A Sea Change

Chapter 3:

Sirius snaked an arm around Harry’s neck and pulled him close, playfully kissing the top of his head. “Just watch out for trolls, listen to Andie, and prepare to be mobbed by overly friendly goats,” he said.

Harry grinned at him, wriggled free and shouldered his share of the food that would serve as lunch, dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast. The unspoken message, loud and clear, was “I love you; I’ll miss you.” Good enough to be starting up a mountain with.

It was a beautiful day for a hike. The morning mist was dissipating, even from the fjord; Andie said it was always clearer as one climbed higher anyway. “Depending on how far up the mountain we go, we’ll be back some time tomorrow,” she told them. “There’s a milking shed part of the way up; Kjersti doesn’t bring the animals home every night.”

There had been mild reluctance on everyone’s part to leave the school proper. Ron was hopelessly in love with the boats, and was only persuaded to go up the mountain after Erik promised him a full day on the water when they returned. Harry, though he never would have said so, was not quite ready to let Sirius out of his sight for a whole day and a half.

Nor was Hermione—though she, too, would never have said so. She had watched Sirius at breakfast, when she thought no-one would be watching her, and could happily have gone on watching him the rest of her holiday. She contented herself with the knowledge that Harry and Andie would probably be talking about him; this prospect was attractive.

It was at times like this, she thought, when it would have been nice if one of her best friends had been a girl. She couldn’t imagine either Harry or Ron in a discussion of Sirius’s beautiful eyes, or the way his thick black lashes veiled them when he glanced her way, smiling across the table—but it would have suited her just now. She watched the horseplay between Harry and Sirius, a trifle enviously, then grinned to herself and shouldered her own pack.

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It was a fairly wide path, not too steep but with a good deal of doubling back and forth, through mixed forest with small patches of clear space. As Hermione had hoped, Harry and Andie were only too willing to fill them in on Pack history, from the Hut and its discovery by Remus years ago, to their recent claiming of Harry. Some bits of it were even new to Harry: the bits Sirius had never told him, about the Wolfsbane potion and Sirius’s Calling spell that had allowed them to befriend the Wolf.

There was glorious birdsong, delightful to the ear, even when Andie told them that the birds were merely warning them away from their nests. A red fox came to the edge of the path once and peered at them from the shelter of the trees. Andie engaged in a silent conversation with him, and laughed as they moved on.

“He says my cubs need training in proper walking,” she said. “He could hear us all the way down the mountain. He doesn’t think we’ll ever catch our dinner if we make this much noise. That was his idea of a joke; he knows we don’t hunt.”

Ron finally asked Andie to tell him all she could about the boats and the Marine Arts classes taught by Erik. “It would be so cool if I could come here for the rest of my school,” he sighed. “That ship’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. And the smell, and the wind, and all—Erik says there’s a lot of calculation involved, currents and chart-reading and that. I could do that—and I could learn to build engines and boats, too. He says it’s half Muggle and half magic.  I’ll bet my dad would let me—don’t know about my mum, though….”

They passed the milking shed, a dark, ancient wooden building with a living roof: grasses and flowers were growing as thickly on the roof as they were on the ground. “A sod roof like this provides better insulation,” Andie explained. “It’s charmed to stay cool inside, to keep the milk fresh.”

After a pause for lunch beside a tiny stream, the ground levelled out into a more gentle slope, with more clear space. “We should be looking out for them about now,” Andie said.

As if to prove the truth of her words, faint animal voices could be heard up ahead of them: cattle lowing, reindeer bellowing, sheep and goats’ high-pitched bleats lending urgency.  Andie’s eyes widened slightly. “Hurry; something’s up.” She handed Harry her pack and ran.

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Kjersti’s eyes fluttered open at the ‘enervate’ spell; she blinked and looked up. “Andie—how good to see you! I didn’t think you were coming till tomorrow. I must have fallen asleep; I’ve had the strangest dream…I thought Markus was here.” She looked around her in some confusion, automatically reaching for the cradle by her side. It wasn’t until she gave it a tug to bring the cradle closer to her that she felt the greater weight and really looked.

A stone.

There was a stone in the cradle.

“Thor—where is the baby?”

Her hands went to her breasts: excruciatingly painful, swollen, hard, soaking the front of her dress. The baby had not been fed in a very long time— what time was it? What day was this? She fought down the wave of panic inside her. The pain in her breasts was preventing her from thinking clearly, bringing tears to her eyes. She murmured an easing charm her mother had taught her, and felt a bit better.

The animals: there was confusion and discontent, the beginnings of panic from the animals, too. They crowded close, even with the presence of the strange children. English: she must think in English, for Andie. And she must tend the animals. Erik would not want her to panic. She would NOT cry. She turned her head so that she could not see the cradle.

It took some time to piece together what had happened. Andie talked to her, to the animals, and when she noticed him, to Snari, in his sunny patch by the rocks. There could not be much doubt, it seemed, that Markus had taken the baby, but his purpose was impossible to guess. Kjersti, torn between wanting Erik and not wanting to leave her animals, was finally convinced to go down the mountain driving the herd with her.

“But we must milk them first,” Kjersti insisted. “They have not been tended properly: they are in pain. The milking shed is on our way down; you just passed it, I think.”

Andie declared that she, Hermione and Ron would help with the herd to speed things up,   while Harry Apparated ahead. “I know it’s a bit of a long hop, love,” said Andie, “But I’d better stay here and help with the animals. Just tell them what’s happened and say we’re on the way.”

Harry nodded; he didn’t remember the school well enough to fix on any part of the surroundings; he just called up Sirius in his mind. A person would work as well as a place, he knew. Ron and Hermione watched, round-eyed, as Harry concentrated, a bit self-consciously.

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It wasn’t the smoothest Apparition he’d ever done: eyes closed, concentrating hard on Sirius, he nearly landed on top of him. They fell in a heap, with Erik laughing at the confusion.

“Sorry—are you OK? I had to come back; the others are on the way, bringing the animals. It’s only—the baby’s gone, and they think someone called Markus has him.”

They stood staring at each other for a few minutes, speechless. Finally, “Why?” said Erik. His face showed confusion, the beginnings of alarm, perhaps anger.

“Kjersti says he asked her if she didn’t ever get homesick. ‘Lonesome for your backward little village,’ was the way she remembered it. Then he Stupefied her, and after that he took the baby. There’s a troll up there, a little one, who saw the whole thing, but he didn’t know what was going on. Andie talked to him, the way she does with animals.”

They were questioning Harry further when Andreas and Remus came hurrying down the path, Andreas holding a piece of parchment. “Erik—there’s been an owl—I’m afraid this is bad news,” he said. He handed the parchment to Erik, who read it silently, his face losing what little colour it had. He shook his head and laughed softly, a laugh with no humour in it.

“He wants our letters of resignation, does he? All of us “lowborn, primitives and foreigners”—you, me, Kjersti, Aslak, Minne, Remus and Andie. Mad—but he has my son. What should we do, Headmaster?”

“At this point, we have no choice. We don’t know where he is or how many of them there are. He’s coming for the letters tomorrow at noon… we’ll just have to go along with him for now. I don’t think the Ministry will accept them at all, especially once we make it known that they were coerced from us. But we can’t risk anything happening to the baby. You’re right, it’s mad. But all the more frightening for that.” Andreas sighed. “I will go now, to try to find Aslak and Minne. I know roughly where their families are in the summer, but if they are not immediately available, perhaps I can simply write termination letters for them. I’ll get a cloak, and go now.” He set off, back up the path, leaving the rest of them staring at each other, with no words of comfort or explanation.

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Breasts. Babies. Milking. Ron did NOT want this information—any of it. Andie was saying they had to milk these cows, and goats, and … reindeer? Still, if it had to be done, he’d done worse things, he supposed. He let himself be shown. The four of them working together would certainly get them off this mountain faster. He glanced over at Hermione, who was sitting, ashen-faced and solemn-eyed, beside a huge cow as Kjersti positioned her hands for milking. Relax, Andie said. As if that were possible. He sat down behind the little goat, who stood perfectly still on the wooden platform, as if she were used to the whole procedure. Oh, right, he supposed she was. She. Oh help. He reached down and took hold of her—her—well, those things, and tried to imitate Andie’s motions. Nothing happened; at least, no milk seemed to be going into the pail.

Andie’s laughter made him look up. “Open your eyes, Ron, you’ll aim better!” He hadn’t realised they were closed. He discovered that he’d shot a stream of milk down one leg of his jeans. The milk was coming, after all.  Perhaps he could do this. The next stream, and the ones after that, went into the pail with a satisfying ring. He finished milking the little goat, handed the pail to Andie, and positioned another pail under the second goat, who had already climbed onto the platform.

Kjersti, having got Hermione off to a fair start, milked silently, straining and storing the milk as each pail was filled. The two English children, she knew, were watching her and Andie, looking for cues to pattern their own reactions from. She would be brave; she would attend to her animals. She would not look at the empty cradle; she would not panic or break down. She….

A lusty, outraged cry of anger, such as Kjersti had never heard from her baby, filled the milking shed. A baby crying: a baby ROARING. Everyone looked towards the sound. The cradle was shaking with the thrashing and flailing of its occupant.

Little Thor, his face purple with fury, was telling the world of his displeasure.

A full milk pail overturned onto the clean floor of the shed as his mother jumped up and ran to him.

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Andie and Kjersti decided that one of the children should run ahead, down the mountain, to tell the others; Hermione begged for the job. It was growing late, but would not be dark yet for hours, and the path was a clear one. She ran all the way, occasionally tripping over roots and stones, but never stopping.

It was past midnight when she finally reached the school, but nobody was asleep; she found them all in Erik and Kjersti’s cabin, beside the boathouse. They listened to her story incredulously, looking at one another in wonderment and hope.

“Apparated, d’you think?” Remus finally asked.

 

Andreas nodded. “He must have done. I’ve never heard of a baby who could do that, but if he were upset enough, his natural magic could take over, I suppose….”

Erik stood up, his sudden height filling the cabin. “I will go meet them; I must be sure they are safe.” He turned to Hermione. “Thank you for making the trip so quickly, to tell me. They are now coming down the mountain?”  He strode to the door, opened it and was gone.

The others watched the door for a moment after it had closed, wondering. Andreas shook his head. “Dangerous, stupid game for Markus to play, even if the baby is safe. And I wonder who put him up to this; I don’t think he could think up such a stunt by himself. Markus is not alone in his hatred of the old magic.” 

Sirius finally grinned and spoke. “Having the baby safe with his mother, though, puts a different light on things. I wonder if Markus and his pals know what’s happened; I don’t see how they could. Wonder what they think. I vote we meet him tomorrow as if we know nothing, and see what he’s up to; maybe we can catch all of them, whoever they are.”

Hermione sat next to Harry on the sofa and listened to the discussion, wanting to contribute some idea to the group, but for once not knowing what to say. Now that the baby was safe, and nobody was in danger, there didn’t seem to be anything she was required to do. Her body was suddenly very heavy; her arms and legs felt like dead weights ….

As the adults made plans, Hermione drifted off to sleep.

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At noon, Markus Apparated to the end of the pier, his own broomstick and a spare one under his arm, and walked slowly, warily, toward the little group waiting for him. They drew together slightly as he approached. Andreas clutched the bundle of parchments.

“Back up, all of you. Hand your wands to Andreas,” Markus barked. “Stay completely on the land, except for Andreas; he will hand me the letters.”

“You will find these in order, I am sure—everything you asked. I found Minne and Aslak; their letters are here as well. And now you will give us the baby. He has been away from his mother too long. Where is the baby?”

“He is safe; no harm will come to your brat. He is being looked after.” Markus looked from one face to another, calculating. He could rid himself of one of these fools forever: which one should it be?  Better to go with the surest thing: the Englishman, Remus, might be an expert in the Dark Arts, but he was a cautious, reluctant flier. And in the air, where it counted, Markus would have the upper hand.

“Throw the wands into the water; I will take these letters.” Andreas reluctantly dropped the wands off the side of the pier as Markus took the bundle of letters, looked the parchments over one by one, briefly, and stuffed them in an inner pocket of his robes. He turned to Remus, beckoned him forward and held out the second broomstick. “You, Englishman, will follow me and return the brat to its parents. I can trust you to keep your word as a wizard.”

Sirius interrupted. “Remus can fly, yes, but I’m faster. And it may be awkward for him, carrying a wiggly baby back, all on his own. Suppose I go with you instead?”

“It must be Remus—I do not trust you, or any of these others. Follow me, now—alone—and you may collect the baby.” Remus began to move forward. Markus turned to glare defiantly at the other men, standing grimly, helplessly together, silent.

“Nobody is to follow us, do you understand? My…associates… are looking for me and one other; they care nothing for the baby or for this travesty of a school. There are things—spells—things they can use, and will not hesitate do to the lot of you if we are not correct in this.”

Andreas, still standing nearer to Markus than to the others, held up a hand. “Just let us talk for a moment; I am sure we will be willing to cooperate with you in every way. Remus, a word, if you please.” They walked back to the shore, to the others.

Harry, watching Markus’s face intently, touched Sirius on the arm and said softly, “He’s lying. He thinks the baby’s drowned, and he’s going to hex Remus when they get in the air. What do you think we should do? He’s got all the wands ….”

Sirius grew completely still; his eyes narrowed and his lips compressed in a thin line. Harry unconsciously stepped back; the anger from Sirius’s mind was a thundering contrast to his stone-still exterior. His voice, however, was nearly a whisper. “Right, I think it’s time to stop catering to this moron… we know all we need to know. Remus, never mind about following him; I’ll handle this.”

He pushed gently through the little group and strode purposefully down the pier toward Markus.

“Do you know, Markus, there are elements of your story that make no sense, and other bits that ring false. I think my friend Remus will be staying on the ground, and I think you should give up this pitiful game before you get yourself into even more trouble. I have one question for you: where’s the baby?”

Markus looked with dismay at the man who was obviously intending to beat him to a pulp—the implacable glare, the clenched fists. What did they know? How could they know about the baby? The beginnings of terror began to thread through Markus’s mind; his eyes darted from Sirius to the group on the land, who were now beginning to follow Sirius down the pier….

Swiftly, Markus pushed off and soared into the air. They had no broomsticks, no wands; they would never catch him. He was, as he knew, still a brilliant flyer. He made a splendid picture in the air.

The air flickered, Sirius disappeared, and a small brownish-grey bird shot off into the sky with a high, chilling scream.

Sirius had felt pure, berserk fury only twice before in his life: once at Severus, when they were fifteen; once at Peter, after the death of James. The world closed itself off, caved in, tinged red and black around the edges; without the complication of rational thought, things were remarkably simple. He was stronger; his breathing came in long, slow, regular breaths, giving him even more power. The muscles of his wings took on immense strength.

It was a good feeling.

The only thing in his vision, in his mind,  was the figure speeding ahead of him. The little merlin slowly gained on the broomstick.

He plunged his talons into the back of Markus’s head, relishing the man’s shriek of terror. Ripping with his sharp beak, tearing at the hands that Markus lifted to protect his head, the little falcon screamed again in answer, then Changed. Suddenly the broomstick was carrying double weight as Sirius clamped his knees onto the handle. He wrenched Markus’s hands behind his back and conjured ropes to tie him. Blood gushing from the back of Markus’s head stained the Norwegian’s blond hair and ran thickly down into his collar; a few drops splattered into Sirius’s face. He smiled—not a pretty smile. He aimed the broomstick out toward open water, grabbed Markus by the arm, prepared to throw him down… and hesitated.

Keeping a grip on Markus, he glanced down at the little group on the pier in the far distance. He sighed, a defeated sigh. He swore, very softly, but none the less heartfelt for that.

“Damn.”

He shook Markus hard enough to make his teeth rattle. “You are the luckiest fucker it’s ever been my misfortune to meet. If it were up to me, you’d be in that sea right now, as you wanted Remus to be. Bastard. Instead, because there are… people… who think I’m wonderful, and above such things, and they may be watching, you get to live.” Holding the broomstick steady with his knees, one hand on Markus’s collar, Sirius shook him once again, and with his free hand rifled his pockets. With a grin of triumph, he pulled out the bundle of letters.

 “Watch this, pinhead.” He shoved them under Markus’s nose, clenched his fist suddenly, and murmured a word. Markus jerked his head back as the parchment burst into flame. Sirius gradually opened his hand to allow the letters to burn completely, and the burnt bits to flutter into the sea. “I don’t use a wand much any more; it’s just another thing to carry.” He shoved Markus’s head down to allow him to watch the scraps of ash drift downwards.

“Oh, yes: where’s the BABY?” 

Markus burst into tears. With the strength of rage, Sirius jerked him clear of the broomstick, and held him, almost casually, by the collar, letting him dangle over the water as they flew back to the pier.

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A Letter:

Hello Mum, Dad, and All:

So far, our holiday’s been great. I learned how to milk goats, and I met an Earth Troll. They’re really nice, not like the ones we have at home. Norway has over a hundred different kinds of trolls, did you know that?

Erik, one of the teachers here, says I have a natural gift with boats. So far I’ve sailed up and down the fjord twice; I love it. We took a boat out the other day and a net, to grab a couple of wands that had dropped in the water. Erik Called them; they’d floated away but he made them come back, it was brilliant! Dad, what do you think? Could I come up here to study boats and boat-building? I could learn navigation too; Erik says I’d be good at it. The ocean is the coolest thing ever.

Harry is doing really well; Sirius seems to be a cool parent, but I’d hate to have him annoyed with me. He used to be an Auror, did you know that? And he can be pretty scary when he gets angry. Harry gets along great with him, though. He says to tell everyone Hello and that he’s fine. Hermione is this close to making a fool of herself over somebody up here, I won’t say any more. It would be funny if it weren’t disgusting.

Oh, Erik and his wife have a baby, named Thor. He can Apparate! They are ever so proud of him, because they are sort of old-fashioned people themselves and never had that kind of magic in their families before. He’s really a cute baby. But now they’re scared that he’ll Apparate somewhere by accident and they won’t know how to find him.

See you all in a couple of weeks, we’re having a great holiday!

Love,

Ron