University holidays mean free time to write! Little one is almost walking though, so perhaps my blissful extra time won't last long. Better make the most of it.

\\/

Year Three

Chapter Two

\\/

Harry really, really, loved the city of Soroti.

The sprawling, bustling city was a testament to the wonders of Magic, and he adored the hot, exotic atmosphere. From the loud market squares and the rustic street stalls selling hot food, all the way to the spiralling silver skyscrapers. It was exciting, and it was different.

"I'd forgotten how much fun the journey is," Neville commented happily as they walked down the main avenue, throngs of people crowding around them.

"The Cloud Pods?"

"That's the word."

"I love the view," Harry agreed.

They paused by a street stall with a steaming hot grill, upon which vegetables and meat were sizzling; the aroma wafting enticingly across the road. Harry haggled good-naturedly with the bent old man behind the counter, before handing over several coins. The seller handed Harry two paper bowls, and Harry passed one to Neville.

The food was hot and delicious, and both boys ate with their fingers as they wandered further into the city.

The day passed lazily, neither boy feeling particularly inclined to rush around madly to see everything. Instead they meandered their way slowly through several market places, past the large museum Neville remembered from the previous summer, and through several large parks. The late afternoon found them following a route into the back lanes of Soroti.

"We better turn back," Harry said eventually, after their aimlesss wandering led them far from the busy centre. The sun was still high in the blue sky, but it was beginning to get late.

"Where are we?" Neville asked, squinting around.

They were in a narrow street somewhat removed from the centre of the city, lined by boarded up houses. It had a distinctly ominous look, from the blacked out windows to the eerie silence.

"Vampire territory," Harry said calmly, taking a sip from a bottle of Lubisi they had bought.

"What?!" Neville spluttered, jumping back and looking around wildly.

"Calm down," Harry said, laughing. "Remember last time? Vampires are citizens here. They wouldn't hurt a witch or wizard."

"That Vampire we saw getting flogged," Neville remembered. "The one Hermione, er..."

"Interrupted." Harry said tactfully. "Yeah. And his punishment was just for stealing a wand. Can you imagine the punishment for harming a witch or wizard?"

"I don't want to," Neville admitted. He looked over his shoulder nervously.

The street was just like every other street in the city, except for the lack of light, and the boarded up windows. But Neville's early conditioning had taught him that Vampires were to be avoided at all costs, and never, never trusted. It wasn't easy to accept what Harry was telling him, not when every fibre of his body wanted to flee.

Once they left the Vampire quarter of the city, Neville relaxed again. It was silly really, to be so concerned. The Vampires were everywhere anyway - serving in shops, sweeping the streets, and folding garments at the market. When they returned to catch the Cloud Pod back to the village, Neville noticed that his ticket was stamped by a tall, intimidating Vampire.

"What did you say last year about Vampires?" Neville murmured to Harry once they were safely off the ground. "They have all the menial jobs here?"

"Essentially," Harry confirmed, yawning. It had been a long day of walking.

"They're citizens...but not. Not really equal. They can't do magic, but since they're magical creatures it makes sense for them to live alongside us, rather than seperate."

"Strange," Neville said thoughtfully. "It's so different to Britain. They're not even considered citizens there."

Harry nodded, but said nothing else.

The Cloud Pod carried them high over the mountains, drifting gently towards where the Namiya Village rested between two valleys. Neville let his eyes wander to the lush rainforest spread out beneath him, and forgot about the Vampires.

\\/

A week later and the villagers finished the Uchawi Pamba harvest. The last day was always frantic, as everyone raced against the sun to get the last few acres of field stripped, and sent down to the village.

"Where does it go now?" Neville asked, as the exhausted men dropped their sacks against the huge pile that had been accumulating all summer.

He had directed the question to Harry, but it was Kingsley who answered. The tall black wizard had returned to his native village for the traditional night of feasting and storytelling that would follow the end of a successful harvest.

"The buyers from the city will come tomorrow morning to agree a price with the Elders. Once everyone is happy then they will each arrange for their cotton to be picked up the following day, and transported by portkey to their workshops. Then it will be made into robes, and other garments."

"Amazing robes," Neville said, remembering how they had saved his life during the battle at Crouch Manor.

"Indeed," Kingsley said, looking like he was remembering the same thing.

In the centre of the village several long tables had been set up, and preparations were being made for tthe traditional enormous bonfire. Children had been gathering wood all day, and the women had been cooking hot soups and stews over open fires, and slow roasting fowl and fish in fire pits in the ground.

"Are you heading up to the portal now?" Harry asked Kingsley, as they walked back to Bibi's hut to change out of their sweat-stained work robes.

"Yes, your friends should be arriving soon," Kingsley nodded. "I believe they all received their portkeys in a timely manner."

"Perfect," Harry said with a smile. "Can't wait to see them."

"Even though the lazy buggers missed the harvest this year," Neville joked slyly.

Harry grinned back at him. "You're the one who agreed to come early!"

Bantering in a friendly fashion, they returned to dress and prepare for the evening.

\\/

It was an hour later, and the sun had just begun to sink behind the darkening hills. The tables were groaning under the weight of the dishes upon them, and the villagers had just began to pass out plates. There was laughter and cheering, and occasional outbreaks of song. The beer, and stronger fermented brews had already begun to flow freely and the villagers were celebrating a harvest well done.

Harry and Neville waited on the edge of the merriment, keeping their eyes trained on the path to the portal. It was past the time they would have expected Kingsley to arrive with their friends.

"Nothing could go wrong could it?" Neville asked Harry, watching the hills anxiously.

"No, but they should be here by now," Harry admitted.

Suddenly there was a movement on the path, and both boys tensed. Harry grasped for his wand.

"It's them," Harry said a moment later, relief colouring his tone.

The shadows on the path resolved into a group of people. Kingsley stepped out of the bush first, followed by an entourage of teenagers. Ron and Stefan were in front with Kingsley, with their wands out - the rain forest could be dangerous at night - and Hermione took up the rear, keeping the youngest, Ginny and Luna, safely in the middle.

"Harry!" Stefan shouted, the first to catch sight of them.

"Neville!" Hermione called almost at the same time, and by mutual agreement Harry and Neville both ran forwards to greet their friends.

After a month away there were many hugs and greetings exchanged, and exclamations over how people had changed. Ron was much taller, and Stefan had become broader across the shoulders. Harry tried not to think about the changes in the girls, although it made his cheeks redden when they embraced him.

"Come on, welcome," Kingsley said at last. "Tonight we are feasting. You may leave your bags in my Maama's hut, which you will remember from last year. Then you will join us by the fire."

Chattering nine to the dozen, Harry and Neville led the five newcomers through the village. Hermione and Ron had been here before, but it was the first time for Stefan, Ginny and Luna. All three looked as though their eyes were going to pop out of their heads at the plethora of sights and smells in front of them, although the expression was rather normal for Luna.

"Harry," Ginny said in a high-pitched sqeak as they passed several huts, and came alongside the village centre. "Is that a Cerberus?"

"Oh yeah," Harry said casually. "Alastor, Moody and Merlin. Don't ask about the name. She's asleep at the moment because the singing never stops on feast nights."

The enormous three-headed dog was slumped to the ground to one side of the square. All three of her heads were drooling, and snoring thunderously as the music from the tribal drums, and the voices raised in song drifted over her.

"Didn't she have puppies last year?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "That's right. Most of them have been sold now, but there's still one or two wandering around. Cerberus's age very slowly, so they'll be puppies for years."

"Luna where are you going?" Ginny called suddenly.

The blonde girl had wandered away from the group, heading towards the massive dog. She looked back as Ginny called her name, and frowned slightly.

"I'm going to say hello," Luna said calmly, as though it should be obvious why she was approaching the giant carnivore.

"She's asleep," Ron said unnecessarily.

Luna looked very disappointed, but allowed herself to be led on with the rest of the group.

When they had stowed their bags in their rooms for the next few weeks, and dressed for the evening, the seven reunited friends headed back to the village centre.

The evening was filled with feasting and songs. Hermione dragged Ginny and Luna off by the hand to a circle of smiling, dark-skinned girls around their own age. Harry realised she must have become friendly with them the previous summer, and there seemed to be a lot of giggling going on. As usual, Luna looked as though she had wandered in by accident.

"Nice night for it," Neville commented to Harry, gesturing at the enormous expanse of stars spread out above them.

"Beautiful," Stefan agreed.

The four boys were sitting by the edge of the gigantic purple bonfire, sipping on mugs of hot, sweet tea to chase down their meal. Harry felt comfortably bloated, and content to watch the antics around the fire.

Mad-Eye was sitting on a padded stool that had been brought out especially for him. Beside him, Bibi was saying something that Harry couldn't make out as she handed the blind man another plate of food. No doubt it was something acerbic, but her hands were gentle as she folded Mad-Eye's thick fingers around the edges of the plate.

Sirius and Remus were sitting together on a log, speaking in low voices with their heads close together. They were sharing a plate of snacks, and occasionally Remus would tilt his head up to look at the crescent moon, high above them. As Harry watched, Kingsley's neice and nephew, Naeme and Muhindo, ran up to the two men. The twins jabbered something in rapid Swahili, and Harry was impressed to see Sirius respond in the same language, before Remus picked up Muhindo and tossed him into the air as the child shrieked with joy.

The children were everywhere, chasing one another around the fire, teasing their parents and grandparents, and collasping in little heaps when they were tired. Harry found himself with Naeme snuggled up in his arms a short while later, her corkscrew hair tickling his cheek.

"Are you alright Mdogo?"Harry asked, wrapping his free arm around her wriggly body.

"Tired," Naeme yawned.

"You should go to bed," Harry suggested, but she shook her head before sliding out of his arms and making her way back to her brother.

"You're very good with children," Stefan observed, tilting his head at Harry.

"Not anymore than anyone else," Harry shrugged awkwardly. Children were everywhere in the village. They were everyone's responsibility.

"I'm exhausted!"

The four boys turned to see Hermione plop onto the ground beside them, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. Ginny and Luna followed, both looking slightly overwhelmed.

"Having a good night?" Harry asked the younger girls.

"Oh yes," Luna said, turning her wide eyes on Harry. "The fire has the most wonderful Lavender Wilders in it."

"That's lovely," Harry said diplomatically, ignoring Ron's cough beside him.

\\/

The hour was late, and the fire was beginning to flicker lower before the celebrations gave way to storytelling. The children had, for the most part, been tucked up in bed. Now the villagers all began to gather close to the fire in unspoken agreement.

A tall, large black woman stood up. She wore robes, and a swathe of brightly coloured material over one shoulder. Her hair was in tight cornrows, and she cut a powerful and imposing figure. The conversation quickly dwindled, and then came to a natural silence.

Everyone was waiting.

The voluptuous woman spread her plump hands out, and addressed the circle.

"This is a story of bloodshed and bloodlust. Of ideal, and foolishness, and revolutionary zeal. But also of courage, brotherhood, and loyalty."

The crowd of villagers murmured approval. This was the kind of story they wanted to hear.

"Many years ago, our people lived differently to the way we do now. We still had our villages, our ways of life and our cities, but we also had war. I am speaking, of course, of the bloody wars of Bellman the Betrayor."

Harry's eyebrows raised. Although the youngest child knew about it, this was a story he had never heard told out loud on harvest night before. He leaned forward with interest to hear what the big woman had to say.

"From the earliest days of Magic, the Vampires have walked among us - even when we once resided alongside muggles. When our ancestors first split our civilisation away from the muggles and created the Portal, we took the creatures with us to live and thrive in our world of Magic. Their species was being hunted by the non-magicals, and they were at threat of extinction. We allowed them safe haven.

"For many hundreds of years, our people co-existed. The witches and wizards of the newly formed Magical Uganda formed villages and cities. We made great leaps in agriculture and industry, and began trading with other nations. Meanwhile the vampires continued their twilight existence. Our paths crossed occasionally, but for the most part the land was large, and they kept their own counsel. Alas, it could not last.

The large woman looked around impressively. The light was dying fast, and the purple flames made her dark face gleam.

"Eventually there arose a Vampire who was not satisfied with the place of his people in society. His name was Bellman, and he was an English Wizard visiting our nation. He was turned shortly before his seventeenth birthday. At first, like most new Vampires, he was entirely driven by blood lust. But Bellman retained extraordinary capacity for memory, and unlike the majority of his species, he could remember his previous life in perfect clarity. He could remember owning a wand.

"Vampires are forbidden to carry wands. This is the most ancient of our laws, for our own protection. Vampires would, if given the choice, choose to feed on human blood. With the aid of a wand the opportunities for murder become terrible. But Bellman did not agree.

"Bellman left Uganda for many years, and travelled extensively throughout Africa and Europe. Upon his return, he rose swiftly through the ranks of the Vampire goverment until all answered to him. And then he rallied the Vampires, and he gave them a common cause. The desire to posses a wand.

"When our Leaders would not agree to the terms proposed, the Vampires became angry. Bellman led an army down from the mountains, and they fell upon the witches and wizards with whom they had once so peacefully co-existed. Neighbours, friends, colleagues. The slaughter was terrible and bloody. The Vampires killed indiscriminately, intent on their desire to wipe out the wand-carriers. As a people we fought to defend ourselves, and the carnage reigned until our streets ran red with blood.

"Three times Bellman led his army into our streets, and three times our people gave their lives to defend our way of life. The Vampires looted wands where they could, but without the knowledge of Magic they were unable to use them, and destroyed them. The loss was devastating for both our people and our heritage.

"On the final day, Bellman gathered together the remains of his resistance fighters. In the streets of Soroti our people gathered, ready to lay down their lives to protect their children from a future where the Vampires reigned.

The woman dropped her voice to a whisper, and everyone leaned in to not miss a word.

"Our King was called Taamiti the was young, but he was strong and mighty. He went out to speak with Bellman, and allowed nobody to accompany him. When he returned, he announced that the battle would be fought directly between himself and Bellman, so that no more lives would be lost.

"Bellman and Taamiti met in combat in the centre of Soroti, in the district that was once called Karysha. Taamiti was young and strong, and he had Magic. But Bellman had the speed and strength of a Vampire, and the pair were equally matched. All day they fought, and all night, until the earth beneath their feet was red.

"When the first light of dawn showed, Taamiti raised his hand to parley, so that each fighter might take a moment to drink water. But as the King turned away from the fight, Bellman made an unworthy move. The Vampire pulled a stolen wand from his sleeve, and cast a curse at Taamiti. Through this cowardly act, Bellman took control of the fight. Within moments his lips were at the King's throat.

"But in the second before Bellman tore out his throat, Taamiti had time for just one spell. He did not use it to save himself, but cast a blasting curse so powerful that it immolated both fighters instantly. Both were dead, and their bodies were never recovered."

The woman sighed, and a tear glistened in her eye.

"Bellman was gone. The Vampires were paralysed without a leader, and they left the city. Our people were left to bury the countless dead, and mourn the terrible waste of life. In time, the Vampires slowly returned to our society. They took a lesser place, as befitted their betrayal. They live alongside us this day, but we will never forget what happened. We will never forget that Vampires should not be given the power of Magic.

"And we will not forget the courage of King Taamiti, and the people of Soroti."

The woman looked around the circle, taking in every face. Harry felt as though she looked directly at him. And then abruptly she turned and left, leaving only mumurs in her wake.

"Is that all true?" Hermione whispered from Harry's side.

"According to our history books, yes," Harry nodded, his eyes fixed on the glowing purple coals.

Gradually conversation began again, and before long other stoytellors came forward to the fire. They told tales of adventure, of love, and stories that caused great laughter. It was early in the morning before any of them made it to bed, and Harry was on the verge of collapse by the time he made it back to the little room he was sharing with Neville.

But as his eyes drifted closed, he was still thinking of the first story.

\\/

The next morning everyone in the village rose late.

Harry's friends all stumbled into the main room of the hut in varying stages of grogginess, rubbing their eyes and yawning widely. Bibi had a hot, steaming, pan of rich coffee stewing on the stove, which Harry was very grateful for.

"Long night pup?" Sirius asked, collapsing on a cushion beside Harry.

Harry wrapped his hands tightly around the burning mug of coffee, letting the heat sear through him, and breathing in the sharp, bitter, scent.

"You know it was long," he retorted. "You were there."

"And I'm glad," Sirius said cheerfully. "Much more fun than spending time in a cave with only a dragon for company."

Harry twisted around to look at Sirius. "You're not going back there are you?"

"We'll have to see," Sirius said, his eyes shifting slightly. Harry recognised the look as Sirius keeping something from him, and narrowed his eyes. But before he could interrogate his godfather further, more of his friends arrived.

Stefan and Ron appeared in the doorway, both with red-rimmed eyes. Ron looked pale, and faintly green.

"Got any hangover potion?" The red head asked hoarsely.

"Too much beer?" Sirius sniggered.

"No potion," Bibi insisted, pressing mugs of coffee into the hands of the two boys. "This all you need. Drink up! Drink up!"

Harry tried not to laugh at Ron's piteous expression.

\\/

The following day, all of the villagers gathered to watch the harvested sacks of Uchawi Pamba loaded up and taken away.

Hermione had asked if she could watch, and all of the teenagers had ended up heading down to the collection point alongside the villagers.

Harry tilted his head back. High above them, several of the curious looking Cloud Pods were floating gently towards them. Their mirrored glass walls made then look like bubbles, and several indistinct forms could be made out inside them.

"Are those the people who are buying them?" Hermione asked Harry in a whisper.

"No, those are the underlings coming to collect them," Harry murmured back, as the first pod lightly touched the ground.

Several Vampires emerged from each pod. The curious chalky skin of the undead always looked unusual on the black Ugandans, like a strange pallour had been dusted over the black skin. Each vampire wore robes that identified their master.

"What are they doing?" Stefan asked, as the Vampires walked over to the sacks of cotton without acknowledging the villagers.

"They're attaching portkey's to the sacks," Harry answered.

The Vampires were moving among the sacks of cotton, attaching clips to the Hessian bags. Bit by bit, the harvest began to vanish into thin air. When each Vampire had finished his job, he would return to the Cloud Pod to await the journey home. None of them spoke to the villagers.

"Why don't they portkey with the bags?" Ginny asked, frowning curiously at the Vampires.

Harry noticed that although the Vampires were not supposed to interact with the Villagers, they were not as indifferent as they seemed. He saw more than one of the undead taking a second look and Ron and Ginny, and guessed that they had never seen red hair before.

"Not allowed," Harry said. "Not sure why exactly, but they can only go the slow way."

Hermione had her lips tightly pressed together, and Harry admired her restraint. Ron had confirmed that Hermione had been very upset by the prospect of watching further mistreatment of other humanoid creatures again, but that the girl was determined not to cause a scene like the previous year. Although Harry thought Hermione had a point, he was grateful that she didn't risk their lives by upsetting the overseers or the Villagers.

"Well that's that," Harry said, after the last sack disappeared. The final Vampire was climbing into a Cloud Pod, and after a moment it rose into the air, and began driving after the others towards the distant Soroti.

\\/

When they returned to Bibi's hut, there was a surprise waiting for them.

"Owls!" Muhindo cried in greeting, running towards the teenagers. "Owls! Lots of them!"

"In the hut," Naeme agreed, running after her brother and determined not to let him be the only bearer of the news.

"It must be the Hogwarts letters," Harry said, grinning slightly mischeviously. "Every year the bird comes right into the hut, and it always drives Bibi mad. This time there must be seven of them."

Inside the little hut it was chaos. The circular room was wide and spacious, but seven large handsome owls were fluttering around, trying to find a perch. Bibi was marching around after them with a thunderous expression on her face, a flyswatter in her hand.

"If these English birds poop on my floor..."

"They won't, Bibi," Harry said, trying not to laugh. "They never do."

"It'll give you something to do," Mad-Eye grunted.

The ex-auror was sitting in the corner on the padded stool that had been especially adapted for him. Although he couldn't see the tumult, he could certainly hear the cacophany - and there was a little smirk hovering around his lips, as though he knew something that the others did not.

Before Bibi could respond, Harry quickly detached a letter from the nearest owl, which happened to be addressed to Ginny Weasley.

"You have come a long way, friend," Harry murmured to the owl. Behind him, his friends followed suit and began detaching letters.

Harry scrabbled around in the cupboards until he found some owl treats, and passed them out between the birds. After a few sips of water each Hogwarts owl departed - back to the cooler climates that their feathery bodies were more suited for.

Harry and his friends quickly swapped letters until each had the one addressed to him, and then opened them.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.

Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

A list of books for next year is enclosed.

Yours sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

"Hey, we can go to Hogsmeade without sneaking out!" Harry said enthusiastically, grinning at his friends. "This is going to be great."

"Look at the book list," Neville said, after a moment. "There's nothing there for Defense - at all."

"This means we have a new Defense Professor again," Hermione said, lifting her head from the parchment. "Remus isn't staying."

"We knew he couldn't," Neville reminded her. "Position is cursed, remember?"

"So what would happen if he tried to go back?" Stefan asked curiously. Having only started at Hogwarts during the second year, this was a new phenomenon to him.

"Don't want to find out," Ron shuddered superstitiously. "All sorts of things have happened to Professors who have tried to carry on. If Remus just quietly resigns, that fulfills the curse - and makes sure nothing happens to him."

"Weasley's right," Mad-Eye grunted from the corner, making them all jump. "But I'm sure you'll find the new Professor very enlightening."

"You know him?" Harry asked with surprise.

"Oh yes," Mad-Eye said, that same smirk returning to his face. "You could say we've met."

\\/

Somewhere in Norway...

The room was almost empty.

It was stark, severe and quite barren; as though a monk might use it as a place for scholarly pursuit. There was nothing but a wooden desk with a few papers on it, a rickety wooden chair before the desk, and a bookcase full of novels with questionable titles.

Indeed its very starkness seemed oddly unsuitable for the man behind the desk, who was dressed in opulent furs, and looked as though he was partial to frequent Wizards pamper sessions. He looked to be somewhere in the realm of his mid forties, with a thick, well-oiled, black, goetee; and dark bushy eyebrows. There was a mean glint to his eyes when he spoke:

"I agreed to accept one girl. Not two."

"Does it really make a difference?"

The question was asked by the girl, sitting uncomfortably on the rickety chair in front of his desk.

In contrast to him, she was young and beautiful; dressed in long velvet robes and a thick ermine fur wrap. Her expression was calm as she watched the man leaf through several sheets of parchment in front of him, but beneath the table her hands were twisting in her lap.

"It makes a difference if the British law enforcement come knocking," the man scowled.

The girl made no response. Instead she looked across the office to the window, where beyond one could see snow-capped mountains, and swirling grey clouds. It was not inviting, and the room itself was chilly. There was no fireplace to lend a sense of coziness, and the girl was cold in spite of her wrap.

The man reached the last page of the paperwork.

"You have permission?" He asked, his eyebrows raising as he looked up. "You actually have your mother's signed permission for this?"

"I said, didn't I?" The girl asked, fingering her wand. She was hoping things weren't going to descend to that.

"Very well," the man sighed. He steepled his hands together, and closed his eyes for a moment. "I'll take you both. But I don't want any nonsense. I do read the newspapers you know. I heard all about your little escapade, and I know that you run around with the Potter brat. You cannot expect a particularly warm welcome from the other students."

"Ran around," the Daphne Greengrass corrected coolly. "Past tense. I'm here now, aren't I?"

"I suppose you are," the man sighed. "I suppose you are."

With a reluctance flourish, the man signed his name at the bottom of one of the sheets of parchment. He passed it back to the girl, who signed her own name calmly beneath it. She didn't flinch, even as the ink shone scarlet and wet.

"We have a deal then, headmaster?" Daphne asked, standing up to leave.

"We have a deal," Igor Karkaroff said reluctantly.

He watched as she left his office in a swirl of robes and perfume, and frowned. Letting that girl and her sister into his school would bring nothing but trouble when the Dark Lord returned, he was certain of it - and nobody at Durmstrang had believed the slick story in the British press about the incident the previous month. But then perhaps the girl's connection with Potter could afford him some measure of protection when that time came, if he played his cards right.

Igor Karkaroff knew he was going to need all the protection he could get. And if that meant pandering to the Greengrass sisters, he supposed it could be worse.

\\/

Thanks for reading,

Cas

(Luca, go away and read some real fiction)