So this is more of an experiment/practise than anything else, but perhaps somebody will enjoy it despite the rather random and hasty pace that I can't quite figure out how to slow!
Time-wise, this story is set in the summer following Voldemort's defeat.
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Colin and Peter's Magical Adventure | ||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Drama, Fluff, General, Humor, Romance Warnings: Mild Language Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 7 Summary: Colin and Peter are running - that in itself is not unusual, or even uncommon, but after Peter spots a mysterious shape on the horizon, the two boys are determined to investigate. What will they find in the woods beyond the river? Perhaps this time, trouble is unavoidable... Hitcount: Story Total: 2344 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: |
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“Quickly! Get over here, you idiot!” “I’m coming, shut up!” yelled Colin, his breath escaping in ragged bursts as he sprinted towards the rocks, his brown hair bouncing rebelliously in the wind. The sound of shouts and hurried footsteps followed him, and he increased his pace. He threw himself behind the rock, panting, just as two men turned round the corner. “They can’t have got far,” one of them growled, his bushy moustache quivering and a thick layer of perspiration covering his face. “Oi! Hurry up, you lot, or we’ll lose ‘em!” he shouted. “Bloody kids,” muttered the second man. His eyes shifted over the long grass, searching for any signs of disturbance. “Don’t think they’ve hidden in there. Let’s move on.” Moustache grunted laboriously. “Wait for the others,” he wheezed. “And let them go? Not bloody likely,” the second snapped. “Catch me up, I’m going ahead.” He jogged off without giving the first man any time to reply, his shoulders set with determination. “Eric! Wait!” the plaintive shout trailed off in a sigh. Moustache glanced behind him once more. “Hurry up!” he repeated urgently. A faint reply of “We’re coming!” came from the distance. “How long d’you reckon it’ll take till they give up?” the whisper was right next to Colin’s ear, and he almost cried out in alarm. “What’s the big idea, startling me like that?” he hissed. “Do you want us to get caught?” “Sorry,” replied Peter, grinning unrepentantly at him. “Don’t know why you’re so happy,” Colin grumbled. “We could still be seen - we’re not exactly invisible here.” “They’re a load of bumbling baboons,” snorted Peter, using his favourite phrase for what was probably the thousandth time that month. “Probably can’t tie their own shoes without help!” Colin rolled his eyes, about to retort back when Peter shifted slightly. “Wait!” Colin peeked cautiously over the top of the rock and saw three other men joining the first. “Weren’t there more?” he muttered. Peter looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I didn’t get a good look at them on the way out.” he shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Colin hummed doubtfully, but held his tongue. The men were talking furiously, their voices steadily rising. “I don’t care if you think it’s a waste of time!” Moustache slammed his fist in his hand. “I want my apples back!” “So you’ve lost a couple of apples, big deal!” another said scornfully. “I don’t know about you lot, but I don’t want to spend the entire afternoon gallivanting round the countryside after a couple of kids just for a few pieces of fruit!” “It’s not about the fruit,” said a third man. “Those blighters’ll be after my harvest next if we don’t stop ‘em. They’re a right nuisance.” “I agree,” nodded a fourth. “If we don’t catch them now, they’ll think they can get away with anything — probably already do. I suggest we keep -” Peter sneezed loudly and both boys stiffened, Colin glaring at Peter with annoyance. The group immediately turned towards the rock, their eyes glinting. “Well, well, well,” said the third man. “What do we have here?” “Bugger!” Peter and Colin swore, leaping away from the rock and into the long grassy fields. “Run!” shouted Peter. “What do you think I’m doing, moron!” yelled Colin. “After them!” the voice of Moustache rang out over the fields. Colin glanced over his shoulder and saw the men running determinedly after them. The boys shared a brief, worried look and increased their pace. “Stupid…grass…” huffed Peter. “Stupid…hay fever…” He sneezed violently, and Colin winced in sympathy. The sun beat a relentless heat against the backs of their heads as they ran, and Colin knew that he would come to regret not using any sun cream earlier that day. His only consolation was that the men chasing them wore much heavier clothes that were unsuited for the summer months, and would be feeling the dry warmth much more keenly than they. “Let’s head for the trees,” said Colin. “There’ll be some shade there, at least,” Peter sneezed again in acknowledgement, and the two changed directions, away from the dirty paths ahead and towards the forest that lay to the south of Ottery St. Catchpole. It wasn’t particularly large, but maybe they could lose their pursuers there. They charged through the twig-strewn undergrowth and into the dim light and the maze of tree trunks that marked the boundaries of the forest, leaving the men cursing in their wake. Peter tugged on Colin’s sleeve, almost causing him to trip over a large root that snaked across the ground. “If we’re quick, we can climb up a tree and wait for them to get bored,” he whispered, and Colin nodded silently in agreement. They spotted a tree perfect for climbing after a short moment of searching and hastily made their way up. Only when they reached a large branch near the top that would certainly hold their weight did they stop, crouching silently in the leafy canopy. Soon enough, two of the men appeared below the tree — evidently, they had spread out in an attempt to catch them. The men looked disgruntled and sweaty; annoyance rolled off them in waves. “Right, that’s it!” exclaimed one suddenly. “I’ve had enough of this. Let’s just go home.” The other nodded, and Colin recognised him as the one who had been most outspoken against the rest of the men. “What did I tell you?” he sighed. “We’ll never find them in here — it’s a waste of our time. Do you have any idea who they were?” “Just some kids from the town, I reckon,” the first man grimaced. “Either way, we don’t know enough about ‘em to go chasing after their parents. It’s a lost cause, unless we catch ‘em in the act.” His companion grunted. “Fat chance of that happening if today is any indication. Come one, let’s go back and get some nice cold water. I for one am roasting — these clothes aren’t meant for heavy running.” The two moved away, talking in low voices as they did so, and Colin and Peter let out a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s it then,” said Peter triumphantly, after a moment of comfortable silence. “Just give them a few more minutes to get out of here and then we can head for home.” “Thank goodness for that,” grinned Colin. “I thought we’d had it when you sneezed.” “So did I,” admitted Peter. They spent a few minutes simply looking over the forest; the view from the top of the tree was spectacular. They could see everything for miles around - the rolling green fields, the buildings of the village cobbled together in the distance and the tinkling waters of the river that ran past the woods. Colin felt utterly at peace, leaning against the warm bark of the trunk and listening to the gentle chatter of the forest, and had almost dozed off in the lazy heat when - “Say, Colin,” said Peter, frowning. “What’s that, over there?” Colin blinked, startled into full awareness. “What?” he half-yawned. Peter rolled his eyes and jabbed his finger angrily towards the south. “There!” he repeated. “What do you think it is?” He looked in the direction Peter was indicating. A hazy mass sprang out of the trees across the river; almost ethereal, it was like a wispy cloud struggling to take the shape of some celestial castle. As Colin squinted at it, more details seemed to spring forth. It looked vaguely like a house, though not one that Colin had ever seen before. It was as though someone had haphazardly piled several barns on top of each other and glued some chimneys on the roof, yet the effect was not unlikable — rather, it felt vibrant and charismatic, as though the house itself was alive and growing. Colin voiced his thoughts aloud, and Peter hummed slightly. “It does look like a building of some sort — but a house? Really, Colin, who would ever want to live in that? It looks as though it would fall down at any moment!” “Surely it would’ve fallen already if it was going to,” said Colin stubbornly. “It looks like it’d be a marvellous place to live — much more interesting than a boring house of bricks.” “Suit yourself,” chuckled Peter. “I, for one, like my house just the way it is. Bricks or not, at least it doesn’t look like a pigsty! Hey, do you think those men have gone yet? Maybe we can get a closer look.” “We’d have to cross the river,” said Colin doubtfully. “Besides, we need to be back for dinner in a few hours. It’s getting late, and that house looks awfully far.” Even as he said the words, he knew he would go if Peter did. The house — if that was what it was — was a mystery to him; a mystery he was keen to solve. “We’ve got plenty of time,” scoffed Peter. “Come on, Colin. Surely you’re up for a little adventure?” “Because your adventures have always been great ideas in the past…” muttered Colin under his breath. “Alright,” he said, louder now. “Let’s go, but if we’re late, it’s your fault!” “We won’t be late,” assured Peter, grinning. “We never are — well, there was that one time…” The two boys scrambled down the trunk, their trainers struggling to find footholds. “I swear this was easier on the way up…” muttered Colin. At last, their feet hit the blessedly solid ground. They listened intently for a few moments, trying to tell if the men chasing them were still there, before deciding they were safe. “Right, I think it’s …this way.” said Peter, nodding. “Come on, Colin!” he started to jog forward at a brisk pace. “No use blaming me if we’re late, if you’re going to be so slow!” As Colin followed Peter, he felt his curiosity and anticipation rise. What could that building possibly be, if not a house? It would be a most excellent discovery, he was sure, whatever it was. Perhaps it was a stable for some huge talking giraffe, or a magical factory of some kind, or even a hideout for a secret organisation working from the shadows. He told Peter some of his ideas, but instead of appearing impressed, he started giggling. “Honestly, Colin,” he laughed. “It can’t possibly be a giraffe — surely we’d have seen it over the forest before if it were — and magic isn’t real! I suppose a secret organisation is possible, but we haven’t seen any mysterious characters around the village, have we? They can’t arrive out of thin air, and we’d have seen them if they came any other way.” “I suppose you’re right,” Colin sighed. “Of course I’m right,” said Peter. “It’s probably an abandoned farmhouse of some kind, you’ll see.” “Then why are we going?” asked Colin. “A farmhouse would be boring.” “Because it’s an adventure, Colin!” said Peter exasperatedly. “Ah! Look, there’s the river, just ahead.” They had finally reached the edge of the woods, and the sudden increase in sunlight caused both of them to flinch for a moment before gathering their bearings. The river lay directly before them, curling gently round a grassy slope and trailing off into the distance. Several fish swam confidently through the river; Colin could make out each tiny scale and darting eye through the perfectly clear waters. Small flies were swarming above the surface, and Peter wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Ugh, I hate bugs,” he remarked. “Pity there’s no giant newspaper to go with that giant giraffe, eh, Colin?” “Oh, ha, ha,” said Colin dryly. “Shall we cross here, then, or search for another place further upstream?” “Here should do nicely,” said Peter, after a brief pause to look in both directions. “It’s not too deep and the sun should dry our clothes if they get wet. Besides, we’re wearing shorts.” “What about our shoes though?” “I’ve thought of that already,” said Peter smugly. “We’ll throw them across first, then put them back on when we get to the other side.” And with that, Peter tore off his trainers and socks and scrunched his socks into a small ball before placing them securely inside each trainer. “Watch this!” he said, taking a few steps back and running towards the river. At the last moment, he stopped and threw the trainers in a mighty arc across the waters. Colin fancied he saw the fish’s beady eyes follow the invading shoes as they flew overhead. Peter’s shoes landed safely on the other side of the bank. “Your turn,” Peter announced. “It’s as easy as pie.” “You’re in the cricket team though,” grumbled Colin. “Of course you’d find it easy.” “You don’t need to play cricket to make that shot,” scoffed Peter. “Fine, fine,” said Colin. He mirrored Peter’s actions and threw his shoes, his socks trembling with fear inside, over the bank. They barely made it to the other side, and Colin breathed a sigh of relief. “See? Easy.” said Peter. “Last one across the river is a rotten egg!” he shouted suddenly, and tore off through the waters, leaving a trail of splashes and ripples in his wake. Colin, muttering darkly under his breath, shot after him, but it was a lost cause — Peter had too much of an advantage. Both boys were panting heavily as they reached the opposite bank; the river had a surprisingly strong current for its size. “That’s most of it out of the way, I think,” said Peter, shaking his feet hastily to dry them. “We’ve just got this bit of the wood to get through before we’ll be able to see the building,” Colin agreed. “I still think it’s a house, though.” Peter huffed in disagreement, but did not comment. They munched on an apple as they waited for their feet to dry, then they slipped their socks and trainers back on. A faint brush of clouds was forming in the distance, a single strand of cotton against a drape of brilliant blue. Colin glanced up at the sun. “It’ll be getting late fairly soon,” he said. “No time to lose then!” said Peter jovially. They looked back at the river for a moment before moving into the woods once more. Colin felt a strange prickling feeling on the back of his neck that quickly spread down his back. He looked round warily, but there was nobody there except Peter. Something about the trees seemed…off to Colin. It wasn’t as if they were darker, or a different kind altogether to the other ones, but they seemed to carry a certain weight to them, as if they were holding a terrible secret. For several long minutes, the only sounds they heard were the rustling of fallen leaves under their feet and the occasional snap of a twig. “Peter,” whispered Colin urgently. “Are you sure this is the right way?” “I think so,” said Peter, though his voice seemed unsure. “D’you reckon we should climb another tree to make sure?” Colin eyed the trees dubiously. “These ones aren’t suited for climbing.” “Perhaps if I give you a lift, you’ll be able to get up from there,” suggested Peter. “That won’t work,” Colin shook his head. “The branches are too high up; you’d have to be a lot taller.” “Well what do you want me to say then?” snapped Peter. “The best we can do is to keep moving. Right direction or not, this wood has got to end somewhere.” “Quiet!” Colin hissed. He had heard what sounded like laughter, but they were alone in the woods…weren’t they? “What?” said Peter indignantly. Colin placed a hand over Peter’s mouth and gestured to where he thought the sound was coming from. Now that they were silent, Colin was sure he could hear voices a short distance away. He shared a worried glance with Peter, and by unspoken agreement the two moved slowly towards the sound, crouching. They reached a thick area of brush and cautiously peeked through a hole in the green mass. Two people, a man and a woman, sat in a wide clearing. The man had messy black hair, almost as wild as the brush they were currently hiding in. Emerald eyes gazed out from behind a pair of round glasses perched on his nose. The woman had long red hair that fell in a shimmering, silken wave down to her waist. She had deep brown eyes, and a sprinkle of freckles scattered her face. They were cuddled together at the base of the trunk, the woman curled up against the man’s chest. The man’s fingers were leisurely running through the woman’s hair, while the woman was drawing delicate patterns on the man’s chest with her finger. Quiet words were being spoken, and Colin felt like he was intruding on an intimate, timeless scene, yet he was unable to move, or even look away. Even as they watched from their position hidden in the brush, the woman laughed joyously at something the man had said and the two leaned in towards each other to kiss. Colin was still at the age where he found the company of girls to be annoying and silly at best, and always complained in a playful manner whenever his parents kissed, but seeing this couple tenderly pressing their lips against the other, staring into each other’s eyes, he felt no inclination to interrupt them. The scene felt special, somehow, as if it should be gathered and conserved to avoid losing it forever. The fingers of a gentle wind spun the couple’s hair together as they kissed, ebony mixing with ginger to create a striking image. Colin turned his head slightly to see Peter’s reaction — the other boy was shifting uncomfortably, looking everywhere but the tree trunk. Privately, Colin was baffled at his indifference — did he not feel the …the magic, for want of a better word, in the air? — but logically, he knew he should be behaving in much the same way — he had certainly never shown an appreciation for romance before. Nothing could last forever, however. The hazy slowness of time and the overwhelming calm was suddenly shattered, not by a cataclysmic event, or by a malevolent intervention, but by a sneeze. Colin blanched, and glared at Peter, who had a guilty expression plastered on his paling face. The couple’s heads had immediately turned at the sneeze, and had Colin not been terribly afraid, he would have admired their fast reaction time. He watched fearfully as they rose to their feet, eyes darting across the clearing. “Who’s there?” the man’s voice was cool and collected, yet carried a somewhat dark undertone to it that only increased Colin’s rising fear. Ornately decorated wooden sticks were held tightly in their hands, yet Colin had not seen them move to take anything out of a pocket. Despite the fact that he knew wood was completely harmless, something about the sticks spoke of a power beyond his comprehension. The two boys kept silent, hoping that they would remain unseen. It was not to be, however, as — “Harry,” the woman spoke, her eyes fixed impossibly on the brush where they were hidden. “Come out, we know you’re in there,” the man — Harry — commanded. Peter and Colin clambered shakily to their feet. For all his experience getting caught — and he had plenty of that, for he and Peter were always causing mischief around the town — Colin had never felt so frightened. A flicker of surprise flashed in the man’s eyes for a brief moment, before his expression hardened again. “Who are you?” he asked. “And how did you get here?” Peter and Colin exchanged a baffled glance before answering the question. “I’m Colin,” Colin stammered, just as Peter said — much more bravely, Colin noted with annoyance — “I’m Peter. We just crossed the river from the woods.” “Why would you do that?” the woman asked, a delicate eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Erm,” Peter’s voice trailed off, obviously trying to think of a suitable cover story. To Colin’s amazement, the woman smirked. She whispered something to the man, who relaxed notably. The arm that had been holding the stick lowered, and Colin released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Well, whatever you’ve been up to, this is private property,” said the man. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.” Colin knew they were getting off easily, but even so, he couldn’t keep the disappointment from showing on his face. “What is it?” asked the woman, seemingly with genuine concern. “Is the building over these woods a house or a pigsty?” blurted out Colin. He felt his face redden as soon as he had spoken, hating himself for acting like a fool, but he really wanted to know what it was. “Colin!” hissed Peter. “They were going to let us go!” But rather than appearing angered, both the woman and the man laughed loudly at his question. “It’s a house,” grinned the man, and Colin felt a thrill at actually being right instead of Peter for once, as well as the desire to get a closer look. “And speaking of houses, I reckon it’s time you two got back to yours.” “We — uh,” stammered Peter. “We don’t know the way. We got lost.” The woman rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she drawled. “We’ll take you back. You live in the village, don’t you?” They both nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Come on, Harry,” she glanced significantly at the stick the man was holding in his hand, and he nodded. The woman grabbed Harry’s hand in her own and set off at a brisk pace. After a moment’s pause, Peter and Colin followed. The man and the woman held a whispered conversation as they walked, but Colin could not make out much of what was said. He thought he heard the words “wards” and “muggle”, but he could not be sure without moving closer, and he did not want them to get annoyed with him for eavesdropping. At length, the man hastened his pace and the woman drew back slightly to walk with them. “We’re almost at the river now,” she said. Peter nodded, then turned to Colin. “How are we going to get across this time?” he whispered. “I don’t fancy having to get our feet wet again.” “It’ll take too long for them to dry,” Colin agreed. Evidently, the woman had heard them. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said cryptically, a small smile on her face. They heard the familiar rush of water again, and to Colin’s relief, the shade of the forest was soon replaced by the warm light of the sun. It was late afternoon, and a streak of apricot rested on the horizon, giving the entire area a pleasant glow. The woman smiled brightly. Colin followed her gaze to see the man waiting for them. He appeared to be standing on top of the river, and Colin almost gasped until he saw a faint ripple of stone just below the water. The man gestured to a line of stones that led across to the other side. “Wish we’d have spotted that,” grumbled Peter. “Would have saved us some time.” Colin frowned. He was sure that those stones were not there earlier, but…how else could they be here, now? He must have missed them, somehow. “Do you know the way back from here?” the man asked. When both boys confirmed that they did, he hopped off the stone and moved over to the woman, leaving the way clear for them to go home. “Thanks for helping us,” said Colin earnestly, and Peter nodded his agreement. “It was no problem,” the woman assured them. The man playfully dug his elbow in her stomach, grinning. “You hardly did anything!” “Did too,” she glared, though a hint of a smile was touching her lips. “Goodbye,” said Peter, already jumping over the stones. “And thanks again!” Colin followed Peter across the river, pondering the strange turn the day had taken. When he looked back over his shoulder, the couple were gone - presumably back into the forest, and that strange building. Some day, Colin thought, I’ll go to that house. The fact that it’s private property only adds to the mystery! The sun was slowly descending over the village when Colin and Peter finally returned home. They had had to take an extended shortcut to avoid one of the men who had chased them earlier, who was sitting outside his house with a newspaper perched on his lap and a glass of lemonade in his hand. It was unlikely he would have seen them, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Seeing the lemonade made Colin aware of a raging thirst, and he realised guiltily that he had not had a drink since before lunch. His mother would be beyond angry, he though suddenly — not only had he neglected his health by not keeping himself hydrated and forgetting the sun cream, he was very late for dinner. Peter, of course, did not have that problem, for his parents typically returned home at a late hour on account of their jobs. He was presently whistling cheerfully, and it was grating on Colin’s nerves. “Would you stop that?” he snapped. Peter caught on immediately, and his content smile became ever so slightly predatory. “Oh, of course!” he said gleefully. “Your parents will be home by now!” He left it unsaid that he would be absolutely fine. The words were unnecessary. “Git,” muttered Colin. “You said we wouldn’t be late.” “It’s hardly my fault we got lost,” said Peter. “And hey, at least we had a good adventure, eh, Colin?” “I suppose so…” “Exactly! Free apples and an adventure, all in a day’s work! What more could you want?” Peter grinned. “My life, perhaps? My mother is going to kill me…” moaned Colin. “Stop being so dramatic! You’ll be fine.” They arrived outside Peter’s house, which was very close to Colin’s. Despite his encouragement, Peter did appear somewhat concerned for his friend. Colin wasn’t sure whether to take that as a good sign or a bad sign, but it was comforting nonetheless. “Good luck,” said Peter, slapping Colin on the back. The door slammed behind him as he entered the house. Colin felt abandoned, though he knew it was unreasonable to expect Peter to come with him. Colin sighed and turned to walk the remaining distance home. He opened the gate with perceptible reluctance, and slowly dragged his feet along the path. At last, he could put it off no longer. He rang the doorbell. The hearty jingle only seemed to enhance Colin’s dread, and he lowered his eyes to the ground in preparation for the inevitable explosion. It didn’t come. Confused, Colin pressed the doorbell again. And again. It was a full minute before the door opened, revealing his mother’s pale face. “What is it?” asked Colin, alarmed. His mother was a strong woman who was rarely perturbed by anything — for her to be visibly distressed, as she was now, was rare. “Colin,” she said weakly. “Tomorrow, I am going to get very annoyed at you for being over an hour late. But…” she paused. “Come in. You need to see something.” Colin followed her through the door, his thoughts racing as she led him into the kitchen. His mind was conjuring up terrible scenarios, each worse than the last. What could this possibly be? She gestured to the table, where a small envelope rested inconspicuously. At his questioning glance, she nodded. “Read it.” He picked up the envelope — that had clearly already been opened — and slipped the letter out. Colin raised his eyebrows at the handwritten script. It had evidently been penned with great precision, and the ink looked very expensive; almost archaic. ‘Dear Mr Davies,’ the letter began, ‘We are pleased to inform you…’ ~ End ~ |
| Reviews 7 |
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