Sorry for the long wait, folks! Turns out this quest isnt quite dead after all.
Then s settled, you say firmly. Ill take care o yer ghost problem.
"Quelle?"
Its a word squawked like a parrot - and youd know - and its followed by some quail-like peering about amongst the gaggle of
well, not frenchies, but frenchies for hire? Still need to get a handle on this legion thing and why are they reminding you so much of birds? Thankfully, by the looks on their faces youre in good company to be confused.
"Vraiment ?"
"Okay, je commence à douter que ce gars soit pour de vrai."
"Tu l'as déjà dit!"
"Non, c'était Hassan - ignore ça, il est actuellement sérieux!"
"Je me moque qu'écouter ce fous danglais soit amusant, c'est clair qu'il ne comprend rien! Si il part, il va-"
"Il va quoi ?" A lad with a proper moustache, oiled and flowing down to his chin, throws in. "Tu ne penses pas que ce soit plus probable qu'il aura sont ego percer par la souffrance approprié pour une "fox hunt" en plein désert ? Il vaut mieux que ça arrive le plut tôt possible. Il reviendra en rampant et-"
"Et qu'est-ce qu'il arrivera si il parvient à le trouver, huh ?
Moustache man keeps talking, and talking. "Franchement, trouver Rommel durant l'une de ses sortie vaut bien la vie d'un nouveau qu'aucun de nous connaissons."
"Adskhan...t'es vraiment un salopard."
"Mais je ne suis pas faux. Maintenant, laisse Alan satisfaire cette brute." Moustache says with finality.
By the time theyve sorted out whatever it was theyre babbling about, youve got your head back on track - old Professor Dumbledored be pleased, you reckon. And thinking on it, this is kinda like a sign isnt it? Animals in general, and tracking them too? Its kind of your area of expertise, and you didnt have any major plans, anyway. You kept meaning to think about the future, but then the firewhiskey had gotten involved
So here you are out in the arse end of nowhere. One group of muggles is as good as another really - no, thats not fair of you, is it. Not that many folks back home would be so easygoing. They didnt seem to mind you knocking over their stuff, and there was only a little screaming when Aragog showed himself. They got animals - you saw quite a few beasties you could spend months getting to know - and now you find out they track down fickle critters too. Its like a match made in the stars, if you feel like quoting some centaurs you know. And even just getting to see a ghost fox would be pretty neat, nevermind if its bothering muggles who couldnt do anything about it.
Alan laughs, a short harsh bark. Good man, English! You give him hell, okay? Nice of him to say, really. Theyre not so bad, these blokes - the break from getting looked at like dirt for your size aint bad, either. Its almost like they respect you for towering over everyone else, strange as it is.
Jean frowns. Hold on, both of you. Last word we got from the west, the British were massing armor to attempt to bring him down. In Egypt. They are our allies and may accept you, but how would you get there from here? It must be several hundred miles!
Well fine, thats a big number and all, but
it dont mean much to you. You spent plenty of time wandering through woods thatd kill folk if they werent respected proper, and finding old ways and secret rooms in old Hogwarts was always great fun. Youre good at that. Besides that, sleeps nice but you can go without if you want. So if you dont waste much time sleeping and keep up a proper jog for a few days, you could probably do it. ... Assuming several hundred miles is what youre guessing it is.
Ah, itll work out.
You shrug. Walk, I guess. You cough into a fist loudly. An, uh
Egypt, thad be
where
?
Jean cradles his face in his hands again, and the fellers looking on jostle about, one of them clearly trying to say summat and getting elbowed into oblivion.
Too perfect, Alan sniggers, slapping his knee. Now youre getting embarrassed with all this well-wishing. Go west, pass the Suez between the Red Sea and the Mediterranean, cross into Egypt, ford the Nile, and youre as good as there!
West, eh? West is an easy enough direction to follow and it sounds like theres plenty of water on the way, for drinking and washing and and all. Maybe you could even get a spot of fishing done. What helpful blokes these legion-types are! Good sorts all around; you wonder why folk always told you the French were stuck up.
That fellow with the braid is back too, jabbering away in probably-French. That wispy moustache kid answered something back. Braid answered back, louder and sounding somehow incredulous. Good folk, but you will not miss not understanding more than one sentence in five.
You do notice the braided frenchie is very carefully keeping on your left side, so that youre between him and Aragog. Little insulting to Aragog, that, but at least he didnt say anything
uh, that you can tell.
Well, guess I best be gettin on. Good meetin you lads, you say simply, and orient yourself west.
Jean sighs deeply, like an upper classmen disappointed by the new firsties. He translated, Sergent Pip has resolved the situation with your registration. Youre down in the rolls as Caw Colosse with the Pioneers.
Well thas right nice o yeh, I spose. Youre not entirely sure how you managed to sign on with these blokes, or what that even means exactly, but its nice to be part of something again. Well, off I go.
Jean translated for the Braid Guy er, Pip - again. Stay long enough to get clothes on your back, man. If you will allow yourself to be provoked, do not go off half-cocked.
You pause again, putting a hand on Aragogs head. The lil guy is pretty eager to go, but settles down at your prompt. Such a good boy. Oh. Er. Well, I reckon I could. Not quite sure how that all happened.
So nice, these muggles! They must have big hearts to make up for their lack of magic.
They send you off to a laconic British ex-pat type feller they just call the quartermaster. You take in the heavy-set frame with a definite belly from easy living that stubbornly exists despite whats probably some hard desert travel. The blue eyes that look half closed, the downward-turned lips, a face that looks bored of the world at large. The curly red hair that perfectly frames that disinterested mug; a thick mop atop his head, the thick sideburns and the incongruously sharp beard that comes to an upward-thrust point between chin and lip put you in mind of a lions mane.
The quartermaster raises an eyebrow when he sees you tagging along behind that Pip feller. Another new one, hm? he drawls. He looks you over with a discerning eye like a horse at market and nods in a self-satisfied sorta way. Well find him something.
Before you know it youre kitted up in a set of baggy pants with lots and lots of pouches, and a thick leather strap of a belt. Not a patch on your coat of course, but nice. Your fellow Brit digs out a long sleeved shirt and a pair of suspenders to go along with it, and a once-patched coat like those other fellers got. You can still manage to fit your moleskin coat over the whole lot, so thats fine. Pips sudden bout of sniggers might have something to do with your new cap, which doesnt fit on your head and perches lightly on your frizzing hair (the desert isnt doing you any favors, there).
With dignity, you say, Thank yeh very much fer the kit. Your da didnt raise a savage, after all.
Thats about when Professor Dumbledore explodes into existence in the middle of the camp in a flash of fire. A tall man just about your height (if you count his proud, 10 inch tall pointy hat and you most certainly do), magenta robes setting off his auburn just-starting-to-grey hair, and an absolutely beautiful phoenix on his shoulder. Your favorite professor cuts a sharp figure.
Hagrid, my boy! he says warmly. Im glad I managed to find you. You all but disappeared after your trial!
You do as is your wont to do when startled by an authority figure-
Yuh.
and retreat like a turtle going into his shell.
Bless his little heart, Dumbledore dont mind none - though Fawkes, ever the kidder, makes a point of trilling over your little flub.
Indeed - how fortuitous that I managed to find you. Tell me young Hagrid, how are you after all that mess, hm?
You notice the quartermaster inching further behind racks of clothing. Pip has fallen over, and seems absolutely obsessed with checking how empty a hipflask of his is. Muggles can be bloody odd sometimes.
But more importantly - Dumbledore! How strange to see him again, but a right happy bit of strange! He was always such a nice professor. Ever since your da died, or even before that, hes looked out for ya as best he can. Youre not that scared Firstie anymore though, or even the third year that got tossed out on his arse. What tone do you take?
[X] Apologetic. You didnt mean to end up in this Lavant place. If youd known he was looking for you
[X] Wretched. You know I didnt kill nobody, dont you professor? Please believe me.
[X] Pleased as punch. You didnt know he cared that much! Do you think hed mind a little hug?
[strikethrough][X] Suspicious. He did say he had some ideas for getting you off the hook, that hed talk to some folk. But nothing ever came of that at your trial, and you didnt see him there-[/strikethrough]
[X] Animal crazy! Youve never gotten to see his phoenix up close before. This immediately takes priority over everything - you got a thousand idears about how to make a Phoenix right happy to test out! ...Oh, and you suppose the professor should get a greeting, too.
[X] Write-in.
What do you discuss with the good professor? (Just choose a few. You dont wanna see the good professors gonna-be-polite-but-getting-kinda-irritated look again - gave you the heebie jeebies last time you saw it!)
[X] Take Dumbledore around, introduce him to these nice muggle folk.
[X] No no, introduce Dumbledore and Fawkes to Aragog! Two of the most important people in your life will surely get on like a house on fire.
[X] What brings such a busy man here?
[X] News from home?
[X] Try and get a lift to Egypt. Save your feet a walk.
[X] Can you pet the phoenix again?
[X] Write-in!
Chasing the Desert Fox is still locked in, this was just Dumbledore pulling a Paragon Interrupt.