Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine, but belong to their appropriate owners.
Harry Potter was experiencing what was perhaps the worst day in his life, and he had a run of them lately: first his parents died, then a crazy wizard died while trying to kill him, and now an-other crazy wizard left him in a strange place and he was cold and hungry!
Harry Potter may have been destined for greatness, but right now he was just a baby of few months of age, and he was cold and hungry and so he did while children his age tend to do in such a situation: he cried.
Loudly. Desperately. Angrily.
And then a pair of shadows – one bigger, one smaller – fell over him and shut off the faint light of a late autumn moon.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Aoife, a succubus of the Unseelie court asked her companion.
* * *
Aoife was not in a very good mood. England may have been her homeland (well, one of several, really), but honestly? Alexandra could keep it. It was cold and foggy and wet and generally depressing – and even the Chi of the British tasted like tasteless oatmeal. (The Chi of the Scots tasted like haggis and thus was even worse.)
Needless to say, when the obligatory three weeks of homage were over, Aoife was all for going to the nearest Fay airport and going somewhere else – like the US, or Canada, or Australia – anywhere but here, really.
And then a baby’s cry caused Aoife to stop abruptly in her tracks. For an Unseelie Fay, such as Aoife and her giant companion, this was not unlike the ringing of a dinner bell, and neither was willing to pass it up – even if this was oatmeal, it was still oatmeal at its finest.
And so they went to investigate.
* * *
The baby was lying in a basket and was wailing – loudly, hungrily, pitifully. All in all, a perfect meal for an Unseelie Fay, and Aoife’s companion (sent to ensure both that Aoife would leave England and that Alexandra would show off before her underlings about her power and prestige) certainly thought that, as he stretched out his giant hand to grab the child, when Aoife grabbed this limb instead.
Why? The answer to that came from a piece of paper that Aoife caught fluttering in the wind. After instinctively catching and reading it, the experienced (to put it lightly) succubus caught her companion’s arm and said, very firmly:
The giant did not get her. Then again, the giants are not normally known for their wits, and even though the ruddy brown tint to the skin and the turquoise eyes of this particular giant implied a fair amount of Dharath blood in this giant’s veins, this fog giant was just as dim as the next one.
In other words, the giant did not think about Aoife’s actions at all, but swung his bone club at her, which Aoife dodged.
The giant was good – he managed to stop the descent of his club before he hit the ground – but he was not good enough: even as he reared back for another swing, Aoife kicked him.
The succubae aren’t famous for their physical strength, of course, but since it is fuelled with Chi, it can be considerable, and in case of Aoife, she has been accumulating her Chi for such purposes for the better part of a millennia: she could give a beat-down to a grizzly bear if she wanted to, wrestle a Siberian tiger into submission, and in this particular happenstance, the high heel of her shoe penetrated the fog giant’s knee cap as if it was fog (which it wasn’t at this moment).
The giant howled and dropped his club – and also fell away from Aoife.
“Good!” Aoife said smugly, satisfied that she made her point at least to this giant, and walked off back into the shadows, carrying the basket with the baby and the explanatory note with her.
It seemed like she and Alexandra had things to talk about after all.
End chapter 1