By the Pricking of my Thumbs

"By the Pricking of my Thumbs"

By Penpusher

Chapter Seven: Katia

"Well that's it. I've done everything possible - it's as dead as a dodo."

Ron climbed out from under the jeep, wiping his hands on an oily rag. Harry pushed his glasses more firmly on to his nose and shrugged helplessly.

"There's nothing magical left to try either," he replied, a frown creasing his forehead. "If I didn't know better, Ron, I'd swear there was some kind of contamination in the fuel."

Ron shook his head, giving his hands a final swipe and flinging the rag into the back of the jeep.

"Nah," he said. "Something's wrong with the mechanics. Bloody Muggle machines! I knew we should have used broomsticks."

"Don't be daft. How could we have carried the equipment?"

Ron sighed.

"Well, we're going to have to carry it now, by hook or by crook," he replied. "There's no way we can abandon anything this side of the lost city."

Distracted by a rustling in the nearby undergrowth, Ron swung round quickly to see Katia emerge into the small clearing.

"We are in luck," she told them. "The river is nearer than I thought; just two kilometres south west of here."

"Two kilometres!" Ron exclaimed, staring at the mound of baggage in the jeep with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Have a heart, Katia. There's no way we're going to be able to move that lot, even with charm work."

Something close to a sneer crossed the dark woman's face.

"Charms depend upon the strength of the wizard working them," she replied in a quiet voice. Ron flushed angrily and clenched his teeth but refrained from comment. Harry didn't seem to have noticed the exchange. He was quietly walking around the offending vehicle assessing the amount of baggage.

"I think we can do it," he said, pulling at a large canvas sack. "The stuff's not exactly lightweight, but it's mostly in regular-shaped packages. If necessary we can do it in two legs, but I'd really rather not waste the time."

He began to haul the equipment out of the jeep then beckoned to Ron to help him.

"It's not too much of a loss really," he remarked as they worked. "After all, we'd have hit dense vegetation near the river once we got to within half a mile or so, and we'd have had to abandon the jeep anyway. This is, well, just a little earlier than I'd planned, that's all."

The baggage wasn't particularly bulky, but it was certainly heavy. Harry and Ron spent some time devising a charm to strengthen the tent platform until it would bear the weight of the most cumbersome objects, then Katia helped them to rope the rest together in a line. The three then joined forces to keep control of the unwieldy string of packages while levitating them to about waist height. Harry elected to take on the heaviest baggage alone as he felt he was better equipped to sustain the levitation charm for long periods than either of the others.

Travelling by jeep in the heat and humidity of the Mexican jungle had been unbearable, despite the Coolcharm fatigues, but tramping through on foot now reduced both Harry and Ron to the consistency of wet rags. Katia, of course, soldiered on silently, hardly seeming to break sweat, but Ron had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen slightly in surprise when he activated Tim Cyu's machete to clear a path for them.

Ron's initial reaction of open-mouthed salivation at the exotic appeal of their female guide had rapidly dwindled, to be replaced by intense irritation and a small niggle of suspicion. He was somewhat disturbed to note, however, that Harry, far from sharing these feelings, seemed to be openly seeking her company on more and more frequent occasions.

Over the past two days, Ron covertly watched his friend and found, to his alarm, that Harry's eyes seemed to settle on Katia almost of their own volition. Harry himself was unaware that he was betraying himself so obviously, or even that he was experiencing anything unusual. Ron shook his head and gritted his teeth, determined not to slacken the force of his levitation charm one iota: this woman was beginning to emit signals which set his spine tingling, and not pleasantly.

By the time they reached the river, the sun was well down on the horizon and they had very little daylight left to prepare for the night. Swiftly and with the economy that spoke of long practice, the three travelling companions made camp, anchoring the tent platform to a suitable tree, activating the charms to stabilise it and pitching the tent, before cooking a meal in the small kitchen to eat round the hastily conjured fire.

A fire was one thing on which Ron and Harry were in total agreement. Apart from the deterrent to wild animals, the boost to the morale that a campfire imparted was worth several hours of undisturbed sleep. And, of course, they needed it to keep contact with Sirius. That evening as Katia made a sweep of the area for possible hazards and Harry sat with his back against a tree going over his notes, Ron gave Sirius the bad news about the Jeep.

Sirius looked pale and tired. He told them vaguely that the Ministry had been on his case, but that he had kept them at bay. Sirius Black wasn't going to let a bunch of bureaucrats push him around, whatever the level of urgency.

"Between you and me, Ron," he said, wearily, "Cornelius Fudge is no longer the problem. Frankly, he's not going to be anybody's problem for much longer, not even his own. It's this guy Brown who's making the waves."

"Do you mean Tantalus Brown? From Operations?"

Sirius nodded.

"That's the one. Total pain in the ass," Sirius sighed. "I didn't realise until yesterday how much of this little day trip falls into his bailiwick. He's been in contact on and off for most of the day, and he's waiting for me to return his calls as we speak!"

Ron frowned.

"What's spooking him, Sirius?" he asked. "We can look after ourselves better than most other seasoned travellers, so where's the problem? Can't you just tell him we're all big boys here, Katia included? Let's face it, she's got more balls than Harry and I have between us!"

Sirius laughed but with little genuine amusement.

"True," he replied. "And she has the strongest stomach this side of Hogwarts!"

Was he imagining things or did Sirius shudder slightly? Ron filed that one away for future consideration.

"Seriously," Ron tried again, "what is the big rush on this trip? Why is this thing, this Ewer, so important that we have to take off at a moment's notice, inadequately briefed and with precious little backup?"

Sirius shrugged.

"Ron, when I work that one out," he replied wearily, "you'll be the first to know, I promise."

"Give some thought to it will you? I'm beginning to feel a prickling at the back of my neck, and that never fails to make me short-tempered about secrets!"

"That's heat rash, Ron," Sirius replied without smiling. "Use the Scabroleum ointment and it'll be right as rain in the morning."

"Ha ha," Ron deadpanned. "Very funny. Please, Sirius; try to get some information."

"Okay, okay."

Sirius signed off with a wave of his hand, and Ron sighed deeply, rising to his feet.

"Time to get some shut-eye," he said, kicking Harry hard on the soles of his jungle boots. The dark-haired man started, looked up from his notebook and glared at Ron over the tops of his glasses.

"Hey! What was that for?" he demanded.

Ron jerked his head towards the tent without speaking. Harry glanced about him.

"Hadn't we better wait for Katia?"

Ron began to stroll towards the tree.

"You can if you want," he said, over his shoulder, "I'm bushed and I'm going to get some rest."

The tent's largest bedroom, shared by the two men, overlooked the campsite. Ron paused in unbuttoning his shirt and looked out of the window. There was no light in the room, and so he was fairly sure the other two could not see his face as he spied on them.

Almost as soon as he, Ron, had departed to the tent, Katia had emerged from the undergrowth. Now, as he watched, she and Harry seemed to be deep in conversation, staring into the firelight, occasionally throwing a twig onto the flames, although this was scarcely necessary. Ron continued to undress, hanging his shirt and trousers over a light chair in the corner of the room, and lay down on the big double bed, his hands above his head, a very thoughtful expression on his face. It seemed a long time before Harry crept into the room, undressed silently and inched his way beneath the light coverlet, trying not to disturb his friend. Despite his deep fatigue, Ron felt Harry relax and heard his breathing deepen, long before sleep finally claimed his own mind.

~oo0oo~

The next day was even harder.

They rose with the sun in order to make the most of the cooler morning hours, and packed up their gear, stowing it as neatly as possible. Ron took out the package containing Tim Cyu's raft, waded out into the river and activated it with a pass of his wand. The equipment was every bit as good as it was cried up to be, and their spirits rose as they effortlessly stowed their gear and fired the engine. Ron used a small Stasis Charm to stabilise the raft, gesturing to Katia to join him. Slinging her pack into the stern, she prepared to embark when several things happened at once.

Harry, who was following a few paces behind, gave a startled exclamation and dropped his pack. There was a sudden warning crackle of undergrowth and a large cat-like beast threw itself out of the scrub to knock Harry to the ground. His spectacles flew off into the bushes and, unable to reach his wand, his hands fastened reflexively on to the jaguar's shoulders, trying to push its slavering teeth and claws away from his face.

Ron yelled, going for his wand, urging the craft closer to the bank to allow him to disembark, but Katia was quicker. Her sleeve holster was clearly visible, but she made no move to arm herself. Instead, she leaped on to the big cat, dragging it away from her colleague and, to their amazement, began to fight it with her bare hands. Harry sat up, blinking in confusion. Ron, once he had realised her intention, shouted and raise his wand to put a stop to the battle, but quickly gave up as he realised he could just as easily stupefy his colleague as the jaguar.

"Katia, no!" shouted Harry, apparently now aware of the situation. "You don't need to kill it! Back off; we'll take it with our wands."

It was surely too late for such advice because as they watched, the dark woman adjusted her grip on the creature's neck, there was an audible crack and it fell, limp and twitching to the ground. The two men shared a shocked silence, then Ron raised his eyes to Katia's face; she was smiling. Grimly and with tight lips, but definitely smiling.

~oo0oo~

"It must have been a rogue," Harry said thoughtfully.

The sun was high in the sky, and the engine of the raft was chugging quietly, propelling them almost lazily downriver. The sounds of the jungle were fainter and less alarming at this distance, but the larger inhabitants of the river gazed at them with curious eyes, and some came close enough to nudge the small raft.

"Letting us know that they are the masters," Katia had remarked after a particularly large alligator swept its tail negligently at them, causing the raft to list violently.

"I'd hate to see what they do when they're really annoyed," Ron replied, wringing the water out of his tee-shirt: it was hopelessly drenched. Sighing, he took it off, draping it over the baggage in the back of the craft to dry, reaching for the sunscreen as he did so. They had drifted into a companionable silence until Harry's sudden remark.

"A rogue jaguar?" replied Ron, keying in immediately to what had been occupying Harry's mind for most of the day. His friend nodded.

"It would never have approached us like that otherwise."

"You are right." Katia's low, smoky tones held unequivocal authority. Casually, she handed the tiller to Ron and sat down next to Harry.

"Jaguars are shy and careful beasts as a rule," she told him. "This one must have been very disturbed by something to venture so close to humans. We were lucky to escape with as little injury as we did."

Harry looked up from his notes.

"Where did you learn a trick like that?" he asked.

She stared sightlessly into the forest for a moment, and then turned back.

"A long time ago my father killed a man-eating tiger," she told him. "I was only five years old at the time, and if he hadn't tackled it I would have been caught, dragged into the forest and eaten, as had been the fate of several other small children in the village. I remembered exactly how he did it for the rest of my life."

Harry frowned.

"You mean - you've done it before? This wasn't the first time?"

She looked at him steadily and smiled.

"No, Harry," she replied. "Not the first time."

Ron, glancing round at the two, shivered despite the almost suffocating heat of the day. He remembered Katia's smile as she opened her hands to let the dead cat fall to the ground. He remembered the clearly visible sleeve holster of her wand and yet her impulse to tackle the animal without weapons. Faced with her physical strength and skill, he wondered bleakly if she had ever killed a man and, if so, whether she had enjoyed that too.

By dint of taking it in turns at the tiller and travelling through the midday sun, they had all but made up the time lost by their disaster with the Jeep, but at a cost. I hope we don't have to keep up this pace, mused Ron as he wearily raised his wand to moor their raft. Harry, grey-faced with fatigue, hefted the tent and platform and waded to shore to find a sturdy enough tree to take its weight. There was even a slump to Katia's shoulders as she checked out the potential campsite they had located.

"It will suffice," she eventually told them. "But we had better not risk a fire tonight. I am not happy about some of the sounds I hear in the forest."

Ron pressed her, but she would say no more, merely repeating her warning. He was not at all happy about foregoing his nightly report to Sirius and argued energetically in favour of making a fire, for reasons of security if no other. However, once he had gained his point and had established the small blaze, he found he couldn't rake up the energy to make his report. He had never felt so physically exhausted in his life and it was all he could do to swallow a swift, cold meal before swaying towards the tent and welcome oblivion. Harry, who seemed to have expended a double ration of magical energy that day, fell asleep almost on his feet, collapsing on the double bed still in his sweat-soaked fatigues. Ron, fighting his own weariness, managed to unlace and remove both his own and Harry's boots before sinking down on to the mattress himself and pulling the light blanket over them both. However, before sleep claimed him, he remembered at least to reinforce the anti-insect protection spells. This quest was already going pear-shaped; all they needed was for one of them to develop malaria.

Ron awoke feeling cold. He reached automatically for the cover and found it gone. Fully awake now, he opened his eyes to find himself alone in the bed, the blanket on the floor.

"Harry?" Ron whispered.

There was no answer. He slipped out of bed and quickly pulled on his trousers, trying to make as little noise as possible. All his Auror-tuned danger alarms were sounding at high level throughout his brain, and he was certain that Harry was not using the bathroom or the kitchen, even though he checked both. He stood still - what now?

Ron felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle: was that a voice? He heard a quiet gasp and a low chuckle. It seemed to be coming from outside the tent.

Carefully, Ron slipped past the canvas door and stood on the platform, eyes searching the campsite below. The moon was round and full, casting a bright light over the small clearing, turning every individual leaf to flashing silver where the slight breeze disturbed the foliage. There it was again; the quiet laugh, somewhere near the ground, by that group of trees. Ron reached for his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he murmured, and let the charm waft him slowly and smoothly to the ground. Once there, he maintained the magic, gliding noiselessly over the carpet of leaves and twigs, towards a small group of trees. There, in a protected little hollow, he found them: Harry and Katia.

In retrospect, Ron's thankfulness at having found Harry at all was largely eclipsed by overwhelming relief that his friend was still in possession of most of his clothes. Ron was certainly not blind to the almost lethal attraction that Katia held for Harry, but he was not going to fall into the 'indignant brother-out-law' trap if he could help it. There were better ways of scotching this particular piece of extra-curricular activity, he thought grimly, shamelessly eavesdropping.

Katia's normal everyday appearance was one of smouldering sullenness, but suddenly here with Harry she seemed to come alive with promise. Her voice was low and magical, she moved slowly and with subtle suggestion, and Ron, to his astonishment and horror, found his own body responding to the inescapable allure of the woman.

Veela magic! the unaffected part of his brain screamed. Why didn't I spot it before? I witnessed it for the first time at the Quidditch World Cup - how could I ever forget that? What matter that she's dark and not blonde? No one knows how Veela magic works, whether it's learned or inherited. But why? Sure, Harry's a world famous wizard, but why now? Unless - unless it has something to do with the quest...?

Ron's brain was working overtime as he frantically tried to suppress and overcome the signals his body was giving him. Forcing his mind to focus on the problem in hand, he tuned in to their conversation.

"I don't want to take you away from your woman, Harry."

The soft, melodious voice, so different from her usual throaty rasp, spiralled caressingly around the soft noises of the forest.

"I'm not suggesting we do anything more than, well, spend a little time together. Where's the harm in that? And you are so lonely - I can tell."

She reached out a hand to Harry's mesmerised face, and her expression didn't falter when he jerked awkwardly away.

"Katia," Harry choked out, with difficulty. He held himself stiffly, his hands outstretched, but whether in warning or in welcome, Ron was unsure.

"Katia," Harry tried again, his voice sounding leaden and heavy. "I don't - this is wrong."

Yes! cheered Ron, silently applauding Harry's strength of mind. However, Katia wasn't done yet.

"You are bonded to another, yes?"

Her silken voice thrummed in the air between them. Harry managed a jerky nod.

"But you are not married to her, is that right?"

Dumbly, Harry shook his head. Katia frowned gently.

"Why not? Are you not committed to her?"

Harry nodded fiercely.

"Yes, of course I am," he protested. "Absolutely. With every particle of my being."

There was something hollow about his words, his tone. Katia's smile widened.

"And what of her?" she queried gently. "Is she not committed to you?"

"Of course she is!" Harry's protest was loud, almost desperate.

"Are you sure?" The dark woman's composure did not falter. "Is there not something there you are hiding from me, and perhaps from yourself too? Perhaps you did not part on good terms, perhaps you are afraid she will find - other interests while you are away?"

Harry did not reply but withdrew his fascinated gaze from Katia's face to stare at the ground. The dark woman began to move slowly towards him, reaching out a hand to stroke his fingers gently. He did not resist as she ran her palm up the smooth skin of his arm towards his shoulder, stroking the stubble on his chin, curling her fingers around the back of his neck, making him close his eyes and lean into the caress.

"Katia," he murmured, uncertainly, "Please..."

Unsure whether his friend was asking her to stop or to continue, Ron decided that enough was enough.

Katia's mouth hovered invitingly over Harry's, her breath on his lips, her fingers in his hair. Like a snake, she slithered over him, straddling his hips, pressing softly against his chest. Harry writhed, in arousal or discomfort; he wasn't sure which. A groan escaped him. He tried to close his eyes, to turn his head away from her drugging lips, but in vain. Her magic was subtle but strong, familiar but elemental. She had lured him into her spider's web. Now no matter how fiercely he tried to fight his imprisonment, they both knew he was held fast by her silken threads.

Suddenly, a brilliant flash lit up the night sky with crimson fire. Katia's head whipped round reflexively with a muttered curse. Harry followed suit, craning his neck to watch as a flare shot into the air above them, illuminating the campsite as it hung, glowing above them.

"Gods! What was that?" exclaimed Harry, shaking off the caressing hands and leaping to his feet. Katia hissed in anger and, seeing no other alternative, followed Harry out of the trees.

Ron had not been idle. Once he realised the strength of Katia's hold on Harry, he decided to even the odds a little. The campfire was still smouldering; all he had to do was to open the box of flares and throw one on to the flames. That gave him a few seconds to get to cover then emerge ostensibly from the tent, pulling on his trousers for local colour, to discover the 'accident'.

"Must have fallen out of this pack," Ron explained to the others. "It's really bad camp discipline, you know. If the whole box had gone up, we might have lost a lot of equipment. I don't know what it's doing here, but in future it lives in the boat, okay?"

There was no argument. Pale and tight-lipped, Harry immediately retreated to the tent without a backward glance. Katia followed at a more leisurely pace, pausing to pick up her rifle. Ron watched Harry go and shook his head, bending to carefully rake over the ashes of the fire before turning in again. As he did so, Katia's shoulder caught him roughly in the side and he overbalanced, only just missing the still glowing embers. From the ground, he narrowed his eyes at her retreating back. She turned to flick one contemptuous glance at him over her shoulder, but the malevolence in her face left him in no doubt that she had far from swallowed his story.

Ron shivered in the night air; he might have won this round, but the battle was not over yet.

~oo0oo~

"Hold still, Ron. If I can just suture this, I'll be able to heal it without scarring. Otherwise Hermione will kill me for having ruined your good looks."

Harry was working as quickly as possible on a two-inch gash down the side of Ron's face. It was shallow but very nasty, the blade that inflicted it having been notched. However, Harry's healing expertise was absolutely sound and he was confident he could deal with it with dispatch. The wound in Ron's leg was another matter altogether, being deep, bloody and painful. Harry hadn't said much, but Ron knew that to fully heal it here and now was beyond his skill; Ron would be in some discomfort for a day or so, and limping for a few weeks yet.

Katia was out cold. Harry tried to revive her with a total lack of success. Eventually, he had wrapped her in all the spare blankets and deposited her next to the fire in the hope that she would eventually wake naturally. Apart from a large bruise on her temple, Harry could find no other injuries that could account for her condition.

Harry himself had a shallow but irritating scalp wound, and a slash around the midriff painful enough to give him problems concentrating. He gritted his teeth, blinking the sweat out of his eyes, trying to repair the gash in Ron's face with all speed, but his vision kept swimming out of focus.

He screwed up his eyes, thrusting lank hair away from his face, and raised his wand to begin work on Ron's leg wound when he felt a hand close on his wand arm. He looked up quickly into his friend's sympathetic eyes.

"Harry," Ron said as gently as possible. "Please, heal that wound in your side before you bleed to death. With Katia still unconscious, there's no way I'm going to be able to pitch the tent myself tonight. You need to be fit. Heal yourself - I can wait."

Harry sighed, sagging with weariness.

"Okay," he relented. "Just let me - take a quick breather. I'm feeling - really rather faint."

Ron gave him a sharp look.

"Well, okay," he replied, frowning at his friend. "But not too long. By the looks of you, you're losing blood steadily. You'd better get the situation under control before you're too weak to manage it."

In the end, Ron was obliged to add his own medical expertise to Harry's before the bleeding could be staunched and their various healing potions put to use.

The whole thing had been completely bizarre.

One moment they were pulling the raft out of the river into a clearing Katia had spotted as a potential campsite, the next they had been jumped by a party of three thugs. It was obvious they were Muggles, but less obvious as to why Katia bore the brunt of their immediate attack. She scarcely had time to reach for a weapon when they were on her, apparently beating her senseless.

Harry and Ron realised immediately that they could not use magic against these people. Ron had been extensively trained to deal with situations just such as this, and Harry proved far more adept in unarmed combat than Ron would ever have suspected, but even so it had taken an accidental activation of the automatic machete, fortunately in Ron's hand at the time, to drive them off once and for all.

Their wounds were debilitating, but not life threatening, and, once healed, Harry managed to erect the tent and levitate Katia into her room while Ron conjured a fire and prepared a basic supper for them.

"I guess we'd better erect a Wall of Force tonight," Harry suggested, over his baked beans. Ron grunted.

"That means we'll have to sleep out here to make sure we keep it sustained," Ron replied. Harry nodded, scraping his plate.

"I really don't think I could fight them off again, you know," he said. "Not even with magic. I feel like a wet lettuce."

Ron grinned.

"Well, you certainly didn't act like one earlier," he replied with grudging respect. "Harry, where did you learn to fight like that? My training comes with the territory, but I didn't think you university types did anything other than read books and talk."

Harry laughed.

"My researches have taken me to a number of very out of the way places," he told his friend, secretly rather pleased to have emerged from his Ivory Tower in Ron's estimation. "I've learned a number of different survival techniques, and self-defence was one of them. I don't really follow any particular creed, but I incorporate moves I have learned from various adversaries over the years, abroad and in LA, and I admit to having taken some classes."

Ron sat up.

"Classes? What in self-defence?"

"Sort of."

Harry sounded as though he was suppressing laughter.

"Come on, Potter; spill it."

Harry put down his plate.

"I was mugged on the subway one evening, late after class," he began. "It was my own fault; I should have realised I was a sitting target for three thugs who thought they were in for an evening's fun. Well, I was down on the ground and they were putting the boot in when suddenly there was a bit of shouting and one of them fell over me and lay still. When I'd got over my surprise and heaved him off, I saw that a fourth person had joined the fray. One of the other thugs was flat out holding his groin and being violently sick into a drain, and my saviour was delivering a paralysing kick to the solar plexus of the other guy.

"When I could stand, he whisked me out of the subway and into a cab. By rights, I should have been suspicious of his motives, but the shock was getting to me by then. Anyway, he took me back to my place, dressed my wounds and gave me some sort of lecture about taking it easy for a few days and never, ever being alone on the subway at that time of night again. I think he would have gone then, simply faded into the night, but I caught hold of him and asked him his name and address. He smiled at the last request, but simply told me his name was Mouse and that the guys at the subway station would know where to find him.

"Anyway, to cut a long story short, it turned out that he was one of those vigilantes, you know? Guys and girls who dress tough, act tough and generally scare the hell out of the ungodly on the subway. They aim to make the place safe for people to travel, and they aren't afraid to take on the dregs of the earth. I met up with him again and persuaded him to teach me to fight."

Ron whistled.

"So your kind of self-defence is - dirty street fighting, LA-style?"

Harry grinned.

"Something like that."

"Well, it's certainly effective."

"It should be; he was very expensive."

The two friends laughed and poured more coffee, presently summoning bedding and turning in around the dying fire.

"Ron?" began Harry from the other side of the fire.

"Hmm?"

"Silly question, I guess. You missing Hermione?"

There was a pause.

"Extremely silly question, but I'll answer. Yes, I'm missing Hermione. I feel as if my right arm has been painfully severed and is residing, still bleeding back in England."

"Yuk! Unwanted mental image."

"Maybe, but you asked."

"True."

There was silence, then a restless movement of bedding.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know. I just wondered if you ever got used to being away from her or stopped thinking about her at all."

"Well, I don't think about her all the time, if that's what you mean. If that were the case, I'd never get anything done. But let's be practical, Harry; I've had years to moon over Hermione. We were always meant to end up together; it was just a case of persuading her she felt the same way. I'm used to coping without her."

"Have you ever been, well, distracted by anyone else?"

There was a small but intense pause as Ron rapidly went over the options: he could prevaricate, he could lie - or he could tell the truth. He shrugged.

"Yes," Ron replied in low tones.

Harry started.

"You have?"

"I have."

Another silence, awkward this time.

"Going to tell me about it?"

Ron gave a weary sigh.

"Nothing much to tell really," he said. "These things happen. Of course, seeing as I wasn't actually involved with Hermione at the time, I don't suppose it really counts. I'm pretty sure I couldn't have gone through with it if I had been."

"Gone through with it? You mean you actually...?"

"We're getting on to very delicate ground here, Harry, and if you breathe a word of this I will personally pound you into matchwood, self-defence classes or no! But yes, I did actually - several times as a matter of fact, if that isn't too much information."

Harry paused to digest that.

"What happened?" he asked at last. Ron shrugged.

"I came to my senses, I suppose," he replied. He paused, gathering his thoughts.

"We weren't exactly compatible." Ron chose his words carefully for maximum effect. "We were from totally different backgrounds, different races, she didn't even speak English as a first language. And we had very little in common," he added, almost as an afterthought. "It was hard to see it as anything other than, well, sex really. Although that part was pretty fantastic, I have to admit, there just wasn't really anything more."

"Would you do it again?" Harry asked. "If you weren't involved with Hermione, I mean?"

Ron considered.

"Probably, but that doesn't make it necessarily the right thing to do," he sighed. "Harry, I think you chose a very poor period in your life to be celibate."

"What makes you say that?" Harry was surprised at the apparent change of subject. Ron shrugged.

"Just a thought," he replied mildly.

"Well, I didn't exactly choose it, if you think back to the circumstances!" Harry's tone was dry.

"No, well, it was still a bad time."

Ron turned over on to his back and put his hands behind his head, watching the stars.

"The rest of us were just learning what it was like to come to terms with women," he said thoughtfully. "To deal with their expectations and ideas about us. We had four years of education in life, while you were buried in your books."

"Hey! I wasn't a hermit, you know," Harry protested. "I had girlfriends."

"No, you didn't, Harry." Ron shook his head firmly. "You had girls who were your friends. There's all the difference in the world."

This time the silence was longer and it was Ron who broke it.

"Harry, I know you and Ginny are going through a tough patch," he said awkwardly, "but she hasn't exactly had it easy either."

"I know that," Harry replied. His deliberate lack of tone read Back off!

"Do you, though?" Ron continued, ignoring the sub-text. "You certainly came along like a knight in shining armour, swept her off her feet and into your arms, rescuing her from her wicked suitor, but she's had precious little time to come to terms with that. You got together at the beginning of the summer, and we're only in September now. She was with that Markland prat for three years; there's got to be some kind of payback for just walking out like that. She barely had five minutes to adjust to being boyfriendless again, when all of a sudden - she wasn't. You were it. And now, when her career's just started to take off big time and she's having real difficulty coping with the pressure, you leave her flat."

"Ron!" Harry was aghast. "It's not like that at all!"

Ron made an explosive sound.

"Pcha! Of course it isn't - you know it, I know it."

Ron paused, and then leaped once more into the fray.

"My sister's being a right royal pain in the ass at the moment," he announced defiantly. "She's got no time for anything that doesn't directly impact upon herself, nothing for anyone who needs her support or help. But you two are not exactly a normal couple, are you? And you haven't had much quality time together, have you?"

Harry was left almost completely speechless.

"I didn't realise you were so insightful," he confessed.

Ron was glad of the darkness to hide his blushes. He shrugged.

"I just know my sister, Harry," he replied. "And now if we've no more soul-searching to do, I'd quite like to get some shut-eye."

"Perhaps someone ought to check on Katia?" Harry tentatively suggested, making a move to get out of his bedding. Despite his fatigue, Ron got there first.

"Stay there," he said, wearily. "This one's on me."

Ron was absolutely certain that his friend was going nowhere near Katia' bedroom, tonight or any other night. Harry shook his head.

"I hope she's okay," he said worriedly. "One way or another, this trip is turning into a series of disasters. How much more can happen to us?"

Ron declined to answer, merely levitating himself to the tent and padding in through the canvas door to check on their guide. He came away from her room satisfied that Katia's unconsciousness had now given way to a natural sleep. By the time he returned to the dying campfire, Harry's weariness had got the better of him and he was dead to the world. Ron climbed silently back into his bedding, wincing at the pain in his leg, and watched the dwindling flames until he too was overcome.

~oo0oo~

Ron had a great deal to occupy his thoughts the following day. He sat in the boat, alternately taking the tiller, adjusting the engine or just keeping watch for danger, but his mind was on the events of the previous night.

Harry seemed completely normal during their conversation around the campfire, yet his response to their attractive guide the previous day had been far from usual. Ron himself could testify to that! He couldn't make up his mind whether his hunch about the Veela magic was the result of genuine insight, or merely his own wish to absolve his friend from any responsibility. Was this what Sirius had been warning them about? Come to think of it, he owed Sirius a call. Perhaps he had better get to it as soon as they made camp. Ron shifted his injured leg awkwardly.

"We must be getting near," Harry shouted, moving eagerly into the stern, as though he could make their craft move faster merely by wishing.

"We are approaching the area," Katia affirmed, guiding the tiller. "We will have to disembark soon and approach Chinga'an on foot."

As she spoke, their craft rounded a bend in the river, and before their astonished eyes, two huge carved stone pillars rose up through the waters, both translucent white, set either side of the river.

"Yes!" Katia's face lit up with triumph. "We have found it! See - this is the gateway! Centuries ago, as legends tell, these pillars contained an enchantment which repelled any who approached the city with evil in their hearts. It was protection for the people and an early warning system."

"It didn't save them from extinction though."

Harry spoke without looking at her, his eyes still riveted on the two great carvings. Katia bowed her head in acknowledgement.

"What caused their extinction?" she replied thoughtfully. "No one knows, wizard or Muggle. Perhaps our visit will shed some light on that particular mystery, who can tell?"