1. Due to issues with external spam filters, QQ is currently unable to send any mail to Microsoft E-mail addresses. This includes any account at live.com, hotmail.com or msn.com. Signing up to the forum with one of these addresses will result in your verification E-mail never arriving. For best results, please use a different E-mail provider for your QQ address.
    Dismiss Notice
  2. For prospective new members, a word of warning: don't use common names like Dennis, Simon, or Kenny if you decide to create an account. Spammers have used them all before you and gotten those names flagged in the anti-spam databases. Your account registration will be rejected because of it.
    Dismiss Notice
  3. Since it has happened MULTIPLE times now, I want to be very clear about this. You do not get to abandon an account and create a new one. You do not get to pass an account to someone else and create a new one. If you do so anyway, you will be banned for creating sockpuppets.
    Dismiss Notice
  4. If you wish to change your username, please ask via conversation to tehelgee instead of asking via my profile. I'd like to not clutter it up with such requests.
    Dismiss Notice
  5. Due to the actions of particularly persistent spammers and trolls, we will be banning disposable email addresses from today onward.
    Dismiss Notice
  6. We have added another rule, please check the Rules post for more information.
    Dismiss Notice

Stranded (Harry Potter AU)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Starfox5, Jan 3, 2021.

Loading...
  1. space turtle

    space turtle Getting sticky.

    Joined:
    Feb 20, 2015
    Messages:
    64
    Likes Received:
    190
    I’m sure as an experienced broom rider Harry knows some ways to soothe sore thighs.

    Bonk!!

    Bad Harry!!
     
    Prince Charon and Starfox5 like this.
  2. Threadmarks: Chapter 9: The Shelter
    Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

    Joined:
    Feb 5, 2015
    Messages:
    3,010
    Likes Received:
    19,787
    Chapter 9: The Shelter

    Godric’s Hollow, Devon, Britain, July 7th, 1996

    Albus Dumbledore appeared at a familiar corner in Godric’s Hollow. Covered by a Muggle-Repelling Charm still anchored to the remains of the barn it had once protected, so long ago that not even Bathilda remembered a time it had been standing, it served as a common destination when travelling to the village by Apparition. Not too many did, of course - using the Floo Network was far easier and more comfortable. And more private, which was a good thing. While the muggle residents of the village weren’t particularly prying sorts, having long since grown used to the eccentricities of their neighbours - and Albus was certain that a few of them suspected or were aware of magic - gossip still set the tongues of both muggles and wizards wagging.

    Nevertheless, Albus preferred Apparition to using the Floo Network. While he was in no danger of losing his skill at it, a little practice never hurt. And old habits died slowly, of course. Ambushes at fireplaces, or curses and other traps, had been common during both Grindelwald’s War and the Blood War. Not that he thought that there would be a trap or ambush at James and Lily’s, but with Harry having disappeared, it was better to be safe than sorry.

    And he also liked taking a stroll through the village and showing off his muggle clothes. He smiled as he ran his hands over his tailored three-piece suit. He did cut a fine figure, even at his age. A distinguished gentleman. Although he had forgone the bowler hat - trusted sources had informed him that it was now considered old-fashioned amongst muggles.

    He smiled as he walked along the main road of the village. It had changed since the time of his youth, yet had stayed the same where it counted, so to speak. Bathilda’s home still sported that overgrown patch in her garden where she once had spilt a growth potion. The grocer still had two display windows, one for the muggles and one for wizards and witches - although since they could see the muggle one as well, they effectively had two. And the Potters’ cottage still stood, barely changed since that fateful night almost fifteen years ago.

    As he did so often when he visited, Albus stopped at the corner where the small road leading to the home of James and Lily branched off from the main street. Tom had walked up this road, to his death, that night. Guided by Peter, he had arrived at the same spot Albus had used a few minutes ago and had, as was his wont, headed straight for his target, arrogantly convinced nothing could threaten him and ready to murder a toddler over a frankly vague prophecy he had not even heard in full.

    Albus sighed. Even after all the atrocities Tom had committed, Albus still felt regret at the sheer waste of potential. The things Tom could have accomplished, if only he had chosen a different path. If only Albus had handled his circumstances better…

    He sighed once more. At the end of the day, Tom had made his choice, and Albus had made his own. And that was why a brave young wizard had risked not just his life, but also his soul, to lure Tom to his death. A braver wizard Albus had never met. Nor a more foolish one. Albus didn’t know what Peter had done to earn Tom’s trust. He had never asked, and the young wizard had never volunteered the information. Albus hoped that Peter had talked to his friends about it, but he hadn’t asked that question either.

    He smiled, sighing again. Many people credited him with Tom’s death, even though the entire Order had been involved, some deceiving Tom’s followers so he thought Albus was busy in Diagon Alley, but many of them also facing Tom in that final battle. And while Albus had been the one to cast the spells that had taken down Tom’s defences - and the spells that had kept him from escaping - as well as the coup de grâce, it had been Peter, James and Lily who had made it possible. James and Lily by deciding to serve as bait for the trap, Peter by ensuring that Tom fell for it. And little Harry, by being born.

    Granted, two others had also been crucial for Tom’s downfall, informing Albus of the threat to the Potters and delivering the key to defeating Tom for good, respectively, but both actions had been taken for very selfish reasons, by very selfish people. Albus rarely wasted a thought on the first, other than keeping an eye on him to confirm that the man was sticking to researching potions instead of the Dark Arts in his exile, and if not for the second man’s influence with the Wizengamot, and the fact that his son was at Hogwarts, he would bother with him even less.

    Although with young Harry missing - and Miss Granger - Albus might have to revisit his stance, if only to check that Lucius Malfoy was not involved in this affair. Despite his apparent change in allegiance, the man had maintained his contacts in Knockturn Alley - and while Albus did not think he would be so foolish as to have a child kidnapped over a school rivalry, he could not entirely discount the possibility.

    But first, he had to meet Harry’s parents.

    Albus walked up the road, nodding at the muggle woman in her garden, to the Potters’ home. It was protected by new spells, recently cast, as a quick wave of his wand told him. Temporary defences, not proper wards, they would fade with time rather than grow in power, but for now, they made for a potent addition to the house’s defences. Even Albus would have some trouble breaking through them, though he would manage in time.

    He lifted his wand, announcing his presence, and within a few seconds, Lily appeared at the door. “Albus! Please, come in!”

    “Lily.” He nodded at her with a smile. She was dressed in casual muggle clothes as usual, and was smiling in a friendly manner, but he could tell she was distraught. Her hair had been hastily styled, and her eyes had a very slight red tint - she must not have slept much, if at all. Understandable, of course - who could sleep well with their child missing?

    Inside the living room, he found Sirius, as expected, and Remus. And he had no doubt that Peter was on his way back to England already - the Marauders were closing ranks. “Sirius. Remus.” He nodded at them.

    “Headmaster.” Remus still refused to call him Albus.

    “Albus.” Sirius, of course, did. Though Albus knew the other wizard would likely do so even if he had not been invited to.

    Albus looked around. “Peter has not yet arrived, then?”

    Sirius snorted. “You would know better than we do where he is, wouldn’t you?”

    Albus inclined his head. “I generally do not follow his steps very closely. Therefore, I am not aware of his exact circumstances when he received your message.”

    Sirius chuckled. “Plausible deniability, huh?”

    “I can neither confirm nor deny,” Albus replied.

    Lily snorted at his quote, though the two wizards looked a little lost. She quickly grew serious again, though. “Enough of that. Albus! As you know, Harry’s missing - taken by an unknown Portkey, together with Miss Granger. And our only lead has left the country.”

    “Which makes this an international affair,” Albus replied. He suppressed a sigh. He might be the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, but the organisation’s remit was almost exclusively limited to the enforcement of the International Statute of Secrecy. Whenever an international issue arose that was not related to the Statute of Secrecy, the countries involved had to settle it themselves. Which could be - and usually was - quite tedious.

    “Yes. And we don’t think that the Scandinavians will be very helpful,” Lily went on.

    Albus nodded in agreement. “I concur. Especially after the latest attempt in the Wizengamot to tighten werewolf regulation.”

    “The bill didn’t pass,” Sirius cut in. “Umbridge, as usual, failed to garner any support outside the bigots.”

    He was correct, Albus knew. However… “Indeed. But the mere fact it was proposed and discussed rankled with the Scandinavians.”

    “They do take werewolf rights very seriously,” Remus commented - showing his usual restraint when the matter was discussed in his presence.

    If only Britain were more open towards those suffering from that curse, Remus would not have to hide his condition. But things were as they were. “I could put pressure on the Scandinavians,” Albus said - he was still one of the most powerful wizards in the world, after all. “However, I fear such a course of action might turn out to be counterproductive.” The Scandinavians would likely resort to malicious compliance.

    “But it’s our only lead!” Lily protested.

    “Indeed.” Albus smiled. “But I think another wizard is more suited to deal with the issue at hand. Of course, I will remain ready to help when needed, you can be assured of that.”

    He was certain that Peter would be able to get results faster than political and diplomatic pressure would.

    “Now, I have taken a look at the memories James just provided, and I think I have found the missing Portkey…”

    *****​

    Unknown Location, July 7th, 1996

    Hermione Granger fumed as she transfigured more earth to stone in their makeshift underground shelter - they needed thick walls and an even thicker ceiling to keep the wyvern out, should it discover them.

    As if Potter wouldn’t have used those Diarrhoea Drops on her! She still remembered the time she’d vomited slugs for half an hour. She shuddered, almost messing up her next spell. The sensation of slugs appearing in her mouth, slime coating her tongue, retching, only to have the next slug appear… She retched for a moment.

    He didn’t have to act as if he were shocked that she’d anticipated his ploy, either - she’d been a victim of his ‘pranks’ too often to fall for one again. And, really, the worst she had done was to make him pee blue. That was a classic harmless prank!

    She waved her wand, transfiguring more earth into stone. They would need wood, too, to prop up the structure. And reinforce it. Wood, transfigured into metal. Perhaps they could also create some furniture - makeshift stuff, but anything would be better than sleeping on robes stuffed with grass again.

    She closed her eyes for a moment. Damn. She was planning for a longer stay. Like a wizarding Robinson Crusoe. But they wouldn’t have to stay that long. They couldn’t! Someone had to find them!

    She took a deep breath and shook her head. She couldn’t panic now. Not with a man-eating monster around. Steeling herself, she continued to cast.

    “Looks good.”

    She gasped and whirled, her wand rising. Someone had sneaked up on her! Someone… Potter.

    “Whoa!” Potter called out. “Watch it!”

    “Don’t surprise me!” she snapped. She had almost cast a curse at him.

    “What? Did you think I was the wyvern?” He scoffed.

    “No. But you could have been a dark wizard.”

    “We don’t know if this island is the lair of a dark wizard,” he said.

    “Better safe than sorry,” she replied. What reason was there to hide an entire island? And not just from muggles. And the wyvern was obviously familiar with wizards. She shook her head. That was more than merely suspicious.

    “Have you ever…” Potter trailed off.

    “What?” she asked.

    “Nothing.”

    Nothing? Yeah, right. “What is it?”

    “I was just wondering why you think the worst of me.”

    She blinked. “Are you serious?”

    “Yes.”

    He couldn’t be serious! “Have you forgotten everything you’ve done to me?”

    “Hey!” He frowned. “No, I haven’t - but you gave as good as you got. Often, you did worse! You escalated things.”

    “In an attempt to discourage you from continuing this… feud.” And it hadn’t worked.

    “You learned the Sandpaper Hex for that!”

    “I haven’t cast it on you, have I? Really!” As if she’d cast that on someone! She wasn’t a monster! But using it on a piece of furniture to frighten Potter? That was different.

    “Why would you learn a spell if you don’t plan to use it?”

    “It could come in handy - as I’ve already explained.” They’d been over that not long ago.

    He shook his head. “Well, I’m not going to make you shit your robes.”

    “Good. And I’m not going to sandpaper you.”

    “Good.” He nodded curtly.

    They stared at each other for a moment. “We need wood to reinforce the shelter,” she told him. “Some struts or similar structures - earth transfigured into stone alone won’t be strong enough.”

    “It looks solid to me.”

    “It’s stone - it looks solid, but it probably isn’t. And we don’t want the stone ceiling to fall on us if the wyvern lands on it, do we?”

    He paled a little. Hadn’t he considered the risks? “No, we really don’t,” he said. “I’ll fetch some.”

    He turned and started to walk away, and she bit her lower lip. “Wait. You need me to watch your back.”

    “What?”

    She sighed. “I’ll stand watch and summon you back if there’s a monster coming for you.”

    “Oh.” He blinked. “I thought I’d just stand in the entrance and cast a Cutting Curse at a tree.”

    That would work as well - that was how they had gathered the wood for the fires, after all.

    “I’ll help you, then,” she said.

    They went outside, up the stairs they had created. “A few branches with foliage to hide the entrance would be good as well,” she commented.

    He grunted in response. Typical.

    She looked around. Was there a suitable small tree? They didn’t want to create an opening in the canopy above them.

    “There,” Potter said, pointing to the side. “The small tree behind the shrub.”

    She nodded. “Alright.”

    *****​

    A few Cutting Curses, and the small tree Harry Potter had aimed at, as well as the two smaller trees next to it, were lying on the ground. Granger had cut one of them, but he’d been quicker and got the second before she could shift her aim.

    “Accio cut trees!” he called out, and the trunks flew towards them. With their branches and foliage still attached. Granger yelped and dodged behind him a moment before the trees arrived and buried the entrance to the shelter.

    “That’s why I wanted to cut them down to more manageable sizes before summoning them,” she complained.

    “I handled them,” he pointed out.

    She sniffed. “I didn’t doubt that you could summon them wholesale - but, as should be obvious, they need to be cut down so that they’ll be able to fit through the entrance. Which we left narrow by design.”

    Ah. He shrugged. “We can cut them more easily here. More precisely as well.”

    She huffed but didn’t contradict him, which he took as acknowledgement that he was right.

    “So, let’s cut off the branches - but keep the leaves on the smaller twigs,” he said. “We can use them for camouflage.”

    “Only until they wilt,” she retorted. “Unless you know seventh-year preservation spells.”

    He didn’t. “Do you?”

    She grimaced. “No, I didn’t think they would be worth the effort this year.”

    “Pity.” He shook his head.

    Frowning, she added: “I didn’t exactly foresee that I’d end up stranded on a magically hidden island. If I’d known that would happen, I’d have learned far more spells.”

    “Well, with your grades in Divination, no one expects you to foresee anything.”

    “I got an E!” she snapped. “Both years!”

    “Not in the practicals,” he told her with a grin. Oh, that had been fun, seeing Granger not being the best in class for once.

    I didn’t make up dreams and visions!” She glared at him.

    He raised his hands. “You know what Trelawney said: Dreams can be visions, and we rarely remember dreams, so…” He grinned. “Who can say if we really didn’t have visions?”

    “You need a special talent for Divination,” she told him.

    He shrugged. It was an easy class.

    She huffed again, then went back to cutting wood.

    After a short while, they had the trees cut up and sorted the logs by length and width. “Alright,” Granger said. “Now let’s get them inside so we can set up a support structure for the ceiling.”

    “And some sort of door,” he added.

    “That’s a little complicated... we would need hinges. I could create some, I think, but it would take me a significant time. Although it might be worth it…” Granger frowned as she seemed to lose focus.

    “I was thinking of placing a boulder there. We enlarge it to close the door and shrink it to open it,” Harry said.

    “Oh. That’s… actually clever.” She pressed her lips together as if it pained her to say the words.

    “Why, thank you! Sometimes, simple is better. We’re wizards, not muggles.”

    “And yet, we use a lot of muggle tools and devices,” she retorted.

    “Well, yeah. But we don’t have to as long as we have wands.”

    “I think the proliferation of various enchanted items - many of them adaptations of muggle technology - disproves that claim,” Granger lectured him. “Too many wizards and witches can’t work enough magic to be self-sufficient.”

    Mum said similar things. Harry pressed his lips together for a moment. If only she and Dad were here. And Rose - no, not Rose. This was far too dangerous for her.

    “You disagree?”

    Granger was glaring at him again. What for? He hadn’t said anything. “Not everyone can be good at everything,” he said. Well, Granger certainly gave it a try.

    “But everyone could be proficient enough at magic to be self-sufficient,” she shot back. In a smaller voice, she added: “We would be in a much better position if we were.”

    Ah. “We’ve been doing good so far,” he said. “We’re still alive.”

    She snorted at that. “That’s a low bar. We’ve been here for barely a day.”

    “Well, when you take the wyvern into account...” He grinned. “But we’ve got food, water and shelter. We’re doing well.”

    “Our long-term prospects are still not very good,” she said. “We need a more diverse diet, or we’ll suffer malnutrition.”

    “We can eat the wyvern once we kill it,” he told her.

    Granger laughed at that. Not some weak chuckle, either - she threw her head back and laughed out loud. Which, Harry couldn’t help noticing, pushed her chest out. And emphasised how short her top was.

    Gah. This was Granger. He really ended to get off this island.

    *****​

    Hermione Granger took a deep breath. She’d needed that laugh. Humour helped them deal with this sort of situation - all the books she’d read about such events agreed on that. Sometimes, Potter could actually be funny instead of an arse. “That was a good one,” she said, but her smile died when she noticed his frown. Was he offended that she laughed at his… oh. He had been serious? “You don’t really want to eat wyvern meat, do you? We don’t know if it’s toxic to humans. It could have parasites as well.” She didn’t remember reading anything about wyvern meat’s edibility or lack thereof.

    “Don’t you have spells to check for that?”

    Dear Lord, he was serious. “None I would trust for this. The spells I know detect poison, not parasites or inedible substances.” Which was a major weakness, but she trusted Madam Pomfrey to handle such things. Or St Mungo’s. Now, though, stranded on an island…

    “That’ll make testing berries or fruits a pain,” he said.

    He was right. “Yes. I’ve got a bezoar on me, but…”

    “You’ve got a bezoar?” He stared at her.

    “Of course I do!” she replied. Why did he have to interrupt her? “It’s cheap and can save lives. Especially if Neville botches his potions again but doesn’t notice before testing.”

    “Slughorn would step in,” Potter told her.

    “Slughorn isn’t around when Neville’s brewing in Gryffindor Tower,” she pointed out. “And we’re a fair way from the hospital wing.”

    “Right. That’s why we’re not supposed to brew in the dorms.”

    She scoffed. “I’ve told people that many times, but I don’t remember you supporting my attempt to enforce the rules.”

    “You’re not a prefect,” he shot back.

    “Our prefects are useless!” They hadn’t managed to stop Potter even once. Nor had they stopped her.

    “Hey! Ron’s a good prefect!” Now he was glaring at her.

    She cocked her head and stared at him. “He lets you do pranks. As a prefect.”

    “So does Dunbar!”

    “Firstly, I retaliate; I don’t ‘prank’. Secondly, Fay doesn’t ‘let’ me do anything - she just can’t stop me.” She huffed.

    “Well, Ron doesn’t let me do anything either!”

    “But he doesn’t really work too hard at trying to stop you, does he?” She raised her eyebrows.

    “And Dunbar does?”

    Not any more; the other witch had stopped trying to stop her. Hermione shrugged. “She tried.”

    Potter snorted. “In any case, a bezoar won’t help us find food that’s safe to eat.”

    “No, it won’t. But that’s not why I have one,” Hermione told him. “But we can ingest small quantities of fruits or berries and see if we get sick.” That would reduce the danger significantly.

    “And if we get sick? Seriously sick?”

    “The odds for that aren’t very high,” she said.

    “That’s not exactly comforting - and I’m the one who plays Seeker in Quidditch,” he said with a toothy grin.

    She pursed her lips. “Well, we don’t have to do it right now; we’ll be fine for some time.” She turned to look at the wood on the floor. “Now help me put up a supporting structure for our shelter!”

    She didn’t wait for him to agree and started enlarging and cutting the wood into suitable shapes.

    After a moment, he joined her. “What do you need?”

    “We’ll need struts and beams.” She showed him the size. “It’s longer than neccessary, but we can cut off the excess length when we put them up.”

    “How many do we need?”

    She looked around, squinting as she calculated. “I’m no architect, nor do I have access to a CAD program or a static calculator program, but I think every two yards is the minimum.”

    “Well, good thing the shelter isn’t that large,” he commented. “Or we’d be here for a long time.”

    Really? She narrowed her eyes at him. Was he joking about their situation?

    He blinked. “Oh. I didn’t mean it like that.”

    She nodded, albeit curtly. Good. That really wouldn’t have been funny. She cast a Cutting Curse and then looked at the beam she had created. A Levitation Charm made it float and turn. Still a little too long. A second spell made it fit. “We can use this as a template for the beams,” she told Potter. “And this as a template for the struts.” She pointed at her other result.

    “I’ll do the beams,” Potter said.

    “Alright. You can switch to struts once you’re done with the beams. But let’s test these, first.” She levitated the second strut she’d finished.

    Together, they managed to put up the struts, using Sticking Charms to anchor them to the walls - which took some time without a spirit level. And because Hermione hadn’t exactly done much Do-It-Yourself at home - and her parents weren’t the best at that, either. Floating the beam up and into place was comparatively easy.

    And it looked solid. Hermione nodded. “Good. That should do - once I transfigure it into iron.”

    “I’ll lock the door, then,” Potter said. “We’ll be here for a while.”

    *****​

    Harry Potter watched as Granger transfigured the last beam into iron.

    “And done. We should be safe now. Relatively,” she said. “Depending on how durable its claws are, the wyvern could still pose a threat by digging us out, but we should have enough time to react.”

    “Like digging an escape tunnel by vanishing the earth,” Harry agreed with a nod.

    “After untransfiguring the rock.”

    “Of course.” That was obvious. “Furniture now?”

    She looked at him for a moment before nodding. “I guess so. This would be easier if we knew more Conjuration or Transfiguration spells.”

    “We’ll make do.” He grabbed one of the enlarged coconuts and took a sip from the milk, then shrunk the rock blocking the door - the exit. Whatever.

    “It seems we’ll have to.”

    He turned. Granger hadn’t moved yet. And she sounded significantly less bossy than she had before. “What’s wrong?”

    He could see her set her jaw. “Nothing. Let’s go get wood for a decent set of beds, two benches and a table.”

    He was tempted to ask again, but she glared at him as she swept past him. Not a good moment to pry.

    Another small tree was cut down, levitated towards them, then cut up. Harry put the foliage - enlarged - over their shelter. It still wasn’t perfectly camouflaged, but it was better than before. And hadn’t Sirius told him that he should never aim for perfection when trying to hide something since perfection stood out? Although that had been about cover stories and excuses…

    He shrugged, checked the sky again - still nothing - and entered the shelter.

    Granger had been busy - she had two planks the size of beds on the ground already and was now using Sticking Charms to form a frame around them. “We can use grass to fill it, then put our robes over it, sticking them to the frame, and we’ll have an adequate mattress. Or so I hope,” she told him.

    He nodded. If it wasn’t adequate they’d find out, but the theory seemed to be sound.

    Constructing benches was easy - just a plank and two smaller, thicker planks. But they were rough and full of splinters. “These need to be sandpapered,” he told Granger.

    “As soon as I’m done here,” she replied, not looking up.

    He started on the table, which was merely a bigger bench, and was almost done when Granger finished the beds and levitated them to different corners of the shelter. “We might want a partition,” he said. “For privacy.”

    “Right.” She nodded emphatically. “We have enough wood left.”

    “Not a stone wall?” he asked.

    She shook her head. “We’d have to mould it from earth and then transfigure it… that’s a bit much for a mere partition.”

    “Well, it would cut down on the snoring, a little,” he joked.

    “I don’t snore.”

    “You do. A little.”

    She shook her head. “I checked in first year, when Parvati complained.”

    He blinked. “Couldn’t you just cast a charm on her?”

    “In first year?” She scoffed. “Besides, she didn’t trust us to wake her up in time - she suspected that we’d wake her last so we could use the bathroom first.”

    “Ah.” Girl problems. “So… who did snore?”

    “Lily Moon’s cat.”

    He laughed at that, and she joined in. Briefly.

    “I’ll get the grass,” he said once she cast the first Sandpaper Hex. The sound of wood getting sanded sent a cold shiver down his spine.

    Outside, it was still sunny - well, not that he could see the sky through the trees’ canopy, but it wasn’t dim. And it would stay that way for a while.

    He still kept looking up as he summoned grass. The wyvern was still out there. Wounded and looking for them.

    The grass landed near his feet, splattering him with clumps of dirt and earth - apparently, he had summoned this batch with its roots. Oh. Smiling, he kept summoning more grass, then started covering the shelter’s roof with it. That would make for much better camouflage than drying foliage.

    He was in the middle of covering the roof when Granger appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing? I’ve finished the furniture. Oh.” After a moment, she added: “Good idea. But you should’ve said something.”

    “What, worried about me?” He grinned at her.

    She rolled her eyes at him. “In light of your tendency to recklessly endanger yourself for fun, I think I’m justified in expecting the worst.”

    “But that doesn’t tell me whether or not you were worried about me.”

    “You’re obviously fine,” she said, flashing her teeth at him before turning away to gather the excess grass.

    “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he told her.

    “Of course you would,” she retorted.

    “That’s not a denial.” He grinned.

    “You’re in denial.” She entered the shelter again, a big bunch of grass floating behind her.

    He counted that as a win.

    *****​

    Hermione Granger sighed. Potter just couldn’t be serious to save his life. Well, not quite - but it seemed it took an urgent threat for him to stop making stupid jokes and doing reckless things. Although his ‘last stand’ facing the wyvern at the pond had been extremely reckless. It was probably the fault of playing too much Quidditch.

    She divided the grass into two equal piles, enlarged it and stuffed it into the bed frames. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it would do. Enlarging her robes and mounting them on the frame - with one half loose to serve as a blanket - proved that. Tolerable, at least. And better than the sleeping bag she had created in the cave.

    She looked round. Beds. Partition. Table. Benches. Enlarged coconut. She’d camped less comfortably. Almost like a vacation home. A cottage in the Alps, perhaps - one of the rustic ones for mountain climbers. All it lacked was some way to cook food, and if they needed that, they could probably mould a stove from earth, transfigure it to stone, and use coconut shells transfigured into metal as pots and dishes. With a bit of effort, they could stay here almost indefinitely. Like Robinson Crusoe.

    She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Staying here with Potter? Ugh. And there was the wyvern to deal with, still. Robinson Crusoe hadn’t had to hide from a man-eating flying monster, after all, and…

    Potter entered, and she lost her train of thought. He was topless. Shirtless. And wet - water was running down his skin.

    She stared, then blinked. “What did you do?” she blurted out, focusing on his face. Not on his chest or abs.

    “What? I got sweaty camouflaging our shelter,” he told her with a frown. “So I decided to cool off with a Water-Making Spell.”

    And he just had to strip down for it, didn’t he? She pressed her lips together. Focus! On anything! “How did you get sweaty? Didn’t you use a Levitation Charm?”

    “That’s not exactly good for planting stuff,” he retorted. “And manoeuvring small pieces of sod is too much of a bother with a spell. We don’t do that in Herbology, either, do we?”

    He was correct, but… “We won’t be graded on how precisely you covered the roof in grass. And it’s not a species of magical grass that needs special care.”

    “Well, we might not get graded, but if the wyvern spots us, that’d be worse than failing a test, wouldn’t it?”

    He still hadn’t covered up again. She snorted. “As smart as the creature has proved to be, I don’t know if the camouflage will fool it should it see through the canopy.”

    “It certainly won’t hurt,” he replied. “And isn’t anything worth doing worth doing well?”

    “Sometimes, perfect is the enemy of good,” she shot back.

    “Well, it wasn’t as if I had anything else to do.” He shrugged, and she didn’t stare.

    “Whatever. Let’s eat,” she said.

    “Coconut, raw, right?” He grinned.

    “Unless you want to risk your life going fishing?”

    “I’ve already fulfilled my quota for today,” he said.

    She snorted at his joke. At least he was self-aware. Sometimes. “However, we would do well to find some way to diversify our food. Fish would be good.”

    “I don’t know if there’s a stream or pond nearby,” he said, finally putting his shirt back on. “We’ll have to explore the area. Tomorrow.”

    “Carefully,” she told him as she enlarged the coconut and cut off portions for the both of them. “Wait,” she added as she put the shells down on their table.

    “What?”

    “I’m making us cutlery.” She took some spare wood, cut it to the right size and shape, then transfigured it into two sets of a knife, spoon and fork. All rather crude, unfortunately. “The knife probably needs sharpening,” she said as she handed Potter his set.

    “It’ll do for a coconut. And probably for fish as well.”

    She pressed her lips together. She was well aware that knives meant for fish weren’t at all sharp.

    *****​

    Harry Potter suppressed a sigh. Granger looked angry again, even though he had just complimented her. The cutlery wouldn’t win any design awards, but they worked well enough, though that probably wasn’t enough for Miss Perfect. Who had just argued that good enough would be good enough. Well, she should listen to herself.

    He snorted at the thought.

    “What’s so funny?” Granger asked at once.

    “I just remembered a joke Uncle Sirius once told me,” he lied.

    “Ah.” She nodded.

    He stabbed the next bit of coconut meat. Still good. But a bit of actual meat, or some fish, wouldn’t go amiss.

    “What was the joke?” Granger suddenly asked.

    “Um...” He blinked. Think, quick. What joke could he tell her? Ah! “Do you know why Slytherin Aurors are so useful to the DMLE?”

    “No?”

    “Because you can arrest them without leaving the office!” He chuckled.

    “Very funny,” she commented in a tone that made it clear she didn’t think it was.

    “Hey! It’s black humour,” he defended himself - and Sirius. “Back in the war, most of the Death Eaters were Slytherins. And the rest supported them.”

    “I sincerely doubt that an entire house supported Voldemort,” she retorted.

    He shrugged. He had heard that argument before. “Enough did. And you know how the Slytherins treat muggleborns.”

    She pursed her lips. Didn’t have an answer to that, did she? “Not every Slytherin is as disagreeable as Malfoy,” she said.

    He chuckled. “They still laugh at his comments and cheer him on when he cheats at Quidditch.”

    “Every house cheers their Quidditch team on,” she said. “Even McLaggen gets cheered on when he replaces a regular team member.”

    Well, that was only natural, wasn’t it? It was Quidditch, after all. “McLaggen doesn’t cheat,” he pointed out.

    “He’s too stupid to cheat,” she replied.

    He laughed at that. “That he is. And he thinks he’s the best Quidditch player in the history of Hogwarts.”

    “Why do you keep him on the team, anyway?”

    “Because he’s a decent player who can substitute for any other player on the team well enough.” Otherwise, they’d have kicked the git off the team long ago. But Oliver had taught them that what mattered was winning the match.

    She shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

    He snorted in return. “Only for Quidditch.”

    “That’s crazy enough.”

    They finished their meal, and Granger stood and stretched. Harry didn’t stare. But he didn’t not see her either. “I think the sun’s setting,” she said, looking out of the door - the rock Harry had placed there only blocked three-quarters of it. “I’m taking first watch.”

    “Let me do it,” he told her. She looked pretty exhausted.

    “No. You did it last night.”

    “So I’m used to it,” he replied, smiling at her.

    She snorted. “Nice try. Both of us need to be well-rested tomorrow. We were very lucky today.”

    He saw her shudder and resisted the sudden urge to go and hug her. She wouldn’t want that. “We’ll have to get rid of it, you know,” he said instead.

    “The wyvern?”

    “Yes. It hates us. I doubt that it’ll stop coming after us until it’s dead.” Or until it caught them.

    She sighed. “I’m forced to agree with your assessment. It doesn’t act like a normal predator, which would be seeking easier prey by now.”

    “Yes.”

    “But how will we kill it?” she asked. “It won’t fall for the same trap again.”

    “Then we’ll make a new trap!” Harry told her. “I’ve got an idea or two.”

    She narrowed her eyes. “I hope none of them requires either of us to play bait.”

    “Well, both of us would be safe…”

    “Safe?” she interrupted him.

    “As safe as possible. But if we want to lure it into a trap, we need the one bait we know it’ll come after.” He smiled, if a little weakly, at her.

    She scoffed. “Good night.”

    Well, she hadn’t contradicted him, at least.

    *****​
     
  3. Zeal Iskander

    Zeal Iskander E SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN TH

    Joined:
    Mar 6, 2020
    Messages:
    768
    Likes Received:
    877
    Always a pleasure whenever this story updates. Keep up the good work!
     
    Starfox5 likes this.
  4. Meatlover

    Meatlover Getting out there.

    Joined:
    Sep 6, 2020
    Messages:
    24
    Likes Received:
    89
    Hi so is it only me or are the 2 speakeng past each other? I mean they constantly rile each other up without meaning to, is that wanted if yes it is a nice idea.
    Harry truly should sit Hermione down and try to explain himself and Talk it out with her, not assume anything. i think that would help massivly and stop him from being suprised at her thinking the worst of him.
    All in all this is a great story hope you are well!
     
    Starfox5 likes this.
  5. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

    Joined:
    Feb 5, 2015
    Messages:
    3,010
    Likes Received:
    19,787
    Oh, they're starting to talk to each other - but they're both very stubborn, and very much convinced they're in the right and the victim of their feud. But the story is about changing that - and about surviving on that island, of course :)
     
    caspian1a and Prince Charon like this.
Loading...