Romancing the Sorcerer's Stone

Chapter 9: Golden Snitches

April 2000 — Cachora, Peru

It takes them a few days to make it back to Cachora, where Bill books them a room at the Hospedaje Sayhuite and insists Harry stay there and recuperate. He pops back to his office to grab a few things and square things with his boss, and, true to his word, is back within the hour. Harry breathes a sigh of relief when he glimpses the familiar red hair out his window.

"That was fast," he remarks as Bill walks in. "What did you tell her?"

"Hmm? Oh. Ariana. Well," he grins, "essentially I just called in sick. What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Harry smirks at him. "Smooth. So, did you get them?"

Bill holds up two large duffle bags in answer. He rummages through one for a moment and then hands Harry a much larger and stronger version of the bag the medallion rests in and tells him to put both medallion and bag into the new one. That accomplished, he casts a few more diagnostic spells and then quickly wards and locks the room.

"Now," he says, turning back to Harry with a grin, "the fun begins."

—

Five hours later, they both slump exhausted against opposite walls, coated in sweat and no small amount of blood. The medallion lies on the floor between them, at the center of a series of concentric rings. Nearly all the rings have been broken; only the central ring, representing the deepest curse, is left. Harry smiles faintly at Bill. "Ready?"

Bill salutes him with his wand. "Ready."

They cast together, twin beams of white light arcing toward the circle. It flares briefly white-hot and then fades.

Harry raises an eyebrow at Bill. "Done?"

Bill nods, letting his head fall back against the wall with a quiet thunk. "Done. You can break the circle now."

Harry does, holding his breath as he does so. The medallion winks up at him innocently. They work their way systematically through their entire combined repertoire of diagnostic spells; all come back clean. Harry wipes a tired hand across his brow, running his fingers through his dust-grimed hair.

"Fabulous," he says, yawning widely. "I need a nap."

"Best put away Malfoy's bauble first," Bill says, laughing. "Would hate to see it walk away after we put all that effort into it."

Harry slips it back into his pocket, offering the bags back to Bill.

He shakes his head. "I think you need them more than I do. I've a spare set back at the office, anyway, and this'll give me an excuse to requisition a new one." He pulls an exaggeratedly mournful face. "Alas, this one met a tragic end on my travels."

"Thanks." Harry yawns again, wincing as his jaw cracks. "Ow. I'm for bed, then."

Bill nods. "We'll need to arrange muggle transport back to London, you realize? I think we've weakened the magical dampening field, but I don't trust this thing in the international floo."

Harry sighs. "Yeah. Hope you've a few more days to be 'sick.'"

Bill chuckles. "I'm sure I can manage." He rummages in his bag for his pajamas and heads toward the shower, then turns back. "Hey, Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"You won't get in trouble, will you? With Malfoy, I mean. For removing the curses?"

Harry shrugs. "I'll handle him. I know you couldn't in good conscience let something that Dark loose in the world, and I couldn't either. I don't think it will be a problem."

—

May 2000 — London, England

"Of course, it took more than a week to get back," Harry finishes, lips twisting in disgust. "Muggles and their bloody inefficient travel systems."

He leans back in his chair and takes a sip of wine, keeping his face carefully composed as he eyes Malfoy with sharp eyes. He's still not sure what Malfoy will think of the whole endeavor.

Malfoy opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, closes it, and finally takes an overlarge gulp of his wine and nearly chokes. Once he stops gasping, he pulls a wry face. "You made the best choice possible under the circumstances," he says, mouth twisting like he's sucked on a lemon. Then his face hardens. "But I'll be accompanying you on your treasure-hunting jaunts from now on, and that's not negotiable. Honestly, Potter. What were you thinking? Going alone into the bloody Amazon in search of an incredibly Dark artefact with Blaise and his goons after you? Salazar. You're lucky you weren't killed."

"But—"

Malfoy forges on, ignoring him. "Where were Weasley and Granger, Hmm? Don't you usually take them on your adventures?"

"Not anymore," Harry says, amused. "Not since school, Malfoy. You know that."

"Well, yes. Fine. But, surely there's someone..." His voice trails off as he frowns. "Ha!" he exclaims triumphantly a moment later, "What about that Fiancée of yours, hmm?"

"Ginny isn't—"

"If you're about to tell me that she's too delicate for such things, I've a few Bat-Bogey hexes in my past that say otherwise.

Harry grins fondly, remembering. "Still," he says firmly, "she's not a part of this. Anyway," he adds, waving a hand as if to wave the matter aside, "it's not like she'd be interested."

"Hmm. Yes, well. Looks like you're stuck with me then, Potter."

Harry grins, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Looking forward to it, Malfoy."

Malfoy nods. "Good. You clearly need someone to watch your back and provide a modicum of common sense. The guide, Potter? Really? That's a classic double-cross. Blaise could do that when he was still in diapers. Why didn't you see through it?"

Harry shrugs. "That's your department, Malfoy. By the way, I've been wondering: Why the hell did Millicent run away? By all rights, I should be dead right now."

"Ah, well," Malfoy says sheepishly, "she's afraid of snakes, you see. Terrified of them, actually. She was nearly impossible to be around after word of the basilisk got out second year."

Harry stares at him. "And you didn't think that would maybe be useful? Since I'm a parselmouth?"

He shrugs. "Honestly, I didn't think of it. Millie didn't talk about it much — a Slytherin afraid of snakes? — And, anyway, it's not like you go around talking to the things all the time. I'd forgotten you still could, actually."