Culture Shock
Homeward Bound
By Ruskbyte
Title: Culture Shock
Author: Ruskbyte
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and IM Banks, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, Orbit Books and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Harry Potter has just received his Hogwarts letter, but really doesn’t want to go. After all, who would want to live on a planet of all things? Especially one where the inhabitants still think nuclear energy is an advanced technology. And let’s not forget the 42,000 light year commute.
/oOo\
Chapter Three
Homeward Bound
\oOo/
Dumbledore had not felt so bone-weary in years. It had been over four decades since he had last spent a night in the hospital wing, following the epic conclusion of his battle against Grindelwald. Now, however, he had been suffering under Poppy Pomfrey’s tender care for nearly two whole weeks. It reminded him of just why her patients were always trying to escape her clutches.
But, it was all over now, finally. Thirteen days of enforced bed rest in the hospital wing, recovering from an unexpectedly severe case of Magical Exhaustion.
"Remember, Albus," insisted Madam Pomfrey, "Nothing more strenuous than a Vanishing Charm for the next couple of days, understand?"
"Of course, Poppy," agreed Dumbledore.
"Then I suppose you’re free to go," she relented, indicating the doors.
"Thank you, my dear."
It was difficult to maintain a stately pace as he left the hospital wing, rather than a wild dash. Dumbledore immediately turned left and followed the shortest route to his office. Doubtless the paperwork had been piling up during his absence. He wondered, somewhat fretfully, at what had happened during his attempt to contact Harry Potter and the consequences thereof.
The ritual to convert Harry’s Hogwarts letter into a portkey, using the boy’s magical signature as a destination, had proceeded without complication. Due to the nature of the magicks involved, thirteen participants were required to focus the targeting portion of the portkey spell. It could have been done with only seven or nine people, but thirteen granted the spell greater arthimantic precision.
What Dumbledore had not expected, however, was for the ritual to drain so much magic in order to complete itself. All the documentation indicated that it would require a little more than three times the power of a regular portkey. Dumbledore alone should have been more than sufficient in terms of power to accomplish that. Instead, the ritual had sucked up every bit of free magic available to it — which consisted of the headmaster and his twelve assistants. The drain had very nearly killed them all. In fact, Dedalus Diggle had died, though Madam Pomfrey had been able to revive him before it became a permanent condition. The end result had been thirteen witches and wizards spending nearly a fortnight recovering in the hospital wing.
And Dumbledore had no idea why.
"Turkish Delights," said Dumbledore to the gargoyle guarding his staircase.
Stepping onto the rotating staircase, the headmaster took a moment to catch his breath. The strain of having nearly all of his magic depleted, so very quickly at that, had also left his body feeling the worse for wear. As he rose up to his office, he contemplated the possible reasons as to why the ritual had acted as it had.
Only two things had an appreciable effect on a portkey’s power consumption. The distance involved and the strength of the portkey in regards to any wards that it might be required to pass through. Dumbledore had made dozens of international portkeys without any strain and could have easily handled several times more than what the ritual should have demanded. As nowhere on Earth was so far away as to require that much power, the only conclusion was that Harry’s home was protected under incredibly powerful wards — greater than even those surrounding Hogwarts.
Arriving at the headmaster’s office, Dumbledore stepped inside and paused. He stood for a minute, appreciating the return to what had essentially been his home for the last few decades. He noticed that Fawkes was perched on his golden stand, waiting patiently. The phoenix was looking very bedraggled, even as Dumbledore watched a feather fell away. There was a burning day coming soon, perhaps even today.
Smiling in greeting to his familiar, Dumbledore looked to the many cabinets that held the various magical instruments he used to keep track of things. He briefly considered going to his pensieve; to dispose of the memories pertaining to Madam Pomfrey’s bedside manner. Instead, he crossed to the cabinet which housed those items that he used to monitor Harry’s wellbeing and location. It was time to see if his efforts had yielded a result. Opening the glass doors, Dumbledore peered from one device to the next, checking each of them.
At the moment, Harry was awake. His health was as perfect as ever and his mood… excited? No, that was anticipation, perhaps eagerness. It was possibly a sign that Harry had received his Hogwarts letter. Dumbledore made a conscious effort to inspect all of the gadgets that monitored Harry himself, before moving on to those that tracked the boy’s location. Reassured that Harry was still in good health and sound mind, the headmaster looked to the next shelf of items.
"Success!" he cried jubilantly, startling several portraits awake.
The compass following Harry’s direction had shifted. There was a second compass, set beside it, that had been especially enchanted to match the course that the tracking compass followed. For the past four years, there had been no difference between them. Now, however, the tracking compass’s needle had shifted to a new position. It was not much, a mere two degrees, but it was a clear indication that Harry had changed location.
Dumbledore immediately checked the distance pendulum. His elation dimmed somewhat at the sight of it. No change. The pendulum was still frozen in place, at the highest point of its swing, just as it had been for the last decade. Still, Dumbledore conceded as he checked the other instruments, progress had clearly been made. The only other noticeable change was that the climate of Harry’s location had changed. Before, the magic had shown him to be living somewhere that experienced temperate weather conditions. Now, however, it seemed that he was in some sort of artificial area — more than likely a highly urbanized city.
Grinning at these changes, a certain indication that the ritual had succeeded, Dumbledore moved to his desk and sat down. He immediately reached for the small silver dish set to one side, opposite the inkwell, and fished out a sherbet lemon. Popping it into his mouth, he leaned back and enjoyed the combined sweet and bitter flavours that filled his mouth.
Harry Potter, he grinned, was coming to Hogwarts.
-oOo-
Harry Potter was currently wondering if he could forget about going to Hogwarts and instead remain exactly where he was.
Still a good thirty-thousand or more light-years away from Earth, Harry was once again standing in one of the many observation lounges of the MSV Facts & Fallacies. Before him was the impressive sight of a General Systems Vehicle. These were the pinnacle of Culture engineering and technology. Certainly, even the smallest Orbital was millions of times larger, but a Culture GSV was held to completely different standards. In many respects, the GSVs were the Culture and thereby represented it, fully.
The GSV Stood Far Back When The Gravitas Was Handed Out, was a Plate Class vessel — one of the larger types of GSVs built by the Culture. It stretched out for an impressive fifty-three kilometres and was nearly half that wide. The topmost kilometre of the Ship’s height was devoted to those facilities needed to house and support the GSV’s two-hundred and fifty million human inhabitants. The next two kilometres were engineering spaces, factories, hanger bays, shipyards and everything else that might conceivably be needed to produce whatever the GSV deemed necessary. The bottom kilometre of the GSV was reserved for the machines and engines used propel a hundred trillion tonnes of starship.
Dozens of smaller vessels drifted about, coming and going from the GSV’s massive General Bays and assorted docking facilities. They varied from assorted GCUs and ROUs of only a few hundred metres up to a pair of the much larger Desert class MSVs, which despite their four kilometre length seemed almost tiny against the looming General Systems Vehicle. Thousands of even smaller vessels; modules, shuttles and pleasure skiffs scooted through the air envelope that encompassed the GSV and was sustained by its fields.
"Pretty slick, isn’t it?" asked Skaffen-Amtiskaw, from where it was floating next to Harry.
~ Yeah, agreed Harry silently, not bothering to actually speak out loud. Instead he used his recently implanted neural lace to transmit his reply. The procedure had been done the night after the Facts & Fallacies’ departure from Stafl, during Harry’s sleep. He had gone to bed as a relatively ordinary boy (for the Culture) and had woken up with an implant that could almost put humans on an equal footing with a Culture drone. It was a very big almost.
"Come now, Harry," chided Shaffen-Amtiskaw. "You might have been able to learn English overnight, thanks to your lace, but you won’t acquire any true familiarity with the language unless you take some time to actually speak it."
"But it’s so clumsy compared to Marain!" protested Harry, in that same language. "Speaking English makes me feel like I’m talking with a pair of socks stuffed in my mouth. It’s awful."
"Unless you intend to keep your mouth shut the entire time we’re on Terra, you’d best get used to it," countered the drone primly.
"Fine," Harry sighed, relenting to his guardian’s wisdom.
"Very good," said Skaffen-Amtiskaw, its aura field glowing in rosy satisfaction.
"Skaffen-Amtiskaw? Harry?" called the Facts & Fallacies, gaining their attention. This particular ship rarely bothered to use avatars or remote drones to interact with its three million human passengers, preferring to use voice only. "We will be docking with the GSV Stood Far Back When The Gravitas Was Handed Out in two minutes."
"Thank you," replied Skaffen-Amtiskaw, speaking for them both. The drone extruded an appendage field, coloured a friendly green, and used it to gently turn Harry away from the lounge’s floor-to-ceiling window screen. "Come along, Harry, we’d best head to the departure foyer."
Harry and the drone moved to one side of the room and descended down a broad staircase that connected the observation deck to the one below. The room was moderately crowded with several dozen of the Facts & Fallacies’ human crew, all eagerly awaiting the chance to visit the GSV.
"Any idea where Sma is?" Harry asked, looking over the throngs of people in search of her.
"She was in your apartments having a bath, the last time I checked," replied the drone.
~ Sma? Where are you? It’s almost time to leave, called Harry, using his lace to transmit to his wayward guardian.
~ I’m nearly there, replied Sma. ~ The Ship’s already packed our luggage and displaced it to the GSV.
~ We’ll wait for you by the stairs leading up to the observation deck, Harry told her, before disconnecting. He turned to Skaffen-Amtiskaw and said, "She’s on her way. Can you keep a look out for her?"
"I see her," announced Skaffen-Amtiskaw, using a field as a pointer.
"Sma!" called Harry, waving her over.
Quickly spotting her companions, Sma slipped through the clumps of waiting people and joined them by the stairs. "Sorry," she apologised. "Lost track of the time."
Skaffen-Amtiskaw wiggled in the drone equivalent of a shrug. "Actually, you’re almost perfectly on time," it told her. "We’ll be docking with the Stood Far Back in three seconds." Immediately following its words, the broad doors set to one side of the room slow slid open, revealing a corridor leading into the GSV. Skaffen-Amtiskaw turned to the two humans and asked, "Shall we go?"
"Let’s," nodded Sma.
The trio moved with the flow of the crowd and soon found themselves by the doors.
~ Goodbye, Facts & Fallacies, said Harry as he stepped off the Medium Systems Vehicle and into the GSV. ~ Thanks for the ride.
~ You’re perfectly welcome, Harry Potter. Enjoy the rest of your journey home, replied the Ship.
Harry had taken less than half a dozen steps into the other Ship when a stunningly beautiful red-haired woman approached them. She was accompanied by a miniaturized copy, only half a metre long, of the Stood Far Back When The Gravitas Was Handed Out. "Hello," she said, extending a hand to Sma. "Welcome aboard the Stood Far Back. I’m Verlioef Schung and this," she gestured at the model GSV, "is one of the Ship’s remote drones."
"Thank you for the welcome, Ms. Schung," accepted Sma, shaking the woman’s hand. She nodded to the drone. "Please to meet you."
"Likewise, Ms. Sma," replied the Ship. The diminutive GSV drone turned to Harry. "And you as well, Mr. Potter. I’m pleased to have you aboard. I certainly hope to have a chance to witness your extraordinary talents firsthand."
"Thank you, Ship," acknowledged Harry, somewhat indifferent to the GSV’s attention.
It was a fact that almost every child born into the Culture was spoiled to one degree or another, as their civilization was easily able to cater for any reasonable request they might make. And more often than not, any unreasonable requests as well. Oddly enough this did not prevent them from developing into relatively well balanced people. Harry was no exception and had, in fact, grown up surrounded by Minds, drones and adult humans, all of which expressed great interest in his abilities. As such, he was perfectly used to being the centre of attention. Indeed, he almost expected it.
"The Ship’s General Board have arranged a small reception for you," said Verlioef. "We know you had wanted to just pass through, but Your Mother won’t be arriving for another three days, so we’re hoping this will make up for the delay."
"Your Mother? I gather that’s the Very Fast Picket that we’re supposed to take?" asked Sma as the group began to walk.
"Yes," said the Ship. "The Facts & Fallacies made better time than we had thought it would."
"I’m certain we will enjoy our stay," said Skaffen-Amtiskaw diplomatically.
"You have an unusual name," said Harry, addressing the drone floating beside him. "What made you choose it?"
The remote drone’s fields flickered with amusement as it related, "It was the result of an argument between the Culture and several other Involved civilisations. Nothing too important, but they were complaining about the Culture’s Ship naming policy. Apparently they felt that vessels with so much power and responsibility should have names with more gravitas."
Sma and Harry snickered, while Skaffen-Amtiskaw’s fields flashed an amused pink.
The auditorium where the reception was being held was about half the size of the average sports stadium. Brilliant and complex chandeliers hung down from the arched and vaulted ceiling. Apparently the internal architecture in this portion of the Stood Far Back was comprised mostly of rich, dark brown webwood panelling and broad amber and orange marble columns. There were easily a thousand people and assorted drones milling about, most already engaged in conversation and unaware of their guests’ arrival.
"Ms. Sma! Delighted to meet you," proclaimed a drone that immediately flew up to them. Its fields were a mixture of formal blue, rosy pleasure and oscillating streaks of crimson and scarlet. Evidently it was delighted to meet them.
The greetings and introductions came in at a rapid pace after that. Then only reason Harry was able to keep track of whose name went with which face was his extensive training as a Potential Culture Referrer. Even so, he was grateful to now have a functional implant; there were just too many. People were literally lining up to meet them. A few trays floated by, bearing assorted snacks and finger foods. Harry snagged a delicacy of some sort; his lace identified it as cheese pastry, and tried to subtly move away from the yammering adults.
Sma and Skaffen-Amtiskaw noted his increasing distance from them, but said nothing. The miniature Stood Far Back also drifted away, making sure to stay within speaking distance of the retreating boy.
"Don’t like crowds much, do you?" it asked, after Harry had found a quiet spot near an extravagant marble statue.
"I don’t mind a good party," replied Harry, munching on his pastry. "But I spend so much time with adults on a normal day that when I have the opportunity I prefer to find people my own age to talk to, you know?"
"I understand the concept," replied the Ship. Minds, regardless of type, only rarely had any opportunity to meet in a physical manner like this. Having more than two GSVs in the same star system at the same time was not something that happened every day.
"I like the music, though," said Harry, not wanting the Stood Far Back to think that he didn’t appreciate the welcome aboard.
"Yes, it’s a very poignant piece. Are you familiar with it?"
"No, I’m afraid not."
"It’s the third movement of Expiring Light."
Both Harry and the miniature Stood Far Back turned to the person that had unexpectedly joined their conversation. Of course, the GSV had been aware of her approach the entire time, but chosen not to say anything. It masterfully began to back away, leaving Harry to his own devices.
It was a girl of about Harry’s age, perhaps a little older, wearing a short purple dress that was enticingly low cut, with a bright yellow sash around her waist. Her hair was a complicated mass of golden blonde braids, suspended above her head by decorative silver globes held aloft by fields. Her eyes were a deep blue that reminded Harry of summer skies on Stafl. She extended a hand to him and, in a humorously officious voice, identified herself as, "Masaq’-Sintriersa Chomba Lassils dam Palacope."
"Sol-Terrasa Harry Potter dam Marenhide," replied Harry, taking her hand and bowing down to lightly brush his lips over her knuckles.
"Oh, a charmer," giggled Chomba.
"I try," replied Harry, straightening up. Recalling how she had entered the conversation, he asked, "Expiring Light?"
"It’s the symphony written by Mahrai Ziller, the Chelgrian Composer."
"Ah, yes. He’s the one living in exile on Masaq’, right?"
"Yes, though I’ve not had a chance to meet him, I’m afraid. He wrote the piece as a commission for Masaq’s old Hub. It’s about one of the last actions in the Culture-Idiran War. You must have learnt about it. The Twin Novae Battle for the control of Arm One-Six?"
"Messy business," Harry commented, content to leave it at that. Even eight hundred years after the fact, nobody in the Culture felt particularly happy to discuss the last days of the Culture-Idiran War. It was mostly due to a lingering sense of guilt at having pressed the Idirans for an unconditional surrender, rather than having accepted their earlier attempts to capitulate. The destruction of two stars, and the inhabited worlds orbiting them, still weighed heavily on the Culture’s conscience.
"Grief, yes." Chomba snagged a glass of pale blue spring wine from a passing serving tray. She took a small sip and stared at him over the rim. "So, you’re the famous Harry Potter; the only human in the galaxy that can access the Hyperspace Grid. The only person in the galaxy, not from one of the Sublimed Elder civilizations, that can connect to both hyperspace layers simultaneously."
"I can also bark on command," rejoined Harry dryly, reaching out for his own glass of spring wine.
Chomba laughed merrily at the retort and slipped her free arm round his. Pulling him away from their spot by the statue, she began to drag him to one of the nearby buffet tables. "Let me introduce you to my auntie, I think you’ll like her. Her name’s Estray. She used to have four arms when she was our age. Apparently the extra hands were very useful at parties like this one. I’ve been thinking of getting an extra pair myself. Do you think I’d look good with four arms?"
-oOo-
Diziet Sma and Skaffen-Amtiskaw watched closely as their young charge was dragged away by the enthusiastic blonde girl.
~ He still seems rather subdued, noted Sma, using her neural lace to converse with Skaffen-Amtiskaw, even as she listened politely to the three General Board members that were speaking to her.
~ I think it’s mostly a case of homesickness, replied the drone. ~ He’s missing Stafl Orbital and the people there. It likely doesn’t help that he’s being uprooted from the Culture proper and returning to a place that he will never have a high opinion of.
~ They abandoned a newly orphaned child on a doorstep! Of course he’s not going to think well of them, retorted Sma, smiling at the tall blue-haired woman that had just spoken. She nodded in agreement and asked a question of her own, one that her hosts immediately set about debating the correct answer to.
~ True, agreed Skaffen-Amtiskaw. ~ I’m merely pointing out that his low spirits are perfectly understandable. Hopefully he’ll be back to normal by the time we reach Terra.
Sma almost snorted into her drink, but managed to restrain herself. She glanced at the drone, floating placidly by her right shoulder. ~ Considering that every Mind we’ve met since leaving Stafl has been introducing him to various young ladies, I’d be surprised if he isn’t.
Skaffen-Amtiskaw’s fields briefly flashed cream with embarrassment. ~ You know, as well as I do, Sma, that incorporating Harry’s genetic material into the Culture will have to be done the ‘old fashioned’ way. Not even a quorum of a hundred Minds was able to trace the DNA markers responsible for his abilities. Our only hope is to breed it into the population.
~ I’ve known that for years, drone, replied Sma, shaking the hand of a fourth Board member that had arrived to join the conversation.
~ It’s this situation with the magic school, elaborated the drone. ~ The Minds are concerned. And rightly so — Terra is not the most advanced world in that region of space; only a stage-three industrial society. And the people are far too warlike for their own good. Or ours, for that matter.
~ I understand that, Sma retorted, ~ but what does that have to do with putting Harry out to stud?
~ The Minds don’t think that Harry’s abilities will carry over to a new body, even if we can retain his mind-state, the machine reluctantly admitted.
Sma paused in her conversation with the Board members, something about the Stood Far Back’s recent stop over at the Masaq’ Orbital. She turned to look at Skaffen-Amtiskaw, whose fields were flushed a dark purple. "I’m sorry," she apologised to her human companion, "but if you’ll excuse me? Dn. Skaffen-Amtiskaw and I need to discuss something important."
"Oh, it’s all right," the blue-haired woman waved off. "We can wait for you to get back."
Sma said her goodbyes and retreated to the same spot that Harry had earlier occupied. Standing in the shadow of the massive marble statue, she turned back to Skaffen-Amtiskaw and glared furiously at it.
"Explain. Now," she demanded.
"You know the Minds have grown hundreds of stand-ins over the years, using Harry’s genetic pattern."
"Yes, I’ve even seen a couple of them. The MSV Time And Again likes to use the adult versions as avatars."
"Well, none of the stand-ins have ever shown any ability to manipulate the Hyperspace Grid."
"Maybe that’s just because the Minds controlling the stand-ins don’t know how to do it properly."
"Sma, any single Mind is literally billions of times more intelligent that the average human or drone. If anyone in the galaxy can figure out how to make a human body access and manipulate the infra and ultra hyperspace layers — it’s a Mind."
"I still don’t see the problem." Sma huffed and blew a stray strand of honey brown hair out of her eyes. "Somehow, even if the Minds don’t know how, Harry can do it. So long as the body his mind-state is active in has the same genetic code as the body he was born with, there shouldn’t be a problem."
"Shouldn’t is not the same as won’t, Sma," Skaffen-Amtiskaw gently reminded her.
Sma pursed her lips and frowned deeply. "They really think that might happen? I mean, it’s a school Harry’s going to, for grief’s sake, not a war zone. How dangerous could it be? It’s not like some hideous magical monster’s going to try and kill him on his first day in the classroom."
Skaffen-Amtiskaw flushed a mottled mixture of brown and orange. It was clearly worried. "Sma, have you forgotten the letter we found on the doorstep with Harry? Do you remember what this Dumbledore fellow said about the man that killed Harry’s parents?"
"The so-called dark lord?" asked Sma, blinking in surprise. "But he’s been dead for nearly a decade and the Terrasa aren’t nearly advanced enough to record and transfer a mind-state. How could he be a danger? As a ghost?"
"It’s not so much the dark lord, as the dark lord’s followers that have us concerned, Sma," replied the drone.
As much as she hated to admit it, Sma was forced to agree with the drone and Minds on that thought. Her work in Special Circumstances, the closest thing the Culture had to an espionage agency, had shown her the truth to such statements. Fanatics, especially ones that gathered power quickly, were always accompanied by followers of one sort or another. Glanding some Recall to bring back the details, she remembered that Dumbledore’s letter had mentioned the dark lord’s followers, which had supposedly been one of the reasons why Harry had been sent to stay with his relatives at number four Privet Drive.
Sma searched through the crowds of people, looking for a familiar mop of pitch-black hair. It was simply the easiest way for spotting Harry from a distance. It took only a few seconds before she spotted him, still in the company of the bubbly blonde girl. The pair was having an animated discussion with an older woman, who bore some resemblance to the girl.
"Drone," Sma began, "You remember what happened on Tessrek?"
"Acutely," replied Skaffen-Amtiskaw, its voice utterly devoid of emotion.
"Do you remember what I told you there?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"To use only minimum force from there on," the drone sighed.
"You butchered how many men that day? Fifteen?"
"A dozen."
"And you didn’t listen to me when I told you to stop."
"I told you; I simply didn’t catch that."
Sma sent the drone a glare. "What’s even worse is that you enjoyed it."
Skaffen-Amtiskaw dipped one corner. "I will admit to feeling a certain satisfaction about my actions. But I have done as you requested; I have only ever used the minimum force needed to subdue those people that have attacked you since then."
Sma nodded in agreement and then levelled a flat look at the drone. "And I hope you stick to that. However," she took a deep breath, "if anyone on Terra even looks at Harry the wrong way, I want you to cut loose with everything you have. Effector fields, knife-missiles, X-ray lasers, Antimatter nanomissiles — I don’t care what you use or how you use it. I want the fuckers dead before a single hair on that boy’s head is mussed out of place. Understand?"
"Absolutely."
-oOo-
"Another cup, Minerva?"
Professor McGonagall nodded and said, "Yes, thank you, Albus."
Dumbledore smiled and gestured at the tea set. The pot rose into the air, drifted over to where the Deputy Headmistress was sitting, and proceeded to refill her cup with the old wizard’s preferred blend of Oolong tea. Yes, his magic was certainly well on the road to full recovery.
"There we go," he said, after the teapot had topped up both cups. Once it had returned to its spot on the tea tray, Dumbledore lifted his cup to his lips and blew away a few small wisps of aromatic steam. "How are you feeling, my dear?" he asked, taking a small sip to check the tea’s temperature. "I do hope you have recuperated fully from our ordeal."
"Yes," McGonagall confirmed, spooning some sugar into her cup. "Though I dare say you will have a hard time finding volunteers for any future endeavours of a similar nature. What the devil happened, Albus? What went wrong?"
"Why, nothing, Minerva, nothing at all," Dumbledore replied.
"Albus, every single one of us, thirteen witches and wizards, were laid out on our backs in the hospital wing for two weeks. Magical exhaustion on such a scale is almost unheard of in a single person — such a number should be impossible."
Dumbledore chose his words carefully, "My apologies, Minerva, I am not expressing myself well. What I meant to say was that nothing went wrong with the ritual itself. Harry’s acceptance letter was converted to a portkey and duly transported to his location. In that respect, nothing went wrong."
McGonagall levelled her most intimidating look at the headmaster. "Then what happened? If nothing went wrong, then why did the ritual drain us of our magic, almost to the point the point of death? In Dedalus’ case, quite literally."
"There are only two factors that affect the magical requirements in making a portkey, Minerva. Distance and force."
"So, you’re saying that Harry Potter is hidden away at the limits of the portkey’s range, which prompted the need for more magic?"
"No, I alone would have been more than sufficient to the task of creating a portkey to anywhere on the planet. No, my dear, I believe the reason for the magical drain was caused by the need for excessive amounts of force. Young Harry, it would seem, is both well hidden and well protected."
"Wards of some sort?"
"That is my interpretation, yes."
Minerva McGonagall took a long sip from her tea as she considered this. Finally she asked, "Albus, there has been a lot of speculation over the years, but what do you think has happened to him?"
Dumbledore reached for the tea tray and began to butter a scone. "I don’t really know. I can only speculate, based on what facts I am aware of."
"Oh? I know you have some way of monitoring the boy," said McGonagall.
"Yes, based on his blood and his magic," Dumbledore confirmed. He slathered a thick coat of strawberry jam onto the scone as he continued. "The facts, as I know them, are that Harry is in perfectly good health. He literally has not been sick for a single day in his life. His magical capacity is above average and growing at a steady pace. He is living a comfortable life and is, barring the emotional turnarounds one would expect from a child, exceptionally content with his lot."
"But do you have any idea as to what happened? Who was it that removed him from the Dursleys? Why did they do it and how?"
"I have a great many ideas in that regard, Minerva. Each one, I’m afraid, just as likely as the last."
"You don’t think it might have been… Death Eaters?" asked McGonagall with trepidation. "Heaven knows that enough of them were able to weasel their ways out of their proper punishments. If they were the ones to get their hands on the poor boy… I shudder to think."
"I don’t believe that any of Voldemort’s remaining followers are responsible," said Dumbledore. "Or any other dark arts practitioners."
McGonagall looked curiously at the old wizard and asked, "How can you be sure?"
Dumbledore smiled benevolently and said, "If anyone were trying to corrupt Harry, to turn him away from the light, they would doubtless seek to bring out his more negative emotions. And yet Harry has spent the past ten years living what I would guess to be a very happy and fulfilling childhood."
McGonagall frowned thoughtfully. "But if it wasn’t one of the dark lord’s followers that rescued Harry from those Muggles, then who could it be? And if they are aligned to the light, why haven’t they ever contacted us?"
Dumbledore frowned at McGonagall’s reference to the Dursleys. The decision to leave Harry in their care had been a bone of contention between them for many years. He repressed a sigh and thought to answer her query. "I cannot imagine why they would remain quiet for so long — especially not after the public outcry that followed Harry’s abduction. In any event, I’m sure our questions will be answered by the start of term."
"It’s going to be a circus," McGonagall muttered. "Doubtless we’ll be swamped by reporters from every publication in Britain."
"Yes," agreed Dumbledore. "Quite the welcome back, don’t you think?"
-oOo-
Harry reined his mount in and slowed to a halt. The diaken hound he was riding was an impressively large male called Avalanche, with a dark tan coat and even darker brown stripes. He glanced to his side, where Chomba Lassils sat upon her own steed, a slightly smaller diaken called Anvil. The blonde curls of her hair seemed to glow under the light of the GSV’s dayline, the brilliant streak of illumination on the inside of the atmosphere field envelope that provided the Ship’s environs with their artificial diurnal cycle.
"Beautiful isn’t it?" she asked as she and Anvil pulled up alongside him.
"Very," he replied honestly. "It’s hard to believe that we’re not on an Orbital, or even a planet."
"Oh, I’m sure this is much better than any planet could be," scoffed Chomba. "Can you honestly imagine living on one?"
"I don’t have to imagine. I’ll be," replied Harry.
Chomba looked at him incredulously and asked, "You’re going to live on a planet? Whatever for?"
Harry pulled on Avalanche’s reins and directed the beast further along the riding trail he and Chomba had been following so far. His companion kept pace beside him as he answered. "I’ll be attending a school there; supposedly to learn more about how to control the Hyperspace Grid. It’s a Contact posting, so I’ll be there for several years at least."
"Contact?" repeated Chomba, her eyes growing wide with awe.
The Culture was a society that prided itself on the fact that its citizens, be they human, drone or Mind, could study whatever knowledge they wanted to learn, master any skill they wanted to acquire and live in whatever manner of material luxury that they desired. Moreso, all of these things were readily available and, for the most part, relatively easy to obtain. In fact, it was generally accepted that the only thing in the Culture that was difficult to attain was an invitation to work as an agent of Contact. The only thing even harder to come by was a placement in Special Circumstances.
Not even the most renowned and talented of artisans — whether their abilities were inherited or downloaded — were regarded in quite the same admiring light as Contact members. Thus it hardly surprised Harry that his companion was staring at him in a manner that suggested she wanted nothing more than to throw him to the ground and have her way with him.
"There’s even been some talk that Special Circumstances might get involved," he added, fully aware of SC’s somewhat notorious reputation. He and Chomba had enjoyed their time together on the Stood Far Back, which included several bouts of eager kissing and groping through clothes. Harry was not against playing up his unique situation in the hope of maybe progressing their relationship a little further.
"Special Circumstances? Really?" asked Chomba, staring at Harry almost worshipfully.
Harry smiled gamely and admitted, "SC has been interested in me from the moment they knew I existed."
Chomba nodded thoughtfully and nudged Anvil closer to Avalanche, enough that her leg would brush against Harry’s as they trotted along. "Because you can do what they can’t," she said. "Something no other Involved in the galaxy can."
"Yeah, the Minds love it," he laughed.
"Really?" Chomba asked. "I would’ve thought they’d find it horribly frustrating."
Harry nodded to the point and agreed, "They do, but not as much as they enjoy the challenge."
The pair crested the low hill they had been climbing and silently directed their diaken mounts to a halt. They sat comfortably and regarded the broad vista that their vantage point provided them. The lightly forested valley before them stretched out for half a dozen kilometres before ending in the massive multi-level building complex that separated this one nature park from the accommodation section next to it. A large lake glittered in the distance, the sails of various boats tiny flecks of colour dotted about its surface. A comprehensive marina curved around one edge of its shore, and behind that a cluster of houses. Yes, it was very easy to forget that they were currently aboard a ship, billions and billions of kilometres from the nearest star.
"So," prompted Chomba shyly, "what can you actually do with it?"
"Quite a bit," admitted Harry. He was a little surprised that she had lasted so long. Most people asked him for a demonstration of his talents within hours, if not minutes, of meeting him. Chomba had held out from asking for nearly two days.
A glance to the sky was enough for him to spot the tiny glint of a hovering knife-missile, doubtless assigned to keep watch over him. Being under a state of almost perpetual observation was such a constant of Harry’s life that he could hardly conceive of ever being entirely alone. He gave a miniscule nod, enough that the knife-missile’s AI, and doubtless the Stood Far Back, would know he was aware of them.
"Here," he said, holding out his hand. With a slight twist of his wrist, he was suddenly holding a darya blossom; widely considered to be the most beautiful flower in the galaxy. He handed the darya to Chomba, who was gazing at the flower in wonder. She held it with extreme care and gently brushed the fingers of her other hand over its soft petals.
"It’s real," she said in amazement.
"With my compliments," said Harry, giving her as much of a bow as he could manage while sitting in the saddle.
Chomba laughed with delight, tucked the darya behind her ear, and leaned over to kiss him in thanks. They spent several minutes enjoying the activity before pulling apart, their mounts beginning to grow restless from inactivity.
"Can you really make anything you want?" asked Chomba as they resumed riding.
"Within limits," Harry confessed. "The bigger and more complicated the object, the harder it is. My maximum at the moment is about fifty kilos."
"Wow, that’s incredible. What else can you do?"
Once again Harry reined Avalanche to a halt. The diaken hound growled in annoyance, displeased at the constant interruptions. He glanced at Chomba and asked, "Do you want to try something wild?"
"Sure," she agreed.
Harry closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, mostly to fix the image what he wanted to accomplish in his mind’s eye. He glanded a small amount of Focus, to ensure that he would be less likely to make a mess of things. Opening his eyes, he smiled at his companion and released his visualized intention into the Grid energy that he had drawn to him.
There was a loud crack, like a tree branch snapping, and a sensation of being squeezed and pulled through a narrow tunnel. An instant later, Harry found himself sitting, a bit unsteadily, in the saddle mounted on Anvil’s back. Turning his attention to the other direction, he saw that Chomba had also been moved and was now replacing him as Avalanche’s rider. They both had to take firm hold of the reins to control the two diaken, who had been startled by the loud sound that Harry’s little trick had caused.
"Shit!" swore Chomba, looking around in confusion. Once the initial disorientation passed and she realized what happened, she laughed in delight. "That was absolutely incredible! You can do that any time you want?"
"Any time," Harry confirmed.
"It wasn’t Displacement, was it?"
"No," Harry shook his head. "The Minds call it Under-Jumping. It’s because I travel underneath real space, going through hyperspace."
"And they have no idea how you do it?" asked Chomba with interest.
"Oh, they have ideas. Even tried a few," said Harry. "Nothing’s worked so far."
"What happened when they tried it themselves?"
"They tried with a slave-rigged module on a spare planet in the Sullen Gulf. It’s not there anymore."
"They blew up the whole planet?" asked Chomba, wide eyed.
"Not the whole planet, only about half of it," demurred Harry. He then shrugged. "It’s not like it really matters — it was only a spare."
Chomba laughed gaily at the idea of a ‘spare’ planet. Harry grinned in reply and urged Anvil to a trot, noting that the beast was lighter on its feet than Avalanche. As they descended from the hilltop, Harry noticed a couple, a man and woman, reclining on a brightly coloured rug in the middle of a field of long grass and equally brightly coloured wildflowers. They were both birth-naked and writhing against each other; the woman currently straddling the man’s hips.
Glancing back, he saw that Chomba was keeping pace only a few metres behind him. She too had spotted the fornicating pair and was unabashedly observing their sex-making. A light blush coloured her pink cheeks, especially when the woman began to scream in ecstasy as the man clasped her heaving breasts in his hands.
"You know, Ship," he muttered, soft enough that Chomba would not overhear, but loud enough for the nearby knife-missile, "I’m not against having a girlfriend or three, but next time; just ask before you Minds decide to play matchmaker."
-oOo-
[New M16-level Core Group formed. @n4.58.189.4971
Name: Interesting Times Gang (Act VI).]
~
x Stood Far Back When The Gravitas Was Handed Out (GSV, Plate Class):
Well, this is a tad embarrassing [file attached].
~
x Stafl (Orbital Hub, Seseris system, [solo]):
It’s hardly surprising that Harry would realize what we were up to. He is a Referrer, after all. If any human could assess the facts of a situation and arrive at a conclusion that is as good as one of our own, it would be Harry.
~
x End In Tears (Rock, First Era):
Someone, somewhere, must have made a mistake. There should not have been enough clues for him to divine our plans.
~
x Serious Callers Only (LSV, Tundra Class):
Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Tears. Harry has been taught to pay attention to events happening around him. Arranging to have young women meet him at every convenient moment is hardly something he could miss noticing. First there were Ms. Robitaille and Ms. Milne aboard the Facts & Fallacies. And now he was introduced to the Stood Far Back’s Ms. Lassils. We have hardly been subtle about our intentions.
~
x Limivorous (GSV, Ocean Class):
Perhaps it is for the best. Certainly his cooperation will speed matters up.
~
x End In Tears (Rock, First Era):
I find it disquieting that a collection of Minds, especially this one, should have such an interest in the mating and breeding habits of a single human.
~
x Different Tan (GCU, Mountain Class):
Even an obstinate old Mind such as yourself can’t deny the importance of young Harry’s abilities.
~
x Time And Again (MSV Desert Class):
Agreed. And considering the potentially dangerous situation he will soon be entering, it is best that we take precautions.
~
x End In Tears (Rock, First Era):
Agreed. I just dislike the need for such a dalliance.
~
x Anticipation Of A New Lover’s Arrival, The (GSV, Plate Class):
Humans do as humans are. Mating and breeding are an integral part of their existence.
~
x Different Tan (GCU, Mountain Class):
Agreed. Now, what is the status of the mission to Terra?
~
x What Are The Civilian Applications? (GSV, Continent Class, Sub-Class Prompt, Limited):
Things are proceeding to schedule. The GCU Return To Sender will arrive at Sol system in nine days. The GCU It’s Not My Fault will arrive six days after that and the GCU Artificial Stupidity will arrive the next day. In total, we can expect nearly two whole months to study the planet before Mr. Potter arrives in system.
~
x Limivorous (GSV, Ocean Class):
And the transport arrangements?
~
x Stood Far Back When The Gravitas Was Handed Out (GSV, Plate Class):
Harry will be departing on the VFP Your Mother early tomorrow morning. They should rendezvous with the GSV Thorough But… Unreliable in eight days. The SL No Posted Speed Limit will carry them for the last leg of their journey. Their estimated arrival time is 58.226.
~
x Limivorous (GSV, Ocean Class):
Inform the relevant GCUs that they are to avoid any direct contact with the Terrasa humans until Mr. Potter and Ms. Sma arrive. They can observe and investigate to their fully abilities, but there is to be no interaction. Suggested approach limit is one hundred metres.
~
x Stood Far Back When The Gravitas Was Handed Out (GSV, Plate Class):
I’ll pass it along.
~
x Stafl (Orbital Hub, Seseris system, [solo]):
How is Harry’s preparation progressing? Will he be able to integrate himself into Terrasa society?
~
x Different Tan (GCU, Mountain Class):
He should have no difficulties, at least for brief encounters. Long-term exposure might prove more difficult.
~
x Time And Again (MSV Desert Class):
The Facts & Fallacies reports that Harry has assimilated the English language, which he will need if Hogwarts is located in Britain as we suspect. He has also had the nine other most common languages on the planet downloaded into his neural lace, to be disseminated over the remainder of the journey to Sol.
~
x Serious Callers Only (LSV, Tundra Class):
Everything is proceeding to plan then. Which begs the question; which young lady shall we throw at him next?
~
x Different Tan (GCU, Mountain Class):
Sometimes I worry that you are far too interested in human sexuality.
~
x Stafl (Orbital Hub, Seseris system, [solo]):
What of our thoughts regarding Diziet Sma as a potential mate?
~
x What Are The Civilian Applications? (GSV, Continent Class, Sub-Class Prompt, Limited):
Ms. Sma is a wily one. Too overt an approach would rouse her suspicions, as well as Mr. Potter’s. I think that is due to her extensive experience in Special Circumstances. I suggest we do nothing in that regard, but allow nature to follow its own course.
~
x Stafl (Orbital Hub, Seseris system, [solo]):
Perhaps that would be for the best.
~
x Anticipation Of A New Lover’s Arrival, The (GSV, Plate Class):
Has there been any indication as to how we missed an entire species of Grid-Energy manipulating humans?
~
x Limivorous (GSV, Ocean Class):
Nothing.
~
x Fate Amenable To Change (GCU, Escarpment Class):
Absolutely nothing, you mean. We’ve all re-examined the reports made by the GCU Short Circuit. There was no sign anywhere that the Terrasa were capable of such feats. A review of their recorded history also proved fruitless.
~
x End In Tears (Rock, First Era):
The Short Circuit has always been a reliable ship. It is doubtful that any blame can be assigned to it.
~
x Time And Again (MSV Desert Class):
Perhaps these "magical" humans are simply very good at hiding themselves, though I don’t know why they should do so.
~
x Different Tan (GCU, Mountain Class):
"Magical" humans? You’re not suggesting there may be some truth behind their superstitions?
~
x Time And Again (MSV Desert Class):
Hardly. I merely refer to them as such, because that is likely how they see themselves. Remember, Harry will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Clearly they consider themselves to be witches and wizards; practitioners of magic.
~
x Serious Callers Only (LSV, Tundra Class):
It sounds as though you consider them separate entities to the other Terrasa.
~
x Time And Again (MSV Desert Class):
They must be; else there would be some record of them in the planet’s history.
~
x End In Tears (Rock, First Era):
One way or another, we will find out by 58.226.
~
x Limivorous (GSV, Ocean Class):
Agreed.
~
[End document/comments track.]
-oOo-
Harry would have been perfectly content to remain in that wonderful state between dreams and reality, save for the fact that his neural lace was forcing him back to the waking world with the reminder that he had to hurry up for the transfer from the GSV Stood Far Back When The Gravitas Was Handed Out to the VFP Your Mother, which was scheduled to depart shortly before midday.
As he slowly worked his way up to full consciousness, forgoing the use of any glanded secretions to speed up the process, Harry became more aware of his surroundings. In particular, he noted that a light weight was draped across his waist and a warm body was floating beside him in the field bed. He could also feel that something was gently tickling his lips and nose.
Blinking his eyes open, Harry tipped his head down to see the slumbering form of his bed mate. It was her long, curly blonde hair that was tickling his face, its strands sprayed out over his chest as Chomba nuzzled into his shoulder.
His memories of the previous night’s activities returned quickly and easily enough. After a filling dinner at one of the more popular restaurants, in which Harry had been introduced to several of Chomba’s girlfriends, they had wandered the Ship for several hours before retiring to a decadently furnished suite of rooms that one of the GSV’s service drones directed them to.
Harry smiled at the memories as he played his eyes over his and Chomba’s nude bodies. The pleasures of the night had indeed been pleasurable and he had every intention of repeating the experience. He twisted about, enjoying the freedom of the field bed’s anti-gravity, and began to try kiss Chomba awake. As he flicked his tongue over her pouting lips, he wondered if actual intercourse could provide as satisfying a night.
"Hmm? Harry?" Chomba mumbled, snuggling up against him. "Again?"
He laughed softly, remembering how Sma had once asked something similar when he had tried to wake her. This time, however, he had the satisfaction of knowing that he was the one responsible for tiring out the lady in question.
"Good morning," he said, after pressing in for a deep kiss.
"Mmm," she agreed, rubbing a fist against her eyes. She blinked fuzzily at him for a moment and then immediately perked up, no doubt having used a goodly dose of Snap to bring herself to full wakefulness. "Good morning," she agreed, giving him a kiss of her own. She leaned back, presenting her bare chest, and smiled coyly at him. "And a good night, as well."
Harry leaned forward, causing them to begin spinning in the air, and circled her right nipple with the tip of his tongue. Chomba’s gasps of pleasure gave way to squawks and cries of indignation as he unexpectedly began to tickle her sides. They wrestled playfully and energetically, tumbling wildly inside the anti-gravity field holding them aloft. After several long minutes of raucous laughter, on both parts, they slowly glided to a near stop, drifting round and round as they clung panting to each other.
He used his neural lace to deactivate the field bed and, as the anti-gravity dissipated, they sank to the plush mattress below.
"Harry?"asked Chomba, puzzled this action.
"Sorry," he smiled apologetically, "but we can’t stay in bed all day — I’m leaving just before noon, remember."
"Damn," she swore softly, dropping her head to his chest.
"Come on," urged Harry, rising to his feet and pulling her up into his arms. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and said, "I’ve heard that sharing a shower can be just as much fun as rolling in the air."
"Oh, really?" asked Chomba, returning his grin.
Harry hugged her tightly too him and kissed her deeply, his erection pressing against her stomach. Understandably, the pair of them took nearly an hour to finish their shower and pull on their clothes before vacating the suite. They arrived in the appropriate departure foyer with barely ten minutes to spare. Sma, no doubt fully aware as to the cause of their delay, watched their hurried arrival with a look of patient amusement.
"Making good friends with the Stood Far Back’s crew, Harry?" she asked with a smirk.
"Very good friends, from the look of it," commented Skaffen-Amtiskaw, its aura field glowing a bright pink.
Harry and Chomba regarded the assembled adults, who were all watching them with similar amused and knowing expressions. Harry was barely able to hold back his blush, thanks to a judicious glanding of SoftNow, which left him far too mellow to be susceptible to any teasing. Chomba whose cheeks were a tinge redder than usual, simply returned Sma’s gaze and politely asked, "Do you really want us to answer that? We might sound immodest."
Sma burst into rich laughter and clapped the two children on the shoulder. "Come on then, Harry," she said. "We need to thank the General Board for the welcome party they put on for us—"
"You should also thank them for introducing you to Ms. Lassils," put in Skaffen-Amtiskaw.
"—and then finish saying our goodbyes," concluded Sma, ignoring the drone’s interruption.
"I’ve already spoken to the Stood Far Back, regarding my ‘introduction’ to Chomba," said Harry to the drone. He then turned to the girl in question and asked, "Now do you see why I’m running off to a backwater planet like Terra? It’s the only way I’ll ever be free of manipulative old coots like Skaffy here."
Chomba could not contain her giggles, nor Sma her laughter, as the drone’s fields flickered between cream, brown and a light grey. Harry’s verbal volley had struck Skaffen-Amtiskaw amidships and left the machine temporarily speechless. This was quite the accomplishment, as anyone that knew the drone would attest.
Sma laughed again and leaned in close between the two children. She brushed her lips briefly against Harry’s temple and then whispered, "I’ll see about thanking the General Board and you can give your girlfriend a less rushed goodbye, okay?"
"I’ll see to your luggage," muttered Skaffen-Amtiskaw, drifting away from the three humans.
"So, I guess this is goodbye," said Harry, turning to Chomba.
"Yeah," she muttered wistfully.
In a society of over thirty trillion beings, spread across just about the entire galaxy, they both knew that there was very little chance that they would see each other again. Certainly, if they ever did have a reunion, it would more than likely be several decades in the future. This was not really a great amount of time, at least not for people that easily lived to be four hundred years old — some even choosing to continue beyond that lengthy span. Still, for two children that were only just beginning their second decade of life, it seemed a very long time indeed.
"I promise to look you up if I’m ever in the volume," Harry swore, hugging her to him.
"And if Contact or SC ever need me to visit Terra, I won’t refuse," promised Chomba with a sniffle.
Harry smiled at the thought and leaned in to hug her. Holding her close to him, he whispered in her ear, "I wouldn’t be surprised if some Mind did arrange for us to get together soon. They seem to be hoping my talents will be passed down to my kids."
Chomba drew back to stare at him. Her expression was one of surprise and then consideration. Finally, she admitted, "I don’t think I’ll be ready to have a child for a couple of decades." She then grinned impishly. "But that doesn’t mean we won’t enjoy practicing, yeah?"
He kissed her softly in reply, deliberately keeping it from escalating in passion. Releasing his hold on her, he stepped back and smiled faintly. Chomba’s own smile was equally tremulous, but both remained clear eyed; having always known that their time together would be too brief. Without another word, Chomba nodded politely and turned to leave. Harry did not expect her to remain and see the Your Mother’s departure. People in the Culture found it far easier to control their hormones than their emotions.
"Ready to go?" asked Sma quietly, having finished her own goodbyes.
"No, not really," Harry answered, watching Chomba leave.
Taking a commiserating hold on his shoulder, Sma guided the reluctant boy to the end of the foyer, where a short corridor reached across to the waiting Very Fast Picket Your Mother. The vessel itself could be seen through the broad windows that flanked the gangway, though it was it much too close to get a proper idea of its size and shape. Skaffen-Amtiskaw floated up to join them, its aura field glowing a subdued purple.
Harry paused on the threshold and glanced back. Sma maintained her gentle grip. Chomba was nowhere to be seen, already disappeared into the depths of the Stood Far Back. Struggling to contain a sigh, Harry ducked his head and proceeded down the gangway. As a demilitarised Culture warship, the Your Mother had a crew of only twenty-two. That suited him fine, as he really wanted to be alone for the time being.
Glanding an even mix of Bliss, Calm and SoftNow, which would temporarily dull the sharp edge of his emotions, Harry consigned himself to the next part of the long journey leading back to his homeworld. He wondered, not for the first time, if it would be worth all the inconvenience.
TBC…
Author’s Notes: Just a few comments regarding the Culture timeline. Simply put; I’m smashing its round shape into the square hole of my story, so that everything will fit according to my own satisfaction. The canon dates are rarely given explicitly, but enough that we can gauge more-or-less when certain events happen.
The first Culture novel (chronologically) is Consider Phlebas, which is stated as having occurred in the early to mid 1300s by Earth’s calendar. I haven’t been able to find any clues as to when the events of Player of Games and Use of Weapons take place. Excession is stated as having occurred at some point roughly 500 years after the end of the Idiran War that was the backdrop to Consider Phlebas. This gives a date of somewhere in the 1800s. Diziet Sma is described as having spent time on Earth in the late 1970s, in the novel State of the Art. We also know that by the time of Look to Windward, the Idiran War has been over for 800 years, which would put the date in the 2100s.
For the purposes of my fic, I’m compressing the whole kit and caboodle so that all the novels will have taken place at a point before 1991, with Look to Windward have occurred four or five years earlier, in the mid 1980s.