approval.
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Bruce seemed baffled at how good of shape he was in, and insisted on checking him out as thoroughly as he was able. When he could find nothing wrong with Harry, he seemed to attribute his good shape to Harry being a 'mutant'. Harry let him think this. He wondered again what mutants were, and Mitera gave him a vague image of someone with blue skin, and a flash of a man with blades coming from his knuckles.
Once the Doctor had given him a clean bill of health, he went back to working on the farm, and learning swordplay from Mahdi; and finally, blessedly, how to control his magic.
"So, stones are the best?" Mahdi nodded.
"Wood is an excellent conductor for most kinds of magic, but it is too weak; too feeble for wild magic. It is like a frail old man trying to wield a heavy sword."
"And stone isn't?" The Arab chuckled at his disbelieving tone.
"No. For all that a stone it physically unyielding, magically, it is very flexible, and very strong. For wild magic, you will require several different stones, rather than the single wood that worked for you as a wand, but once you have found the right ones, we can work from there to create an instrument for you to direct your magic."
"How many kinds will it take?" Mahdi shrugged, a strange action for him.
"It depends on the person. There are those who only need two kinds, but I have known men who required as many as twelve. You will not know until you look."
"And how will I do that?" Mahdi smiled, and stood from where he sat on the dirt floor of the basement. He went over to the trunk, which Harry had only seen him go into once, when he first got out his sword. He dug around a bit, and then pulled out a large box. The top looked to pop open like a trunk, but there were drawers on it also. He brought it back to Harry and sat down again, placing it between them. He opened it.
"Run your hands through, and pull out any that call to you, there are larger ones in the drawers, but we need to find what you need first. Do this until you can find no more." Within the box were hundreds and hundreds of small stones in every shape and color. Some of them shone brilliantly, and others were matte. Harry stared at them, and when Mahdi nodded he reached inside and carefully carded his fingers through.
His fingers brushed over cool stones, shifting through them gently like dipping a hand in a box of pebbles. He stopped when one seemed to heat up against his skin, and pulled it out. He eyed the amber-colored angular crystal. He set it on the ground in front of the box, and put his hand back in. The next one was more like a spark than a warmth, and was a green stone almost the same shade as his eyes; bright but not an emerald. He set it with the other. He found two more that 'called' to him before he could find no more; a smooth blue stone that shone and shifted like opal, and a blackish grey stone that shifted in the light, as though it had many facets but was smooth. Mahdi smiled at the choices when another minute of shifting through the box proved that there would be no more.
"Four is a good number." He pointed at the amber crystal. "Argonite, of the Earth, for self-esteem, anger, stress, and nightmares." The green gem. "Diopside, also of the Earth, for cleansing, anger, and stubbornness." The blue stone. "Labradorite, of the Water, for shapeshifting, storms, and the sea." The shifting black/grey rock. "Larkavite, also of Water, for darkness, rain, shadows, and grounding. All good stones. They will suit you well." He gathered them up, and went to set the box back on the trunk. "I will create something for you. I have an idea of what will work well, but I will need a small bowl of blood from you for the center. You will be more connected that way."
"You're making a stone wand?" Mahdi chuckled and shook his head.
"No. Not a wand. Such things are good for normal use, but you face battle ahead of you. I think something more practical would be better. You will see." Harry hummed an allowed it. "Now. I want you to practice directing your magic within your body. The more you practice the easier it will be to relearn how to use it outside your body."
Harry sighed and got to work.
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"I'm surprised you're still doing that." Harry glanced up at Muhammad.
"Hmm?"
"Smoking."
"Why?" The young man shrugged.
"Some people stop after connecting to Ard."
"Oh... Why?"
"Fuck if I know. Because it's 'not natural'?"
"How so? Tobacco is a plant isn't it?"
"The chemicals aren't."
"Your cigarettes don't have chemicals."
"True."
"How do you get them anyways? You must have a hundred boxes of them. Or do you apparate to Nizwa whenever you run out?"
"Actually, I roll them myself, and I keep a lot of the plant on me. I just have to buy paper and filters."
"Is that legal?"
"No clue."
"You wouldn't care either way would you?"
"Would you?"
"Probably not." They smoked in peace for a bit. It was just the two of them this afternoon; Bruce being down in the basement with Mahdi. Harry still didn't know what went on between the Arab wizard and the muggle, as he had never asked. He didn't intend to ask either. It was Bruce's business, and the Doctor had never pried on his own secrets, so he would return the favor.
"When are you leaving?"
"Once Mahdi finishes making me... Whatever it is he's making me."
"You think you're ready?" He had long since trusted the other with his reasons for being there, and his need to defeat Voldemort.
"Yes." His answer was confident. "He says I can direct my magic just fine now, so I shouldn't have any trouble using the new focus." Muhammad hummed.
"You know, I've never been anywhere outside the Middle East."
"Yea?"
"Yea. Even then I've only really been in the Northern places. You said it's cold where you live?" Harry turned around a bit to look at the other. Was there a point to this?
"Yea. It's freezing. I liked it well enough though."
"It snows there?"
"At Bogdon? All the time."
"I've never seen snow." Harry blinked, his mouth opening slightly as he finally understood what the young man was getting at.
"I..."
"I'd like to. If that's alright with you." Harry stared at him for a minute, and then smiled.
"Sure."
And that was that.
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Mahdi told him it would take him two weeks to finish preparing what he was making for Harry, and before he could properly start they needed to go to Nizwa for supplies. So while Mahdi kept Bruce preoccupied, Harry found himself the victim of side-along apparition. He gasped and fell to his knees when they landed, and Muhammad laughed at him.
"Merlin that's worse than a portkey!" How come apparating with Moody hadn't been this bad?
"You get used to it."
"How could you possibly get used to that?!" The young man shrugged.
"It's not as bad when you apparate yourself as it is when you're tagging along."
"Ugh... If you say so." They gathered themselves up after that and headed towards the market. There were some foodstuffs that Mahdi wanted them to get, some alcohol, some herbs, and some cloth and strips of leather. Leather was hard to get out here, and they planned to barter for the things they needed, and to take their time. They would be staying in Nizwa for several days before they apparated back, so that Bruce would think they had traveled there properly, and wouldn't become suspicious.
He hadn't learned about magic yet, and it was best for everyone if they kept it that way. They had had a close call when he realized that the medallion Harry had put on him was the reason he wasn't bothered by the heat, but he had only looked at it, and then Harry, strangely for a few minutes before he had seemed to let it go. He had even continued wearing it. They were lucky that Mahdi was a minimalist at heart, and the only magical items he kept were few in number and stayed in the trunk in the basement. Beyond that, they were also lucky that Bruce wasn't the type to pry, and regardless of talking and spending time with Harry and the others, he tended to keep to himself.
They managed to find the alcohol and cloth Mahdi wanted fairly easily, and after that went off to find something to eat, and then get a room at the same little hotel they had stayed at the first time. Harry once again mourned the fact that he had yet to find anyone, even Mahdi, who cooked as well as Sa'id.
"We could visit him if you want. If we find everything tomorrow, it would only take a few hours apparating and stopping to rest for us to get to Dubai."
"I'm not sure how keen I am on the thought of apparating that much."
"Not even for some of his food?"
"What about Ramadan? Isn't that still going on right now?"
"No. Ramadan ended a few weeks back."
"Oh."
"It would give us something to do for the next few days, since we can't go back right away."
"You think he would mind?"
"Who? Khal?"
"Sa'id."
"Not if we're paying customers. Besides, you really think it would bother him if we visited?"
"Probably not."
"Then what's the problem?"
"... Alright. But we can only stay for a couple days."
"Then we can apparate our way back and spend one more night in Nizwa before we go home."
"Right." Home. Mahdi's house wasn't exactly home, but it did feel like it sometimes. Harry made a promise to himself that he would come back someday, to visit properly. Maybe he would come back several times. Muhammad would certainly remind him to, since the young man was coming with him when he left. He had made it sound as though he only intended to stick around as long as the war, but Harry had this feeling that he would be there longer than that.
"Do you want to send a letter?"
"Huh?" He pointed, and Harry turned to look. There was a little building with a tower, almost like an owlery, and Harry could even see some birds resting at the top, but they weren't owls. They looked more like grey and black hawks. "What are those?"
"Osprey. You said they use owls where you're from?"
"Yea."
"We have owls here, but they're not common enough, so we normally use the Osprey instead. They're fast, and they can fly far, but they can't carry much weight so we only use them for letters. Packages go by carpet or camel. Sometimes horses. Otherwise you deliver on your own." Harry hadn't had the chance to send any letters home since he had gotten here, and he nodded to Muhammad.
"I'll meet you back at the hotel."
"Sure." Muhammad lit up another cigarette as he walked away, and Harry turned his attention to the Osprey building.
He wanted to tell the twins about all that had happened, and send word to Bogdon that he would be coming back soon. He missed them all fiercely.
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Sa'id was thrilled to see them, and welcomed them both with open arms. He made them a spicy stew with okra and meat, and Harry sat and smiled while he and Muhammad chatted.
"And you, Harry? You are well?"
"Yes. Mahdi has been treating me well."
"You seem different than before. You are calmer now."
"Am I?" He felt calmer now than he had before, Mitera's constant presence in the back of his mind proving to be an endless balm on his temperament.
"Yes. You have grown darker too. The sun has done you some good." Harry blinked and looked down at his arms, the scales glamoured away under his disguise. He wore the one from before again, and so didn't look like himself, but this glamour didn't alter his skin tone any from the reality, and he was surprised to realise that he had, in fact, gotten darker. He hadn't noticed before, day to day, and there were no mirrors in Mahdi's house with which to look at himself. But here, next to Sa'id, it was more obvious. His time indoors at Bogdon had made his skin almost as pale as the snow, and he had looked like paper next to Sa'id when they met. Now his skin was much darker, tanned from his time in the sun on Mahdi's farm. He was closer to the color of honey than snow now, and though he would never be as dark as Sa'id, his skin was only a couple shades lighter now than Muhammad's. He was darker even than he had ever gotten after a summer of working in Aunt Petunia's garden.
"I hadn't really noticed before." Sa'id only smiled at him. Harry frowned to himself as the innkeeper delved back into some discussion with Muhammad, the two occasionally slipping into Arabic. How long had he been in the MIddle East to have grown as dark a tan as he had now? He had gotten so caught up in the routine of working on the farm and meditating and learning, that somewhere along the line, he had lost track of the days. It felt like he had only been here a couple of months, but had it been longer than that? Had he been here longer than he planned? Long enough for the people back home to worry?
Not sure if he really wanted to know, Harry chose not to ask for the date.
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They stayed with Sa'id for almost a week before returning to Nizwa. Like the first time, they apparated a distance and stopped for a couple hours each time before going again, so that Muhammad would not grow too tired. Harry wondered how much magic it took to apparate, and how powerful Muhammad was to go the distances they went without seeming very spent at all by the time they got to Nizwa.
They stayed the night there, and the next morning they returned to Mahdi's farm. Life continued on as before, with farm work and swordplay and chats with Muhammad and Bruce, and Mahdi too when he was willing, and eating dinner all together, and Harry felt sad in knowing he would be leaving soon. He needed to return to Bogdon, and nothing would stop him from going, but he would miss this place. Bruce seemed to realize he would be leaving soon, and several nights after their return from Nizwa, the Doctor came to his room to speak to him.
Too surprised at his having knocked on Harry's door; the privacy-respecting muggle having never bothered him when in his room before, the teen let him in without a question, and the man settled down on the end of his bed and wrung his hands together.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked him, and he nodded.
"You're leaving." It wasn't really a question.
"Yea."
"Soon."
"Yea." Harry sat himself on the floor with a small sigh, looking up at Bruce and waiting to see what this was about.
"I wanted to thank you." Harry started.
"Thank me?" Bruce nodded.
"I never did. You... If you hadn't found me on the mountain when you did..." He swallowed. "And you brought me here. Mahdi has taught me so much, and I can't talk about it but... If I had never met him..." His eyes grew distant for a moment, as though he was remembering something from a long time before, and then he shook his head. "Anyways, just... Thank you." Harry stared at him a moment and then smiled.
"What are friends for?" Bruce started, surprise flashing across his face that was quickly replaced by a smile of his own. Did that really surprise him? After all the time they had spent together on Mahdi's farm he was really surprised that Harry considered him a friend?
"Yea."
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The days after that seemed to pass Harry by too quickly, and he mourned that a little. He needed to go back, and he knew that, but living and working here, with Mahdi, and Muhammad, and Bruce and the goats...
There had been something about it. Something consuming and wonderful and familial. And yea, it wasn't like what he had with the Weasley's, but he had felt like a true part of a family for awhile. Not an adopted member, like he did with the family of redheads sometimes, but like he and the others were all brothers by blood. They had eaten together, and laughed together, and worked together for Merlin knew how long, and even though it hadn't been that long, it had felt like years.
Wonderful, happy, carefree years.
And yes, Muhammad was coming with him, and he could always come back to see Mahdi... But Bruce would probably be gone then. He knew the man was staying for now, but by the time Harry was able to visit, he would be off. He had never pried into the Doctor's history, but he knew from what little had been shared with him that the man was not one to stay in one place for any length of time, and doing so here made him nervous. Soon he would leave, and something in the teen ached terribly at the thought that he might never see him again.
It was a strange thing, to grow so close to someone in so short a time. To be willing to call another person a brother and then part ways so finally, and all without even knowing much of anything about each other. For all Harry knew, Bruce could be a criminal, or a murderer, or something horrible. He didn't think he was, but he could be, and the teen just didn't know.
The part that really bothered him though, was that even if the man was, and he found out, he couldn't honestly answer the question of whether he would turn him in or hide him.
Still, the thought of leaving was sad, so when Mahdi called him down to the basement, saying it was finished, he took a deep breath with his eyes closed before following the Arab down, because, as excited as he was, and as much as this would help, it meant he was leaving tomorrow. And that really, really, hurt.
"You use your right arm for spells?"
"Yes."
"Good. Hold it out." He obeyed, and the man slapped something around his wrist. There was a glow of light that made him look away, and he felt it even before the light faded and he could look back.
It was wonderful. Warm and cool and stable and fluid all at once, and there was a rush through his system as his magic flared and got so so excited. It was beautiful and incredible, and so much better even than when he had first gotten his holly wand. Then he looked at it. It was a band. A thick strip of leather, the edges darkened and presumably burnt. But it was thicker than leather was normally, nearly as thick as a finger, and there were eight large stones imbedded thoroughly enough into it that Harry doubted they would ever budge. There was two of each stone that had chosen him, set in an alternating pattern; each perfect circles and polished to beautiful shines. He could feel some sort of texture against his wrist; presumably some form of runes or seals, and there was no discernable latch or way to remove it.
He twisted it around a little. It was loose enough to move around a bit, but tight enough that he would never be able to slide it over his palm. Unless there was some magical way of taking it off, then short of destroying it or cutting off his hand it wouldn't be going anywhere. He looked curiously up at Mahdi.
"It cannot be removed. I felt having it on you always would be safest. Very few are likely to recognize it for what it is, and this way is more practical than any wand. Even those who see you use it are unlikely to suspect its' purpose, as it will look to them as though the magic manifests from your hand. The stones do not change in use." Harry nodded. It might take some getting used to to be able to sleep with it on comfortably, but he slept with his Lordship ring on, and sometimes his various glamours, depending on the situation, so he would be fine.
It was a bit bulky, and it left a discernable weight against his wrist, but it was a comforting weight; not unlike the scimitar at his hip that he now knew how to use properly. Oh, he would never be a master swordsman, but he could wield it, and wield it well enough to matter, and most people he was likely to even use it on wouldn't have enough skill with a blade for that to matter.
"Thank you, Mahdi." He wasn't just thanking him for the band of stones, but for everything the strange author had done for him, and the Arab seemed to know that. The naturally hard lines of his safe softened, and he gave a nod and a very small smile to Harry; an expression in his eyes that almost reminded the teen of how Mum sometimes looked at him.
"You are welcome, Harry."
And Harry smiled back, and then stared back at the band of stones again. He would need to get in some proper dueling practice, and get used to using the band and his newly sort-of-tamed wild magic, but now, he just might have a chance.
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Bruce had never been one for much physical contact, and neither was Harry really; a mark of his childhood with the Dursleys, but he found himself wrapped in a tight hug from the man once he was packed and standing outside, and there was no hesitation when he hugged back. Bruce was very strong, his arms like a vice around the teen, and Harry didn't hold back much of his strength in returning it. There was something about how easily he had accepted after making the assumption that Harry was a mutant, that spoke at a secret, and though Harry could guess the connection, it didn't really matter.
What mattered was that Bruce was Bruce, and was as much a brother to him now as the twins; and maybe they weren't related and hadn't known each other long, and the Doctor was too much older than him for that to be quite right. But it didn't matter. Because it was what it was, and right now they were saying goodbye, and it might very well be goodbye forever.
"Take care of yourself."
"You too."
And then it was done, and they pulled away and nodded, and Harry smiled at Mahdi. Then he and Muhammad turned around and walked away and up over the rise of the hill, with the desert sky stretching above them and a heat-easing breeze in the air, and when they were far enough, the young man grabbed his arm and they apparated away.
Harry didn't look back.
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