Disclaimer: Another Harry got a gun story line, blame Peter Hathaway Capstick, W.D.M. Bell, and a few dozen others.

Working title: Ivory

A wise man once said that those who are willing to sacrifice freedom for security, deserve neither freedom nor security. It was a sentiment that prompted Harry to take his leave from his . . . home.

Harry crept out of Dudley's second bedroom with one of the large boy's old knapsacks over one shoulder. Harry couldn't handle being cooped up anymore, he just had to get a little space.

Stepping over the sleeping guard, Harry was struck by a sudden idea and with an evil grin he grabbed the invisibility cloak and stuffed it into his pack. It was always good to have a spare and while he'd have loved to stay behind to watch his . . . 'family's' reaction when they found a drunk sleeping it off on their doorstep, he had other things to do.

Quickening his pace, Harry hurried down the street and summoned the knight bus.

"Welcome to . . ."

"Are there any shopping districts aside from Diagon and Knockturn?" Harry interrupted.

"Of course," Stan agreed. "What're you looking for?"

"Some place I can find a room and withdraw a bit of money from Gringotts," Harry replied.

"The old quarter at Cannon Street work for you?" Stan asked. "Looks a bit tarnished after Diagon but it's got everything you asked for."

"That'll be just fine," Harry agreed. Doing his best to hide his confusion, Harry took his seat and waited for the ride to come to an end.

"Here we are," Stan said as the bus rolled to a stop. "Just walk toward the London Stone, push on the grill when no one is looking."

"Right," Harry agreed. "Thanks Stan."

"All part of the service," Stan replied as he shut the door.

Harry got off the bus and after taking a look around, pushed the grill. The grate squeaked open and the stone moved asise to reveal a narrow doorway. On the other side was another world.

IIIIIIIIII

"Dung, hey Dung wake up."

"Mwa?" The Order member groaned and got to his feet. "What's up?"

"Where's your invisibility cloak?" Tonks demanded.

"Must have forgot it," Dung replied. "You here to relieve me?"

"Yeah," Tonks agreed. "Anything happen?"

"It's all been quiet," Dung replied. "Harry hasn't left his room since I got here . . . since anyone's got here."

"Nother nice boring shift for me then," Tonks said with false cheer. "See you tomorrow."

"Later."

IIIIIIIIII

Harry wandered up the street feeling like he'd just entered the magical world. It was all different, nothing like Diagon. The buildings seemed to be an odd mix of ancient and new. Eventually his attention was captured by a bulletin board, more specifically an advertisement offering top dollar for Potions ingredients and Wand components. Harry grinned, it was a rare thing in his life to have a chance to seek adventure for the sake of adventure without the world hanging in the balance. He carefully memorised the address and walked up the street to meet his destiny.

What'd ya need kid?" A woman asked as Harry entered the building.

"Saw an ad?"

"Forget it," she said immediately. "It's not worth doing if you're not already part of the business."

"Gotta start somewhere," Harry replied.

"You sure you want to take on this job kid?" The dealer asked with a frown. "Harvesting Potions ingredients isn't a dangerous profession unless you want to make it pay and there are safer ways to make money."

Well." Harry gave a boyish smile. "If I can't have a nice quiet life then why not have a short merry one? Yes I'm sure."

"Alright kid," she sighed. "I tried. There's a pub up the street, you should be able to find one of the pro's drinking to their dead buddies there and if you're lucky they'll give you a few pointers before cutting you loose."

"Thanks."

"And don't partner up with anyone," she called after him. "Not unless you know them and trust them. Better to go it alone then have a bad partner."

"Right," he agreed.

"Good luck," she said softly as he left. "And I hope I see you again."

Harry followed the woman's directions and found himself in a dingy pub. The only other patron was a man in kakis and a pith helmet.

"To Frank . . . you were a good friend, and better bait . . . you will be missed. TO . . . uh . . . George . . . or maybe it was Stan?" He mused. "Whatever your name was, you'll be missed too . . . both of you. You were great bait, one might even go so far as to say that the two of you were master bait . . .ers."

"Excuse me," Harry said.

"What dya need kid?" He slurred.

"Just needed a few pointers on how to break into the business of harvesting potions ingredients," Harry replied. "You got any?"

"Well." He seemed to consider the question. "Get quality gear, good gear can save your ass. Bad gear can end your life."

"What kind of gear?" Harry persisted. "What's the most important thing I need?"

"Most important thing huh?"

"Yes."

"It takes a platoon of wizards to stop a Nundu," the man said with a grin. "You know how many muggles it takes?"

"A hundred?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Just one," the man corrected. "Muggles are very good at causing death and destruction."

"But . . . magic . . ."

"Is what does in most Wizards who try this business," the man said quickly. "If your only tool is a hammer then every problem looks like a nail. Only problem is that not every problem is a nail, you try a hammer and . . . well . . . "

"So what do you use?" Harry asked.

"Same thing muggles do," he replied. "A large caliber rifle. Put a bullet in the right place and you can stop just about anything."

"Where do I get something like that?"

"You can either buy all your kit new or you can walk down the street a bit and buy it almost new," he replied. "I'd go with the second."

"Almost new?"

"Used only a day or two," he laughed. "Just have to clean off the previous owner and you're set."

"Clean off . . ."

"Like I said," he said with a feral grin. "Only used a day or two. Average life expectancy is about three months, that's with some of the old timers tossed in to play with the odds a bit. In real life, you live that long and you've got a good chance of lasting longer. Most people last a bit less then a week, two on the outside."

"Where do I get kitted out?"

"Shop up the street with a red sign," he replied. "Can't miss it, s'where the heirs go to sell off their benefactor's old junk. Good deals to be had by all."

"Thanks."

"Where was I?" Harry heard the man mutter as he left. "Right, to . . . Phil . . ."

Harry followed the man's directions and soon found himself entering the aforementioned shop. "What can I do for you lad?"

"I need to get kitted out," Harry replied.

"You want used or new?"

"Slightly used," Harry said with a grin. "What do I need?"

"Everything," he said. "Most important thing is a good pair of boots thought. That's not the sort of thing you can buy here, there's a boot maker up the street that can get you custom pair. No sense dieing if you have to do it with sore feet 'eh?"

"I guess."

"Clothes I can do, all double stiched. Get two pairs and you're set."

"What about a rifle?"

"Got three in stock right now," the shopkeep replied. "A six hundred nitro double, a three seventy five Holland and Holland bolt, and a four sixteen Rigby bolt. What'd you prefer?"

"Uh . . ."

"Ammo will be hard to find for the nitro," he sighed. "And bolt action can also hold more rounds."

"Which one is better?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Depends on what you want to do," he replied. "The double rifle gives you a quick follow up shot, but a slow reload and cartridges will be hard to find. Three seventy five is a good general caliber and popular enough so that it'll be no problem to feed it, four sixteen is a bit heavy for a lot of things but it's also good. The bolt action rifles are both excellent quality, both Mauser actions which gives you the claw. Both have peep sights and both are take downs . . . means you can easily take it apart into two pieces to save space."

"What about the double?"

The double was hand made by William Jeffrey & co, just oozes quality don't it?

"Ok," Harry agreed. "I guess I'll take all of them."

"They won't come cheap," he cautioned. "Even used you're talking a couple thousand Galleons."

"That's fine," Harry agreed. "Just get everything together and I'll come back later."

"Right lad," the man agreed. "Just be sure you look through this before you go out?"

"A book?" Harry asked sceptically.

"On shot placement," he agreed. "It's the most important thing you need to know if you're going to go after dangerous game. To some extent it doesn't matter so much what you're shooting with so much as where you hit your target. This thing'll show you where to hit it and what to harvest."

"Oh . . . thanks," Harry said after a moment of thought.

"There are a couple others you should flip through but this is the most important, understand me? Even if you don't do anything else you need to look through this."

"I . . . ok," Harry agreed. "I will."

"Right then."

IIIIIIIIII

"Damn it," Tonks complained. "This job sucks." A flicker of movement caused her to look up at Harry's window. "And there's Hedwig, going out to hunt. Least he has his bloody owl up there with him, better then no company at all."

IIIIIIIIII

Harry approached the one and only teller in Gringotts satellite branch. "What do you need?"

"I'm buying an outfit to go to Africa to harvest potions ingredients and . . ."

"Right," the goblin interrupted. "Hand over your key and fill out your will while I'm getting your gold, be sure not to sign it until I'm here to witness it."

"Uh . . . ok," Harry agreed. "Here."

The goblin snatched the key out of his hand and walked away from the window. For lack of anything better to do, Harry began writing his will after the goblin had left.

"Here," the goblin returned and flung a bag of Galleons at Harry. "You finished your will yet?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"Let me see it," the goblin demanded. "Fine, sign it." Harry did with a flourish. "If there isn't anything else, then get out and stop contaminating my oxygen."

"Goodbye," Harry said politely. He grabbed the bag and walked down the street to the boot maker.

"What can I do for you?" The cobbler asked.

"I need a good pair of boots," Harry replied. "Suitable for Africa."

"Right away sir," he agreed. "I don't suppose . . ."

"No, I've made up my mind."

"What quality do you want?"

"The very best," Harry answered immediately.

"Let me take a few measurements then," he said. "Ok, I'll have them done in no time. I suggest you make your purchases and get your portkey, get everything done you can before returning."

"Thanks."

Harry left the Cobbler's shop and walked up the street to buy a portkey that would take him one step closer to the wilds of Africa. "Here for a new pair of specs?" An old woman asked as Harry walked into the shop.

"Hoping to get a portkey," Harry replied.

"Wrong shop," she said with a smile. "You want the one next door. But you may as well come in, from the way you've been squinting I'd say that there's something wrong with the specs you're using."

"I guess I could use a new pair of glasses," Harry admitted with a frown. "What do you have?"

"What do you do?" She asked. "Different professions require different things."

"I'm going to Africa," Harry said with a grin. "And planning to return."

"Oh," she said dully. The old woman seemed to deflate. "I understand how exciting it seems but you do understand the risks don't you?"

"I've got a very good understanding of the risks, they don't bother me. I've had my share of danger before. You might say that 'Danger' is my middle name," he finished dryly.

"Then can I suggest these," she laid a pair of mountaineering sunglasses on the table. "They'll adjust their tint to compensate for the ambient light, they'll gather more light when it gets dark, and they'll expand your peripheral vision. Something that might come in handy if you persist in your foolish plan."

"Thank you." Harry paid for his purchase and tried them on. "They work great."

"Goodbye kid," she said sadly.

"Bye," Harry called over his shoulder as he walked out to procure his portkey. Harry walked into the shop and tried to introduce himself, "hello I'm . . ."

"No names," the grizzled man behind the counter snapped. "Makes things easier all round, you want a portkey to the Lunatic line don't you?"

"I'm trying to get to Africa," Harry replied.

"That'll do then," the man said gruffly. "Won't be more then a day or two wait, should be less den dat if'n you hurry."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me lad, not till you're on your way back."

IIIIIIIIII

"Ah Nymphadora," Dumbledore said with a smile. "How did your shift go?"

"Boring as hell," Tonks replied honestly. "Only thing that happened all night was Harry letting his owl out to hunt."

"His owl hmmm?" Dumbledore asked with a smile. "Thank you Nymphadora."

"If that's all I need to get home to catch a few hours of sleep," Tonks muttered. "These triple shifts are killing me."

"We all must make sacrifices for the greater good," Dumbledore replied. "And speaking of sacrifices, I'm afraid that owl can't stay with Harry." Dumbledore muttered to himself. "She's much too noticeable, I'm sure Harry will understand. It's just for the summer after all, she'll be waiting in the school's owlery for him when he returns to Hogwarts."

IIIIIIIIII

"You ever used a rifle before kid?"

"Never even touched one," Harry admitted.

"Well . . . these two'll be easy to learn on . . . well, compared to the nitro rifle anyway," the shopkeeper said after a moment of thought. "First let's get the stocks adjusted to you."

"Stocks?"

"The wooden parts," he sighed. "If they're adjusted to your body they'll be easier to use."

"Oh."

"They're both fitted with magical holographic sights but I'd advise you to learn to use the iron sights, there are times and places where the magic will stop working. Best to know what you're doing when that happens."

"Why's the front part white?"

"The front bead is made out of warthog ivory, won't tarnish like elephant and it's nice and visible after it gets dark." What followed was a quick but detailed lesson on how to aim, fire, and maintain the rifles that Harry had just bought. "Well, that's all I can do. Good luck lad."

"Thank you," Harry said politely. "If I don't see you again, well . . . it's been fun."

"Likewise kid," the shopkeeper sighed.

"One stop before I go," Harry sighed. "This is it."

The cobbler looked up when Harry entered. "Good timing, just got these things finished."

"Great," Harry said. "I was hoping to get started soon." Harry slipped off Dudley's old cast off sneakers and slipped into the most comfortable pair of boots he'd ever had.

"You're going to want to break these in before you go into the bush," the cobbler advised. "These are made to fit your feet but they still need a bit of time before they'll be perfect."

"They feel perfect right now," Harry groaned. "I'm gonna have to get another pair of these when I get back." With those parting words, Harry activated his portkey and disappeared.

IIIIIIIIII

"There," Dumbledore said with a satisfied smile as he secured Hedwig in one of the larger cages. "Now, to inform Harry." He wrote out a quick note and handed it to one of the school owls. "Just drop it on his bed, no need to wait for a reply."

The owl hooted in agreement and took off to deliver Dumbledore's message.

IIIIIIIIII

The portkey dropped Harry off on a train platform next to what looked a lot like a worn out and rusted version of the Hogwarts Express.

"Pardon me," a voice said from Harry's right. "But could you spare a few knuts for a wizard down on his luck?"

"Sure," Harry agreed. "Here."

"You coming?" The conductor asked. "A week before we're back here so make up your mind quickly."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I guess."

"New at the game then?"

"Does it show that much?"

"Like it's written on your face," the conductor laughed. "Best advice I can give you is to turn back and forget about all this nonsense."

"What about the second best?"

"Find a good tracker and a good skinner," the conductor replied quickly. "And make out your will before you go into the bush. Keeps everything nice and tidy."

"Why a train?" Harry asked after he'd bought his ticket. "Why didn't the portkey take me further in?"

"Has to do with the limits of the magic," the conductor explained. "It took you to the station where the train was and it would have taken you to one of the next three stations if we were there. Further then that and you're past the effective range that a portkey can travel."

"Oh."

"Lots of other things a train can do better then a portkey too," he continued. "Like carry cargo. We make a six day circuit from the coast to the heart of Africa and back. Taking bulk cargo in and all sorts of things back out. It's a rich land lad," he said with a grin. "Place where a man can make his fortune if he keeps his wits. Gold, diamonds, and a hundred different ingredients for potions. They're all waiting for someone to pick them up and bring them out."

"Gold? Diamonds?"

"Be sure to buy an automatic pan," the conductor advised. "Just drop it off on the side of a stream and check it in the morning."

"Automatic pan?"

"A gold pan that's charmed a bit," he laughed. "It'll sift through the gravel and collect any precious stones and metals. Probably won't get anything but you never know."

"Thanks," Harry said as the conductor walked off to continue his rounds. With a sigh of disgust, he reached into his new rucksack and pulled out one of the books he'd purchased. "Well . . . nothing to do but study I guess, 'The Art of Travel' by Francis Galton huh? Well, I guess this is as good a place to start as any."

Over the next couple days, Harry passed the time by flipping through his books and memorising everything that seemed to be important . . . and a good deal of what seemed on the surface to be useless information. As the conductor had cautioned, the only kind of useless information in the bush was the kind you didn't have. Who knew when the mating habits of a toffee nosed honey badger might come in handy, could save your life.

IIIIIIIIII

"What is it Molly?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"Professor . . ." Molly began with a worried frown. "It's Harry, I know you told us not to write but I sent him a care package and Pig . . . Ron's owl, returned with it."

"Not to worry Molly," Dumbledore said in what he privately termed his 'all knowing' voice. "I'm sure young Harry just needs a bit of time to himself. They all go through an independent stage at his age and after what happened in the Department, it's not surprising that he needs a bit of time to himself. Pass the word on to Ron and Hermione not to try contacting Harry until further notice."

"I . . . yes Headmaster," Molly agreed reluctantly.

IIIIIIIIII

After a few days, the train rolled to a stop in the middle of a muddy collection of tin roofed shacks. "Last stop," the conductor called out. "Less you've grown some sense and want to book passage back to the coast?"

"This place looks just fine," Harry said with a grin. "Thanks for all the help, I enjoyed the conversations we had."

"Do yourself a favor and make your first stop the bar," the conductor sighed. If he couldn't stop the young fool then maybe he could help him.

"I don't drink."

"Best place to get a bit of informaiton, doesn't matter if you drink or not."

"Oh . . . thanks."

"Don't mention it kid, good bye and good luck."

"Better good then lucky," Harry called over his shoulder. "Luck runs out."

"That it does lad," he agreed under his breath. "That it does.

Harry couldn't miss the saloon, it was the largest of the four buildings in town and the only one that had a sign. He pushed through the bat wing doors and made the last step that took him from a normal life and into a life of adventure.

"TO PETE," one of the men at the bar said loudly. "Another good man killed by the dead, he really should have known better."

"TO PETE," the rest of the bar chorused.

"Killed by the dead?" Harry muttered.

"It's the dead ones that'll kill you lad," one of the men explained. "Bullets are cheap enough to use an extra to make sure."

"You shoot something it goes down," another man took pity on Harry. "You think it's dead and you get to work, it wakes up in a bad mood and that's all she wrote. Same as the way empty guns kill more people then the loaded ones. Understand?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I understand."

"Good, just roll into town?"

"With the last train."

"Be sure to sign the guest book then," he said with a grin. "So we know who to toast when it's your turn."

"Uh." Harry eyed the book for a few seconds.

"Don't want to put down your real name?" The bartender asked sympathetically. "Don't worry, just put whatever you like then. Magic'll know the truth, the ink turns black when you die to let us know to toast you. Better then most funerals in my opinion." Harry looked at the book for a few moments before it came to him. "H. Evans?" The man asked.

"Close enough," Harry agreed. "You know where I can hire a good tracker?"

"Usually a couple hanging around the general store, that's the third building on the left. Second is the chapel slash morgue, they're the best when it comes to scraping up what's left after the bush has had it's way with a man and making it presentable enough to have a closed casket funeral."

"And the first?"

"You might call that one a hotel," he said with a grin. "But only if you want rooms by the hour. Want something a bit longer term then I've got a couple up stairs."

"That's ok," Harry replied. "I'd really rather get into the bush as soon as possible."

"Good luck then lad and don't forget to enjoy yourself."

"I won't," Harry assured him.

IIIIIIIIII

Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth as he watched a small device spin so fast that it began to melt from the friction.

"I wonder what that means?" He mused to himself. "I'm sure it's not important."

IIIIIIIIII

"Anyone here a good tracker?" Harry asked as he stepped into the store.

"I da best traka in the bush baas," a man replied.

"You're hired," Harry said after no one came forward to contest the man's claim. "See if you can round up a couple of skinners and porters."

"Yes baas."

"You need anything from me?" The east Indian behind the counter asked with a neutral look on his face.

"You stock six hundred nitro express cartridges?"

"No."

"Start," Harry advised. "I'll take a box of three seventy five and another of four sixteen."

"Anything else?"

"Half dozen cans of peaches," Harry said after a moment of thought. "And an automatic pan."

"Care for a bit of advice?"

"Hmmm?"

"Buy a few pounds of tobacco, your men will expect it as part of their pay."

"Fine," Harry agreed. "Toss in anything else you think I might need . . . and be prepaired to explain exactly why I need it in excruciating detail."

IIIIIIIIII

Hedwig coughed up another owl pellet and glared at the lock on the cage in disgust. There she was, the whole room to herself and the summer off and she gets thrown into the clink. Not this owl, she was going to escape and she was going to enjoy her time off.

The owl turned her head three hundred and sixty degrees to make sure the coast was clear before jumping down to the floor of her cage and scratching it with her claws. She would have her vacation and she would enjoy it.

IIIIIIIIII

Harry had his men set up camp on a water hole a few miles outside the small town and motioned for his tracker to join him.

"Wat's up baas?"

"We're just going to have a look around," Harry explained. "Nothing big."

"Right baas," the man agreed.

"Let's go," Harry said. "Tell me if you see any tracks."

"Sho ting baas."

Harry followed the man about three kilometers in a large spiral before either of them noticed anything of intrest.

"Step back a bit," Harry ordered. "There's a snake up ahead."

"You do'wanna go near dat snake baas," the tracker advised. "Mamba, bad news."

"I'll be fine," Harry said over his shoulder. "Now then," he hissed. "I'm wondering if you can help me?" By way of reply, the snake lunged and buried its fangs in Harry's outstretched hand." You wanna play it like that?" Harry asked. "Ok, we can play it like that."

The tracker just turned in disgust, one bloody day and he already had to find a new job. He walked off ignoring the mutterings of the dead man behind him, no sense waiting around to watch the end when he could be in town hustling work.

IIIIIIIIII

Alerted by some strange survival instinct, Hedwig hopped off the floor of the cage and back onto her perch just before Dumbledore entered.

"What are you doing?" Dumbledore demanded. "You aren't trying to escape are you? There is no escape from Luft cage thirteen . . . no one has ever escaped the Iron Headmaster."

"The Iron Headmaster?" A voice filled with mirth asked. "Have you been drinking Albus?"

"It's just . . . Minerva, did you have those end of year reports ready yet?"

"I've still got three weeks before they're do . . . Iron Headmaster."

"Yes . . . well . . . carry on then."

IIIIIIIIII

"New guy . . . Evans? Well, his tracker just came in. Said he was bitten by a ten step."

"Shame about that, didn't even last a day in the bush."

"His name hasn't turned black yet," the bartender interjected. "Think you might be a bit premature?"

Harry walked in a few hours later with an annoyed expression on his face. "Any of you know where I can hire a new tracker?" He growled. "One who won't run away screaming from a little snake?"

"He said you got bit mate," one of the men laughed.

"I did," Harry agreed. "By this thing, book says it's fangs are worth a pretty penny and that the rest of it doesn't go cheap either."

"That thing bit you?" One of the men gasped. "And you survived?"

"This lil thing?" Harry asked with a grin. "Maybe I'll tell you what it's like to get bitten by a big snake sometime. Now, about finding a tracker?"

"Village three days walk north of here is supposed to have some good ones for hire," the bartender said with a yawn. As a bartender, it was against union regulation to show any hint of surprise by anything. "You want me to pass the snake along to a dealer for you?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Figure the money is an advance on my tab."

"Sure thing."

"You know what this means?" One of the men asked after Harry had left.

"That it looks like the new guy is going to live long enough to get a nickname?"

"No that I've just thought of the perfect nickname," his friend corrected. "To Snakebite, meanest bastard to arrive in the last week or so."

"To Snakebite," his friend agreed. "So long as you've got this round."

AN: Like I said before, blame Capstick and a few others for this idea. Lot's of the details were mined from their books, I've never so much as set foot in Africa. The Art of Travel by Francis Galton is a real book that was written in the 1800s on how to be an Explorer, you can find it online as a PDF and it's worth a look. People have asked what part of Africa this is, truth is that it's an amalgam of the Africa described by two dozen or so authors. What's more, most of those descriptions were between two hundred and twenty years old so the details you read aren't as they are now, they're as they were according to Bell and a few of the other old timers. I've got another fourteen pages of notes for this one so don't be surprised if I put up at least one more chapter, was trying not to get another project and with luck I'll succeed.

What fic of mine is complete with out the list of people who made it possible? Well, it starts with Ed Becerra, Dave Gerecke, meteoricshipyards, ausfinbar, ubereng

Omake By: Fenris

The tall, heavily scarred Masai gazed out into the dark, his grip shifting slightly on the lion spear that was as much an extension of his body as it was a weapon. "A stranger approaches, Effendi," he
said quietly, carefully not turning his gaze towards the campfire where it sigh affect his night vision.
"I heard him, Donyo," Harry replied quietly. Actually the outer wards had tripped fifteen minutes ago, but some of the boys in his party were nervous enough about packing for 'Bwana Witch Doctor' without rubbing their noses in it.

A few minutes later a voice called out of the darkness, pitched to carry into the camp without announcing the person's presence to the whole Veldt. "Hello the camp! Any chance of a cup of coffee for a weary traveller?"

"Come ahead if you're friendly, we've food and drink to share," Harry replied. "If you're unfriendly, well, come ahead anyway. We have shovels as well."

The voice chuckled and a few seconds later a travel-stained figure materialized out of the dark, making for the gap in the boma two of the boys quickly opened, closing it behind the newcomer as soon as
he'd passed through.

Harry ran a practiced eye over the arrival and quickly drew several conclusions. One, whatever the man did, he was reasonably competent at it; no incompetent survived in the Bush long enough for their gear to achieve that comfortable, well-broken-in look unless they were competent. Two, the man was either very deadly or very lucky. Trekking across the Veldt by oneself was risky bordering on suicidal.

Doing so armed with nothing more than a .455 Webley and a drover's bull whip pushed the odds from suicidal and towards insane, but there was always the chance that the lack of a proper rifle was a recent
occurrence, or that the visitor had some more esoteric means of self-defense. He didn't feel like a wizard, but there were some interesting tingles emanating from the man's backpack and jacket pockets. Harry couldn't be certain, but he thought he recognized some of the sensations as similar to a few items in Bill Weasley's collection, trophies from his-curse-breaking and tomb-robbing days.

All this passed through Harry's mind in the few seconds it took the stranger to reach the fire. He had a good face under the battered fedora, the lines marking his feature as much from laughter as from facing the elements. His brown leather jacket had seen better days, but the repairs he could see had been lovingly done, another good sign of the man's character.

Handing over a cup of coffee as soon as his guest reached the table, Harry waved towards the chair opposite him. "Food first, talk after. Ishmael is a competent camp cook, but third-day gazelle stew is not improved by letting it get cold. We can talk afterwards."

After a brief pause where hunger warred with manners, hunger won out. Several helpings disappeared in short order, along with a pot and a half of coffee. Meanwhile Harry extended his senses and tried to get a feel for what his visitor was carrying. Definitely tomb items, though none of the really vicious curses seemed to be present. A couple were even emanating as strong protective talismans.

One particularly nasty item gave Harry pause. It wasn't a Horcrux, for which Harry was eternally grateful, but it was definitely sentient, if dormant.

This left Harry in a bit of a quandary. On the one hand he really was trying to stay out of the Saving People business; if some idiot wanted to haul around a possessed artifact that stood a fair chance of sucking out his brain through his left nostril, that was no one's business but his own. The problem was that, hauling it around as he was there wa no telling where the object would eventually come to rest, or who might be threatened by it. Like it or not, it looked like he was going to have to stick his nose in.

Still, there was no reason to jump directly to the unpleasantness. Pouring and setting a small brandy in front of his guest before taking one for himself, Harry resumed his seat. "Well, now that the furnaces have been stoked and the bunkers refilled, I'd take it that introductions are in order. You are...?"

His guest smiled and raised his glass. "Indiana Jones, Fellow of Archaeology at Arkham University, in Massachusetts."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, considering the obviously looted items squirreled away in his guest's pack.

Not that he had any moral high ground when it came right down to it, Harry thought as he considered the adult Nundu several of his boys were stripping of its hide while two journeyman potion brewers waited to harvest rest of the beast's magical components. "Sankebite Potter," Harry replied, offering his hand for a firm grip and shake which Professor Jones provided. "Cryptozoologist," he added as the handshake ended.

Omake for Transfer by migeleelrubio:

"Mom?" Gabrielle looked at her mother in hope.

Her mother knew what was coming. "No, you can't go to Hogwarts!"

"But I don't want to go to Hogwarts."

"You don't?" That was a surprise.

"Harry doesn't go there any more, neither does most of the school.

"He doesn't ... Most of the school?"

"Yes, they go to some other school now, look here."

"287 transfer to another school?" To say that a half Veela was hard to surprise was easy, but then again she was very surprised was an understatement. She remebered how she had told her younger daughter "Any school but Hogwwarts, and that is final." It was time to pay up.

"I'll handle it."

"Thank you so much, and don't forget, you don't need the make-up."

At least she got a hug out of it.

And another

This obviously takes place after 5th year so here is an omake:

Gabrielle Delacour was lonely, sure she was in her first year of school but there were certain problems with being part Veela and all that. At least the owl landing in front of her plate distracted her nicely. "Thank you Jaque"

IIIIIIIIII

Everyone in the hall stared as the girls jumped to her feet and ran from the hall screaming about make-up and making her hair.

Everyone wondered if that was a Veela thing.

IIIIIIIIII

Madame Maxime sighed, she should have seen that coming. and she supposed that opening the north tower wasn't enough, at least two of the teachers from Hogwarts were coming as well.

IIIIIIIIII

Fifteen minutes later Gabrielle was back and receiving far more stares than usually.

Two minutes later Madame Maxime called to order. "I have an announcement to make. As of today we have about 361 new students who transferred from Hogwarts."

She politely ignored the squeal from Gabrielle.

"Please come in."

As the Doors to the Hall opened several new tables appeared. At the head Harry Potter entered with a large entourage. With those entering the school could be called the largest Institute of Magical Learning in the World.

"Harry!"

IIIIIIIIII

It had taken half an hour to convince him to be the one to lead. But as he was the one who triggered it was decided that he was supposed to be the leader.

Just a few moments after entering the leader got knocked down but a small girl with blonde hair. "Harry!" she squealed again smiling down at him from her position on his chest.

Harry blinked, cute looking young girl knowing him, Ron drooling. That meant Veela, young Veela meant Gabrielle.

"Hello to you too Gabrielle." he smiled at her.

"You speak French." The girl was absolutely delighted.

"Hermione found an obscure spell that allowed to transfer languages."

The Hogwarts crew was sniggering.

"Gabrielle, please let Harry go, we need to make introductions." Hermione requested.

At the pouting look Luna decided to speak up. "You will have plenty time to seduce him later, we are still working on a schedule."

After a few moments Gabrielle was wrapped around Harry's arm and they got introduced to the school.

Omake: The Seduction of Luna Lovegood

"Professor McGonagall, may I speak with you for a few minutes?" Luna asked.

"You may Ms. Lovegood," Minerva replied.

"Then can I? I don't have a mummy any longer and I needed some womanly advice."

"Have a seat," Minerva sighed. Why in the nine hells did Lovegood have to come to her for help? "What do you need?"

"Well," Luna began. "I was hoping that you could give me an idea of how I could get Harry to notice me."

"Is that all," Minerva giggled. It was nice to see the Lovegood girl wasn't so odd after all.

"Uh huh," Luna agreed. "I just want him to corner me in an empty classroom, grab me roughly, and tell me that I'm his woman."

"Urk." Or not.

"Then he'll break me to his will," Luna continued. "At first I'll try to resist but he'll be too strong for me and so it will go until finally, out of breath I'll accept him as my one true master."

"I see, um I . . ."

"And then after he's sure of my loyalty," Luna giggled. "Harry will send me out to gather more girls to sate his dark lusts, one by one I'll lure my friends to meet their fate." Luna's knees rubbed together. "They'll be defiant at first, but Harry will order me to break them."

"That's very interesting but . . ."

"In the end, Harry will take them over and over but he'll never be satisfied. He'll keep sending me out until all the attractive girls are his. Ohhh it will be so romantic."

"I . . . if you'll excuse me Ms. Lovegood, I have some things I need to discuss with my coworkers."

"Ok," Luna chirped. She was ever so happy that Professor McGonagall was going to go get a second opinion to help her win Harry's heart, such a dedicated educator.

Omake: Cousins

"Hello Uncle Lucius."

Lucius groped for his wand and found it missing. "Who's there."

"It's me . . . your niece, you only had one sister so it shouldn't be too hard to figure out who I am."

"L . . . Lanna?" He ventured. "Lum?"

"Luna," she said happily. "Don't worry, you won't forget my name again after tonight."

"What are you planning to do . . . Luna?" Lucius asked in an oily tone, it wouldn't be too hard to charm the little bitch and after he'd gotten his wand back . . .

"I'm planning to kill you uncle Lucius," Luna replied. "I'm afraid that you've been misusing the Malfoy fortune. Grandfather always said that Malfoys bow to no one, but you've been on your knees before Vime . . . Volemart?" She finished uncertainly. "Drat, I knew I should have looked up that silly name he calls himself before coming here. No matter, you've brought nothing but shame and ruin to the Malfoy line and it's long past time that you were pruned."

"My son will . . ."

"Be disowned," Luna said cheerfully. "Harry's the new head of family Black and without you to contest it, your marriage to Narcissa will be annulled and she will be cast out of the family. Your . . . offspring will be without a name and without a fortune, sure is lucky that he has his skills to fall back on isn't it?"

"You won't get away with this bitch," Lucius hissed. "The Dark Lord will . . ."

"But I already have uncle Lucius," Luna said with a serene smile. "You should be feeling a sharp pain in your chest right about . . . now. I may be the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune but even if they suspect something, they'll never suspect me. I'm Loony Lovegood, the girl that has trouble tying her own shoes. I could certainly never murder someone."

AN: Don't believe I've ever seen a ruthless Luna before and since she has that blond hair . . .