In which Harry takes his evening constitutional, and meets some Centaurs. The Centaurs have some questions, and Hagrid has some concerns. Draco wants to discuss Harry’s actions on the train, an...
A/N2: In which Harry takes his evening constitutional, and meets some Centaurs. The Centaurs have some questions, and Hagrid has some concerns. Draco wants to discuss Harry’s actions on the train, and yet again fa down go boom. Pansy expresses her own concerns and in a frank exchange comes to understand Harry’s position. The Outcasts observe one of Harry’s exercises, and Neville contracts a hit.
Harry Potter and the Sun Source
Chapter 4: Death Therapy
A single strand of Acromantula silk stretched the sixty three feet between the two ancient oaks, thirty feet off the ground. Harry ran across the gossamer strand for the tenth time. He was in the middle of twenty wind sprints in the pitch darkness of the forbidden forest at midnight when the first arrow arced toward him. Slapping the shaft away, he instantly identified the shooter by the sound of the being’s breathing and scent. A young centaur. Odd. Harry had encountered the Centaur herds of Mongolia and Siberia. They were a live and let live people, even Chuin approved of them. A second arrow flashed toward him. The 2nd Apprentice of Sinanju twisted his body slightly avoiding the projectile. Then Harry slid to a stop at the mid way point of the span, frowning in annoyance as a hand carved arrow passed through the space his body would have occupied if he hadn’t stopped. An unprovoked attack by a centaur?
One arrow coming at him might be an accident.
Two arrows could possibly be a mistake. Mistakes happen, Harry understood that.
Three arrows meant someone was using him for target practice. This was unacceptable. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone when he was running though his exercises? Harry moved the maintaining of his balance from his conscious control to its usual instinctual level and focused on the young Centaur down in the darkness of the forest floor who was even then nocking arrow number four and taking aim on the apprentice.
“Hey! Pony-Boy!” Harry called to the Centaur as the fourth feathered shaft flew past his left ear. “Quit shooting arrows at me. You’re pissing me off.”
“You are trespassing in our forest Human!” The Centaur called as he let the fifth arrow fly.
A universal constant in Harry’s life seemed to be some asshole always seemed to be looking for trouble. Harry snatched the arrow from the air and side armed the shaft back to the Centaur. The arrow entered the being’s left loin. That particular spot was exceptionally vulnerable in a Centaur, and the young being collapsed in a heap with an anguished cry.
A small hill rose in the middle of one of the few natural clearing in the Forbidden Forest. Atop the hill a cluster of seven centaurs gathered. The Elders of the herd assembled each night to examine the sky for minute changes. It had been this way since before the memory of the herd.
“The sky reveals much my brothers.” The oldest of the herd said.
“Aye Magorian,” the black haired centaur that stood to the Elder’s right said. “Mars is bright tonight.”
“Mars is indeed bright Bane,” the blond centaur standing to on the left of Magorian interrupted. “Venus, however is in retrograde, which counters the influence of Mars.”
“Firenze, do not presume to tell me of the meaning of the motion of the planets,” the centaur called Bane spat. “Venus’ ability to counter Mars is a gradual thing. Mars will be the dominant influence for several months yet.”
“Yeah, yeah. Mars is bright,” a new voice interrupted. “Venus is in retrograde and Uranus stinks. Who does this troublemaker belong to?”
Reacting as one, the seven centaurs nocked arrows in their bows and focused their aim on the unrecognized voice. They found a nondescript human yearling with black hair levitating an injured centaur colt with a centaur arrow buried in his left flank.
“What is it with you people?” The human asked. “This idiot attacks me for no reason, I try to return him to you so that you could see to his injuries and you’re all pointing your weapons at me. What has happened to this Herd that its automatic reaction to any rustling in the bushes is fear?”
“CHASTUS!” Bane called. “What have you done to my colt human?”
“I was minding my own business doing a few exercises in the forest. This idiot,” Harry indicated the petrified and levitated centaur, “took it upon himself to use me for target practice. I asked him to stop, he screamed something about my being in your forest, and continued to try to kill me.” Harry shrugged. “I gave him back his arrow. He didn’t seem to appreciate it.”
“You deny that this is our forest human?” the centaur known as Magorian asked.
“The herds of central Asia have no concept of the ownership of land.” Harry answered, lowering the wounded centaur to the ground. “They laugh at anyone who claims to own property beyond personal weapons and dwellings. I would have to wonder just where your herd acquired such a human concept.”
Magorian regarded the human yearling for a few moments, and then spoke again. “Lower your weapons.”
The majority of the elders immediately followed the instructions of their Herd Master. The exception was Bane. The black haired centaur kept his bow aimed at the human. “He injured my colt. The human’s blood will feed the pasture grasses.” He loosed his arrow.
Harry grasped the shaft of the arrow between his thumb and forefinger, canceling its forward motion with a twist of his wrist, to the amazement of the assembled centaurs.
“Like father, like son I see.” Harry said shaking his head, snapping the arrow. “I gave your idiot son a chance to leave me alone, and he kept right on being stupid. Your colt couldn’t kill me centaur, what makes you think you will do any better?”
“Bane!” Magorian spat. “I am Herd Master, you will obey!” The elder centaur glared at his subordinate until the bow was lowered. Then the old centaur turned his attention to Harry. “I am Magorian, Herd Master. Who are you Human?”
“I am Harry Potter, the 2nd Apprentice of Sinanju, Herd Master.”
“And what do you want of us Apprentice of Sinanju?” the blond centaur Firenze asked.
“I want to be left alone. I will be using this forest for training on occasion. I have no intention of interfering with your people, just as I avoid the Acromantulas as long as they leave me alone. This is why I didn’t kill this young one.” Harry gestured toward the still petrified Chastus. “I wish no ill will toward your people. I am of Sinanju, I go where I will and do what I will, subject only to the whims of my Master and my client. If any of your clan attacks me, I will respond, but I will not start trouble.”
“I will make it known to my people that you are to be avoided.” Magorian said simply.
“That’s all I ask.” Harry’s eyes met those of Bane. “You might want to make that especially clear to Bane and his colt. Something tells me that they might be slow learners. It would be most unfortunate if I was forced to kill either of them.” Harry cancelled the body bind on the young centaur, and then turned on his heel leaving the clearing, vanishing into the darkness of the forest.
“You allow him the freedom of our forest?” Bane raged.
“Silence Bane.” Magorian fixed the angry elder with a glare. “You disobeyed my order to lower your weapon. You attacked the human while I was negotiating with him. He shamed you by dismissing your attack as inconsequential. You dared to show disobedience in the face of a possible enemy? You will be silent or you will be banished from the herd.” Magorian drew himself to his full height. “Unless you choose to challenge me?”
Bane was silent, keeping his eyes focused on the ground.
“Yes Herd Master?” the Red Centaur answered.
“Approach Hagrid. Find out what you can about that Human. Firenze, contact the Asian herds. Find out what they know about this Sinanju.”
Harry made his way back to the castle noting before he opened the door that someone was waiting for him. Three someones to be exact. Two smelled of beef, the third beef overlaid with cologne. Malfoy, and most likely his bookend bodyguards.
Harry sighed silently. He had been expecting the blond idiot to try and get his revenge. No matter how much the idiot needed to die, Harry couldn’t kill him. The tenets of Sinanju wouldn’t let him kill a child. Hurt, yes. Damage, yes, but kill no. Harry had taken it upon himself to find out the Slytherin’s date of birth. June fifth. Almost eight months before Harry could do the world a service. As he stepped across the threshold, Harry wondered if he could find someone willing to pay to have him do it.
Draco Malfoy stepped from the shadows. “Potter.”
Harry smiled widely. “Wrong Hole? We haven’t spoken since the train, how are you doing?”
The blond colored. “You should be careful Potter. You’ve already annoyed the Dark Lord, how long do you suppose it will be before he comes for you?”
“Not long I hope. Could you please tell your Death Eater Daddy that I really want to talk to his boss would you Wrong Hole? The sooner I kill the pretentious fraud, the sooner I can find a real challenge.”
Draco stepped up to Harry until they were nose to nose. “Don’t you dare speak of my father you filthy half blood.”
Harry felt the pressure wave of the two blunt instruments approaching the back of his skull, and evaluated his choices. He could stop the attack, or remove himself from the situation. Malfoy’s position decided it for him. He dropped to the floor as the pair of short wooden bats passed through the space his head would have been in and impacted squarely into Malfoy’s face.
Crabbe and Goyle stood looking open mouthed at Malfoy laid out on the floor bleeding profusely from his crushed face while Harry rose from the floor level and snatched the bat from Goyle’s hand.
“Guys,” Harry said. “There’s nothing wrong with being muscle.” He grasped the bat on either side of its thickest point, and casually snapped it in two. The eyes of the pair immediately widened showing Harry that he had their attention. “But you really should consider working for a smarter boss, you know? Now, I’ve already had a nice night spoiled by a couple of asshole Centaurs, so I’m not going to hurt you, this time. Attack me again, even if Wrong Hole here is screaming at you to, and I’ll kill you both. Ok? We clear?”
The pair nodded dumbly.
“Good. So, you probably ought to get Wrong Hole up the see the Healer, he might die, you guys pack a fair punch…”
After the black haired wizard left, Vinnie Crabbe looked to Greg Goyle and shrugged. He drew his wand and levitated the unconscious Draco from the floor, only to drop the blond when his attention wavered.
Once again the pair shared a look and a shrug, and then they bent down to lift the injured boy and carry him to the Hospital Wing.
“Heh. Greg.” Vinnie said.
“Whut?” Greg answered.
“Wrong Hole.” Vinnie grinned.
“Yeah. Funny.” Greg agreed.
“Perfessor Dumbledore!” Rubeus Hagrid called as he entered the Headmaster’s office.
“What is it Hagid?” Dumbledore asked. This didn’t bode well. What could possibly have the normally jovial Care of Magical Creatures professor so upset?
“I was in the forest, tendin' to the thestrals an' Ronan o' the Centaur Herd came to me askin' questions about Harry Potter.”
Dumbledore blinked behind his half moon glasses. “Why does the Centaur Herd care about young Harry?”
“Ronan told me tha' the lad was in the Forbidden Forest last night doin' summat in the trees on Acromantula silk, when he was spotted by Chastus, tha's Bane’s eldest colt.”
“Yes, as I recall, young Chastus shares his father’s hostility toward humans. What happened?”
“Well, accordin' to Ronan, Chastus shot an arrow at Harry, an’ Harry shot it back, somehow woundin' Chastus really bad. No one’s seen a bow, so they don’t know how he did tha', Chastus is claimin’ Harry caught the arrow and threw it back to him. Then Harry brought Chastus to the Elder’s gatherin' demandin' to be left alone.”
“Interesting Hagrid. Very interesting. Should I assume that Magorian has granted young Harry’s request? What did you tell Ronan about Harry Potter?”
“Not much. Ronan was surprised tha' he was Lily’s son. He remembered her from when he helped her with a project when she was in school.”
That answer surprised Dumbledore. What was the normally talkative Hagrid so reticent? Normally it was a challenge to get the half giant to shut up, and here he was offering almost no information. “I’m surprised that you didn’t have more to say about the boy Hagrid.”
The large man blushed behind his bushy beard. “Well, I don’t rightly know Harry Potter, do I? I’ve been havin' a hard time seein' the sweet little baby I brought ter yeh in Surrey growin' up to be the man who’s walkin' the halls o' Hogwarts, yeh know?”
“I don’t understand Hagrid,” the responses from the half giant continued to perplex Dumbledore. If he didn’t know better he might have thought that Hagrid was intentionally engaging in tergiversation, but that wasn’t in Hagrid’s nature. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“He scares me, alright?” Hagrid admitted. “I don’t know what it is about him, but Harry Potter scares me right out o' me bloody mind. He has since the night he was sorted. Them eyes o' his, the color o' a killin' curse they are. Like he was death himself. When I heard what he’d been doin' in the forest, I talked ter Suragog, she’d be Aragog’s oldest. She was terrified o' the boy. Refused to even speak o' him. She was makin' the whole colony pack up an' move deeper into the forest. Tha'’s when I knowed I wasn’t imaginin' things. Anyone who could frighten a Acromantula SHOULD scare me.”
“Surely you’re exaggerating Hagrid.
“Perfesser, I’ve never feared no man, nor beast. I hate Dementers 'cause they make me feel the fear, but I don’t fear 'em 'emselves. I took one look at Harry Potter across the Great Hall an' it was all I could do not ter soil meself. When I heard yeh say tha' Harry would be attendin’ Hogwarts, I gathered all the pichers o' James an' Lily I could find, an' made a picher album fer ter give ter Harry, but I ain’t been able to brin' meself ter talk ter ‘im.”
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention Hagrid.” Dumbledore said. “I will investigate what young Harry was doing in the forest. Remember old friend, you have nothing to fear here at Hogwarts.”
The half giant hung his head. “I know that Perfesser. Truly I do. But knowin’ and believin’ are two different things.”
After Hagrid left his office, Dumbledore put his paperwork aside. What was Harry Potter doing in the Forbidden Forest? And what had the boy done to frighten the Acromantulas? What could anyone do to frighten an Acromantula? And he had a conflict with the centaur herd? No good could come from this… If only Tom would reveal himself so that the boy could do his duty…
“You wanted to see me Headmaster?” Harry asked as he entered Dumbledore’s office.
Severus Snape whipped out his wand “What did you do to Draco Malfoy, you arrogant bast…”
Snape’s rant was cut short when Harry’s hand flashed out and captured the Potions Master turned Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor’s ear. The man sunk to his knees in more pain than he had ever experienced before, all thoughts of using magic against the heir of James Potter vanishing.
“Mr. Potter please release Professor Snape, and refrain from attacking the staff.” Dumbledore sighed.
“Ah, I see.” Harry said, releasing the man in a manner that caused him to slide across the floor and hit his head painfully on the fireplace hearth. “He points his wand at me, is verbally abusive, and I’m in the wrong for reminding him of his manners. Tell me Headmaster, do you have similar rules for members of your staff who aren’t murdering rapists?”
As usual, Dumbledore ignored the references to his professor’s past. “Why did you attack Draco Malfoy?”
“I didn’t.” Harry said simply before turning to leave. “Is that all?”
“Hardly Mr. Potter.” The Headmaster snapped. “Have a seat.”
Harry shrugged and waived his wand at the squashy chair the headmaster indicated, transfiguring it to a wooden straight backed office chair.
Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You demonstrate an amazing level of skill, not reflected in your Transfiguration grades Mr. Potter.”
“As I pointed out the first time I was in your office, I am not a student Headmaster. I attend classes under protest. Professor McGonagall knows her topic, I’m sure, but her processes are simultaneously overly complex and mind numbingly simplistic. I for one prefer the History of Magic, because at least in that class, one can nap. What I should be doing is looking for my target, and believe me when I tell you the idiot can’t possibly be all that hard to find. In fact I’d lay good odds he’s at the Malfoy home, given the way Wrong Hole speaks of his ‘Dark Lord’ at every opportunity.” Harry watched in amusement as Severus Snape rose painfully to his feet. “By the way Headmaster, your pet Death Eater has had his last warning, he only got two because he seems oddly important to you. If he raises his wand to me again, he dies.”
“As arrogant as your father Potter.” Snape spat.
“Not yet, but I hope to be, though it really isn’t arrogance if you can actually do it, and my father can do pretty much anything.”
“James Potter is dead.” Snape all but screamed.
“Yes he is,” Harry agreed, “but we are talking about my father.”
“Draco Malfoy is in the Hospital Wing,” Dumbledore interjected, attempting to bring the conversation back on topic. “He is claiming that you beat him with a pair of beater bats.”
“Is he? One in each hand or sequentially after the first one broke?” Harry grinned.
“What is your explanation for that boy?” Snape asked.
“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe that Draco Malfoy is a liar? I’ve made the offer of Verasitum before. It stands. How about Wrong Hole? Will he take the three drops?” Harry leaned back in his chair. “Frankly Headmaster, I’m a bit insulted that you would believe for a moment that I would bother to use a blunt instrument to do Malfoy damage. You know what I can do… and that I wouldn’t deny it. On the other hand if you’d like the memory you might learn something… And we can all find out if you’ve got a special set of rules for the children of Death Eaters, just as you do for the Death Eaters themselves.”
Harry rose from his chair. “If that’s all, I’m going to head down to breakfast. Let me know if you decide you need that memory Headmaster, though I will be quite disappointed with you if you decide to take a lying sack of shit like Malfoy’s word over mine.” Harry turned toward the door, but seemed to remember something. “Oh, and Death Eater, remember, next time you die.”
The pair of educators watched as the boy leave.
“You knew the Malfoy boy was a liar Severus, yet you still throw the accusations around. The Potter boy will kill you if you continue to antagonize him. It’s only my interference that has allowed you to survive two encounters with him.”
“You can’t possibly believe that Albus.”
“Severus,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “By grasping your earlobe he had you utterly helpless. You had your wand out, ready to react and he took you down without the slightest effort on his part. Since the boy has returned to Britain, he has killed seven Death Eaters, crippled both Bellatrix LeStrange and Walden Macnair, and humbled you at least twice. You need to understand that he is not James Potter, he is not a practical joker, he is a killer.”
“But…” Snape was at a loss for words as he realized the truth of what he was being told.
“You had best explain the reality of the situation to young Mr. Malfoy as clearly as you can. I shudder to think what might happen if Lucius were to visit and confront Mr. Potter with his usual absolute belief in his own invulnerability. Having the head of an old line family slaughtered on the grounds would be very bad indeed.”
Sitting at the Hufflepuff table Harry was surrounded by chattering students. After his lifetime of eating most of his meals with Chuin, usually in silence, or occasionally while listening to his father expound on some function of Sinanju, Harry was unused to speaking during meals, but somehow he found the chatter, comforting.
That was when he sensed the attack. Some sort of spell was headed his way. Plenty of time to dodge, but doing so would put innocents in danger.
Harry’s perception of time sped up, and from his point of view the students around him slowed to a crawl, his attention focused on the incoming energy. It felt raw and tinged with a soul scaring bleakness. The minute hairs on the back of his neck reacted to the energy and Harry knew the vector from which the curse… yes it was a curse, came. If he moved then the curse would hit Hannah Abbott. Hannah was a very nice girl who didn’t want to help him with his research into the 37 steps. If the curse hit her it could be fatal… Decisions, decisions.
Harry grabbed the golden plate in front of him and swung it into position so that the slightly concave surface deflected the sickly yellow curse upward toward the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. He allowed his perceptions to slow down to a more normal speed, sound returned to him as the inhabitants of the Great Hall recognized that something was happening.
Harry stepped away from the table, and started to move slowly toward the girl. A slight young dark haired woman in Slytherin robes. She was a child, no killing. The girl cast another yellow curse at him, which Harry again deflected to the ceiling with the golden plate. A deep scratch appeared in the surface of the plate where the curses had hit it. So, she was casting a cutter then.
Harry had closed half the distance between them and the girl, her eyes wild, screeched at him.
“You hurt Draco, I’ll kill you, you half blood bastard.” Harry tried to remember what her name was, some flower… Rose? No. Petunia? No.
A third cutter joined the first two in scaring both the plate and the ceiling; Harry batted her wand away with a slap. “I’ll have you know my parents were married.” He said, deciding how he was going to deal with her. He dropped the plate, wrapping both his hands around her neck performing the technique Remo had demonstrated for him on a particularly loud and obnoxious woman in the lobby of a Miami Beach hotel.
What do you know? It works on witches too.
The Great Hall went silent except for the noises made by the Slytherin girl… Posey, that was it, wasn’t it? The young woman thrashed about, appearing to be in agony.
“Mr. Potter!” The Headmaster barked from his place at the Staff table. “My office, now!”
“This is getting kind of old Headmaster,” Harry said taking his seat in the chair he had transfigured that morning. “Am I going to be in here every time a Slytherin attacks me?”
Severus Snape uncharacteristically sat in the back of the office, remaining silent and regarding Harry with a very worried look.
“Mr. Potter, what have you done to Miss Parkinson?” Minerva McGonagall asked.
“I made her feel good,” The boy shrugged. “She used a rather nasty cutting curse, and of course I’m the one being questioned. Is it because they’re all Slytherins? I’ve heard about the free rein that house has had over the last decade or so. Is it alright if I defend myself against a Ravenclaw or Gryffindor?”
“Mr. Potter please answer my question,” Minerva McGonagall said through clenched teeth. How dare this boy suggest that she had shown preferential treatment? “What have you done to Miss Parkinson?”
“Are you up on your human anatomy Professor? If not then what I did will sound like Sanskrit to you.”
If anything her lips formed an even thinner line. “I am an educated woman Mr. Potter. I believe I can understand anything you might believe you know.”
Harry shrugged. “Alright. I compressed her trigeminal nerve with my left thumb while tapping her ulnar nerve in rhythm with her heart beat with my right index finger and stoked her vagus nerve with my right thumb.”
“And that caused the pain she was in? Mr. Potter, she was in agony for at least twenty minutes before Madam Pomfrey arrived to levitate her to the Hospital Wing.”
“I thought you claimed to be able to understand what I was doing Professor, being an educated woman and all. Miss Parkinson wasn’t in any pain. What she experienced was the climactic physiological state of heightened carnal stimulation and fulfillment that will be followed by relaxation of amatorial tensions and the body’s muscles...” The boy took on an evil smirk. “In about two hours.”
“What?” Dumbledore asked. “What did you do to her?”
“I gave her a two hour orgasm. She’ll be fine. Maybe a little dehydrated, but fine.” The headmaster’s office fell into shocked silence. “So, is that all?”
“No Mr. Potter it is not. Professor Sprout, go to the Hospital Wing and inform Poppy as to what she is dealing with. Professor Snape, perhaps you should hold a house meeting and emphasize to your Slytherins that any attacks on Mr. Potter will result in immediate expulsion.” The old man paused as the pair of professors exited his office to carry out their assignments.
“I will be staying Headmaster.” Minerva McGonagall spoke up. “Mr. Potter may not truly be a student, but he is still enrolled.”
“Of course, of course.” Dumbledore nodded. “Mr. Potter, this has to stop. You are calling attention to yourself.”
“That is sort of the point Headmaster.” The boy said dismissively. “Since you won’t let me go find my target, I have to make him come to me. I have no intention of being here any longer than I have to. The sooner I get Voldemort in my sights the sooner I can move on to my next job. I have responsibilities Headmaster; your contract, paying as it does simply the Apprentice rates, won’t feed the children of Sinanju for long.”
Harry sat up on the bed and looked down on the two sleeping naked women.
Well, so much for the theory that he might have better luck making it past step twenty with two women to divide his attention between. The Strawberry blonde, Tracey, had made it to step ten, just like Susan, his previous high mark. Daphne, the black haired beauty with the most amazing violet eyes Harry had ever seen had started screaming his name at step 13, and passed out entirely by step 14.
It was amazing how a pair of cynical young women could become mewling ragdolls after only six steps. Harry wondered if the cynicism was all an act in order to fit in better among the other Slytherins. Daphne was waking up. Harry looked deeply into her eyes as she woke.
“Wow. Pansy wasn’t kidding, you do have magical hands. Ooh.” She said looking down at his erection. “Is that for me?” The beauty moved down the bed and took him in her mouth. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on controlling his reactions.
“Now this has definitely worth skipping classes this afternoon.” Tracey said as she moved to join her friend. “Share you greedy witch.”
Ok. Harry thought. Round two. Start from the basics, let’s break step 15 this time.
He reached down to start step one on both women at the same time.
Harry rose effortlessly out of the trap door that led to the observation level of the Astronomy Tower, ignoring the protests of the two couples on either side of the landing. This was perfect. The tower was dark with the only light coming from the stars above.
Harry wondered for a moment if any of the stars were unnecessarily bright. Grinning at his private joke, the 2nd apprentice of Sinanju reviewed what his senses were telling him. The tower smelled of a centuries of students meeting for supposedly clandestine trysts. The air; felt damp and tasted like the oil that was used to lubricate the telescope gimbals. Pollen particles, the last hoorah of trees and other plants shutting down for winter, danced in the minute rays of light coming from the stars in the sky. In the far side of the tower, the young Ravenclaw woman with the blond Hufflepuff man had just started her period. On the other side of the tower, the Gryffindor 7th year girl had brought her date to climax, though he had not returned the favor. Down in the courtyard at the base of the tower came the breathing and conversations of seven … no eight students.
Harry breathed, steadily, and relaxed the centrality of his being to lower the pulse and expand what he had learned was the calm within him. The calm which the few, very few modern humans ever knew.
So Harry Potter stood silently on the rampart of the tower, taking in everything that was happening around him. He breathed deeply, then slid through the dark, in almost an imperceptible move and was on the crenellated parapet. He wore black trainers so that he could not see his feet in the dark, a black tee shirt so that a color flashing in the dark would not throw off unbalancing brightness. His trousers were black. Night moving in night.
He moved to the very edge of the parapet his toes on the very edge, getting the feel of its grip into the ancient stone. If you know the feel of objects, the feel of their mass, their movement and their strength, you could use that as your strength. That was the secret of force. To not fight it. And to not fight it was the best way to fight people when you had to.
Harry stood on the edge and gathered the where of the ground into his balance. He would have to find another place to try this exercise, because sooner or later he would be performing muscle memory instead of proper use of balance and judgment.
When he had first learned the exercise Chiun had him watch a cat for a day and a half. Harry had been told to become the cat. So, Harry had spent the fifty six hours watching the cat and emulating its movements, toward the end he thought, really thought, he could become the cat. Now Harry indulged a second private little joke which signaled the start of the exercise.
"Meow," he whispered in the silent, dark night.
He stood on the edge, straight up, and allowed his body fell forward, closing his eyes. His shoes gripping the stone by pressure, head going forward, shoes flipping up, the stone adding force, body heading straight down, hair and head aiming straight at the ground like a dart dropping from a great height.
Harry fell, one second, two, three, four and his hair touched the grass of the courtyard triggering a body trunk flip, the dark form in the dark night spinning in space, his trainers coming around quick-rocket fast-arching and down steady standing on the ground.
Thump. The sound echoed against the stone of the castle broadcasting his failure to the world. He had held for the last hair-touching instant and then let the muscles take over, the muscles of a cat which shifted the body in air and put the feet on the ground. An exercise the body could do only when the mind was trained, trained to borrow the balance of another animal.
Harry Potter had heard the thump of his trainers impacting on the ground. He had not been perfect. His landing should have been silent. Little Father would be disappointed. His self recriminations were interrupted by the gasps of the eight students he had landed among.
“Bloody hell!” Came a voice he recognizes as belonging to the male 6th year Gryffindor Prefect, Neville Longbottom.
“Hello Harry Potter”
“Good evening Miss Lovegood.” Harry said, wondering just where he had gone wrong in his drop. He was more than a little ashamed that these others witnessing his failure.
“How did you do that?” Harry recognized the voice as belonging to Hermione Granger. “You can’t do that,” the brunette continued, denying the evidence of her own eyes. “It’s impossible.”
“The Dead Drop is a basic training exercise Prefect Granger.” Harry said, turning his attention to the ground, attempting to ascertain the depth of the impression his landing had left in the lawn. “I’ve been doing it since I was nine.”
“You seem unhappy with your amazing performance Harry Potter.”
“I am Miss Lovegood. My technique was flawed. This is unacceptable.” Harry nodded to the blonde. “I must correct my deficiencies. Have a nice evening Miss Lovegood, please give my best to your father.”
“Of course Harry.”
Harry made his way to the castle entrance, heading back to the top of the Astronomy tower, this time to do it right. There wouldn’t be a sound when his trainers hit the ground
Hermione stood stalk still, her mouth open, watching the dark haired man enter the castle. Just the way his body moved held her attention like on one ever had. Wide eyed she looked up to the top of the Astronomy tower trying to understand how he had survived the fall… What had he called it, ‘the Dead Drop’?
A hand fell on her shoulder. “Hermione lets take a walk.” Neville said quietly.
She turned her attention to her oldest friend. “Nev?”
“Yes Hermione.” Hannah said. “Let’s go for a walk.” The blond Hufflepuff took Hermione’s left hand in hers and guided the brunette away from the chattering outcasts.
“Hermione, I saw the way you were looking at Potter. Forget it; he wouldn’t be good for you.”
“Neville, it’s not like that. I was just…”
“You were looking at him like he was a steak and you hadn’t eaten for a while Hermione.” Hannah said gently. “I don’t want to speak ill of a house mate, but Harry isn’t looking for a relationship. He’s been working his way through the unattached women in Hufflepuff, and more than a few outside the house. We’ve been back six weeks and he’s had a different girl just about every night. It’s just sex. The sad part is that as far as I can tell they all come on to him.”
“I’ve heard Lavender and Parvati talking about him,” Neville interrupted. “They both plan to join the queue. To hear them tell it, he radiates an allure, like a Veela or something.”
“There are no male Veela.” Hermione responded automatically.
“No there aren’t, but I’ve felt the attraction he gives off.” Hannah said. “I don’t think it’s intentional, but he does it. One on one, he’s the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. But when he hooks up, it’s just sex. He would sleep with you, but there wouldn’t be any love in it Hermione, just sex.” If Susan was any example, mind blowing sex, but Hannah didn’t see fit to mention that.
Hermione reflected on that. “It’s just that he’s so… Would ‘just sex’ really be all that bad?”
“If you really believed that, you could have your choice of the sixth and seventh year Ravenclaw men for the last year.” Hannah suggested. “And more than a few ‘Puffs.”
“You saw what he did to Parkinson.” Neville noted.
“Yeah.” The brunette nodded.
“I thought he was killing her.” Hannah noted. “I mean she’s a hateful bitch, but the way she was thrashing about…”
“Hermione,” Neville interrupted. “Just don’t. Ok? Just stay away from him. You deserve better than what Harry Potter is willing to offer.”
“But he’s just so…”
“Hermione,” Hannah stopped outside the entrance to the castle, put her hands on her friend’s shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “You will do what you want to do. If you choose to join the queue at Harry’s bed, well, it’s your life. But I think we both know that it isn’t what you really want.”
Hermione Granger reflected on the conversation with Hannah and Neville while she went through her evening routine. Hannah was right, she didn’t want ‘just sex’. Neville was right; she should avoid the enigma that was Harry Potter.
She regarded herself in the full length mirror of the sixth year Gryffindor girl’s bath. She was seventeen now, an adult in the eyes of the magical world, and she was pleased with the way her body had filled out. Not a beauty by any extent of the imagination, but an attractive young woman none the less.
What did Harry see when he looked at her? He was always so formal with his way of addressing her as ‘Prefect Granger’. Why had she opened her mouth at first night back? How would he treat her if she had been pleasant and not such a bitch?
She was doing it again. Thinking about Harry Potter.
It was bloody hard not to. The image of Pansy Parkinson flailing about on the floor of the Great Hall after she drew her wand on the Boy Who Lived haunted her so. Parkinson had been screaming at Potter about injuring Draco Malfoy, and had cast a sickly yellow curse after yellow curse at him. Potter had used a plate to deflect the curses and made his way to Pansy and with hands moving so quickly as to have them appear to blur, grasped the back of Pansy’s neck before allowing her to fall to the stone floor. At first it appeared that Pansy was dying, thrashing about almost to the point of convulsions, making noises that Hermione could barely believe, and actually foaming at the mouth.
Potter had, of course, been taken away by the Headmaster, Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall, and a strangely cowed Professor Snape, disappearing into the Headmasters office for what everyone assumed would be an expulsion, only to appear at Transfiguration fifteen minutes late with Professor McGonagall, not appearing to have been punished in anyway.
Pansy returned from the Hospital Wing in time for the evening meal, oddly… changed, the Slytherin spent the meal sending wistful looks toward the Hufflepuff table. When Harry rose from the table she approached him, as the entire school looked on. Pansy placed her right hand against his chest and spoke in low tones that did not carry.
Harry smiled and shook his head, then left the Great Hall to evidently do whatever it was one did to prepare to jump off the Astronomy tower.
Pansy Parkinson, the queen bitch of Slytherin watched him leave, and then fell to her knees and burst into tears.
Ok, this was getting her nowhere. Hermione ran a brush through her hair for a few moments and then exited the bath, returning to the dormitory. Nodding to Lavender and Parvati, she climbed into her bed and pulled the drapes closed before erecting a silencing charm on the bed.
Hesitating for a moment she pulled the map from the book bag at the foot of her bed. Touching her wand to the parchment she intoned “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” Watching as the map drew itself, Hermione looked for Harry.
Not in his dorm. Not in his common room, and not, she felt a pang of relief that she refused to admit to herself, in the Hufflepuff ‘couples room’.
Where was he? Her eyes flew over the parchment looking for the moving legend that would identify Harry Potter. There, in the dungeons, in the long passage outside the Potions classroom. He was moving along the passage…
And he was gone, only to reappear a distance down the passageway, perhaps five meters from his starting point, smoothly picking up where his movement had stopped, he disappeared again, only to reappear further down the passage yet again.
That wasn’t possible. He appeared to be doing a short range apparition, but you couldn’t do that in the castle. It wasn’t possible. Hermione touched her wand to the parchment. “Mischief Managed.”
Not possible. He couldn’t do that. Hermione thought as she returned the map to its storage place. But it wasn’t possible to survive a jump from the Astronomy tower either. How did he…
Hermione lay back in her bed, pulling the blankets to her chin, her mind racing. Who was this ‘Harry Potter’? None of her books had prepared her for what he was turning out to be. Her mind drifted to how he moved yet again, the muscles of his chest rippling in movement.
Almost without her knowledge her hands drifted down and she was touching herself, her eyes closed as a familiar face filled her mind, she almost felt that muscular chest against her own, her nipples hard, his hands touching her body… No… too fast… too fast…
Hermione arched her back as her orgasm hit her hard. Through clenched teeth she whispered “Harry!”
In late October Neville found Luna in her usual spot, sitting with her back against the Whomping Willow, giggling quietly as the tree tickled her with its smallest limbs. Neville knew from bitter experience that if Luna was with the tree, then her dorm mates were being bitches again.
“Good afternoon Luna”
“Oh, hello Neville.” The blonde said happily. “How are you today?”
“I’m fine Luna. Have the Ravenclaws been treating you badly again?” It was Luna’s third year that the outcasts had discovered how Luna was treated by her housemates. This knowledge had led to a few spirited discussions, and an incident or two of outright violence. Somehow Neville never did manage to feel all that guilty about breaking Stephen Cornfoot’s nose for calling Luna a ‘Raving Lunatic’ who could probably use a good fuck to straighten her out.
“I do not understand why they insist on being so difficult.” Luna sighed, and then she brightened. “For some reason they all leave me alone when I sit here.”
“It’s good that you have a place that’s all your own.” Neville looked cautiously at the tree. “Would your friend mind if I were to join you?”
“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be a problem Neville.” Neville was rewarded with one of Luna’s dazzling smiles before she turned to the tree. “Salix, this is my friend Neville. Would you mind if he were to join me?”
Neville resisted the urge to giggle at Luna communing with the tree.
“Salix says you can come in Neville.” Luna patted the ground next to her. “Do come and sit.”
Neville made his way to Luna’s side, sitting gingerly on the damp grass.
“So what do you want to know about Harry Potter Neville?”
That startled the scion of the Longbottom family. “How did you know I wanted to know about Harry?”
“You’ve been paying attention to me when I talk about him. You’ve had a look on your face for a while, like you’ve been trying to decide about something. I’ve heard from Daddy that you’ve formally assumed the position of Heir of the House Longbottom, and have announced your intention to assume the full responsibilities of the Head of your family when you achieve your majority. Today you’re here with a serious look on your face. You want to know about Harry.”
Neville sighed. With all of her strange beliefs and claims of fantastic creatures it was easy to forget just how intelligent the young witch was. How observant she could be.
“Yes. I need to know if the stories you’ve been telling about Harry are true. Has he really been raised by a Korean assassin to be an assassin?”
“He has. You’ve seen him Neville, that ‘Dead Drop’ he did right in front of us. I know you were off on a picnic with Hannah during the attack at Hogsmeade, but you must have heard what he did to the Death Eaters stupid enough to be looking for him. Harry is death, plain and simple. And as hard as it might be to believe, his father is even more dangerous.”
“He will actually kill people for money?”
“He will. He does.” Luna said confidently. “I haven’t confirmed it with him, but I believe that is why he’s here, to deal with Mr. Who.”
“Mr. Who?” the very confused Scion of the Longbottom family asked.
“Well, I hardly know him well enough to call him ‘You Know’.”
“Oh… Of course.” Neville had learned a long time before to never question Luna and her ideas. “Have you any idea what Harry charges?”
“Tell me what you know of the boy Severus.”
Snape kept his eyes focused on the slate flooring. The Death Eaters were forbidden to look upon their Dark Lord now.
“He is… powerful My Lord.”
“Explain yourself Severus.”
“I have witnessed the boy perform transfiguration far beyond N.E.W.T. level work, seemingly without effort or concentration, both wanded and wandlessly. He rarely uses the incantations. Flitwick has told me that the boy’s use of charms is equally as effortless.”
“And his work in your class Severus?”
“He has bested my every test. I believe him to be far more powerful than I.” Snape said, and then suddenly realizing what he had said, hastily continued. “He is of course nothing before your power.”
“Of course.” Voldemort nodded. “Have you discovered what he did to Bellatrix or Macnair?”
“The boy uses some form of Muggle fighting technique as well as his magic.”
“That would explain his physique.” Voldemort pondered for a moment. “What weapon did he use on the pair he cut in half in the Hogsmeade raid?”
“His hands My Lord.” Snape said. “He only used his hands.”
The door to Voldemort’s sanctuary opened and Lucius Malfoy entered, bowing deeply.”
“Ah, Lucius. How goes the preparations?”
“Everything is ready My Lord.” The blond man said. “Four trolls are ready, and Srach has agreed to join in the attack with two of his best.” Lucius hesitated for a moment. “My Lord, I request a boon.”
“What is it Lucius?” Voldemort asked dangerously.
“The boy has injured my son twice now. I request to lead the mission to capture him for your pleasure.”
There was several moments of silence in the chamber. “Very well Lucius, you may lead my Death Eaters in this task. Be aware however, should you fail, the penalty will be severe.”
“Of course My Lord.”
“And if Potter is damaged in any permanent way, your punishment will be legendary.”
Lucius swallowed at that warning. “As it should be My Lord.”
“Go and prepare. Send your wife to me. I require her assistance.”
Lucius backed from the chamber, bowing as he went.
“Severus, I want you observing this attack. If Potter appears to be escaping, you will prevent him from doing so. Am I understood?”
“Of course My Lord.” Snape exited the room in much the same way Lucius Malfoy had. No, Dumbledore wasn’t going to know of this meeting. This was perfect. The arrogant spawn of James Potter die, and Lucius Malfoy would receive the blame from both sides. Just perfect. Severus Snape would have the last laugh.
“Good morning Harry.”
Harry looked up from the book he was reading. “Good morning Neville. Are you staying in today? I thought everyone had left for Hogsmeade for Christmas shopping.” Harry had been told that the last weekend before the Christmas break was always a busy one in Hogsmeade.
“I was just heading out, and wondered if you’d like to come along.”
“I don’t really care for Hogsmeade Neville.” Harry shrugged. “Not much to do there that isn’t expensive, toxic, pointless or a combination of the three. My family doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so there’s no real point.”
“I was hoping that you’d come along so that we could talk, and perhaps do a little business.” Neville said quietly. “You could ride down to town with me, then come right back…”
Harry’s head perked up at the word ‘business’. He stood from the bench he was sitting on. “That sounds very mysterious and interesting. Alright, a carriage ride might be in order after all.”
Neville eyed Harry’s usual out of class attire. “You’ll want to grab a cloak. We picked up a couple of feet of snow last night.
Harry looked down at his jeans and dark blue tee-shirt bearing the legend ‘Travel the world, meet interesting people… and kill them for the right price’ A gift from Remo for his 16th birthday. Chuin had not approved. “Nah, I’m good. Let’s go.”
The pair made their way to the Entrance Hall and found an empty carriage waiting. The carriage began moving as soon as they had taken their seats.
“So…” Neville began hesitantly. “Luna has been telling us that you are trained as an assassin, and your shirt seems to bear that out.”
“I am.” Harry said simply.
“Back in August, you killed several Death Eaters in an attack at Diagon Alley.”
“I did.” Harry agreed, wondering where this was going.
“But you allowed Bellatrix LeStrange to live. I was wondering why.”
Harry examined the Gryffindor prefect closely. “I wanted to send someone a message, and she appeared to be the leader of her group of incompetents.”
“She is the evil bitch who lead the group that tortured my parents to insanity.” Neville said. “I truly wish you had killed her.”
“If it helps I crippled her. She had been casting a crucio on a friend of mine, so I crushed her brachial plexus and several nerve bundles. I made sure she would never hold a wand again, and would be in constant pain for the rest of her life.”
“They’d just take her to a healer.”
“No healer on the planet could fix that Neville. If Voldemort lives up to his reputation, he’s killed her himself by now. He isn’t supposed to have much patience with broken tools.”
“That leaves the rest of her team from the attack on my parents.” Neville said. “Barty Crouch Jr. died in Azkaban, but the LeStrange brothers are still alive. I’ve got a Gringotts draft for twenty thousand Galleons in my pocket. I want Rabastan and Rodolphus LeStrange dead, and I’m willing to pay you five thousand galleons apiece.”
The carriage passed through the Gates of Hogwarts. “And the other ten thousand?” Harry asked.
“Ultimately Voldemort is responsible for everything that has happened to my family and my friends. I want him dead as well. Twenty thousand for the three.”
Harry thought about Longbottom’s request. Getting paid three times for the same job. That had to be a good thing. Besides if these LeStranges were as dedicated as rumor had they were, Harry would end up killing them anyway when they got between him and Voldemort.
From his jeans pocket Harry withdrew a tiny scrap of parchment. With a wave of his wand, the scrap expanded to a full sized roll, with a Sinanju contract inscribed upon it. Harry extended the contract and a conjured quill to the Heir of the Longbottom family.
“Fill in the targets, the amount offered and sign at the bottom by the X. As soon as I have your draft, I’m in your employ. However, you should know I’m already on a job, and yours will have to wait until I complete this one.” Harry frowned. “My first client has restrictions on me that are slowing me down on his job. But I should be able to complete his and your hits by the end of June. “
“I don’t care how long it takes as long as they are dead.” Neville said as he signed the contract with something of a flourish, and then extended his hand. “Our parents, our birth parents I mean, were friends”
“Yes, they were all Gryffindors and in the same cohort.” Neville hesitated for a moment. “Our birth families have been allies for centuries. If things had gone differently, you and I might have been childhood friends.”
“Honestly, all I know of the Potters is what Gringotts has told me.” Harry said putting the contract away until he could mail it to his father. “The Goblins are good allies, but realistically all they care about humans is their bank balances and if they make their payments on time.”
Neville hesitated again. “Has Dumbledore told you about the prophecy?”
“I think you should know. Last year the Death Eaters broke into the Ministry of Magic in order to get at a prophecy sphere. They were charmed so that only those the prophecy was about could remove them from their shelves. That was how it was confirmed that Voldemort had returned, as he was scene when he retrieved the sphere.”
“So it was a prophecy about Voldemort?”
“Voldemort and the one destined to vanquish him.” Neville had spent the entire summer forcing himself to call the Dark Lord by his name. Now he was glad he had so that he didn’t embarrass himself in front of Harry Potter. “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.” Neville recited.
“Well that doesn’t say much does it?” Harry asked
“Dumbledore believes it refers to you, That the scar that Voldemort gave you is how you were marked, though it could also refer to me because you and I were the only magical children born in late July whose parents also defied Voldemort three times, though I’m damned if I could tell you how he supposedly marked me. Anyway after Voldemort got the prophecy last June, Dumbledore took me aside and showed me the prophecy.”
“Hmm.” Harry hummed. “Still sounds awfully vague to me. I’ve never really believed in prophecies. My father puts great stock in them, but all the ones I’ve been aware of seemed to have a lot of people working very hard to ensure they come true.”
Neville shrugged. “I put up with Divination for a year, and then moved on to Ancient Runes. At least in that class a symbol means the same thing every time. Anyway, maybe ‘the power the Dark Lord knows not’ is your fighting style.”
“Maybe.” Harry agreed.
The carriage pulled to a stop at the Hogsmeade drop off point. Neville opened the door and prepared to exit before turning. “Are you sure you don’t want to come into town for a bit?”
Harry hesitated, and then nodded. “Why not?” His clothing flowed to the required school uniform.
Neville shook his head. “That’s amazing. You do that so effortlessly.”
“Practice” Harry shrugged.
“But you’re not cold?” Neville gestured at the falling snow.
“No. Why should I be?”
“But Harry, it’s freezing out here.”
“Yes it is.” Harry agreed. “About negative three Celcius. The weather might be cold, but my body isn’t. Your body is a heat furnace, all you have to do is learn to control it and you will never be cold again.”
“That’s all eh?” Neville asked laughing.
Twenty minutes later Harry and Neville were sitting in the Three Broomsticks following a short and for Neville, fairly expensive, stop at a local jewelry store. Neville had ordered a butterbeer while Harry had asked for, and gotten a glass of water.
“Neville Franklin Longbottom!”
The use of all three of his names had Neville looking for the speaker. He found her via Harry pointing at the raging brunette who was stomping toward the table the young men shared.
“Something wrong Hermione?” He asked, wondering what he had done to earn the use of all three of his names.
“You were supposed to have words with your grandmother.” She said hotly as she sat down. “She approached my father yesterday and tried to negotiate a marriage contract.”
“Oh hell.” He said. “I did tell Gran no and that you weren’t interested. She just told me that we were too young to know what we wanted, but I thought she’d gone off the idea. Are you parents angry?”
“She offered Daddy Half a Million Pounds. Half a Million! He says he’s thinking about it. When I get home I am going to give him something to think about I assure you!”
“Half a million pounds?” Neville asked. “How much is that in real money?”
“One hundred thousand Galleons.” Harry said, earning himself an odd look from both of the 6th year Gryffindor prefects. “What? The exchange rate is pegged at 5 Pounds Sterling to the Galleon. It’s been that way since the goblins quit making Galleons out of gold in the early 1830s.”
“What do you mean they quit making Galleons out of gold?” Neville asked.
“Everyone knows that Galleons are gold.” Hermione agreed.
“Then ‘everyone’ are idiots.” Harry said dismissively, fishing a galleon coin from a pocket, and held it up. “This coin weighs exactly 31.1034768 grams, that’s one troy ounce. Gold closed yesterday at 369 US Dollars to the troy ounce, or 198.38 Pounds Sterling. That means that if this Galleon is made of gold, its exchange rate Sterling should be just short of 200 Pounds. Since the exchange rate is pegged to 5 Pounds, that means that the most gold that this coin could contain is less than .78 of a gram. The Goblins are a mercantile race, business is in their blood. There is no way in hell they would bankrupt themselves to keep the Wizards on the gold standard. This coin is charmed to look and feel like gold, but it isn’t gold.”
“Not gold?” Neville asked, shocked at the revelation.
“How do you know the closing price of gold?” Hermione asked. “Or the exchange rate of the Dollar to Sterling?”
Harry shrugged. “It’s my business to know. My father’s work involves international currency. He mostly deals in bullion, but you have to know the exchange rates to price your services properly.” Harry looked up from the table. “Hello Tonksie.”
“Hello Harry. I had some time off, and heard that there was a Hogsmeade weekend this week, I thought I’d stop by and see if you were doing anything. And here I find you holding a finance class.” The woman with the pink hair grinned.
“This is Tonksie.” Harry said to his tablemates. “Tonksie, this is Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger, they’re the sixth year Gryffindor Prefects.”
“What are you doing hanging out with the Lions Harry? I heard you were a ‘Puff.”
“I’ve gotten to know people from all the houses Tonksie.” He looked into the woman’s eyes. “And how have you been?”
“Insanely busy, between pulling double shifts and odd jobs for the Headmaster I haven’t had much time to myself since August. So, could we go somewhere private and finish that conversation we were having back in August?”
“Sure.” Harry stood from the table. “Neville, Prefect Granger, I’ll see you two back at the castle.”
Hermione stared as the pink haired woman led Harry to the stairs leading to the upper level where the private rooms were. Neville looked at his friend, deeply concerned.
“Do you know who that was?” Neville asked.
“Tonksie, Harry said.” Hermione responded bitterly.
“That’s Nymphadora Tonks, the Metamorphamagus Auror.
Wonderful. How could she compete with that?
“Welcome to Prestwick Mr. Davis.” The customs official said as she examined the man’s passport. “Are you visiting the UK on business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure.” The man said. “Visiting my younger brother at the school he attends here.”
“How nice.” The young woman named Kirstie Walker said as she stamped the passport. There was something about this man… She suddenly realized that she couldn’t remember her boyfriend’s name, and that her mouth was very dry. This ‘Remo Davis’ was a very attractive man, dark hair and eyes, he moved like a dancer, all muscle and grace. “It’s a bit cold out today, we got two feet of snow last night. You might want to get your jacket from your luggage before you head outside to the taxi queue.” She said, feeling a little stupid for stating the obvious as she offered the man his passport.
“Thank you.” The man said with a smile as he collected his passport. The young woman noted his very thick wrists and unconsciously licked her lips.
“Are you familiar with the area? I could probably find the time to give you a tour sometime …”
“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll only be in this area long enough to get my rental car before I head up north to my younger brother’s school.” The man smiled again as he lifted his case effortlessly. “Maybe on my return trip.”
“Thank you Mr. Davis. Have a pleasant stay.” Kirstie called after him as he exited the customs area. This earned her some odd looks from her coworkers.
A few thoughts:
- A special thanks to both Harold Ancell on the Deluded Muse and EnderWiggin of TFF for pretty much simultaneously pointing me at the online Hagridizer that allowed me to actually use our favorite Groundskeeper/Psychotically bad teacher in a story. His dialect has always held me back for making much use of the Half Giant…
- Why, yes, I did recycle the “Mr. Who” joke from “The Night of the Minilop”. Big whoop, wanna fight about it?