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Chapter 9 — I Gotta Do It My Way (reprise)

This marks the second occasion in the last few months that someone has tried to bury you alive. The last time, you had a bank vault to duck into. Apparition, flying, and Portkeys aren't good options and there isn't a bank vault handy.

Or is there…?

You back away and say, "Everyone, get into the cave." Losing composure midway through an avalanche isn't really helpful. The low rumbling of the sheets of snow and ice are starting to build — so is the tension.

"What cave?" One of the mercenaries nearby shouts.

"This one! Right here! Tonare!" Your blasting curse smashes into the side of the mountain and creates an indentation.

"It'll never be big enough!"

You point at the equipment floating on a magical disk. "It just needs to be big enough for the tent!"

Moody, Kwan, and Bill quickly jump on the idea and their curses join yours. The mercs and your trail guide, Svetlanna, warm up to the idea seconds later and soon the small hole begins to grow even larger. Your spells act like pile drivers, digging ever deeper. Maybe the shortest distance between two points is actually your wand. Seven blasting curses cast in rapid succession leave you magically and physically winded. The others easily added fifty or sixty more to your efforts.

The result isn't pretty, but you're not really here to admire the view. Instead of giving the dust a chance to settle, Moody is vanishing it. Kwan, and the leader of the mercenaries, Sean, positions the command tent into the hole.

Moody's eye scans wildly. "Potter, engorge one of those rocks so we have something to plug the front of the cave."

You comply with a heart charged by adrenaline. Maybe there's something to be said about being a thrill junkie. People are piling into the tent while Moody helps you levitate the enhanced rock in front of the entrance. You spare a look up in the sky where Hack is heading towards that troll ringing the gong and sense your familiar getting excited as well.

Mad Eye's shout rings in your ear. "Weasley, quit buggering with those sappers and get your arse in here!"

The red head looks up from rolling the last hunk into a crevice he made for them. "We'll need to be able to find them after the avalanche." Bringing them into the tent is a bad idea. One of them accidentally goes off and the tent might be rendered inert. That would be a good recipe for a quick death.

The old wizard points at the approaching wall of doom, "Are they worth dying over?"

Bill's a fairly pragmatic individual. "Point taken. This should be good enough."

He sprints over and ducks behind the two of you. Mad Eye grunts in your ear and gestures at the rock, "Okay lad, pull it right up to the hole nice and tight. We don't want that white stuff to pound it in here."

There are obvious sexual connotations. You wonder if he's a nutter or a creepy old man — best to settle on a bit of both and ignore it.

Less than a minute later, the makeshift barricade shifts under the weight of the snow.

Bill looks around. You, he, and Kwan have been here before. He says, "Okay, we'll need to put on bubblehead charms in a minute before we start digging our way out. Lets take our time when we do this and do it in teams so that most of us are rested when we make it to the surface. Odds are that there's going to be a welcoming committee up there when we break through."

Kwan replies, "He is right. Expect to fight."

You leave the deep thinking to them and move towards the back of the tent. Svetlanna is resting on a chair nearby and smiles at you. She motions to the seat beside her. "You think on your feet and have good instincts for one so young."

Sagging into the cushions, you shrug. "It's not the years, it's the miles."

She tosses her black hair over her shoulder and laughs while placing a hand on your knee. "I take it there's a story behind that statement."

"You could say that."

"Perhaps you will tell me then?"

"It's a very long story and the air in here won't last. How about another time?"

Svetlanna nods understandingly. "Very well, I will curb my curiosity for the moment. Will your troll be assisting in the effort to dig us out? It is a most peculiar specimen. I have never in my travels seen one able to adjust its size like that one can."

"That's Hack. He's one of a kind. He'll probably be on the lookout as we dig our way out of this. Not much gets by you does it?" You check the bond with your "familiar." He's up on top of the mountain and seems very excited. Good for him. For a second you wouldn't mind if the bond included some form of telepathy, but frankly, the idea of Hack speaking directly into you mind might have a real downside.

"No, I am very perceptive. In my line of work, it is every bit as helpful as that totem I've spotted poking out from under your shirt."

Bill comes over. "Harry, you and our guide here are paired up. When Kwan and I start to tire, we'll get the two of you. Work until you're tired and then get Moody and Sean.   They'll take over for you. Now, rest up, cut the chatter, and conserve our air."

You nod and perform a bubblehead. From the looks of things, you have much of the next hour to relax. That's what your life really boils down to - brief periods of desperate insanity and near death experiences followed by idleness.

At some point, assuming you live long enough, you're going to make a therapist very, very rich.

According to Bill, Cursebreakers spend a lot of time inside a Bubblehead charm. Tombs filled with poisonous gasses and other fumes are an occupational hazard. Removing your copy of Golinard's from a trunk, you start reading. You're too wired to just sit around.   Studying or carving seems like a good way to pass the time. Returning to your chair, you open the book and settle in. The Russian witch leans closer and begins reading as well. Part of you is somewhat offended by her willingness to ignore personal boundaries, but a larger part likes the proximity of a very attractive brunette witch who, by all appearances, seems very interested in you.

An issue surfaces before fifteen minutes pass — Hack is still very excited and you can sense it. Hopefully, that troll up on the mountain is a female, otherwise Hack has some serious explaining to do! When you told him to take it out, you didn't mean dinner and a roll in the hay.

This adds to the mixed blessing of having Svetlanna so close to you. You have your suspicions that she has either nymph or dryad blood in her. More than once, she's run her index finger on the back of your hand to encourage you to turn the page. It's very … nice. This studying session doesn't appear to be very productive. You're not getting all that much out of it, or maybe you are and that's the problem.

Later, Bill returns looking slightly haggard and interrupts the "not really" studying session.

------

The tunnel is very narrow, barely allowing you to squeeze by her. If you thought having her in a chair next to you was distracting, the tight confines of the tunnel make it even worse, or better depending on your perspective. The two of you quickly reach an accord. One keeps up a light spell and braces the other with their body while the other pushes forward, magically carving a tunnel through the snow pack. Some of the snow is transfigured into wooden bracing.

Oddly, it reminds you of growing up and Dudley's old snow forts. Aunt Petunia intentionally kept you inside until her spawn finished his and then sent you out to shovel the walk while he pelted you.

It makes you long for the good old days, when people were just trying to humiliate you, rather than kill you.

The progress is slow, but steady. Blasting curses would be quicker, but the danger of collapse much greater, which leaves vanishing as the primary method of digging. Piercing curses sent into the overhead haven't poked through to daylight yet. It's a guess, but there's probably twenty to thirty feet of snow to get through.

You focus on the task at hand and do your best to ignore the closeness of the witch. Even with all this snow and ice surrounding you, things are a tad warm. Svetlanna's free arm encircles your waist for support and tenses with each spell you cast. You can't see back over your shoulder, but her lit wand darts around watching for possible cave-ins.

You force a bit extra into the next few spells knowing that she's sensing your power every time. Bill once said, "chicks dig power, danger, and excitement." Bill's a smart man.

Okay, so you're a bit of a show off. Why can't Harry Potter cash in on a bit of the Harry Potter phenomenon? Is there something wrong with that?

Magical fatigue sets in after the constant vanishing. Svetlanna sets additional bracing and then switches with you. The tunnel is about fifteen feet longer. It's a long way from digging your way out of that goblin vault in South America. At least this time you aren't smarting from losing a team member.

------

Using his wand, Kwan writes a message in the air.

Almost through. Everyone into the tunnel. Last one bring the tent.

You're surprised and had thought this was going to take much longer. Inside the tunnel, you realize why. There's a magically enlarged niffler Animagus burrowing his way forward with surprising speed and Moody banishing galleons into the snow to "steer" him.

It's both clever and resourceful. You definitely have to give Bill that. Even if he hasn't reached clarity with his animal spirit, he's getting something useful out of it. The ex-Auror's magic eye is scanning the ceiling of the tunnel.

His wand moves quickly, shrinking Bill back to regular size and returning him to human form. There's a group of goblins above us. They're armed and prodding the ground with spears and using worgs to scent the area. There's at least one giant as well. Get ready!

You've developed a serious dislike for goblins, nasty little creatures. Perhaps you shouldn't judge a whole race by the dozens that have tried to kill you. There was that Grip… something or other. Other than the cart ride, he didn't try to kill you.

Moody signals that there are five goblins directly above the party.   With a maniacal gleam in his eye, reminding you that the old Auror isn't necessarily the most stable bloke in the valley, the wizard vanishes the remaining ceiling.   Today's forecast calls for lots of snow and a chance of humanoids raining down from above.   Within seconds, there are five dead goblins.   To the ones on the surface, it must have looked like one of those horror movies on the telly, with their comrades just suddenly dropping out of sight like that.

Lacking the time to fully appreciate goblin fright movies, you get out of the trench.   A spell on your boots allows you to leap out and land on the snow. The area looks a lot different buried under the avalanche.

For the first time in hours, you can see the sun.   The light glares a bit off of the snow and is a tad painful to your eyes.   The goblins are spread out, most in fur with goggles. The nearest group is twenty feet away. They don't look happy to see you. C'mon Potter, give them a chance. Let's all get along. It's what Dumbledore would do. Actually, the scheming bastard would try to use them in a convoluted scheme which would somehow jeopardize your life, but that's not the point.

Either way, that point is moot. They're throwing spears in your direction. Kill them. Kill them all. A conjured wind blows the missiles off course. Obviously, the goblins in these parts didn't get the memo about the worg potion being banned.

Jackals, firebats, boars, and bears — oh my! You've handled worse with less backup, but you've never tussled with giants before. There are three of them here. Your heart starts to race, feeding the pent up adrenaline into the rest of your system.   Call it arrogance, but if a Daemon in a hidden city couldn't off you, there's no way you're going to die in a snowy pass at the hands of a pack of goblins!

Pointing your wand at the area around the closest giant, you try to conjure a golem out of the snow pack and give the thing a playmate.  It's a bit of an overreach on your part as the construct rises to about fifteen foot versus the twenty-five foot giant.   The giant's club smashes into "Frosty the snow golem" and rips most the right side off.   The rest collapses into the angry monster and slows him down a bit.   Lesson learned here, just because you can summon a giant snow golem doesn’t necessarily mean that it'll be of any use.

Spells erupt from the wands of your allies. Gusts of magical wind drive the snow into your face.   There are several of Baba Yaga's wizards there in the distance, but they don't seem to be directly attacking.   It's all one big game to them!   The chaos and confusion makes the Department of Mysteries look like a minor disagreement. Of course Tom's little club wasn't playing for keeps, otherwise the headline in the Prophet would have been, Potter and Five Others Killed in the Ministry!

A jackal sprinting towards you dies, split in two from your overpowered cutter.   The goblin swordsman running behind it stares in shock at his severed arm, but only for a moment before resuming his charge.   Give the damn thing some credit — and a well placed piercing curse.

Life has hardened you — death even more so.   The predator in you that fuels your Animagus doesn't flinch at killing like the boy you once were might have.   After all, death is random.   Good people like Cedric, Sirius, Thundercloud, and McGonagall can die suddenly and without warning.

Then again, the bad guys can die just like that too…

The nearest giant stumbles as it takes spell fire from Kwan, Moody, and two mercenaries.   A pair of Imperiused bears nip at his haunches like puppies.   Your cutter slices through the animal skins it wears and gouges open a wound in his shoulder.   As the monster struggles to rise, you spot a spec in the sky descending rapidly.   As it closes the distance to the giant, the shape swells and balloons in size; adding mass and bringing a smile to your face.

Look!   Up in the sky…It's a bird!   It's a plane!   It's Hack!

The troll slams into the giant like those wrestling shows Dudley used to watch forcing the giant to scream in agony.   Hack gives no mercy and puts the giant into a choke hold.   You move to cover, wildly firing blasting curses and sending goblins and worgs flying through the air like a big budget movie.   Spears and crossbow bolts fly through the air in defiance of the deadly rainbow of magic.

Others follow you, helping to press the advantage and drive them into retreat.   Bill hits one of the other giants with a blinding curse, causing it to stagger and flail about.   Without their magic users offering direct assistance, goblin numbers don't count for much.   A female scream to your left draws your attention.   It's Kendra, one of the mercs.   She's got a crossbow bolt through her shoulder and is frantically reaching in her pouch for a bezoar.   A shield spell attempts to protect her from further harm.  

One of the "Daves" tries to assist only to get hit by a pair of bolts in his back and drives him into her arms bowling them both over.  The deadly bolts passed through the witch's shield like tissue.   Rune enhanced shieldbreakers - they're every bit as illegal as the worg potion and enchanted to defeat the standard Protego.   Professor Binns and his exhaustive lectures on goblin wars come through again.   Apparently, it's the most useful class in the Hogwarts curriculum.   There's a brilliant piece of irony.   Your eyes track the deadly missiles back to the source — a trio of goblin snipers taking shelter behind the rocks.

"Invito Fulgrex!"   They're too far away for precise aim, but the sheer power of the spell calling lightning down from the sky devastates the area.   You do it again and send a bolt into the blinded giant knocking him to the ground.   Playing fast and loose with the elements sends a heady rush through your body.  

That little display, along with the incapacitated giants breaks the goblin's backs.   They start running.   The wizards in the distance mount their Thestrals and fly away.   It's tempting to send some spells after them, but instead you move up next to your troll.

Hack lets the giant's head loll to the ground and clambers off the larger monster's back.   It's difficult to see whether he killed it or if the giant simply passed out.   The one you knocked down struggles to its feet and runs off like a drunkard.

"What happened with the troll up on the mountain?"   As if you didn't already know.

He snorts and gives a honest to goodness smirk, "Too many to fight down here."       He sweeps his arms wide at the area surrounding the two of you before continuing, "Hack not stupid.   If choice is screw pretty troll or fight many giants … well Puny Harry already know which choice Hack make."  

"Well, I'm glad you found something or someone to do in the meantime."

His lips curl into a crude smile revealing yellow and dingy teeth.   Hack walks about thirty paces and stops.   "Need club.   It buried right here."

"You sure?"

"Yes.   Puny Harry get Hack's shield and club?"

The Dragonbone shield would be pricey, but doable to replace.   A Daemonbone club, on the other hand, is virtually irreplaceable.   It's unfortunate, but the good news is that Daemon's are rather scarce on this plane of existence.   If they weren't, the whole world would be in trouble.

Hurray, more digging.   "Can you hold me out and over the spot?"

Hack scoops you up and the excavation begins.   The guide wanders over to the two of you.

"You did not disappoint, Harry Potter.   May I ask what you are doing?"

"My troll needs his weapons.   One of them is right beneath me."

She scoffs, "That seems like a waste, but you English have your ways."

"Yes and this one seems rather ineffective.   Hack, put me down.   Thanks mate.   Any suggestions on making a deep hole quickly?"

"Fiendfyre?"   Svetlanna offers with a hint of humor on her face.

You've read up on that level of nastiness, "Yes, but I'd like to live through the experience, if you don't mind.   Though bloodfire might do the trick."

She considers your idea for a moment and then reaches into her parka and pulls out a cylinder.   You recognize it from the boot of Vernon's car — a magnesium flare.   "Engorge this.   It was too dangerous to use to dig our way out, but for digging a hole down fast, it works very well."

Hats off to the trail guide.   You were never much of a kid for science, but you recall that water doesn't put these things out.   Already the foot long object is starting to melt a hole at the bottom of the pit you blasted.   Waving your wand, you make it swell to roughly five times its size.   That gets things going nicely.   Now with a tip nearly a foot wide and a levitation charm to keep it moving in the right direction, all you have to do is relax and let gravity and extreme heat do the hard work for you.   Svetlanna casts freezing charms to prevent the hole from backfilling.

Progress is swift and soon the flare shrinks to its original size and is next to Hack's weapon.   It takes two attempts to get a charmed rope to wrap itself around the club, but in short order Hack is reunited with his possession.   Unfortunately, his Dragonbone shield is nowhere to be seen.   The guide eyes the weapon curiously.

"It looks different from Dragonbone.   What is it?"

"Basilisk."   You answer with a casual lie.   In days of old, you would have just blurted the truth without a second thought.   Thanks to people like Dumbledore and a crooked Auror named Paulo, that willingness to blindly trust people is a flaw you've expunged from your character the hard way.

"Ha ha! Puny Harry too modest." Hack said with a laugh, then held the club so she could get a good look at it. "Is bone of bad Daemon... great trophy of biggest fight Hack ever see. Bad Daemon very strong, nearly kill Hack. Puny Harry not so puny then. Kill Daemon with great magics!"

Of course it helps when you don't have to worry about Hack's mastery of the subtle misdirection.   Still, you can't fault him for being proud.   Svetlanna arches an eyebrow at you before smiling.   "I assume this is part of the story you will tell me when I have earned your trust?   Do not worry, Harry Potter.   I will speak of this to no one."

You nod looking back across the snow.   Kendra is receiving medical attention and several wizards   are just standing around the body of the other mercenary.   The fact that they aren't actively doing anything to aid him tells you all you need to know.   There's one less Dave to try and remember.   The only reason he came here is because you were paying him money.   A year ago, you'd be crushed with guilt.   Now, you're just worried that his loss might endanger the success of this mission.

------

Camp that night is a subdued affair.   Four hours was spent recovering the rest of the gear and precious little ground was covered between the avalanche site and where Bill called a halt.   You help him set a full disillusionment ward lined with an aversion field covering the tent.   It's the most complicated defense yet and the fervor he throws himself into it reinforces how responsible he feels.   Bill’s an alright bloke.   Right now you get the feeling that he "cares" just a bit more than you.

Weariness sets in as the sky begins to darken.   He inspects your work and declares it satisfactory, "Not half-bad, Harry.   Listen, I'm going to put three people at a time on patrol outside the tents.   The extra firepower might come in handy and if there's really a traitor, it'll be more obvious."

"Sounds like a good plan, who am I paired up with?"

"No one."

"Really?   Why?"

Bill shakes his head, "You're powerful, but even powerful people get worn out channeling that much magic.   You need the rest."

"No I don't."   You hate being treated like some kind of child.

"Yes you do.   Two of those giants survived — a bit worse for wear, but survived nonetheless.   If they have friends and they decide to come back, I need you rested and ready for another round.   That spell you were casually tossing about, Moody said he'd likely kill himself if he tried it twice in a row.   Kwan agreed with him.   Baba Yaga's wizards saw it too.   If they didn't take us seriously before, I know they are now."

"That's ironic.   I'm finally getting respect.   Maybe I should have come to Russia sooner."

Your joke gets a wry smile out of Bill.   "I think the mercs are finally afraid of you.   Either way, I'm not assigning our guide to patrol either.   If she is a traitor, keeping her inside tonight will prevent anyone getting ambushed.   Keep an eye on her, will you?"

As far as assignments go, it's not a bad one.   "I think I can do that.   I've been trying to figure out if she's got some nymph or dryad in her."

Bill shrugs.   "I hadn't really felt a pull.   Maybe, I'm just too used to Fleur to notice someone else doing it.   She's attractive enough I suppose.   She also seems to have her eye on you.   Just be careful, if you know what I mean?"

"Right in one, mate!"   A few months ago, you wouldn't have had a clue what he was saying.   At least now you do.

"Good, now that that's settled and the wards are up, you go back in and get some food.   I'll key everyone else to the wards and we'll settle in for the night.   Too bad we don't have our old camp cook on this trip.   I kinda miss the little bugger."

You give Bill a crude gesture and go inside where the temperature's always nice.   Dinner this evening is beef stew from a tin and some rolls.   Two quick Warming charms followed by some butter and they are edible.  You eat it mechanically and sort of miss that scrawny kid who cooked the meals as well.   Back in South America, it was, "Stay sharp, Harry.   We need you on watch tonight."   Somewhere along the way it became, "Rest up, Harry.   We'll probably need you to kill something soon."

"You seem distracted."   Svetlanna sits in the chair next to you.   You sense a privacy bubble pop up.   She points at a bracelet she wears.

"Just thinking about simpler times."

"Times are never quite as simple as you remember them to be.   The problems of today often unravel with the passage of months or years."

Svetlanna sounds like Dumbledore.   That's an image you definitely don't want!   "I suppose you're right.   What do you think Baba Yaga is doing right now?"

She tilts her head thoughtfully, "The Bone Mother?", she sits silently for a moment before giving a little sigh," Honestly, I couldn't begin to guess what she might be up to. It is said she is the most capricious of witches. So who knows? Perhaps she is testing us all, her minions included. Though I'm certain I would not want to be one of her horsemen should they fail in her assignments." She pauses a moment then adds, "Then again, perhaps she has learned of your maps and is merely slowing our advance to consider how best to deal with you. A guess, yes? But possible I suppose. They say she knows all that transpires in her realm."

You've seen how Riddle's toadies react when pushed to the wall.   Until Baba Yaga herself shows, this is all just an exercise in futility.   "Tell me what you know about the Horseman themselves."

"Since she stays in her valley, they are as close as most will ever come to her.   The respect they command is based on her authority.   To those who do recognize that, they are still a threat, but not invulnerable.   I suspect in the next battle, they will take a more direct role.   All three are accomplished spell casters, does that worry you?"

"I've fought enough accomplished spell casters to know that anyone can be beaten under the right circumstances…"

Chuckling, she replies, "Indeed, Harry.   Apparently, even Daemons can be beaten under the right circumstances.   The troll's club, is that a leg bone?"

"Forearm."   One of four the thing had to be precise.

"It was a very large Daemon then."

"Haven't seen enough to really compare, but I suppose you’re right."

"Your answers are short and evasive."

"Why are you so interested?"   You ask finishing the last bit of your stew.

"I think the better question is — why are you so interesting?"

"Just lucky I guess."

She touches your shoulder, "I respectfully disagree.   You are clearly not going to be deterred until you meet her.   You hint at slaying a Daemon and are the mortal enemy of a self-proclaimed Dark Lord — all this at such a tender age.   I have lived here in proximity of one legendary figure for much of my life and now another is about to enter her valley.   Such events do not occur very often.   I sense the hand of destiny at work."

Shrugging, you vanish your bowl.   "She has something of mine that is stolen.   I want it back.   It's really that simple.   As for Destiny's hands, she can keep them to herself."   You never were much for Divination or other predictive arts.  

It draws a suitable laugh from her.   She waits a minute before changing the subject.   "I notice three of us are not being asked to guard the camp tonight.   The wounded mercenary, she is a given, but the two of us were not assigned either.   I am obviously not trusted, despite my best efforts, and I presume you are here to keep an eye on me."

"Bill wants me rested for the next fight.   I assume he also wants you rested and able to spot any ambushes."

"You are a gracious liar, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.   I should thank Bill, as it gives me a greater opportunity to speak with you and learn your secrets, Harry."   Her index finger reaches out and tentatively starts tracing lazy runic patterns on the back of your hand.

"What about your secrets, Svetlanna?"

"My mother took me from this area after my grandmother met her end at Baba Yaga's wand.   We traveled far and wide fearing that her horsemen would come for us.   They never did.   When I was old enough, I came back and sadly discovered that my grandmother had never been considered a genuine threat to the Bone Mother.   She was a minor nuisance at best.   All those years spent running for our lives were somewhat of a waste. Even when the horsemen learned who I was, there seemed to be no ill will.   It was all rather anti-climatic."

Her tale is interesting.   In some respects, you could picture James, Lily, or even Sirius doing the same with you — running all around the world and trying to stay one step ahead of the Death Eaters.   Without the blood protections, it might have been your life.

"So you aren't consumed by the need for revenge."

"No.   I was too young to know my grandmother.   This all happened when I was but three years old.   Chasing the specters of those long dead is no way to live.   Perhaps there is a nugget of truth in that statement for you as well."   She looks away as she says this but continues to gently trace runes on your skin.   There's a pleasant tingling sensation accompanying it.   You're getting the "magic finger" treatment!   Without a wand or the pungent odor of potions, it's just simple body magic used successfully by healers and according to Bill, exotic entertainers.   Yet another useful area the vaunted Hogwarts education seems to gloss over.   There's probably not a damn thing left worth learning at that school.

Pointed question, so you answer, "I'm not going to kill Voldemort out of revenge.   He's trying to kill me and won't stop until one of us is dead.   I'd prefer it be him."

"That is an excellent answer.   Now, I also notice that those who sleep in the same area as you do are on guard duty.   Let us go back there and continue our discussion in private."

It's an odd request considering her privacy ward.   You think you know where this is heading.   "Honestly, I'm not that tired."

"Nor am I, but since you are to keep an eye on me, I'd like to show you as much of me as possible."

That really appeals to the man-whore in you.   Still, you should make certain.   "Aren't you concerned about the age difference?"

"Not particularly, wizards my age fail to hold my attention.   You may object to Destiny's hands on you, but I think you'll enjoy mine."

You follow her to your sleeping area and cast a privacy charm after drawing the curtains.   Well, Bill did order you to stay close to her, and you're willing to do whatever it takes for the team, because that's the kind of guy you are.  

Harry Potter.   Team Player.   Sounds like a winner.

------

"You did manage to get some rest last night lad?"   Moody's magical eye swivels in his socket.   With Barty Crouch, it stayed mostly still and acted like a "standard" eye.   The real Alastor Moody lets it wander around independently.   Wonder if it contributes to his mania at all.   There's no way that tent fabric, even the magical type, could stop that eye.   Obviously, he saw you and the Russian witch "resting" last night — the creepy voyeuristic bastard.

"Lots.   Thanks for asking."   He's going to chew you out, but the sex was good enough that you don't really care.

"Out in the field is a bad place to lose sight of why we're and what we're up against.   Suppose she wanted to get you alone and behind a privacy ward for something other than a swing in your hammock?"

"Good point, but she didn't."

Kwan slides in on your other side.   This can't be good.   You're in that spot right between the rock and the hard place.   "Just when I thought you weren't stupid anymore you surprise me."

You try to come up with a joke about having three guys at a table and only four legs between them.   It's not working.   "I kept her in my sight for pretty much the whole night.   There weren't many places she could have hidden a wand or a knife and, unless I'm mistaken, if it came down to unarmed combat, jaguar Animagus trumps most everything."

"Don't get cocky youngster."   Moody warns as Bill and Sean join the table.

"They're right, Harry.   We've got a lot of work in front of us.   I've been looking at the maps and there are more of these choke points ahead.   They're out there laying their next trap as we speak."   Bill's tone doesn't carry that much ire in it.   It's a guess, but you suspect he's more proud than annoyed.

"Consider me scolded.   The more important question, the one that doesn't have anything to do with how I spent last night, is what do we need to do now?"

The dark-haired mercenary leader offers his suggestion, "We pull back and make a second approach from either the west or the north.   They'll be wasting their time setting up the defenses here and will be hard pressed to move their giants and goblins at the same time.   Without brooms, apparition, Portkeys, or Thestrals, they've got the maneuverability advantage and they know it.   They'll set a few wards and know that we'll have to take time to dismantle them."

Kwan looks away thoughtfully.   "Except we can move faster…"

Most everyone, including you looks at him with a slight bit of confusion as he starts to explain.

------

You zip across the landscape.   Sledding, it's one of the many childhood experiences you've missed out on growing up.   In this case it's a mixture of sleds equipped with sails propelled by a magical wind.   They are all cobbled together with materials found in the command tent.   Two now activated sappers carved from the hip bones of a Greater Daemon are lashed to the trailing sled with a hundred foot of rope tethering and pulling it.   Bill and Sean have the dubious honor of driving that lead sled.  

The Daemonbone is living up to its billing as the area seems to be losing its magical energy.   The enchanted wind pushing each sled along periodically fails every few minutes.   Far ahead run a trio of engorged monkeys the size of small apes — Curious George, Fred, and Percy looking for traps.

The first "ape" just exploded in a pillar of flames.   Bill shouts, "Trap ahead." The sleds slow to a stop.       Hack returns to his regular size and goes to fetch the sled with the sappers.   Meanwhile, you, Moody, and Bill move forward to begin draining the wards with more conjurations.   As the sled bearing Daemonbone passes, you get the sensation of a void sucking the energy out of the air.   Your summoned creatures start to loose cohesion and collapse.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Moody slip to the ground as his leg and probably the eye falter.   The tent and all its comforts are left far behind, hidden, and waiting for recovery.

The wards continue to discharge, but starved of energy to replenish them, their magic quickly fizzles.

Bill watches the jets of energy weaken until they pose little threat.   "Move out!"

With his command, the makeshift sleds start again.   You hop back onto yours and immediately conjure another ape to get out in front and trip more wards.   Conjuring even a hundred feet from an active sapper is taxing, but still workable.   The long rope attached to the sapper sled finally starts pulling on it.   That sled starts moving.   Soon that ward will be recharged, but you'll be long gone before then.    

Kwan's plan is simple — Magical Blitzkrieg.   Instead of fully breaking the wards, you're bypassing them and leaving them intact.   It goes against Bill's mantra to not fully disable the wards, and he feels like he's cheating.   Either way, it's the difference between a few minutes and a full hour.

Wards take time to set up and, much like the French Maginot Line in World War Two, the creators are counting on them to slow you down while they prepare something bigger and better.   At this speed, you'll hopefully catch them flatfooted and unable to adjust.

Guess who's coming to dinner, but going to arrive at lunchtime?   You try not to think about the fact that the people behind the Blitzkrieg idea ultimately lost.

Bill initially balked at using the Daemonbone, wanting to save it for something more important, Moody asked him exactly what that might be, pretty much quashing the objections.

Minutes later the group of sleds outruns a second landslide meant to bury the expedition.   Yesterday's traps — either they set this up previously or they're already running out of ideas.   Maybe tomorrow they'll have something geared towards Kwan's sled assault, but that assumes they're still around tomorrow.   You don't intend to give them that opportunity.

Adding your magical wind to Svetlanna's pushes the sled faster.   She has a very intent look on her face, but spares you the briefest of smiles.   Technically, you're sledding uphill right now.  

"Not quite as fun as flying, but we're moving at a good clip.   With some luck, they'll never know what hit them."   You say to her.

"I think you're right.   Hold on!   We're starting to head downhill!"   She cancels the wind and concentrates on steering while you and the mercenary named Charlie focus on watching for any hazards in the path ahead.

Minutes pass and the sled continues its swift pace.   Cushioning charms are applied where needed.   Obstacles are banished or vanished out of the way.   It brings a whole new meaning to "dashing through the snow."   Someone's coming to town, but the only "jolly fat guy" is a troll looking to make a killing.

Up ahead, you spot groups of goblins and four giants.   It looks like they are making fortifications that are about half complete.   Odds are they've been worked through the night by the Thestral riding wizards circling above.

From the looks of things, there's a second group of wizards arranging wards stones.   Several goblins run out as you continue by.   Moody slashes a firewhip across them slicing many in half.

Horns sound and heads spin towards your direction.   You send Jake Collins' famous butchering curse into the midst of others.   Spells reach out to the panicked group of warders and scatter them.   They are joined by blasters and exploding curses.   Just as everyone hoped, you caught them with their pants down!   Let the mayhem commence.

Leaping off the slowing sled, you roll under a Cutting curse and send a trio of Piercing curses into a stocky, balding wizard wrapped in heavy furs.   Watching him collapse you think back to this morning, when Alastor Moody told you one of James Potter's favorite sayings — "Strike hard, strike fast, and leave chaos in your wake."

If Dad's watching from above, you think he approves.   With some luck, it will be a long time before you can ask him.

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