Harry's Summer Vacation

17 September 1994
Small Airstrip in Costa Rica

Charlie Weasely nervously shifted from foot to foot.  As a dedicated magizoologist, this sort of spycraft was definitely not his brand of work.  Still, he'd signed the contract, the money was already deposited, and Gringotts had hooked him up with enough enchanted muggle stuff to make his father drool.

Enchanted wristwatch (magical scanner), belt (emergency portkey), boots (running speed, jumping, nimbleness), naphtha lighter (explosive of some sort from Potter), lapel pin (tiny magical camera), and hatband (magical radar linked to a drop-down set of lenses, as well as a memory enhancement).  There was also a brand-new moke-skin pouch at his back, and an invisible wand holster on his forearm, but at least he would be able to keep the both of those.  Still, he felt less like James Bond, and more like a reluctant Bond Villain.

Of course, every bit of this was experimental.  Some of it came from Gringott's Special Services division, some came from the Cursebreakers.  The memory enhancement came from Bill, and the lighter was something that Harry himself had shared with the bank.  Apparently Special Services was asking what Potter's future career choices were, "because if he can come up with this, we want him!" was the quote that Charlie heard.  All Charlie knew was that he needed to be at least twenty meters away from the lighter when it went off.  If he wasn't, he'd be twenty meters away after it went off.

And of course, the buggers wanted all of it back after the field testing.  Charlie had rolled his eyes, but nodded.  Nobody expected this to be anything more than a rich man showing off his latest enterprise, but Special Services had really gone all-out for this.

It made Charlie itch in nervousness.

Finally, a helicopter landed.  As the blades spun down, John Hammond himself staggered out.  Elderly, with white hair and beard, he resembled a much more upbeat Dumbledore than anything else.

"Charlie Weasely?" Hammond asked, thrusting out his hand.  Charlie nodded, gently but firmly shaking the man's hand.  "John Hammond," he stated with a bright smile.  "So glad you could make it."

"Thank you, sir," Charlie replied, feeling his nerves relax a bit in the face of the elderly man's almost childlike exuberance.  "I just hope that I'm what you're looking for in all this."

"Oh, I'm sure you will be," Hammond enthused, pulling Charlie towards the helicopter.  "You were basically hired by a representative of the Evans Trust, and that segues right into what I'm doing."

"Sorry, but I don't understand."

Hammond stopped to collect his thoughts for a moment.  "Potter Investments is owned by Harry Potter, yes?"  Charlie nodded.  "Well, Mister Potter is the grandson of Richard Evans, a historian of considerable note.  The Evans Trust has been funding historians, anthropologists, and archaeologists for more than three centuries.  So if you were sent by Potter, I have no doubt that you're exactly what I'm looking for."

"How do you know so much about Harry?" Charlie asked, openly confused.

"Oh, I'm an old Scotsman with his hands everywhere," Hammond admitted.  "You don't get to be my age by ignoring important things.  Here we are.  In you go, young man."

Charlie stepped into the luxury helicopter to see three men and one woman already seated.  One man wore a suit (pricey, but not custom tailored), one man wore a black jacket with a slightly undone crimson silk shirt under, the third man wore clothing more suited to outdoors work, and the woman was dressed similarly.

Hammond clambered into the other side, taking his own seat.  "Introductions, yes.  Charlie Weasely, this is paleontologist Dr. Alan Grant and paleobotanist Dr. Ellie Sattler.  My investor's lawyer, Donald Gennaro, and Doctor Ian Malcolm, a mathematician."

"Chaotician," Malcolm corrected with a wide, easy grin as he eyeballed Charlie.

"Hello.  Charlie Weasely, Wildlife Preserve Specialist," he replied, using the cover that they'd established.

"I'm curious what a zookeeper is doing with all of this," Gennaro commented.

"Ah.  Well, Mister Weasely is here at the request of the owner of the Evans Foundation," Hammond cut in, causing all eyebrows except for Gennaro's to rise.  "And as a wildlife specialist, his talents are quite appropriate to our purpose here."

"You still haven't told us why we're here," Grant commented.

"All in good time, Doctor Grant," Hammond replied with a sparkle in his eye.  Charlie wondered if the eye sparkle was peculiar to elderly men.

"Weasley, huh?" Malcolm asked.  "And British.  Any relation to William?"

"He's my eldest brother."

"Ah, I see," Malcolm replied with a sharp grin.  "I remember him from a few years ago, when he corrected one of my theorums on societal drift during the 18th Eqyptian Dynasty Era, post-diaspora."

"I wouldn't know," Charlie commented with a shrug.  "His work and mine don't quite meet up."

The scientists gabbered among one another, and Charlie could feel the memory enhancements operating, dutifully etching into his mind every detail of the day for the pensieve memory he would later produce, even as the lapel pin for the dragon sanctuary recorded audio and video.  

Almost an hour later, the helicopter approached what Hammond called Isla Nublar, a volcanic island in the Caribbean in a chain called the Five Deaths.  There was some turbulence as they descended (Charlie reflexively reached for a broom before coming up empty-handed, a firm reminder that his own broom was shrunken in his moke-skin pouch), but the landing itself was smooth.

Charlie mostly tuned out the conversation, relaxing in the late fall warmth of an island in the tropics as the two jeeps marked with Jurassic Park drove the group through a massive, reinforced set of fences that, to Charlie's eye, would be more at home surrounding a muggle prison than in a jungle.  "Are those electrified?" Charlie asked.

"Might be," Malcolm admitted, having eyed the inch-thick cables with insulators on the ends.

As they drove through a large plain, Charlie's attention was suddenly drawn to the left.  Standing up in the open back of the jeep, he muttered, "The bloody hell..."

The two jeeps came to a stop as Grant and Sattler fairly flew out of the other jeep.  Hammond hobbled after them as the two scientists stared in wonder at the massive dinosaur eating at the upper leaves of a tree.

"You did it," Malcolm breathed out with a grin.  "The son of a bitch did it."

"We're gonna make a fortune with this place," Gennaro muttered, his eyes wide.

The only one not excited was Charlie, who was frowning.  "This won't end well."

"What're you talking about?" Malcolm asked, leaning his head back to look at Charlie.

"Spectacle and theme parks, yeah?" Charlie answered, his eyes still on the herd of massive leaf eaters.  "Where are the bloody predators?"

"That... is a really good question," Gennaro commented, noting something down in his book.

"Well, that explains why a wildlife specialist is here," Malcolm commented with a knowing smile.  "You'd be the only one asking that."

"Someone has to," Charlie replied darkly.  "I want to meet the person who actually runs the place.  I want to know what issues they have."

"I think you're the only one not dazzled by this, Weasley," Malcolm commented, chewing at his gum.

"That's because I'm not here as a scientist," Charlie replied.  "I never wondered at dinosaurs as a kid.  I was all about... other things," Charlie ended weakly.

Charlie and the others watched as the dinosaurs interacted.  He caught Grant saying that they moved in herds, but all Charlie saw was that the vegetarian dinosaurs seemed to be moving in coordination.  The different breeds mostly kept with their own, but the different groups didn't have any animosity with one another.

Twenty minutes later, the two jeeps pulled up a a sprawling, squat building that was still in the process of having it's finishing touches done.  The group entered, the double doors swinging open as Hammond began, "G'day, g'day, g'day.  Now, the most advanced amusement park in the entire world, incorporating all the latest technologies -- and I'm not talking just about rides, you know, everybody has rides. But we've made living biological attractions so astounding, that they'll capture the imagination of the entire planet.

Sattler looked over at Grant. "So what are you thinking?"

Grant replied, "That we're out of a job."

"Don't you mean 'extinct'?" Malcolm asked with a grin as all of them climbed the steps.

Charlie was only half listening, trusting in the enchantments to catch it all as he took in the massive room.  Two dinosaur skeletons hung from wires above the center of the room, which was tiled in marble.  A large banner proclaimed 'When Dinosaurs Ruled The Earth', and dual staircases swept up the side of the circular chamber to the second level. Charlie was never one much for fancy things, but he had to admit that it was quite impressive.

Hammond led them to a theater, telling them all to sit down.  Charlie wasn't comforted by the metal bars, but still took a seat.

A reel on cloning took place, with Hammond playing opposite himself.  Grant whispered "Cloned from what?  Loy extraction hasn't recreated an intact DNA strand."

"Not without massive sequence gaps," Malcolm added.

"Paleo-DNA, from what source?" Sattler asked.  "Where do you get a hundred million-year-old dinosaur blood?"

Gennaro shushed them as the reel kept playing, explaining how DNA was harvested from mosquitos preserved in amber, and how the missing pieces of DNA were filled in with material from frogs.

Hammond continued with, "This score is only temporary. It all has very dramatic music, of course. 'Rum pum pum.'  A little march or something that hasn't been written yet and then, of course," Hammond clicked a button on a remote, "the tour moves on..."

The safety bars clicked into place, and the floor began to rotate, carrying their view past glass windows, through which they could see what appeared to be scientists working.

The character of Mr. DNA spoke up, "Well, looky here! Those hard-working cowpokes you see behind the glass-"

Gennaro leaned over, asking, "This is overwhelming, John. Are these characters, ah, auto-erotica?"

"No, we have no animatronics here. These people are the real miracle workers of Jurassic Park."

Mr. DNA still spoke his spiel "--in unfertilized emu or ostrich eggs. And it's no--"

Wait a minute," Grant piped up.  "How do you interrupt the cellular mitosis?"

"Can't we see the unfertilized eggs?" Sattler cut in.

"Shortly, shortly," Hammond answered in a calming tone/

Mr. DNA kept on with, "Now a whole team of genetic engineers goes to work on--"

"Can't you stop these things?" Grant asked in a slightly demanding tone.

"I'm sorry.  It's kind of a ride."

Malcolm looked over at Grant and put his hands on the bars, as Sattler joined in with her own hands braced on the bars.  All three blinked as Charlie, better built than anyone in the room, gave the linked lap bars a sharp, one-handed shove, pushing them up so that they could get clear of the restraining seats.  As they descended, Hammond gave a little scoff as he rose to follow them.

Gennaro, stunned, asked, "Uh, you can't do that. Can they do that?"

"Life Finds A Way", came the voice of Mr. DNA

The group made their way into the genetics lab.  Charlie took it all in, just as he would the breeding clutches of any dragon sanctuary, as all around them, scientists were hard at work doing their jobs of bringing dinosaurs back into the world.

A voice came over the PA system: "A reminder; The boat for the mainland will be leaving at nineteen hundred hours. All personnel be at the dock no later than eighteen forty-five. No exceptions."  Something struck Charlie that had him internally chuckle.  He could've swore he heard an unsaid 'Motherfuckers' in the person's voice.

Hammond walked up to a man of asian descent, saying, "G'day, Henry."

Henry nodded back, his hands full of clipboard.  "Good day, sir."

"It's turning the eggs," Sattler whispered, watching the padded robotic hand.

Charlie activated the scanner on his watch as one of the eggs in the clutch seemed to shake.  He didn't catch Malcolm's little twitch or knowing look.

Henry smiled, stepping up.  "Oh, perfect timing.  I was hoping they'd hatch before I had to go to the boat."

"Henry, Henry!," Hammond exclaimed in a scolding tone.  "Why didn't you tell me?  I insist on being here when they're born."

Hammond positioned himself at eye level with the little creche, smiling to the quaking egg.  "Come on. Come on, little one," he crooned in a coaxing tone.

The egg began to crack as the thing inside slowly pushed its way free.

"Very good.  Push," Hammond kept coaxing.  "Push.  Come on.  Come on.  Come on, then."

A tiny, viscera coated head slowly pushed aside the fragments of ostrich shell.  Charlie couldn't help but compare it to newly hatched dragons.  If he had to guess, he'd say that it resembled one of the African species out of Ethiopia.

"There you are," Hammond continued, brushing a bit of shell aside.  "There.  They imprint on the first creature they come in contact with.  Helps them to trust me.  I've been present for the birth of every creature on this island."

"Well, surely not the ones that have bred in the wild," Malcolm offered.

Henry spoke up with, "Actually, they can't breed in the wild.  Population control is one of our security precautions.  There is no unauthorized breeding in Jurassic Park."

Malcolm raised en eyebrow at that.  "Uh, and how do you know they can't breed?"

"Well that's because all the animals in Jurassic Park are female" Henry replied.  "We've engineered them that way."

"There you are," Hammond said, still coaxing the tiny form.

"Oh my god.  Look at that," Sattler coo'd as the tiny reptile reveled, almost catlike, in the little strokes that Hammond was giving it.

Grant gently, carefully pick up the baby dinosaur.  "Blood temperature seems like about high eighties, maybe."

"Wu?"

Henry Wu checked something commenting, "Ninety-one."

Grant tried to pick up the eggshell, only for it to be snatched away by the robot arm, causing the man to make a bit of a face.

"Homeothermic?" Sattler asked.  "It holds that temperature?"

"Yep," was Henry Wu's instant response.

Malcolm, undeterred, asked, "But, uh, again, how do you know they're all female?  Did someone go out into the park and, ah, lift up all the dinosaur's skirts?"

Henry smiled almost indulgently at the question.  "We control their chromosomes.  It's really not that difficult.  All vertebrate embryos are inherently female anyway.  They just require an extra hormone given at the right developmental stage to make them male.  We simply deny them that."

"Deny them that?" Sattler asked in disbelief.

Malcolm turned to Hammond.  "John, the kind of control you're attempting here is, uh, it's not possible.  If there's one thing that the history of evolution has taught us, it's that life will not be contained.  Life breaks free.  Expands to new places and crashes through barriers.  Painfully, perhaps even dangerously.  But... uh well, there it is," he stated, gesturing at the tiny infant.

"There it is," Hammond agreed.

Henry spoke up with, "You're implying that a group composed entirely of females will... breed?"

"No, I'm simply saying that life... uh, finds a way," Malcolm replied, an edge of nervousness in his voice.

Grant had managed to properly hold the infant, who was luxuriating under the attentive fingers.  Then he blinked, with a bit of a frown.  "What species is this?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Henry Wu checked his notes before answering, "It's a velociraptor."

"You bred raptors?" Grant asked in shock.

Wu nodded slowly, clearly not seeing the problem that the paleontologist was having.  Grant looked back down at the baby raptor, a trace of fear on his face even as his fingers gently caressed the tiny, infantile murder machine.

Fifteen minutes later, a terrible shriek came from a small, concrete pen.  Charlie's eyes swept across it appraisingly, noting the massive, electrified cables, the sealed loading gate, and the gouges cut into the concrete pad outside of the ground-level gate.

"Dr. Grant!  Mr. Weasely!" Hammond called out, clearly trying to keep up with the scientist and the dragon wrangler as they approached the pen, climbing the stairs.  The others followed the pair up to the staff viewing area, a long walkway that wrapped around the concrete structure.]

Hammond, huffing a little at the exertion, commented, "As I was saying, we've laid on lunch for you before you set out into the park, our gourmet chef Alejandro--"

"What're they doing?" Grant asked, as a crane was lowering a cow into the center of the pen.

"Oh, feeding them," Hammond replied in a relaxed, almost bored tone.  "Alejandro is preparing a delightful menu for us: Chilean sea bass, I believe.  Shall we?"

The group watches as the cow gave out a loud low of fright, and almost as soon as the cow was no longer visible, snarling noises took over, followed by horrible rending noises and the cow squealing in pain and terror. The trees in the pen shook violently as large bodies moved under the concealing canopy.  The scientists watched with interest, or, in Ellie's case, disgust.  Charlie watched dispassionately, noting by ear the reactions, the claw slices, and the apparent speed from the movement of the canopy they were looking down on.

"They should all be destroyed," came a voice coming up the stairs.  Charlie flicked his eye that way to see an older, well built man in shorts and a safari shirt.

Hammond laughed at the man; seemingly out of familiarity.  "Robert, Robert Muldoon, my game warden from Kenya.  A bit of an alarmist, I'm afraid, but knows more about raptors than anyone."

Grant shook the man's hand, asking, "What's their metabolism, whats their growth rate?"

"They're lethal at eight months. And I do mean lethal. I've hunted most things that can hunt you, but the way these things move..."

"Fast for a biped?"

"Cheetah speed," Muldoon answered. "'bout fifty or sixty miles per hour if they ever got out in the open -- and they're astonishing jumpers."

Hammond waved all of that off.  "Yes, yes, yes, that's why we're taking extreme precautions."  He turned to Ellie, saying, "The ah, viewing area under here--"

"Do they show intelligence?" Grant persisted.

"They're extremely intelligent," Muldoon instantly replied.  "Even problem-solving intelligent.  Especially The Big One.  We bred eight originally, but when she came in, she took over the pride and killed all but two of the others.  That one, when she looks at you, you can see she's working things out.  That's why we have to feed them like this.  She had them all attacking the fences when the feeders came."

"But the fences are electrified though, right?" Ellie asked.

"That's right, but they never attack the same place twice," Muldoon stated.  "They were testing the fences for weaknesses systematically.  They remember things."

The crane moved, lifting the harness that held the cow back up. The harness is shredded, covered with blood, and there was nothing left of the cow.

"Yes, well, who's hungry?" Hammond asked with a smile

"One question," came the voice calling from the ground.  Muldoon peered over to see Charlie kneeling at the concrete pad.  "What caused this?"

"The big one," Muldoon answered.  "The procedure is to slap the moving cage up to the gate, and electromagnets anchor it in place before the gates are opened.  Turns out they're not enough," Muldoon admitted, shaking his head.  "She broke the seal with a body slam, grabbed one of my workers, and drug him inside; the gashes are where her feet anchored into the concrete to push the cage once the seal broke."

Charlie looked over the arrangement.  "No manual drop-bar?  No latch once the magnets have things in place?"

"Afraid not," Muldoon snapped off towards Hammond.  "I wanted the backup on every last bloody pen on the island, but the nobs insisted that everything be as automatic as possible.  Manual anything gets in the way of that, doesn't it?"

"Seems like a major violation of Health and Safety regs," Charlie commented, finally approaching the older man.  "Charlie Weasley, wildlife preserve specialist in Romania."

"Robert Muldoon, game warden," he replied, shaking Charlie's offered hand.  "Used to be in Kenya, dealing with poachers.  But I suppose your lot have different worries."

Charlie shrugged a bit at the question.  "Soviets are mostly gone, just stragglers trying to make a living, really.  Most we have to worry about are local kids on dares, or international types looking to make fast money on a rare creature."

"I can imagine," Muldoon replied, a tiny smirk showing on his face letting Charlie know that the man was at least aware of which side of the divide Charlie worked on.

Twenty minutes later, Charlie and the others were seat at a table surrounded by projection screens as a chef personally served them very fancy plated fish.  Charlie was strictly a fish & chips sort of fellow, but was willing to try it as he let the discussion wash over him.

Hammond was saying, "None of these attractions are ready yet, of course, but the park will open with the basic tour that you're about to take, and then other rides will come online six to twelve months after that.  Absolutely spectacular designs.  Spared no expense."

Gennaro chipped in, "And we can charge anything we want.  Two thousand a day, ten thousand a day, and people will pay it.  And then there's the merchandising which I personally--"

"Donald, Donald," Hammond tiredly interrupted.  "This park was not built to cater only for the super-rich.  Everyone in the world has the right to enjoy these animals."

Gennaro shrugged at that.  "Sure, they will.  I mean, we'll have a coupon day or something."

Malcolm shook his head, commenting, "Gee, the lack of humility before nature that's being displayed here, uh, staggers me."

Gennaro smiled at that.  "Thank you Dr. Malcolm, but I think things are a little bit different than both you and I have feared."

"Yeah, I know," Malcolm replied in a harsh tone.  "They're uh, a lot worse."

Gennaro looked at him in utter confusion.  "Now, wait a second now.  We haven't even seen the park yet. There's no reason--"

Hammond held up a hand.  "Donald, Donald, let him talk.  There's no reason... I want to hear every viewpoint.  I really do."

"Yeah, uh, don't you see the danger, John, uh, inherent in what you're doing here?" Malcolm began.  "Genetic power's the most awesome force this planet's ever seen, but you wield it like a kid who's found his dad's gun."

"It's hardly appropriate to start hurling accusations-" Gennaro began in a warning tone.

"If I may, if I may," Malcolm began.  Charlie could recognize a smart man about to go on a diatribe.  "Uh, I'll tell you the problem with the scientific power that you're, that you're using here.  It didn't require any discipline to attain it.  You know, you read what others had done, and you, and you took the next step.  You didn't earn the knowledge for yourselves, so you don't take any responsibility... for it.  You stood on the shoulders of geniuses, uh, to accomplish something as fast as you could, and before you even knew it, you had, you've patented it, and packaged it, and slapped it on a plastic lunch box, and now," he slapped his hand on the table) you're selling it, you wanna sell it."

"I don't think you're giving us our due credit," Hammond offered in a concerned tone.  "Our scientists have done things which nobody has ever done before."

"Yeah, yeah, but your scientists were so preoccupied over whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should," Malcolm retorted, gesticulating.

Hammond snapped his fingers.  "Condors.  Condors are on the verge of extinction."

"No," Malcolm began.

"No, no! If I was to create a flock of condors on this island, you wouldn't have anything to say."

"No, no, listen, this isn't some species that was obliterated by deforestation or, uh, the building of a dam.  Dinosaurs, uh, had their shot, and nature selected them for extinction."

Hammond sadly shook his head.  "I simply don't understand this kind of Luddite attitude, especially from a scientist!  I mean, how can we stand in the light of discovery and not act?"

"Oh, what's so great about discovery?  It's a violent, penetrative act that scars what it explores.  What you call discovery, I call the rape of the natural world."

Ellie jumped in (and Charlie wasn't sure when she'd become Ellie in his head, but he could tell that Malcolm was slowly becoming Ian) with, "Well, the question is, how can you know anything about an extinct ecosystem?  And therefore, how could you ever assume that you can control it?  You have plants in this building that are poisonous.  You picked them because they look good.  But these are aggressive living things that have no idea what century they're in and they will defend themselves.  Violently, if necessary."

Hammond sighed, turning his attention.  "Dr. Grant, if there's one person here, who can appreciate what I'm trying to do..."

Alan began slowly, building up steam.  "The world has just changed so radically, and we're all running to catch up.  I don't want to jump to any conclusions but look; dinosaurs and man, two species separated by sixty-five million years of evolution, have just been suddenly thrown back into the mix together.  How can we possibly have the slightest idea, what to expect?"

Ian held up his hand at that point, saying, "Weasley, you've been awful quiet down there.  What does the preserve manager have to say about it all?"

Charlie swallowed his bit of fish before saying, "Honestly?  I'm not a geneticist, or someone who does history.  But I do know the natures of wild predators, and the nature of people.  The predators are going to want to hunt, not to be fed.  They'll test everything, just to see if they can get a good run up so they can satisfy their instincts, and I don't think you've managed to get the wild out of them tinkering with their DNA.

"As for people, well," Charlie continued, shaking his head, "it's only a matter of time before this lot gets out into the world.  Once it gets out that you have actual, living dinosaurs, what's to stop a shady business type from coming in to steal it?  Or a government?  Can the dinosaurs be trained?  Because just about any government with the means will see them as a new bioweapon.  If they can't use them, they'll do their best to keep others from it.  A new Cold War, but with biology instead of atomics.

"Lastly, yeah, I don't know genetics.  But I do want to know how related frogs are to dinosaurs.  What's the evolutionary descent?  Are dinosaurs more related to frogs than lizards or birds?  How does the new material affect the psychology of the brand-new animal?  Because that's what it is, really.  A brand new, never seen before animal, Mister Hammond.  No natural predators, nothing to keep them in check.  While your people know about the viability of the organism, do they know anything about the neurology?  The base instincts?  According to Muldoon, the aggressiveness of the raptors came as a shock.  What other surprises await your theme park?"

Charlie sighed before taking a sip of water.  "Basically, this whole thing is an evil djinn waiting for someone to let it out of the bottle.  Once this gets out in the world, there'll be no stopping it." 

Hammond chuckled, scoffing.  "I don't believe it!  I don't believe it!  You're meant to come down here and defend me against these characters, and the only one I've got on my side is the blood-sucking lawyer!"

Gennaro looked offended, but still said, "Thank you."