Chapter 62: The City in the Stone
"Whoa," Harry said, looking up at the four monolithic faces in awe.
"Whoa indeed, Harry," I muttered, feeling a flutter of melancholy as I looked up at Mount Rushmore. Memories of decades old summer vacations darting through my mind, recalled with perfect clarity thanks to my Occlumency.
I recalled the long car drive along vast stretches of empty land, and the sweltering heat that beat down on our heads every step of the way. The greasy drive-throughs we ate at along the way. The motels, which often had no hot water and itchy sheets.
But above all, I remembered how much fun I had, spending time with my first family. And how I hadn't spent nearly enough with them.
I shook my head, clearing those thoughts away. Now was not the time to reminisce.
"Hard to believe they managed to carve all of this without magic," Harry commented, looking over the mountainside.
He then glanced over to the left, where a section of the mountain had been hidden from view using magic.
The Black Hills had been sacred to the Lakota Sioux tribe of Native Americans, and having some presidents' heads carved into them had been… politically charged. Potentially blasphemous, even!
But it also turned out that long before Mount Rushmore was built, the Native American tribes in the area had done their own carving. Shamans had used magic to create many incredible stone pieces of art work along the sides of the hills and mountain that had faint mystical properties that lingered to this day. Not that the non-magical folk had been able to see or remember them after the Statute of Secrecy was established.
Thankfully, magic had been able to redirect the mundane carvers and architects when they'd begun their own project in the 1920's, so the ancient and sacred carvings had survived, but it was a bit odd to see the two side by side.
"Ah, yes, a stunning juxtaposition of modern and mythological," Sirius Black mused to himself as he looked up at the mountainous monuments while stroking his chin.
"You don't have to keep sounding smart, Sirius," I said with a snort. "The girls already left."
The shaggy animagus looked around and slumped a bit after confirming that yes, the cute college girls who'd been hanging around earlier had walked away already. "Dang, and here I was thinking I was making an impression by seeming so sophisticated."
"Maybe somebody will fall for it next time," Harry said, patting his godfather on the arm.
"Ouch, that stings, Prongslet," Sirius said with a flinch, holding a hand over his heart.
I chuckled a bit at their interactions. It had been five days since Sirius and I had had our little talk over drinks, and while he was still stand-offish, he was not as hostile anymore. That was a relief, and I knew I could possibly improve things further if I kept playing ball and being honest with him.
After watching the two joke around a bit more, I pulled out a tourist map. "So, the entrance isn't that far from here," I said aloud, gaining their attention. "We just go down this path on the right and take the one marked with a few carved boulders."
"Easy enough," Sirius nodded. "Come on, let's go!"
He and Harry walked off to find the path, and I followed along behind. Today, we weren't just out here to look at a mountain, as majestic as it was. We were here to visit the largest settlement of magical Native Americans in North America.
When the European settlers had begun to appear, and foreign sickness ravaged the population, several wisemen, medicine men, and shamans had gathered and worked together to create a handful of magically formed refuges to hide and protect their people. They weren't very big at first, but they grew as more and more tribes were pushed further west by expansion.
And one of these secret magical refuges was located within Mount Rushmore itself, kept hidden from regular people by magic.
We found the trail easily. Magic kept people who weren't magical away, obviously, so while others got turned away, we were able to locate the trio of boulders that had Native American designs painted onto them.
"Water, anyone?" I asked as I wiped some sweat off of my brow.
"Please," Sirius requested and I fished a bottle of water out of the backpack I was wearing.
My backpack had been bought in Star Street in New Orleans, and it had been an excellent purchase. It had an expanded space within it, letting me store a suitcase's worth of stuff in it without worry.
Thanks to it's effectiveness, the three of us had been able to travel around the country without issue. I could carry all the water we needed, and we needed a lot. Summertime in the U.S. was much hotter than back in Jolly Ol' England. Especially when we were in the Mid-West.
I passed one over to Harry too, and we all took a quick moment to cool off before continuing on towards the aptly named Stonewall City.
To get inside, we had to walk up a steep path that led straight up to the cliff face. After that, it was a simple matter of entering through a cave that had ancient neo-lithic cave paintings still perfectly preserved on the walls. It was pretty neat, and with some magical lighting illuminating our path, we made it into the city within the mountain.
Hundreds of short and squat stone houses, none rising higher than three stories, filled the enormous cavern that stretched far beyond what the mountain should have normally been able to contain.
Over the years, the settlement had expanded from containing a handful of huts to full-fledge buildings. Currently, there were over six thousand people who lived here, and in the last few decades had become something of a tourist attraction.
What was really impressive was how the cavern's ceiling was charmed to reflect the sky above, just like the Great Hall of Hogwarts. This way, it didn't seem like the people were living underground at all.
There was a lot to see, so we got right to it. We walked around, admiring the scenery and the architecture as well showing proper respect for the ancient historical relics on display. Well, Harry and I did all of that. Sirius seemed to be more interested in the young women walking around.
'We need to get the poor man laid,' I thought to myself as I had to drag the dog-man away from bothering some people with his terrible flirting. 'I'll have to talk to Remus and maybe reach out to that cousin of his… Andromeda Tonks, I think her name is. They'll know how to help him. Hopefully.'
Hand on Sirius' shirt, I dragged him over to the store Harry had gone into. To nobody's surprise, it was a broom supply shop.
"That's the latest American sports broom on the market!" Harry said excitedly as he looked at a yellow and white broom locked in a case. "The Thunderbird Excel!"
"Fancy," I said as I released Sirius. He huffed a little at the way I'd manhandled him but didn't saying anything about, clearly realizing how creepy he'd been acting. At least I hope that's what was happening.
"It's faster than the Nimbus 2000, and has a sharper turning radius-!" Harry babbled, and I listened with half an ear to him.
"You know your brooms, kid," the storeowner said, leaning against the counter. He was an older Native American man with a necklace of red feathers around his neck. He was looking at Harry in amusement, impressed by the boy's knowledge of boys.
"Wait… are you… Mason Firecloud?" Harry asked, gasping. "Seeker of the Sweetwater All-Stars?"
"Yeah, that's me," the former Quidditch player nodded. "Surprised you recognized me. It's been a while since I played."
"My friend Ron has a collection of older Quidditch Monthly magazines from the seventies and eighties," Harry explained. "I like to read them. And there were a bunch of articles about you in the 1974 and 75 issues."
"Those were fun seasons," Mason laughed.
"Can I get an autograph?" Harry asked.
"Sure thing, little guy," Mason agreed.
Harry fished around in his bag for something to get signed, and Sirius stepped in to help, buying a half-sized copy of the All-Star's Quidditch jersey to use for it. Mason then signed it with his wand, and Harry eagerly put it away for safety.
After that, there were some other stores we went into. A bookstore which had some texts Harry got for Hermione and the rest of his more literature-minded friends, an apothecary that I browsed for new and interesting ingredients, and as lunch got closer, we visited a store selling magical trinkets and souvenirs.
"There's a lot of turquoise here," Harry noted as we browsed the interior of the gift store. There was all kinds of beautiful jewelry and other items hand-carved from turquoise and other stones on display alongside more kitschy things like magic snow globes, t-shirts with magical drawings that moved across them, and novelty sunglasses.
"It is a common stone in the southwestern United States, especially Arizona and New Mexico, and favored by the tribes who lived down there for its robustness and beauty," the Native American woman selling them said. "While many of the tribes sadly no longer exist, our city is a melting pot of many different tribal traditions and cultures, so it's not unusual to find decorations and artwork in a dozen different styles and materials."
"Do you have any interesting magical items?" I inquired, wondering if Delilah would like a necklace made of turquoise.
"Yes," the saleswoman said eagerly, taking me to a display case with several items contained within on velvet cushions. "Turquoise is an excellent stone for holding enchantments that favor protection and good fortune. It also has some uses in healing, though that mainly extends to the breaking of curses and not directly mending the flesh."
"Fascinating," I hummed. "What does this ring do?"
"It contains an alcohol detoxing charm," she helpfully supplied. "It makes three bottles of beer only as potent as a single one."
"Interesting. Hmm. I like this tie pin," I said, admiring another item in the display case. It was shaped like a lightning bolt, and I considered getting it for Harry.
"It has an enchantment that redirects lightning around the wearer, preventing you from being struck during a storm," she informed me.
"Does it work on spell-forged lightning?" I asked, thinking of the Tempest Jinx as well as the Lightning Curse.
"To an extent," she replied. "It won't block everything, but it will deflect enough that you won't die from it."
"Useful. Very useful," I hummed, thinking to myself, 'I wonder if it can be used to block static shocks or EMPs? I may buy it just to study the enchantment.'
"What about general purpose shields or defenses? Anything that can block a spell?"
"We have a couple rings imbued with Protego," the saleswoman claimed. "You have to flick your wrist like so."
She demonstrated for me, flicking her hand sharply and causing a small shield the size of a dinner plate to pop up in front of her face, and I nodded slowly.
"Do you have anything… stronger, protection wise?" I asked her in a low voice so Harry and Sirius wouldn't overhear.
"Perhaps," she said slowly.
"My companions and I are being targeted by some problematic forces back home in England," I said slowly. "Anything that could help him would be appreciated."
"Wait… are you…" she then looked over at Harry, recognition entering her eyes, and she gasped. "Is he Harry Potter?"
I winced, but nodded, glad the saleswoman hadn't been too loud. "Yes. It's true."
"Did he really slay a Basilisk?" she wondered in awe.
"He did," I confirmed. "Back issues of the Daily Prophetfrom a week ago should have a photo of its corpse."
"I saw those. I think everyone in the world did! And if they were real… then he definitely needs something to keep him safe," the woman muttered, before walking into the back of the store. She returned a few minutes later with an old wooden box, opening it up to reveal twelve golden rings set with chips of turquoise. From the indentations in the cushions, there had once been twenty rings, before others had been sold.
"These rings were crafted and enchanted by my great-grandfather," she revealed. "They are some of his greatest work. And being a Master Enchanter, even his middling results were extraordinary."
She tapped the lid of the box slowly. "Each ring is imbued with a potent Danger Sense enchantment. If you are in peril for any reason, it will alert you to it. Be it poison in your food, a bullet flying at your head, or a completely ordinary accident, the rings will warn you of it. Whether you can react to it or not is another thing, though."
"That is incredible!" I whispered. Enchanted items for detecting poison or danger were fairly common, but rarely could they be combined into a single object. Furthermore, predicting and warning of accidents and not just people or actions imbued with hostile intent was even harder to make enchantments for.
"That is not all," the saleswoman said, and I looked up at her in disbelief. There was more?!
She smirked at my stunned expression. "One time – and one time only! – the ring can bestow upon the wearer the full effects of a single six-hour dose of Felix Felicis. Of course, the ring will break upon doing so, but six hours of impossibly good luck should be more than enough to escape whatever threatens you."
"That… how much?" I asked.
"One hundred thousand dollars," she replied. "For one ring."
That was a steep price, but for an artifact that powerful? Completely worth it.
'I'll have to dip into my funds I'd been saving for buying into the tech bubble, but it's for a worthy cause,' I decided.
Harry needed every advantage he could get. Now that the prophecy binding him to Voldemort was broken, things would not play out like they had in the original timeline. Who knew what might happen? So, I got out my checkbook.
"Is a check okay?" I asked.
"That's fine," she said, nodding. She seemed somewhat surprised I was buying one, probably assuming the price would have me balking. And maybe I would have a year or two ago. But now? I could afford to splurge everyone once in a while.
And with that, I the transaction was completed and she put the enchanted ring into a velvet-lined box for me to carry which I immediately slipped into a pocket. Harry's Birthday gift was going to blow his socks off!
When I was done with that, I bought a few more items, some magical, others mundane, but all of them significantly cheaper than the first purchase. They would make great souvenirs. For everyone back home.
There was also a pair of magic rings I got for myself and Delilah. They contained a curious enchantment that allowed the wearer to know if they were being observed with malicious intent. It was sort of like a pseudo-Danger Sense, but geared towards detecting people who wanted to harm the ring's wearer. It even worked on animals, too, so if, say, a bear or dragon spotted you and thought you looked like a tasty lunch, then the ring would warn you.
"Do you know of any places to eat?" I asked the woman after Sirius and Harry bought their own souvenirs and trinkets.
"There's a restaurant that sells Mexican food I like," she informed us.
"Real Mexican? Or the 'American' stuff?" I asked suspiciously.
"We only serve good food here in Stonewall City, sir," she sniffed haughtily, though she was hiding a laugh at the same time. "Don't worry, it's authentic. Place is run by a couple of people descended from some Aztec mages. Well, allegedly. Whatever the case, their food is the real deal."
"Wonderful," I said. "It's been a lifetime since I've had authentic tacos!"
She laughed at that, thinking I was joking, but I was deadly serious.
The restaurant was just as good as I'd hoped, the tacos and burritos being truly delectable and made the proper way. And when we were done, we decided to find the person we'd come out here to meet in the first place.
"Excuse me, miss?" I called out, approaching an elderly woman who was knitting a witch's hat while walking past the restaurant.
"Yes, young man?" she asked, not even looking up from her magical knitting needles which were floating in front of her as she walked.
"We're looking for Shaman Starfoot," I said, and the elderly woman glanced between us, eyes lingering on Sirius before nodding.
"I see. Yes, he does indeed live here," she said. "Shaman Starfoot can be found down there, over towards the oldest section of the city. He runs a shop selling magical remedies. Look for the store called New Moon Wares. Can't miss it, it has a giant moon as a sign."
She then patted Sirius' shoulder fondly. "Don't worry, it's not the end of the world. Even if you don't hear what you want to hear, there's still hope."
"Um, okay? Thank you?" Sirius said, confused.
"I think she thought you were a werewolf," I whispered to the animagus as she walked off, and he blinked at me in disbelief.
"What? Why would she think that?" Sirius asked, confused.
"You do look very feral," Harry claimed, a tiny smirk on his face.
"Yeah, if I had to choose between who was a werewolf and who wasn't based purely on physical appearance, it would not be Remus, I can tell you that right now," I chuckled. Sirius frowned at that before smirking.
"Heh, guess that means I'm more of a dog than Moony will ever hope to be!" he laughed.
"We have directions," I said, recovering from the bout of mirth. "Let's go see if he can help Remus."
The store called New Moon Wareswasn't hard to spot. It had a big illusion of a moon floating over the entrance, which seemed to be tied directly to the actual moon itself. I could see craters and shadows as it hovered and slowly rotated. I was impressed.
"Found it," Sirius hummed.
Stepping inside the store, the trio found it to be rather small, with just a counter in the back and a few shelves full of books, potions, and potion ingredients. Sitting behind the counter was an old Native American man, his hair almost completely grey. He had a pipe in his mouth, and was puffing out various shapes made of colored smoke.
"Welcome," he said, his voice strong despite his age.
"Hello, sir," I said politely. "Are you Shaman Starfoot? We heard that you are one of the most knowledgeable people in the world when it comes to Lycanthropy and treatments for it."
"I am he. But none of you are werewolves," the elderly shaman commented, looking over us with a critical eye.
"We have a friend who is affected by the curse," Sirius replied. "As well as a few acquaintances."
"Hmm. Your accents… you are from England, are you not?" Shaman Starfoot inquired, and received three nodding heads.
"That's correct," I said.
"Lycanthropy has no cure," he warned us. "All we can offer is a way to help him connect with his inner wolf and work together with it."
"Ah," I muttered while Sirius winced.
"Remus kinda… I don't think he's the kind of person who'd try to work with his curse," Sirius explained. "He hates it. The idea he could – or should – commune with his, uh, what'd you call it? Inner wolf? Yeah, he'd find the thought abhorrent."
"He would not be the first afflicted soul to feel the same way," Starfoot sighed, taking a puff of his pipe. "There are other ways to suppress the curse. Drugs and rituals undertaken during the new moon to weaken and bind the wolf temporarily. But none are as effective as the Wolf's Bane potion for suppressing it, or the Wolf Speaking ritual to work with it."
"How effective is that ritual?" Harry wondered curiously. "And what does it mean to 'work with' the curse?"
"Those who have found a way to connect with their cursed form are able to be completely in control when they transform," the shaman informed them, and I blinked in shock. That sounded incredible!
"That sounds like Fenrir Greyback," Sirius muttered, eyes narrowed. "He's the most infamous werewolf in Europe and is rumored to be able to control what he does when transformed, even going so far as to speak."
"It is not impossible for other people to discover a similar method to get in touch with their curse," the shaman admitted. "Accepting and embracing the wolf-curse can lead to coexistence. How that happens varies between people. Some, like Fenrir, whose infamy is known even in these lands, revel in the wild nature Lycanthropy can bring. Others treat their inner wolf like a pet to be tamed or a threat to overcome. In the end, as long as it lets them find a degree of peace and control over their life, the method they use doesn't really matter."
"Even if Remus won't go for it right away, if we at least let him know such a thing is possible, he might change his mind someday," I said after thinking the shaman's words over.
"Right, yeah, that might work," Sirius agreed. "Better to have some idea that might work than not have one."
"We should also let Madam Bones know about this method as well," I added, and Sirius gained a smirk that promised 'fun' things for his best friend in the future.
"Yes. Yes, we should," he cackled, rubbing his hands together like a villain.
"If you're interested, here, take some of these," the shaman said, pulling out a few brochures that detailed the different workshops for curse communion methods. "I also sell a few self-help books."
He gestured to the shelf where a bunch of books were stacked. They looked just like any other self-help book out there, except with a magical photograph of a fully transformed werewolf wearing clothing, completely in control as he did chores around a house.
"Do they actually help?" I asked skeptically.
"They do," the shaman promised. "I wrote them myself. They also detail a few methods to perform a couple simple variants of the Wolf Speaking ritual that can be done safely at home."
"I'll take a dozen," I declared. "Do you accept credit cards, or do you prefer cash or check?"
"Cash is preferred, but checks are also fine," the shaman informed me, and I pulled out a few hundred-dollar bills to pay him. Money traded hands and I took the books. I'd give one to Remus, one to Amelia Bones, and the rest would be given to my werewolf employees.
Putting the books into my enchanted backpack, I thanked the man for his help, and he nodded back at me.
"If your friend truly does want help, there are workshops and special nature retreats held all over the country to assist werewolves, many of which I can personally vouch for," Shaman Starfoot added. "But they only work if he wants to find peace and be healed."
"Thank you, we'll keep that in mind," Sirius said.
"I hope this helps Mr. Lupin," Harry said as they left the store.
"It will," I assured him.
"Yeah, we'll make sure of it," Sirius declared. He then looked up at the sky-ceiling. "Hmm, it's mid-afternoon. What should we do next?"
"There's a Thunderbird reserve nearby," I offered. "I bet we could take a tour of it."
"That sounds cool!" Harry said excitedly. "Can we go there?"
"Sure, why not?" Sirius shrugged, though I could tell he looked as excited as his godson at the idea.
"Can't wait to tell everyone about what we've done when I get back!" Harry said as we headed to the exit. "I wish we could have brought Hedwig."
"Not exactly easy to bring an owl across the Atlantic on an airplane," I said. "But I'm sure the Weasleys are taking good care of her."
"Yeah, you're right," Harry said. "But I do miss my friends. Think we could bring them with us the next time we go on vacation?"
"Maybe," I replied. "Have no idea where we'll be going next year. Not yet."
"You won't have much free time when we return, so you won't be catching up with your friends anytime soon. Don't forget, you've got that thing at the Ministry as soon as we get back to London," Sirius reminded Harry, and he sagged a bit.
"Ugh," Harry groaned. "Do I have to?"
"You do, pup," Sirius said with a sympathetic shake of his head. "I know it sucks, but it's important to be seen there. It is a ceremony for you, after all. Plus, you get a fancy medal. Who doesn't want one of those?"
The Boy Who Lived didn't look very enthused, but nodded along all the same. His victory over the Basilisk was a well-known fact in England right now thanks to the Daily Prophetarticle, and his Order of Merlin, First Class, was to be awarded a couple days after returning from vacation.
The only reason it hadn't been awarded straight away was, once more, due to politics. Certain parties coughMalfoys! coughhad tried to block it going through, or at the very least bump it down a class or two. But there was too much outcry against that, and support for Harry was through the roof from pretty much everyone since he'd saved a castle full of children. Malfoy and the Dark leaning faction couldn't fight it forever, only delay it, and so the Light got its victory.
What did this mean for Harry? Well, practically, not much. An Order of Merlin, regardless of class, was one of the highest honors somebody could receive in the magical world. An Order of Merlin came with a minor stipend, a hundred or so Galleons a year, and the First-Class version granted a minor, non-hereditary seat on the Wizengamot.
But since Harry was already granted a seat on the Wizengamot due to his status as Heir and eventual Head of House Potter, as well as being rich due to same, it wasn't more than bragging rights.
"You'll do great, Harry," I told him, ruffling his hair. He grumbled at my show of affection but didn't try to swat my hand away.
I smiled a little at him. The future seemed bright, and I'd do whatever I could to keep it that way. As I thought that, I glanced over at Sirius.
'When we get back, I think it's time for me to tell Sirius and Remus some more about the future,' I decided. Yes, that was the best choice.