Ten Thousand Miles

This is my entry for fernwithy's "Dumbledore's Grid" challenge. Details of that can be found here.

Small pronunciation note: Maori vowels are pronounced a as in father, e as in pear, i as in meet, o as in or, u as in moon. Consonants are as english, apart from "ng" (sort of like the "ng" in singer) and "wh" (call it f/ph, and leave it at that.) Therefore, the main character's name is, very roughly, "Hee-neh-roh-ah", not "Hyne-rower." I love Maori; everything is pronounced as written...if you can read it.


Major Hineroa Edwards, NZAD (New Zealand Auror Division) did not like being interrupted. Being interrupted when she was working was worse. Being pulled out from teaching a class of Auror trainees and told that the head of the Auror Division wanted her in his office, preferably yesterday, took the proverbial cake.

"I'm sorry, Hine, but he said it was important," rookie Dan Jeffries told her haplessly, twisting his cloak around him. From the amount of water pooling on the floor, it was pelting down outside.

Hine just sighed, and rolled her sleeves down. "Fine. I'll go see Jamieson, you get in there and take the class until I get back."

"Take the class?" he spluttered. "But I-"

"It's basic potion-making, all you have to do is look intimidating while they work. Get in there."

"But-"

"In. Now."

Ducking to avoid the low doorframe, he went. Thankfully he'd only qualified three months ago, still new enough to remember her as a teacher, not a colleague, and Someone To Be Obeyed.

When Hine entered the courtyard, the rain hit her like falling bricks. Horizontally falling bricks. It was one of those patented Windy Wellington days that made Aucklanders jeer and Cantabrians look smug. Hine hastily put a Shield Charm up, but the worst damage had already been done. She hurried across the empty courtyard, between the benches and pohutukawa, cursing alternately the foul winter weather and the stupid, stupid administrators who had decided to build the New Zealand Auror College next to headquarters, but not connected to it. Oh, and the idiots since then who hadn't fixed the situation.

Letting down the charm as soon as she got inside, she stopped to dry herself off. It would do no good to drip water all over her boss's floor. The knot of hair at the base of her neck was too dense to dry, so she resigned herself to dampness.

"Haere mai," called Andrew Jamieson when she knocked on his door. She pushed open the door and came in. The head of her department was seated behind his desk.

"Tena koe, Hine. E noho. I korero a Jeffries mo – mo - ah - drat. Never mind the practice, we'll keep this in English. Did Jeffries mention why I wanted to see you?"

“Kaore, sir,” Hine said, seating herself as requested. The switch to English was not unexpected - she'd offered several months ago to help Jamieson with his Maori, but he was still struggling. At least he was trying to learn more than the minimum needed for spellwork. “About the English trip, is it?”

"You’ve heard, then? Good. Captain So’oialo's still willing to go, and so is Jeffries, but you're the most senior Auror on this trip, so I wanted to discuss it with you."
Hine blinked. She’d heard what? They were due to leave in just over a month.

"Uh - no, sir, I haven’t heard anything. Why would I not want to go to England?"

The yearlong exchange with three English Aurors had been organised months ago, the restatement of a programme that had originally been an aid to the fledgling Auror Division in New Zealand, mirroring the Muggle police force. It had drifted to a close during the English war of the seventies. Hine, her colleague Jeremy So'oialo, and Dan Jeffries had been lined up to go for months. Jamieson had told her, privately, that on the English Ministry's part it seemed to be an effort to distract attention from the growing rumours that He Who Must Not Be Named was back. Hine and Jeremy had been warned to keep an eye out for the truth of the rumours. Could it be -

"It spilled about three hours ago. He's back," Jamieson told her bluntly. "The British just withdrew the exchange offer - they say they need everyone they've got - but they're still willing for us to send you. You'll be walking into a war, if I read this rightly. We're hearing that the Dementors have abandoned Azkaban, and it's going to get worse before it's better. You know what the current administration is like, over there. And we think ours is bad."

Hine took a deep breath. "I'm still going, sir."

Jamieson regarded her steadily. "I said it's a war, Major Edwards."

"I said I'm still going, sir." She shrugged. "Na tou taiaha, na taku taiaha, and all that sort of thing. " United we do stand.

Jamieson looked blank at the proverb, but nodded. "Very well, then. The arrangements are still as they were. And, Major- when you get there, I suggest you have a word to Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Who's he?" Hine asked, genuinely puzzled. "A British Auror?"

"Yes. I met him in the seventies - I went on one of the last of these exchanges. I think you, in particular, can be of aid to…some people he knows."

Clear as mud, Hine thought glumly. A war, and dark wizards murdering people, and my boss chooses now to go insane. Me in particular? Dad’s a Pom, of course, but apart from that…

"Ae ra, sir. Will do."


Two months later and ten thousand miles away, Hine was feeling much more worried and just as uncertain. Upon their arrival, the three New Zealanders had been split up before they'd had the chance to protest. Not even a formal welcome, and in Hine's mind that grated. Realistically, the British didn't know how to do that sort of thing properly, but the lack of a powhiri itched. She still felt like an intruder in this country, and would until they had been welcomed. Which would probably be never.

Hine herself had been informed that she was being sent north with two British Aurors and her fellow Kiwi Dan Jeffries to Hogwarts, the British school of magic. According to Captain Kingsley Shacklebolt, the senior British Auror, it was to guard the school, since He Who Must Not Be Named had made several attempts to attack it in the last few years "through various methods". Hine thought it was ridiculous; Hogwarts was the most secure location in Britain, according to most of the British Aurors, and what could four of them do against You Know Who and his Death Eaters? Not very much that the staff of the school couldn't. The British Aurors who were going with them were Shacklebolt (apparently Jamieson's mysterious contact, although she hadn't been able to talk with him privately yet) and a Lieutenant Nymphadora Tonks ("Just Tonks, thanks.”) They appeared to be under a cloud with the Ministry, although Hine couldn't get any specifics. Dan, as the British Division had to know, was barely out of training. She was being sent, she suspected, to keep Dan under control. Shunted off into the middle of nowhere to guard a school, with a rookie and two disfavoured Poms. This was going to be the most boring year of her life, no question about it. Hine had wanted to fight. Not baby-sit.

They caught the train to Hogwarts with the students - a supremely mundane experience, although Dan did have to break up a fight between some of the sixth-years. Hine spent most of the trip patrolling the train and being taught cribbage by the British Aurors. Shacklebolt was silent, but quick-witted; Tonks, on the other hand, was quick-tongued and merry (as well as being a Metamorphagus, which had startled Dan near out of his skin.) To be fair, they'd had a polite reception by the Headmaster when they'd got to the school, and the promise of a serious discussion about their role there the following day. Hine had gone straight to bed that night, and woken up with unpacking - and warding of the room - still to do. Secure locations were all very well, but she wasn't taking chances on anyone being nosy.

Rolling up her sleeves, she looked around the room. Yes, one jar would sit neatly hidden behind the curtain, the other on the mantelpiece as a sort of bookend for some of the books she'd brought with her. This doorway, like many others at Hogwarts, had a wooden doorframe that stuck out a fraction from the stone wall. The knife would sit up there, creating the triangle she needed to ward the room against others' entry. She could have used British soil, but that would leave the room open to any British wizard who knew the mana whenua. There wouldn’t be many, but counting on others’ ignorance was plain stupidity.

Hine flipped open the lid of her trunk and rummaged around for what she needed. She had packed the items down the bottom. There they were; jars of soil from the courtyard at the Auror College and an obsidian knife from her mother's family. Her greenstone tiki was hanging around her neck, where it had been ever since she left New Zealand.
She placed the jars on the dresser - just the right height - and reached into her robes to bring out the tiki and place it beside them. Wand magic was all well and good for precision, but it couldn't match this for wards and protection.

She hummed the almost monotonal tune of an old moteatea (no words needed here, but singing of her homeland helped her focus), as she lifted up the knife. A practised slash across her palm brought blood. Three drops into each jar, soaked up quickly by the earth. One for the tiki - that was a focus and alarm, not the room's main protection - and three on the knife blade. They sank into the greenstone and obsidian as easily as the earth. Now she lifted each object and carried it carefully to its place. Long practice meant that she could rely on intent alone to place the wards. One jar on the windowsill, one on the mantelpiece, the knife above the doorway, and the tiki back around her neck. Done, and she’d better hurry to breakfast to make up for the energy lost.
The sight of Kingsley Shacklebolt standing in the doorway as she went to place the knife nearly made her drop it, but she ignored his attempts to speak and finished the spell by re-donning her pendant.

"Kia ora, Captain. How long have you been there?" she asked curiously, feeling for the wand in her pocket. He must have shown up while she was setting the wards, or she would have noticed. "Clevo." The cut on her palm sealed neatly together, leaving only a faint red line.

"What do you think you're doing, Major?" he asked, his voice tense.

Hine frowned, pocketing her wand. "Setting wards. I know we should be safe here, but it's long habit."

Kingsley tried to step inside, but the ward, of course, stopped him.

"Blood magic is illegal in Britain, Major Edwards," he informed her coolly. "As I would have assumed a fellow Auror knew!"

"Oh, come in," Hine said briskly, her words lowering the barrier. She was fighting to stop her eyebrows climbing. "Illegal? Setting basic wards is illegal? It's elementary magic!"

"To you, perhaps, but not here," Kingsley said, remaining in the doorway. "In Britain, blood magic is dark, and therefore illegal. I know of some basic applications - as an Auror - but we certainly don't learn how to use it. I don't even know that there can be harmless applications!"

"Well, I wouldn't call it blood magic. Earth magic is perhaps the best translation, but it's one of the most common forms in New Zealand. Wand magic is all very well for a duel, or precision spells, but if you want large-scale wards, or…some things just work better this way. Less precision, but more power. Does nobody in Britain ever use it?" That seemed inconceivable. A good third of the curriculum at home went into the old ways. Not that British ones would be the same, but surely -

"Only dark wizards."

Hine clicked her tongue, rearranging her collar. “Am I going to be arrested now, then?"

"Since no one else saw you, we can probably skip that part of the proceedings," Kingsley told her dryly. "But I need an explanation. I'm responsible for the Auror contingent here, small as it is, and if you go around performing illegal magic…"

"I see." Hine hesitated. "My boss - that is, the head of our Auror division, Andrew Jamieson, told me to speak to you when I got to England."

"Andrew Jamieson." A faint look of surprise registered on Kingsley's face. "Did he, now?"

"He mentioned - and I quote - that I, in particular, could be of some aid to some people you know. He was here in the seventies, on one of the last exchanges."

"He was," Kingsley agreed.

"That was during the last war," Hine prompted.

"It was."

"Does that message make sense to you?"

Kingsley paused, regarding her. When he spoke, it was thoughtfully. "Professor Dumbledore has mentioned that the Quidditch pitch is quite a security risk. I'd like to go and inspect it, if you've finished unpacking."

Hine lifted her wand to flick her trunk shut. For this, breakfast could wait.

"Sounds like an excellent idea."


It might be late summer (although Hine still felt like it should be winter) but the wind was blowing fiercely. She had to shout to be heard as they walked along the top of the stands, surveying the Quidditch pitch from above. There was no one on it - all the students were in lessons.

"Did the Death Eaters go to Hogwarts?" she asked, thinking over ways to protect the place.

"Huh?" Kingsley yelled back. He shook his head. "I can't hear you!"

Of course not, Hine realised - the wind was blowing his words back to her. She pointed down towards the bottom of the stands. "Let's go down there!"

She doubted that he'd heard her, but he got the gist of what she was saying, and they clambered back down.

"So what do you think, Major Edwards?" Kingsley asked as soon as they were out of the wind. "Can we safeguard the stadium?"

It was a test, as much as anything, Hine knew. She'd be asking the questions if they were back home.

"Not entirely," she answered honestly, leaning against the rails. "Major problem is the forest - easy enough for someone to attack through there, if they didn't get killed by whatever lives in there, but that's not as hard as the students are told. Especially given what I've heard about some recent exploits in there."

"Harry Potter and his friends, yes." Kingsley nodded. "They're not the usual run of students, but if they can…"

"…the Death Eaters can. So. On brooms, it would be very easy to get in, but on the ground there are two entrances, and one of those is from the school. That leaves the grounds entrance. Guard that, watch for flyers, and it's about as safe as it will get. The anti-Apparition wards take care of that problem."

She'd passed, apparently. Kingsley sat down. "That's what I gathered, Major. We can ward the gates, but I don't suppose…" He hesitated. "Your…blood magic…"

If only. At least that way I’d be doing something, not just wandering around a fortress pretending to guard it. No wonder their Minister’s on his way out!

"Mana whenua," Hine corrected him. "Could I use it to set up better wards? No. My room works because it's a small area and I had New Zealand earth to do it with. That means I can ward out non-New Zealanders." She winced. "I'd prefer it if you didn't mention the soil to anyone; I don't know about the magic, but that is illegal. Biosecurity, and all."

Kingsley frowned. "I take it that's a Muggle law?"

"We can leave it at that. I can set up wards on British soil, because my father was a Pom, but they won't keep out other Britons. And if these Death Eaters went to Hogwarts, well, there's no way I could do it. The connection will be too strong. They could probably bar me, if they knew how."

There was a long pause. Kingsley shook his head. "Major, you're going to have to explain how this works. It's about as clear as mud at the moment."

Hine couldn't help smiling. "Is it really, Captain?"

The look he gave her was wry. "Your particular brand of illegal magic has never been one I've studied closely."

"Illegal," Hine scoffed. "Might as well make wands illegal. Better. You can't kill someone with the mana whenua. Oh, you could get creative and whip up a storm or earthquake - and spend the next three weeks in bed, paying for it, if not worse - but you can't cast an Unforgivable with it."

"But what is it? I saw blood magic, and that's next to the dark arts if not the same thing. You seem to be talking about something else entirely."

"Well…" Hine groped for the right words. She'd had this lecture given to her, once, but that had been when she was eleven. It was longer ago than she liked to remember. "Basically…we, wizards, have magic, right?"

"Right," Kingsley agreed.

"And so does everything, a bit. Wizards and magical animals or plants just have more concentrated magic, which is why we use them in potions, or to make magical objects. The earth has it, as well. So mana whenua – that’s, well, call it Maori magic - is using that. It's why wands have to have magical cores, as well, just a different way of doing things. You need blood, because that sets up the connection. But there are rules, and lots of restrictions."

"Legal, or magical?"

"Oh, magical. Which means you can't ignore them, or at least, there will be utu if you do. Er, a…cost. Price. The most important one is that any old piece of land won't do. It needs to be your land."

"That's why you brought that soil. It's your land…sort of."

"Exactly. It's not good for a lot, but for wards, it does. One generation of blood will also get you by. My father's British-born, so I can use it here. But the blood ties work both ways. You can't keep out anyone of your land with mana whenua. Doesn't work."

"And the Death Eaters are British…"

"…yeah. So that's out, wards, anyway. Let's see, other rules. It's raw power, and it's hard work to use. Do something big, and you'll be exhausted for days. You can kill yourself. People have. On the flip side, you can have several people working the same spell very easily. It's useless for small things. You need wand magic for any book-spells. Mana whenua is for, oh, earthquakes, like I said. Changing the weather. Making plants grow. Setting up zones of protection. Hiding and constructing magical areas. It’s how the Maori learned to access magic, that’s all. Most of the Pacific uses something like it, where it wasn’t destroyed by colonisation."

"That sounds very useful," Kingsley said thoughtfully. "Not what I expected."

Hine nodded. "If you meant European blood magic - that's aimed more at people, isn't it? Individuals."

"There are very few benign uses for it. None that I could name." Kingsley's voice was flat. "And there are no dark sides to this earth magic of your country?"

Hine chuckled. “As much as anything has a dark side. We don’t do human sacrifice any more, of course.”

Kingsley refused to rise to the bait. He just shook his head, staring out across the pitch. "Why have I never heard of this?"

"The Poms didn't want to know, when they got to New Zealand. Wand magic was all they cared about. Plus the whole blood thing, I think it made them uncomfortable, so it was never exported back here. It was magic for a world where there were no barriers between Muggle and wizard. Different places, different ways."

"But you New Zealanders know it."

"Ah, yes. That's only because our school - Te Whare Wananga Makutu o Aotearoa ki Waitomo to you –“ (Kingsley winced in appreciation) “- was set up by the Maori tohunga, wizards, back in the early nineteenth century. They'd used an apprenticeship system, but they caught on fast. When the Pakeha finally decided to school their kids there instead of sending them back to Europe, the tohunga pointed out they had this school already, did the Pakeha want in? So the curriculum has always had a real Maori bent. It helped keep the language alive. Not a few Pakeha Muggle-borns of the old days got a shock, coming to Waitomo."

And some like Jamieson even try beyond that…it’s all you can ask.

“So you’re Maori, or a Kiwi?” Kingsley inquired.
“Are you a Pom, or an African?” she shot back.

"Touché. But you’ve Maori blood."

“Of course,” Hine shrugged, “but more Pakeha – British – than Maori between my Pommy father and some of my mother’s ancestors. There’s no such thing as a pure-blood Maori any more; half of us are whiter than the Pakeha. But this is all sidetracking. What's the real reason you wanted to talk out here?"

Kingsley took her change of topic in stride. "The real reason? To go straight to the point - I'm in a group called the Order of the Phoenix. It was formed during the first war by Albus Dumbledore to fight You Know Who and the Death Eaters, since the Ministry were proving ineffective. I wasn't a member the first time, but a lot of people have carried through. We have a wide range of membership, and a lot of things we've done have been significant in stopping You Know Who from getting further than he has. The question is - do you want in?"

She’d been expecting something like this, but not quite this. So she parried for time.

"Are the Ministry that bad at fighting You Know Who?"

"Yes. Don't say you haven't noticed. They didn't want to admit it, and now they don't know how to handle it."

Hine nodded slowly. The Ministry were being…scattergun. Her own assignment, for instance.

You wanted to fight, not baby-sit. So why not just say yes?

Instead, she continued to probe. "When You Know Who came to the Ministry in June. Just before I came out here. Was that…was that your Order fighting him?"

"Yes and no." Kingsley looked weary. "Harry Potter and some of his friends were lured to the Ministry, and nearly killed. We went to rescue him. He had thought he was rescuing one of us. It was…a very tragic situation."

"What happened to the bloke Harry Potter thought he was rescuing?"

"He died." Kingsley looked down. "He was the one of us who most deserved to live, I think."

"I never heard anything about a death."

"It wasn't public knowledge. It was…complicated."

"Isn't everything." Hine sighed.

"Isn't it." There was a moment of silence. "So, what do you say, Major? Yes or no?"

"I feel like I'm in Mission Impossible," Hine joked, and ignored the blank look from Kingsley. "Make a case, Captain. So far I know that your group exists, and you're fighting You-Know-Who with marginally more success than the Ministry. You're an Auror; you should know not to theorise without data. Tell me why I, as a Kiwi over here for one year, should join you."

Kingsley frowned, rubbing his chin. "You were supposed to be driven by curiosity and a sense of duty to say yes, Major."
"I'm a sceptic. Well?"

"All right, then." He stood up, and walked over to join her at the railing. "A war has just started here, for the second time in fifteen years. A lot of innocent people are dying, and more are going to. The Ministry, who should be dealing with the problem, denied it for a year, and are significantly disadvantaged because of that. You're an Auror - fighting dark magic is your job. You're here for a year, and during that time, you will be working for the British Auror Division. We are supposed to be in the front lines of this war. The four of us are stuck here at Hogwarts, where we cannot fight that war effectively…at least, not yet. You can fight it more effectively and more efficiently if you join the Order of the Phoenix. You have skills - this mana whenua –“ (Hine bit back a grin at the mangled pronunciation) “- that could be useful. Your colleagues do not, or at least, not here. The head of your division recommended you to me; he doesn't know about the Order, but he's got a few suspicions. You promised to fight this war when you came here, Major Edwards. Do you want to do that in the best way you can?"

Hine looked out across the pitch. She could imagine swooping players or hooded figures with equal ease. Life, or death, here and now.

You were fuming about being left on the sideline, a few hours ago. Here's your chance for some game-time.

Your old magic is a new weapon here. Use it. Use that.

Na tou taiaha, na taku taiaha, ka mate te hoariri. The enemy dies by your spear and mine…

"Okay, then," she said, turning back and holding out her hand. "Count me in."

Kingsley grinned, for the first time, startlingly white against his dark skin. "Welcome to the Order, Major Edwards."

This job might be interesting, after all.