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Bungle in the Jungle

Author Notes:

Disclaimer — Just another fanfic.  

 

Acknowledgements — As always, the help from the gang at Alpha Fight Club is worth noting.   Beta work by ZanyMuggle, Aaran St. Vines and Sparky40sw.

Chapter 8 — Making Love to Whoever I Please

Your problems are legion.   Your allies are few.   Its times like these that you know you're in over your head, but there's no one "above" you.   Harry James Potter runs his own faction in this war.   You have a serviceable alliance with Minister Dimperio and your adopted nation of Brazil, a loose alliance with Minister Scrimgeour and your native land of England, and a very tense alliance with Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.

As if this wasn't enough, you've got girl problems and all the usual and some of the unusual angst that defines a person's teenaged years.   And it's not going to get any easier.   You have developed an unhealthy fascination with Luna Lovegood, probably because she was another problem you could "fix".  

If you asked Kwan, he'd simply tell you that "stupid cook turned diplomat" can't fix everything and shouldn't go looking for more trouble.   Kwan's a smart man, even if it's only your thoughts trying to sound like him.   It's why you need to cut Luna loose.

Well that and her "I never want to see you again" tirade.   That might also have factored into the decision as well.

Fortunately, you're leaving the cramped confines of good old Hoggy Hogwarts and that's more than enough to put a smile on the old kisser.   True, you'll be heading into the mountains of Russia to face off against a legendary ancient witch.   At least some of the legends have her helping people.   You'll try to overlook the ones about her eating small children and try and look at the glass as being half full.

Half full of what remains to be seen.

For two in the morning, there's an awful lot of activity in this castle.   You've finished packing all your equipment in your fancy magically expanding trunk.   Under your robes, you wear a vest made of Peruvian Vipertooth hide.   It offers only modest protection, but greater freedom of motion.   It has helped keep you alive so far.   Here's to hoping that trend continues.   A second larger non-magical trunk carries some of the daemon bones, skin and blood.   The rest of it is staying under Dumbledore's questionable care and for his part the old man has agreed to safeguard it.   The bone is amazingly tough to carve, but it’s the best material you've had to work with in your limited career as a Journeyman Cursebreaker.   It's the best material Bill's had to ever work with as well.

"Harry, is there anything else I should know?"   Charlie looks pensive.   He doesn't seem eager to "play" you again.   Truth be told, you wouldn't mind going back to being James Black.   Maybe you should hold open auditions — Who wants to be Harry Potter?   Coming soon to a telly near you!

"Yeah, don't fuck it up … at least any more than it already is.   Well that and avoid any women offering you a drink.   That goes without saying."  

This draws a howling laugh from his brother Bill, checking over his gear.   "I think you're doing a better job of buggering things up, Harry.   Charlie's pretty much starting at rock bottom, so unless he wants to start digging, he can't go anywhere but up.   Besides, I think Ms. Chang likes him better with glasses."   He tries to mimic a female voice.   "Charlie please, just put them on for me."

Charlie looks miffed.   You have to admit, when Bill first told you that story you laughed pretty hard.   "That hurts, Bill.   I know you're suffering from withdrawal because Fleur's in France, but that's no excuse for taking cheap shots."

"Oh, if I were going below the belt I'd ask if she like your equipment better than Harry's."

Charlie shrugs it off.   "Are you looking to start your trip with a few broken bones there, Billy?   I didn't think Fleur let you keep your stones anymore.   We both know you're piss in a duel and roughhousing was never your strong suit.   You don't want to mess with a Dragon handler."

"That's why I've got Harry.   He takes care of my light work and any Death Eaters that come along."   It must be a brother thing.   They alternate threats with laughter.   You're surprised their traitorous mum doesn’t have more gray hair.

"So, Charlie, is this a solo assignment, or are you switching off with Tonks?"   Bill asks the question you've been wondering about as well.

"Just me as far as I know."   Your Dumbledore alarm is starting to ring.   The old man mentioned that he might have his pet shapeshifter doing Headmaster duty.   Harry Potter being set loose on society is one thing.   Albus Dumbledore is another.   This doesn't bode well.

Then again, name one thing that actually does "bode well" — yeah, thought so.

You nod to Hack who lifts the trunk that can't be spelled.   His flimsy cover story is that he's out with Hagrid in the forests again.   Honestly, who is this really going to fool anyway?   Riddle will know shortly after you leave England, unless he's prone to ignoring the little mental connection you two have.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

Dobby appears and clamps onto your leg, a thick fur coat dragging behind him.   "Harry Potter is leaving Hogwarts!   Dobby is so sad!   He will need coat to keep him warm!"

You try to remove the zealot from your leg while Bill gives you an amused look.   "It's alright Dobby.   I'll be back, and in the meantime, you have important tasks."

"Yes!   Yes!   Dobby will not fail the great Harry Potter."   The elf scratches his head for a moment.   "Oh Dobby remembers why he is here!   Miss Hermione Granger is busy with um … the thing we're not supposed to speak of and asked Dobby to give something to the great Harry Potter!  She says it will bring Harry Potter good luck."

As you smile thinking about Ralph Potter, the newest edition to the "should not be named" club, Dobby fishes around in his pocket and starts to pull some kind of necklace out.   There's a small vial attached to it.   Not another fucking potion!   And you thought she really wanted to get back in your good graces.     You stop him.   "Dobby, just take it back to her.   Tell her I appreciate the gesture, but no thanks."

Dobby looks uncertain, but you shoo him off and he disappears.

"Come on, Moody is waiting in Hogsmeade and if we're more than five minutes late he'll assume that we're imposters and try to kill us."   Bill says.

Given what you know of the man, it is liable to be true.

------

"Gabrielle will be so upset that she missed you.   She is visiting cousins this week."   Fleur says.   Is it your imagination, or is her accent more pronounced here in her homeland?   The Delacour chateau in southern France reeks of the same opulence you found in Brazil's high society.   She seems relieved that you already have the translation of the Dementor's message from Aberforth Dumbledore, but troubled by the results just the same.

"Probably best not to mention our visit then."   You shrug looking out the large window and enjoying the picturesque view afforded.   For a brief moment you wonder how you would have grown up with the wealth and support of your parents.   Maybe if you had, you wouldn't feel so out of place here.

"Last time William went to my uncle for help it did not seem like it would be much of a problem.   I do not quite understand.   They are just pictures taken from up in the sky."

One of Fleur's paternal uncles is a squib, who works for the European Space Agency.   Bill used this same tactic to locate unexplored locations in South America.   "I think I do," you say, "The pictures are in an area that is sensitive to the Muggle governments.   The Russians have a military complex in that region, and your uncle is risking a lot just to show us these pictures."

"Is that why you did not go along?"

You nod.   Bill could easily blend in.   Officially, he's being "interviewed" for an internship by Fleur's uncle.   A teenager would stand out like a sore thumb.   Kwan also didn't go for fear that his magical leg would adversely affect the Muggle technology.

"So, why did you want to speak with me?"   Fleur asks coyly.   "Is it about Luna?   William said there was, how do you say it, trouble in paradise."

That's a bit of an understatement.   "Why did you tell her about the women in South America?"

Fleur appears pensive, "She asked me to compare her to those other women, so I did.   Luna can be quite clever and said you had told her all about them, but wanted my opinion."

The witch can probably sense your irritation; you're not really making any attempt to hide it.   "So, what did you tell her?"

"I suppose all she heard was that both Karina and the non-magical girl, Amy, were both more physically attractive and more experienced than she was.   What I was really trying to tell her is that you are interested in her on a different level than just the physical.   She obviously missed that part."

"You didn't mention Lauren."

"I never met her, so it would be unfair for me to comment, plus she was only asking about the women you encountered in South America.   Though you may have mentioned her, I highly doubted you would discuss the details of your relationship with that witch."

"Good point.   Either way it is over."

"Do not say that, Harry," she says with determination.   "We can make this right.   I will speak to her when I return to Hogwarts."

Your "no" comes out a tad more forcefully than you had perhaps wanted, startling her.   "We need to leave it be.   I've got too much going on right now.   The last thing I need is more girl problems."

"Did you at least bring the magical journal so you could start a correspondence again?"

The only journal you are carrying is linked to the statue of Hernando De Soto.   You need wise advice— emotional teenage outbursts you can do without.  

She places her palm against your cheek.   You flush slightly at the contact.   "I am truly sorry, Harry.   You deserve to be happy.   In this, I have failed you."

You know that she feels guilty; she didn't even try to flirt with you once.

------

Waiting for Bill to return with the photographs of the area, you pass the day training with Kwan and the protected grounds allow you the opportunity to spend a modest amount of time in your Animagus form during daylight.   It feels great to stretch your legs a bit.   Cleaning up, you spend the afternoon carving runes from the daemon bone.   The charging runes draw at least thirty percent more power than comparable runes carved out of "mere" dragonbone and Bill's first ward scheme using the material was significantly more potent, but a true power hog.

It makes for an interesting dilemma of stored potential magical energy versus released magical energy or what is known in the rune crafting business as the Le Fey Paradox after the famous witch.   Is it preferable to have a weaker ward powered for a longer period of time, or a powerful, but slow to recharge attack?   Legend has it that she went with the latter, but underestimated the forces Merlin used to assault her southern fortress.

You're still not certain on which side of the debate you fall.   Bill likes his explosions big.   He rates a strong Le Fey.   You like the merits of both powerful wards and longer lasting wards putting you somewhere in the middle.   One of his golden rules that Bill routinely flouts is "don't get too carried away."   He's an artiste and always wants to do more to express himself.  

Knowing your friend, not a single bit of this bone will ever reach the open market.   Neither of you needs the money and there's a certain "wow" factor in being the only people who get to play with this stuff.   Bill espouses the virtues of hoarding every chance he gets.   It's probably why he and the goblins got along so well.

Dinner is a subdued affair and Bill hasn't returned.   Fleur's parents are polite and kind.   Her Mum, Apolline, claims to have a touch of seer in her and predicts dark days ahead — especially for you.   You "behave" and decide not to comment on how damn near anyone could make that prediction.

Her father, under the false assumption that you really want to be an ambassador, decides to engage you in a political conversation, and considering his position as France's Foreign Secretary this actually constitutes "High Level Talks" between Brazil and France.   Mr. Delacour is quite interested in Brazil's sudden presence in Europe and the rumors of unrest among the goblins.   You let him know that trouble, at least on the regional scale, is coming regarding the goblins and that it might be wise to be prepared.   For your part, he gets asked about France's level of preparations and what assistance they are offering the Scrimgeour administration.  

If nothing else it's an excellent opportunity to practice using and decoding doublespeak with a seasoned practitioner, despite the fact that it makes your head hurt.   He appreciates the information you offer and mentions the possibility of visiting the embassy in the coming months for possible talks.   Dimperio should be impressed — both of them.

What you conclude from this exchange is that France is "En Garde" and practicing politics should be a "Dark Art."

A tired looking Bill Weasley returns after dinner.   He hands Kwan a folder full of pictures and spends a few minutes with his future in-laws before deciding he needs to clean up.

Fleur stays for a few minutes before disappearing.   With a peck on her cheek, her last words to you are, "If you happen to meet someone in the near future, know that she is a friend."  

It's tempting to ask her to stop speaking in riddles, but she is already on her way out the door.   Bill probably had just enough time to set the silencing charms.

------

Living under a staircase for much of your life has made you a bit of a light sleeper.   Your feline enhanced senses and nocturnal nature have only made things even more difficult for you.   Silencing charms do the trick nicely, but since Bill has already taken care of that, so you're not concerned.

Your door creaking open does concern you.   The scent and shape is unfamiliar but distinctly female.   A second later you return to your human form.   "Can I help you?"

Her stuttering reply is in a thick French accent.   "I … Fleur sent me.   She thought you might want some company."

"Who are you?"   You reach for the touchstone to illuminate the room.

"No lights, no full names, and most importantly no complications.   My name is … call me Nicolette.   Fleur said I should call you James and that we could be good for each other.   She thinks I need to, as you English say, 'move on' and says that you are in a similar predicament and also need to get someone out of your system.   I learned long ago to trust her judgment."

It's certainly not your usual damsel in distress moment.   After a bit of silence while you struggle to digest this she says, "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

The slight cracking in her voice betrays that she is a little nervous.   How exactly do you get in these situations?   How can you get in them more often?   .

Better think of some words to say before the witch bolts.   "I'm sorry.   These things don't … well let's just say I'm surprised.   Please come in."

It sounded awkward coming out, but you must have said the right thing.   In the dim light, you can see that her hair is dark and there are none of the telltale signs that she is a Veela.   "Nicolette" is just a shapely witch in a very loose robe.

Correction, she's a shapely witch who seems to have just dropped her robe.   Rather clumsy of her, but considering the lack of anything under it you doubt it was an accident.  

You mull the idea over.   Fortunately, you’re a teenager.   The decision is a remarkably easy one.   Nicolette is probably cold.   You should be a gentleman and offer her a spot on this nice warm bed.

There might be something to this notion that Fleur is trying to sleep with you using other witches.   It's worth repeating … err, investigating — you meant to say investigating.

------

This time of the year is not the warmest in Russia.   You're in a province called Chelyabinsk.   There's a small magical community called Oarut here near the Tencha River.   Apparently normals, Muggles, or whatever they call them here avoid the area because of Soviet nuclear dumping — an odd nugget of truth from the fairy tales with witches living in places no one goes.

Powerful wards have been used to carve a tiny oasis out of what would be considered badlands — freshening the air and water.   It's like good old Hagrid said, if the non-magical folk knew about our abilities, we'd be stuck solving all their problems.  

"Stay over there.   Don't draw attention!   Act only if necessary."   Kwan whispers and thrusts you toward a table — guess he doesn't have much faith in your diplomatic skills.   At least they brought you along, leaving Hack, Moody, and the mercenaries in a cave nearby.   Bill wants to appear as innocent as possible.   Its one instance where being an ickle teenager actually works to your favor.   Plus, it shows Kwan trusts you enough to be his back up.   That alone speaks volumes about how far you've come.

A few days trek to the north and west, there is a valley that pretty much belongs to Baba Yaga.   Your ad-hoc adventuring group is here to find a guide and hopefully reach the location without too much trouble.

Of course, the definition of too much trouble is open to interpretation.   A charm helps you listen in to the conversation as your cohorts approach a motley-looking collection of locals spending the early afternoon in drink.   Kwan speaks enough Russian without the aid of magic to handle introductions while Bill motions for the barkeep to bring over more alcohol.

You glance around the room as they make small talk with the locals.   A couple is eating a meal and the woman is scolding her husband for his laziness — poor bloke.

"What do you want?"   The owner asks with a low growl.   He reminds you of Aberforth.

You fish out a two galleons.   "Lunch.   What do you have?"

"Lamb shank with potatoes and carrots.   Is very good.   Drink?"

"Just water."

He scoops up the coins and drops four sickles in return and walks back to the counter, as you continue to survey the room.   Over in the other corner is an attractive brunette eating her meal and watching the proceedings.   She dabs her chin with a napkin and sees you looking at her.   Her smile causes you to avert your gaze.

Right about then is when the wizard Kwan was talking to makes a protective runic sign in the air and points an accusing digit at the hitwizard.   "Few go there and most not of their choosing!   You would be wise to avoid it."

Bill leans in putting on his best friendly face, "Sergei, we simply wish an audience with her."

One of the others mutters, "The last foreigners who went to have an audience with the Bone Mother never left, but on nights when the wind blows from that direction, you can still hear their screams."

"Well we certainly intend no harm…"

"Englishman, the Black Horseman himself came to town to remind us how much she values her privacy."

Kwan shrugs, "Perhaps you could tell us how to speak to one of her horseman then."

"They come only when she needs something or for their own purposes.   Do not seek them out!"

The couple has stopped their bickering and decided to leave.   The woman, dragging her husband out all the while muttering that nothing good will come of this and they'd best be elsewhere.

By that time your meal has arrived; the seasoned lamb is very good.   It makes dear old Aunt Petunia's taste like yesterday's garbage.

The woman finishes her meal and starts for the door.   She starts to open it, but turns and walks towards your table.   "Your friends aren't having much luck."   This close you feel a slight pull reminding you of Fleur — Veela or something else?   Almost all Veela have blonde hair, so that opens up the possibility of nymph or dryad.   You note that she has extremely bright hazel eyes.

"No, apparently not."   It takes a moment to realize that she is using English and not the charm.   You set your utensils down despite wanting to finish off the remaining lamb.

"What business do you have with the Mistress of the Urals?"

"I'm not at liberty to say.   Would you like to sit?"

She slides the chair out and sits down.   Her hand reaches over and scoops up some of the lamb you'd sliced away.   She eats it savoring the spices.   "Yuri's lamb special is exquisite.   The recipe has been in his family for generations.   Do you like it?"

"It is very good.   Worth every sickle."   If you had to guess you'd say she was in her late twenties or early thirties.   "I'm Harry."

"Svetlanna, pleased to make you acquaintance."

You glance over her shoulder and watch what's going on with Bill and Kwan.   She thieves another morsel and chides, "Do not worry for your friends.   They are a bunch of scared and harmless fools.   I hear rumors that all is not well in the Isles.   Is this true?"

"You could say that."   You pick up your knife and fork and cut a larger piece off, since you're sharing now.

"Are you emissaries of this returned Dark Lord come to seek the Bone Mother's wisdom?"

You offer her another piece.   "Hardly."

She reaches across and touches your forehead with the tip of her finger and traces a certain mark that's supposed to be covered by your illusion.   "Yes, I suppose not considering the scar on your forehead.   Is it true that is really from a killing curse?"

It's official.   You really are bloody awful at illusions.   "I don't even know why I bother."

"It's actually not that bad.   I simply have a keen eye for deception."

"Well that's reassuring, I suppose."

She laughs and leans forward with a mischievous grin, "So the enemy of this Dark Lord comes to seek an audience with the all-knowing — and here I thought today was going to be boring!   Do you intend to pit evil against evil and see who wins?"

"Our business here is a private matter."

"Well if I am to take you there, I should at least know a little of what is going on, Mr. Potter."

"How much do you want?"

Svetlanna carefully regards you with her head perched on crossed hands.   "Is very dangerous unless you know the way.   Apparition wards that do not prevent apparition, but rip the person to shreds, brooms suddenly fall from the sky for no reason, and I guarantee if you try to Portkey in or out you'll never be seen or heard from again.   Did you bring Thestral, Hippogriff, or other flying beast?"

Hack's tiny wings obviously don't count, so you shake your head.   Svetlanna continues, "Is probably for the best.   The White Horseman trains the Thestrals to attack any fliers that enter the valley.   If you truly don't want to fight with her, it would not make for a good start.   We will have to go mostly on foot.   Four days, five if the giant clan is on the prowl.   I will do this for two hundred galleons — half up front."

"My associates handle the money.   I will go fetch them."

"And what do you handle, Harry Potter?"

It's your turn to smile.   Damn if it isn't good to be back out in the world instead of stuck in that musty castle, "Whatever the universe chooses to put in my way."

------

"I can't believe you're agreeing to this foolishness, Svetlanna!   You of all people should know better."   The barkeep looks at the four of you, shakes his head, and walks away.

"Years ago, my grandmother met her end at Baba Yaga's wand." She explains as Yuri, the innkeeper walks away.  

"We're not here to fight her if its revenge you're looking for."   Kwan cautions.   They had dragged her outside for a brief demonstration of her skills, before labeling her as "adequate for the job."

"Nyet, revenge would be welcome, but it is foolish to contemplate.   I do however like gold.   It buys nice things.   Why do you wish to speak to her?"

Bill takes over, "She has something that was stolen from us and sold to a goblin collector.   It was purchased by one of her horsemen.   We would like to get it back?"

"You know money means very little to her.   She will likely send you off on any number of dangerous quests — such is her way."

You choke back a groan.   It sounds like a bad fairytale already or that Dungeons and Dragons game Justin in Hufflepuff talked about in first year.   It's widely rumored that when Gellert Grindelwald came to her, his quest was to eliminate Rasputin and a number of Romanovs — indirectly leading to the Russian Revolution.   Hopefully, you won't be fermenting any civil wars or toppling governments this time.   You've already got enough on your "to do" list at the moment.

Bill replies, "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Two hundred galleons — half now, half when we arrive."

"Pricey, but workable.   We want binding paperwork — non-disclosure of our activities, non-disclosure of the object we seek, and assistance in combat along with standard non-betrayal clauses."

She mulls it over, "I will only attack a member of the party in self-defense.   I will not, for any reason raise my wand against Baba Yaga or her horsemen.   I wish to live to spend the two hundred and fifty galleons all this will cost you."

A dark thought crosses your mind as Bill and the Russian witch continue to haggle over the terms, everyone who asked for more money in Brazil ended up dead.   She's a damn sight better looking than Thundercloud, Sanchez, or Collins, so you hope karma isn't listening.

"…and if I refuse, it will take you weeks to even find which valley it is."

Bill smiles and pulls out a folder from his briefcase and hands her the photos.   "Wrong."

Svetlanna flips through the photos.   Her brown eyes get progressively larger with each picture, "Bozhe Moi!   How is this possible?"

"Muggle satellites, the distortions are usually caused by the presence of wards." Bill answers.   "Our best guess is that this distortion near the eastern edge is likely where her Hut is?"

"No, no.   The Hut is allowed to freely roam the valley.   She only uses it on those occasions when she travels outside the valley.   This is astounding!   Baba Yaga has a castle that would be  right in that area.   I am very impressed, but since you have this, why do you need me?"

"Just because we know the destination doesn't mean we know the safest route to get there.   That's where you come in."

She continues looking at the pictures, "Yes, that is understandable.   Fine, I will sign the paperwork for two hundred and twenty with half up front.   Draw up the contract and I will return with my belongings in one hour.   We will sign then."

------  

A little over an hour later, your group Apparates to the edge of the encampment.  She takes stock of the situation while you key her to the wards, "For one who claims to visit Baba Yaga in peace, you bring many fighters."

You shrug, "I've been told I have an annoying tendency to rush headlong into problems.   This is just my way of overcompensating.   Besides, which one of us was talking about a tribe of giants awhile back?"

The woman responds by thumping you on the back and laughing.   "I like your humor, Harry Potter."

Bill shoots you a knowing look, but doesn't say anything, for the moment.   He's been needling you about the mysterious "Nicolette" and your penchant for older women for the past couple of days.   Considering you’re a teenager, just about every female is going to be an older woman and you've already shown how badly you fail to relate to the girls your age.  

Kwan motions for Sean, the leader of the mercs to follow and all of you go inside the main tent.   Bill hands Svetlanna the pictures again.   She points to the southern ring of mountains.   "Best approach is from the south west.   Mountains in this area have lots of metal in them and the wards are not as strong as they should be.   The Red Horseman can be seen patrolling this area.   He is the most reasonable of her followers.   If we can convince him to take us to her, it will be a fairly easy trip."

You speak up, "And if he doesn't?"

Arching an eyebrow at you, she replies, "Then the universe has placed another obstacle in your way, Harry Potter.   There are also many creatures in the mountains.   The Giants are usually to the north, but trolls and other beasts call the borders of her territory home."

"Once we're past the mountains what defenses are there?"

Kwan doesn't get an answer as one of the mercenaries, ironically the one who has an ax to grind with your hitwizard buddy and shares Bill's brother's name enters.   "There's a wizard on a Thestral circling above our camp."

Sean says, "Has he made any threatening moves yet, Charlie?"

"Not yet.   Kendra, Ivan, and all three Dave's have him covered."

"What's Ivan think of his aura?"

Charlie rolls his eyes.   He doesn't think much of the Serbian's aura reading skills.   "He said the wizard is dangerous, but nothing we can't handle."

Bill smiles and looks at Svetlanna, "Well if we do this right, this may be the easiest money you've ever made.   Let's go be sociable."

The rest of you file out of the tent.   The Horseman lands in a clearing.   It's the White Horseman.   He walks to the edge of the camps temporary wards and stands with his arms crossed.   "What business do you have in the land of my mistress, foreigners?"

Bill starts to move forward, but Svetlanna stops him.   "I have met him before.   Despite the color of his robes, he has very little 'light' in him.   Let me try to speak to him first."

"By all means, ladies first."

The witch walks towards the wards and speaks, "Noble Horseman, these wizards wish to parlay with the Bone Mother.   Will you permit them safe passage into the valley?"

The man scratches his small black goatee and studies your guide carefully, "Why should I, Svetlanna of the hills?   My mistress values her privacy.   I do not see any compelling reason to disturb her.   You should know better than to ask!"

She nods, and turns back to your group and points to Bill, "You will have to make your case."

Bill nods.   Good old underling-turned-Transfiguration-teacher Percy might be the supposed "diplomat" of the Weasley clan, but anything the lot of them can do, Bill can do better.   If anyone can get this done, it's Bill.

Five minutes later, Bill has explained that something of great value was stolen and sold to one of the Horseman and that this group was here to retrieve it — peacefully.

The White Horseman looks around.   "She has entire rooms filled with gold.   Your money will not interest her.   If you are deemed worthy, she will grant you an audience.   Prove yourself, Englishman.   In the southern end of the valley is a graveyard.   There is a large monument in that graveyard.   If you can place your hand on that monument, it will alert all the horsemen and we will escort you to the castle of our liege lady, but only if you can make it through the mountains on your own."

"This is not some kind of a game," Bill says tersely.  

He scoffs, "Those are my terms, take them or leave them.   It and you matter very little to me.   If you wish to make yourself matter, earn the right to be in her presence."   Finished, the White Horseman walks back to his skeletal steed and climbs on with practiced ease and takes to the air.

Bill and Svetlanna return.   She says, "If the Horsemen know we are here that means she does as well.   It appears that this is your test.   I suspect he and the others will arrange more obstacles for us.   Still, the wards are weakest in that area, so it stands as my suggestion."

"Maybe we should try another direction if they are going reinforce the southern end of the mountains."   Moody offers instead, his penchant for doing what isn't expected surfacing.

Kwan shakes his head, "Horseman wants us to beat his challenge, more about honor than battle.   Bypassing would be an insult.   I say we go south."

There is much discussion.   Moody and some of the mercenaries want to try a western approach.   Ultimately, it isn't a democracy.   Bill's calling the shots.   For the most part Bill is a happy go lucky bloke.   You know this is the part he hates the most — making decisions that may lead to someone's death.

After careful thought he says, "Her minions already know where we are.   If they can spot us here, they'll likely be watching our movements and when we start disrupting and bypassing the wards, they'll definitely know where we are.   We can either split into two forces or stay as one group.   Since they'll be using giants, I like our numbers better together. "

Moody sees the sense in Bill's logic, "Do we proceed now, or wait until the morning?"

Bill turns to the guide, "How close can we get to the wards via Apparition or Portkey?"

"Assuming they are not extending those wards as we speak, there are areas roughly five miles from the southern approach."

"We've got maybe two hours of daylight left.   Break camp now.   We'll move to that area now.   It takes time and effort to extend those wards.   We go now and they won't be able to do it.   We'll Portkey to ten miles out and use brooms for the last five miles.   Stay low to the ground and fly cautiously in case we encounter a disruptive field.   Harry, I want you, Moody, and Svetlanna up front.   She knows the territory, Moody's eye and our glasses should help us spot the wards, and you're our best flier if things get sticky.   I'll bring the main group up from roughly two hundred yards behind."

The guide ends up riding backseat on your broom.   Top speed on her broom is barely half of the Firebolt.   "Truth be told, I have never been much for broom flight," she laments.   "I suppose I'll need to get a new one at some point."

"What about a magic carpet?   They're legal and plentiful in these parts from what I hear."

Her tone is bemused, "Me on a dusty old carpet?   Like some Arabian Fakir — no thank you."

"I think your problem is you haven't been using a good enough broom.   Whoa, what's that?   Moody!   Look over there?   What do you think?"

The scarred Auror looks in the direction you're pointing at.   "Good eye Potter, it looks like a wide area perimeter ward.   Let's land here.   This is as far as we go."

-----

The next morning starts abruptly with a woman's scream.   You scramble out of the command tent and find the hitwizard Kendra standing in front of a statue.   "I saw him just thirty minutes ago."

The statue looks remarkably like Ivan the minor seer.   Given the contorted expression of pain on his face and the fact his wand hand is frozen in the middle of casting a spell, you don't think he was happy about what happened.   Come to think about it you aren't entirely pleased either.   Sean is already barking orders for the rest of the mercs to pair up and check the camp.

"Is he dead?"

Bill's already checking him out with his wand.   "I've seen something like this the Egyptian tombs — true petrification.   There are specialists in Cairo that can probably undo this.   One thing's for certain, we can’t do a damn thing about him now.   Harry, check the perimeter wards.   See if they've been breached.   Svetlanna, I need your wand."

You start walking away as the witch says, "May I ask why?   Your contract would indicate whether or not I have broken my word."

"True, but if the wards haven't been breached, you're the only other thing that's changed in the past few days.   Your wand please."

You scan the carved set of perimeter wards and find them nullified.   "Bill, there's a breach over here.   This set is down, hard.   Someone poked a hole big enough for Hack to walk through."

He finishes testing her wand anyway and hands it back to her before coming over to look things over.   You're not sure what's got his knickers in a twist more that one of the mercs is now a statue or that somebody beat his wards.   If you were a betting man, you'd guess the wards.

"Harry, when we make camp tonight, I want a double layer perimeter and on the second layer I want a failure alarm tied to the front layer.   We can do temporary ones drawn in the air or carve them real fast in sandstone.   They don't need to be pretty, just last six to eight hours."

You nod.   "What about the merc?   Do we just leave him here?  We could tie a bunch of daemon bone to him and see if that could leech the magic out of him?"

"That's a good idea, but we don't know how long that could take or if reversing it that way would kill him.   He's not going anywhere.   We could ward him up so anyone coming to collect him gets something nasty, for instance, death, and pick him up on the way back."

Yeah, he really doesn't like his wards being bypassed.   "Ease off on the violent instincts there, Bill.   They could have just killed him, but they didn't.   That Horseman seemed to be playing this like it's some kind of game and this looks like their opening shot."

You break down the rest of the wards while Bill and Sean go over the options for the petrified mercenary.   In the end, they decide to have two of the "Daves" fly him outside the perimeter and Portkey him to the town.   Ivan gets to "rent" a room at the inn for a week.   This will delay your departure for roughly one hour, but it's probably better than turning him into a trap.

------

Eventually, the duo returns and you start the trek into the mountains.   Only thirty minutes pass, before you begin to appreciate the wonders of magical travel.   Of course Hack has to do this carrying two dragonbone sappers to use when, not if, Madame Yaga's "challenges" advance beyond these minor ones.

"Your turn, Harry.   Disarm this one."   Bill calls out spreading the love.   He's already done the first two ward traps encountered.   Either he's tiring or starting to calm down.   Whatever he's feeling, it's your turn to unravel someone else's magic.

"Right up your alley Harry, primarily Norse and Slavic based runes.   Looks like some kind of sound amplification ward.   What do you think?"

Bill's got that "snarky" look on his face.   You ask your first analytical question.   "Unless there's a big nasty critter in a cave somewhere and this is its dinner bell, this ward is probably meant to send an avalanche down on us."

"That's why you’re in the field, Journeyman Potter.   So how do you propose to take it down?"

"Have you checked for anything that'll trigger it if we put a silencing wall around it?"

Bill thumps his chest.   "I'm wounded Harry, right here.   Who do you take me for?"

You scan the area like the suitably paranoid man you've become.   There's the failsafe — the runic version of a pair of tin cups and a piece of string that would send the sound out beyond all but a ridiculously large silencing field.  

"Do you really want me to answer that, Bill?   Okay, have someone erect a cone of silence on the blowhole over there, Kwan or Moody surrounds me and the main ward with another one.   My chant will be less effective silenced, but it'll do the trick and we'll have our own safeguards in place.   You stay on your toes in case we missed anything.   Sound like a game plan?"

He smiles, "Like using a Reducto to clean dishes, crude and inefficient, but it's a guarantee that the spots will be gone when you're done.   I like it.   Sean, have somebody cover that area with silence and a second person in case it starts to collapse.   Mr. Kwan, I know how much you prefer it when Harry here isn't speaking, so if you'll do the honors.   Alastor, you and I are on lookout for Five-Second Frank."

"Five-Second Frank" is a Breaker's term for the ward you don't see coming and the five seconds the unsuspecting Cursebreaker has left to live.   Years, perhaps even centuries ago, someone put this ward here.   Maybe even the old crone herself!   It's time to test your mettle against a person who could already be dead and see which one of you wins.   It's what really gets the blood pumping.   Premier Cursebreakers live for this kind of test.

The first few words leave your lips and the silencing field slams down on you.   Ignoring the silence, you keep chanting and weaving your wand in an intricate, repeating pattern.   The area around you becomes thick with the sensation of magic as you press against the energy of the ward.   Fortunately, there aren't a lot of charging runes on this slab of granite.   It is simply meant to make a big noise, which doesn't have to last very long to trigger an avalanche.   In less than a minute, the ward is already failing.   At the ninety second mark, it's all over.   Two well placed curses and the controller runes for this scheme are destroyed and the threat is marginalized — ward disabled.

Turning, you mouth to Kwan, "You can let the charm down?"

The bastard has the nerve to act like he can't understand you.   He dodges the stunner you send his direction out of annoyance, but lets the field drop.   You're about to start cussing him out when a thunderous gong resonates from high above.   How?   What?   You beat the ward.

"There!"   Moody calls out while pointing to the mountains above the pass.   Even from this distance it's easy to see the large figure of a troll next to a gong.   Well, you did your job and disabled the ward and avoided "Five Second Frank."   Too bad they had a "Ten Second Troll" for a manual release.

Tons of snow start to dislodge from both sides of the pass — bugger.   Well inside the ward perimeter, it would be foolish to try to fly, Apparate, or Portkey.   Even you're not powerful enough to vanish whole mountains.  

"Shit!   Now what?"   Someone screams.

Its times like these, when the whole world — or at least a good portion of it — is coming down on you that you have to ask yourself if leaving Brazil was such a great idea.   It had a nice climate. The people, who weren't trying to kill you, were pleasant.   Most importantly, no one was trying to bury you alive.  

The seconds are ticking away — time to come up with something brilliant or stupid enough to save your life.  

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Author Notes:

Thanks for reading.   Visit my new author site www.jimbernheimer.com for news on Dead Eye and my other stories.   You can find the initial cover art for the story there as well.   It looks like it will be closer to a Christmas release.   Lie chapter 15 will out soon.