Harry's Summer Vacation

The next few days passed quietly for Harry.  He learned rather quickly about what Roanapur had to offer in the lines of food and services.  In the mornings, he would hit various food places for a breakfast that would range from soup to a spicy crab salad.  He spent a few hours every morning mentally chatting with Salim about his newfound ability to not have to use a wand for certain spells, as well as spell theory.  The afternoons would range from talking with Benny about the logistics of teleporting satellites into orbit while being jokingly heckled by Revy, to lounging on a beach and soaking up the sun, to wandering around shopping for odds and ends that caught his eye.  Evenings were spent mostly in study, and trying to transcribe what he had gone through on Yamatai.

On Saturday the thirteenth, Harry paused in his afternoon wandering, a sign catching his notice.  The symbol in the corner was clearly magical, even if it was on a local doctor's ad board.  Walking inside, he shivered at the sudden change in temperature before walking up to the receptionist behind a low wall.

"May I help you, sir?" the older woman asked in heavily accented english.

"I hope so," Harry replied.  "I saw the sign out front, and I was hoping to speak with one of your healers if they had a moment."

The woman blinked as she translated the words in her head (an expression that Harry had learned very early) before smiling.  "Of course.  Have a seat, and I'll see if she's available."

A few minutes later, a very elderly woman hobbled out.  Her hair was silver, and smile lines completely encompassed her face.  Dressed in western surgical scrubs, they were decorated in intricate patterns picked out in gold thread that Harry instinctively recognized as magical, even if he didn't know what the symbols meant.

"I am Doctor Gurimurra," the woman said in a grandmotherly tone.  "And you are?"

"Harry Potter, ma'am," Harry replied, standing to bow.

"And what is your medical issue, young man?"

"I actually don't have one," Harry admitted.  "I saw the sign out front which had the symbol of the International Healer's Guild on it, and was hoping to...  Well, I'm not sure what I was wanting to do, actually.  Maybe donate, maybe trade some spells?"

Gurimurra chuckled lightly at his admission.  "I see.  Being young, you are prone to impulsiveness, as are we all at your age.  Come into the back, and we'll talk."

A few minutes later, Harry was seated in front of a desk, while Gurimurra was behind it.  "So you're exactly not sure why you're here," she began, playing with a pen.  "Do you know what prompted you to come in?"

Harry considered this for a moment, before saying, "I was recently on an exploration expedition, and ended up being the medic for the group.  Thankfully, I was advised by a curse breaker to pack a lot of potions, and I know a few spells that are probably considered either lost or out of date."

"Interesting," she mused aloud.  "Would you please tell me what you used?"

Harry did, sparing no detail of the wounds suffered by himself and Lara, as well as the potions used and the names of the spells (even if he stuttered over the pronunciations in ancient languages), as well as their effects.

"Interesting.  Most interesting.  The potion use was good, and it sounds as if you have a good handle on the spells involved.  What would you say was your most substantial issue?"

"Casting time," Harry instantly stated.  "The sleep time compression spell took about thirty seconds to cast, while the muscle knitter took almost a minute."

"Mmm.  Yes, I can see that.  Unfortunately, spellcraft evolution tends to be like that.  The older spells tend to be more powerful and precise, but take longer to cast, while the modern medical spells tend to take a greater amount of mental focus, even if the casting itself is a couple of words.

"I believe that I can help you, young man," she began, perking up, "but not quite in a manner you were considering.  Have you given any thought to joining the Healer's Guild as an apprentice?"

Harry's eyes widened at that.  "Not really, no.  Do... do you really think I might have a talent for it?"

"What makes you think you might not?" she asked curiously.

"Well, my best subject has always been Defense," Harry admitted, looking down at his hands, "probably because it tends to be practical work without a lot of theory.  I just get hurt a lot due to circumstances."

"What about your ability to brew potions?"

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes.  "At my school, the potions teacher is horrible.  Yeah, he knows his stuff, but is a crap teacher.  I think I taught myself more in three weeks at sea than I learned in three years of potions classes at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts, you say?" she asked, her eyes glinting dangerously.  "Oh, Snape.  Yes, him I am all too aware of."

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked in confusion.  "How do you know Professor Snape?"

Gurimurra sighed, adjusting slightly in her chair.  "Better that I say I know of Potions Master Snape.  My guild despises that man and his teaching," she spat out.  "The man should be hanged for treason for poisoning so many young minds against the skill of brewing potions over the last decade.  A solid background in brewing is essential to any healer, indeed to many fields, and that man has set back our international efforts by years by forcing us to have to teach a vast number of English apprentices what they should have learned at Hogwarts."

"I... hadn't considered that," Harry softly said.  "I mean, a lot of his stuff on what not to do was useful, but for the actual brewing, well..."

"Precisely, young man.  So, back to the topic.  What potions do you find simplest for you?"

"Medical potions," Harry admitted.  "Basically, the kinds of potions that our school healer has been feeding me over the past few years.  Blood replenisher, Skelegrow, Pepperup, that sort of thing."

"Interesting.  Hm.  Potter...  You're family name is Potter, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Any relation to Euphemia?"

"My grandmother."

Gurimurra's face broke out into a wide grin.  "Ah, the heir to the Sleekeazy empire.  Yes, I know of your family now.  They are rather famous in healing circles.  One of your ancestors invented Skelegrow and Pepperup about eight centuries ago.  I suppose that skill does breed true, eh?"

"Didn't know that," Harry admitted.  "When I get back to Britain, there's a lot of stuff I'm going to have to learn."

"Ah, but that is the essence of life, young man.  A wise man once said, 'The day in which there is nothing left to learn is the day they'll bury me'.  Continuing to learn is one of the everlasting joys of life," she commented with a smile.  "So, interested in a possible apprenticeship?"

"I think," Harry began slowly, "that something like that would be good for me.  I do like helping people, and learning healing stuff would help keep me alive to keep doing that."

"Do you have anything happening today?"

"No, ma'am."

"Well then," she began, still smiling, "let's see what you know so that we can see how much we need to build on."

It was early evening by the time Harry managed to get back to his apartment.  Gurimurra was brutal in her assessment scale, but honest.  She liked that he wasn't squeamish about blood, his wand work was precise, and his knowledge of ancient historical magic was quite useful.  She did comment about his power output, saying that his current wand might not be enough to handle the large amounts of magic that he was capable of, and that he'd need a more reinforced focus.  The pair agreed that Harry would come to her clinic for instruction and volunteer work three times a week to get a long-term assessment for a referral while he was in Roanapur, barring external interruptions.

Harry grabbed his shower (having discovered that waking up sticky from the previous day's sweat was disgusting), Harry slept the sleep of the exhausted.

The next morning found Harry buying some fish from one of the river night fishing boats.  Not far from the Lagoon docks, he set up a small blaze in one of the steel fire rings and began roasting his snakeheads.  He'd also purchased some rice and noodles from a breakfast place.

"Yo, Harry!"  He turned to see Revy walking up looking awfully cheerful for such an early hour.

"Hey Revy," Harry replied, stacking a little more cherry wood into the ring.

"Benny says he needs to talk to you.  Apparently the goblin came through on some shit.  Got papers to sign and a box to open."

Harry smiled at that.  "Getting nosy, Revy?"

"Damn straight," she admitted with a grin, sitting across the fire from Harry in the sand.  "Our new customer is building a fucking empire in our office, and suddenly gets a package?  Fuck yeah, I want to know what's in there."

Harry chuckled at that.  "Well, business will have to wait until after breakfast.  Jonah taught me how to roast fish, and I don't want that going to waste."

"That's a lot of fish," Revy said, counting the half dozen foot-long snakeheads on sticks slowly roasting over the merrily burning flames.

"I have nutritional requirements," Harry replied.  "Fruit and veg for lunch, fish and rice for breakfast, supper is one of the buffet places.  After all, I'm a growing boy."

"Ain't that the truth," Revy laughed out, pulling out her pack of cigarettes.  "And you've lost some weight in the last few days.  The fuck is up with that?"

"It's the potion I'm on," Harry admitted.  "It was designed to correct my crappy childhood, only I took the latest dose just before landing on Yamatai.  Two days of really harsh activity forced the potion to build me up to what you saw when I arrived."

Revy whistled at that.  "And now?  I mean seriously, you probably lost twenty pounds."

"The results are dictated by activity and diet," Harry said, poking a bit of burning wood into position.  "My diet here is good, but my activity is less.  I still run in the mornings, but I'm not taking zip lines three miles at a time.  I'm not climbing rock faces while being shot at, and I'm not fighting samurai with a sword and a wand.  I'm finally enjoying my summer holiday.  And I haven't been mugged yet!"

"Jesus Fucking Christ," Revy muttered, shaking her head.  "I've been here a few years, and I've seen people get whacked when they stepped off the damn boat.  You're here a week, and it's fucking vacation for you?"

Harry just shrugged.  "I was lucky.  Between having enough money to not have to worry and apprenticing with Gurimurra, I think I'll be really enjoying this.  Hell, I might actually miss Roanapur by the time I leave!"

"Only you, buddy," Revy commented, tossing her spent cigarette butt towards the sea.  Standing, she brushed the sand off of her legs, saying, "Well, I'll let Benny know that you'll be by after you get done stuffing your face."

Revy walked away, and Harry couldn't help but admire her muscular legs and lower back as she departed.  From the back of his mind, he heard, 'An impressive example of womanhood.'

Harry sighed at that.  "Yeah, she is."

An hour later, Harry walked into Lagoon Company's dock office.  Harry did stare at the well kept PT boat with it's four deck mounted torpedo tubes.  He could hear muffled cursing coming from inside of it; apparently Dutch was doing something inside the Lagoon.

Harry finally entered the office above the enclosed dock, seeing Rock and Benny there; Revy was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey guys," Harry greeted them cheerfully.

Rock nodded to him, bent over paperwork, while Benny said, "Hey Harry.  Slipshard came through with a few things.  Paperwork and presents, looks like."

Harry sat down at the available desk where a small wooden crate rested on the floor.  On the desk was an envelope.  "Where's Revy?" Harry asked.  "I know she was being nosy."

"Bathroom," Rock replied.

Harry sat at the desk and opened the envelope.  Pulling out the papers, he read the cover letter first.

Mister Potter
Contained herein are a few items that I believe require either your immediate recommendation or personal interest for usefulness.  Due to the vast range of investments, I found considerable difficulties in distilling down the bits that I felt would be of a more immediate importance.  The less immediate items will be seen to after your return to Britain.

First is your new satellite telephone.  It comes with all of the attachments, but will need to be 'charged', whatever that means.  Also included is a small binder folder with the 'number' of the telephone.  Five telephones with 'numbers' have been included, in case you feel the need to give one or two away, or need someone to explain how the device works.  The satellites above Southeast Asia and Western Europe have been tested as regularly communicating, so reception shouldn't be too much of an issue.

Also included are a dozen satellite pagers.  Apparently they are used for some sort of one-way alert system, but are keyed to the satellite system.  They are prototype models for field testing; the technicians will be wanting performance reports.

Next is a boxed set of a strategy game called Warhammer 40,000.  Games Workshop is trying to make this their new flagship line, and only our interference prevented the management from going heavily into debt to buy out the other employees' shares.  I have a feeling that this could be an interesting item for the magical market, especially if the Magical Sandbox is used.  Please go through this material and let me know your opinion.  Gobrot has agreed with my estimate, and indeed has a set of figurines for herself to experiment with.

Gobrot's Magical Sandbox is beginning to take off.  Your investment was the final, crucial method needed to get over the final obstacle.  She already is planning a better version now that she can afford finer grain sand in various colors.  She also has requested use of a manufacturing facility.  If I may recommend that she be allowed to use the old Universal Broom facility?  It's large enough to allow her new equipment, and can is warded for magical use.  I would have recommended the Swallow Sidecar facility, except that it is too well known to the locals.  And it still contains to old industrial equipment to produce the old models of automobiles.

I recall your previous letter in which you detailed the damage done to your broom while on Yamatai.  I have taken the liberty of going to the old Universal Broom facility (which you own) and grabbed their tomes and notes on broom construction.  Shipping a broom internationally can get contrary and difficult, given various national statutes on flying devices, so I figured that sending you notes and volumes on construction would be better served.  

I have also enclosed the business address of Randolph Spudmore so that you can ask them how to get your broom repaired.  I do recommend you considering making an offer of advertising the Firebolt with them.  After all, discounts on products are never a bad thing, plus you never know what new thing they'll come up with.  And having the Boy-Who-Lived state that the Firebolt literally saved his life in an interview would be an excellent advertising campaign for them.  I personally feel that you both would come out ahead on that.  Your fame needs to be used before someone else takes command of it.

I have contracted an independent historian for the examination of Yamatai.  His name is Frank Morgan, and his team has been approved for use by our own workers.  Morgan's record for getting this sort of thing done is voluminous, and the man himself is considered to be beyond tenacious.  He will get to the bottom of Yamatai's secrets, and leave with only his pay.  This is an iron-clad guarantee.  Once your telephone has been activated, he will be calling you.

Last but not least are the two technology companies.  Yahoo! is eager to follow Harcourt's idea of an independent 'internet' based on the Iridium technology.  Meanwhile, Harcourt has been in communication with Iridium's technicians, and we have placed a person on the staff as a direct representative of the new owner's interests.  Her name is Gorgo Jurgens, a First-Generation witch from the United States.  Extremely intelligent, and quite young insofar as education goes.  She is still very capable.  She came highly recommended by one of our own people who is working on the Geneaology Project, and after I had someone who can navigate the non-magical educational system, she is eminently qualified.  She is also accustomed to security arrangements and requirements; many people (including her uncles) in her tightly knit community are former or reserve military, and cannot legally be spoken of.

Jurgens was schooled in magic at home by her parents and neighbors, and has the tested equivalent of Masteries in Defense, Arithmancy, and Potions.  On the non-magical side, she has Master's Degrees in Mathematics and Practical Physics, a Bachelor's Degree in Ballistics, and certifications as Machinist, Gunsmith, and Cosmetology.  Personally, I have no idea what most of that means, but I have been assured that this is exactly the sort of person that we need at Iridium Communications.  She has already gotten the specifications of the satellites and the mathematics of their positioning, and as soon as Morgan has the full report of Yamatai, she wants to begin planning the internet installation.  That is, assuming you still want to go that route.

I believe that this covers the immediate investment load that requires your immediate input.  As for the rest, matters are steadily moving forward, and I have every confidence that we will have the fullness of the matters completely in hand by the beginning of the new year.

Oh, I nearly forgot.  Your elf has a telephone of his own; it was part of how we tested the satellite on this side of the world.  A list of applicable 'telephone numbers', has been written down and included with this letter.  Please do remember that Thailand is seven hours ahead of Britain.

Sincerely,
Slipshard

Harry laid the letter down, considering all of that.  "Hey, Benny?  Slipshard says that he got a specialist for Iridium.  Someone magical."

"That's good.  Any idea who?"

"Umm... Gorgo Jurgens."

Benny blinked at that.  "Never heard of her.  But if she's qualified, great."

"I got her number too," Harry said, writing that down.  "I'm guessing that you two will need to coordinate on the project."

"Fuck that," Revy interrupted, "what's in the goodie bags?"

Harry shook his head before tapping the single cubic crate with his wand.  Instantly, it expanded into a three foot cube.  Tapping it again, the lid unsealed, and Harry simply lifted it off.

"Holy...  Benny, is this how Dutch fits so much shit in the Lagoon?" Revy asked, awe lacing her voice.

"No, that's just good packing," Benny replied.  "Although if we were to expand the cargo hold, we could really pack a lot of stuff in there.  But we can't, given all the maritime inspections we have to go through."

"That would be problematic," Rock commented, having put away his own paperwork.  "The last thing we need is more attention.  And I doubt we'd be able to pay off some magicals in a currency that they'd recognize."

Harry mostly ignored this interchange, instead reaching in to the crate.  He pulled out four different box sets of Warhammer 40,000, the five sat-phone boxes, a small, plain box marked 'Warning: Prototypes', several books, a photo album, and a crudely bound sheaf of parchment.

"Well, that was a boring haul," Revy muttered, sitting back down.  "All geek stuff."

"I wouldn't say that," Rock commented, picking up one of the phone boxes.  "A satellite phone, in theory, can get a signal anywhere on the planet, not just in a city.  The theory is that a person can be on top of Mount Everest, or deep in the Sahara and still get a signal.  Absolutely useful for scientists and explorers."

"And then there's Harry's idea of routing the internet through the phone," Benny cut in.  "Harry, are any of these phones active?"

"Slipshard wrote that they all were," Harry confirmed.  "They'll need charging, but they all are in the network."

"Interesting," Benny mused aloud.  "I wonder..."  Reaching into his bag, Benny pulled out a small, hand-sized device.  "This is a palmtop mini-computer.  Specifically, a Hewlitt-Packard 200LX.  On the back, I've installed an audio modem so that I can use it with a regular phone.  I want to see if I can connect to my servers on the Lagoon with your sat-phone."

Harry shrugged, and began opening up a box.  Ten minutes later (and much haggling back and forth over the instructions with Benny, only to have Revy snatch the booklet away and tell them exactly how to do it), Harry finally got it booted up.  As it initialized, Harry asked, "What should the test call be?"

"The office," Rock replied, tapping the phone.  Three minutes later, the Lagoon Company office was ringing.  Harry promptly saved that number before handing the phone to Benny.

Benny managed to get the microphone and speakers on the handset placed to his audio modem, and made the call.  Twenty seconds later, he was tapping at the tiny keyboard.  "Holy shit, we're in," he whispered.  "A six hundred baud modem isn't fast, but it connects."

After hanging up, he handed the phone back to Harry.  "Hm."

"What're you thinking, Harry?" Rock asked.

"Well," Harry began, "if you can use the phone to dial another computer, and it works, could... could you build a palmtop into the phone case?"

Benny stared at Harry for a moment.  "Huh.  Interesting idea, Harry.  If we...  Hm.  Have to reconfigure the case, maybe dual-task the components.  A new screen, flip-out keyboard.  Yeah, I think it could be done.  You'd have to get a whole different chipset, one that isn't proprietary.  The screen...  You could easily go color; the Sega Gamegear comes to mind for that.  Hell, you could work in a working TV; the Gamegear has a cartridge for that.

"And if you can get decent reception, access to the internet would be pretty simple," he continued, looking over the case of the phone.  "Keyboard, color screen, and an integral thumb mouse or a small track ball.  If you were to adjust the coding, I'm fairly sure you can have the phone on a dual-purpose setting.  Like, one setting is for satellite, the other is for local cellular service.  It'd be interesting, and something you'll have to talk to your techs about."

"Interesting," Harry murmured, noting those ideas down.  "I'll wait until later to make some calls; Slipshard reminded me that Britain is seven hours ahead of Thailand."