Author notes: This is an AU fic. That is, it is not set in the exact same Potterverse as the HP books. It is what HP might be like if it had happened in late 17th century French Quebec. The characters are the same as in the book, but their names have been slightly changed to fit with the languages used by the French colonists and the Iroquois Indians.
The main ships in this story will be Harry/Hermione, Ron/Luna, and Draco/Ginny. However, they do not all start up together. My job as an author is to get them together, after a lot of interesting adventures.
The majority of this action will take place in what now is Quebec, Ontario, and upper New York State. If you want to see where everything is, look the place names up on a map. During the time of the fic, it's mostly wilderness with a few European settlements.
Chapter One - Une Mission Dangereuse (A Dangerous Mission)
"Mon dieu, Ronald. Keep your head down. Your hair can be seen for miles."
The freckled coureur de bois smiled at his best friend. "I thought, Henri, that was what you wanted. You did say we couldn't hold out in Montréal forever, without bringing the Sieur sans un nom down our own heads, so you'd face him out here."
Henri frowned. "Stop calling him that, Ronald. Only cowards call him that, and you are no coward."
Ronald winced, but did not disagree. "All right. I thought the purpose of this mission was lure the Sieur Vol de Mort into a confrontation."
"And so it is, mon ami, but not yet."
Ronald digested that bit of information for a while, before speaking again. "What are we waiting for, Henri?"
"An old friend. From my days among the Iroquois."
"Ahh. I hope your old friend brings food. I am so hungry I could eat a great blue heron, and you know how tough those are."
Henri was privately wearied of his friend's griping, but he had not the heart to tell him so. He knew his friend only spoke so to hide his fear and sorrow. Ronald had left behind in Montréal the girl he loved, Lunette Bienamour. That was hard enough, but not the worst of it. If this mission of theirs failed, Lunette would be in the path of the Iroquois, doomed to death or a life of slavery.
Henri knew all about slavery. As a child of one year old, the rogue Iroquois warrior who called himself the Sieur Vol de Mort had raided his parents' small farm outside Trois Rivieres. His parents Jacques and Lise Potère had died that night, but when the Dark Sieur went to kill Henri, the thatched roof of the cottage, which Sieur Vol de Mort had lit on fire to terrorize the people, fell on him, burning him so badly that it was thought he must have died. Few knew that Vol de Mort somehow had crawled away from the scene and survived.
Henri was rescued from the burning cottage by a friend of his parents, Hagride, the blacksmith of Trois-Rivières. Hagride had wanted to bring Henri up as his own, but scarcely was the boy safe than M. Dumbledore, the Intendant of New France, rejected the idea. Lise Potère had been of the Iroquois, though married to a Frenchman. Her family still lived. Henri must go to them.
This decision caused an uproar in the colony. The Iroquois were savages; how could the child of a pureblooded son of France be given to their care? But M. Dumbledore stayed his course. Henri had discovered later that the Intendant had reasons for this decision, reasons that needed to be kept private. Otherwise, he would have hated M. Dumbledore, for those years with his mother's family were undoubtedly the worst of his life.
The Iroquois were not all bad. Some of them were noble people, better than most of the Québec establishment, for a fact. But Lise's family were not of this sort. They still despised Lise for leaving them, Jacques for taking Lise away, and Henri for reminding them of it all. Henri spent ten years as a virtual slave in their longhouse. His aunt Petuniseh spoke not one kind word to him in all those years, and his cousin Dudliathas bullied him mercilessly. Yet, under their unkind care, he had learnt to be tough, a trait that now stood him well.
"A livre for your thoughts?" Ronald's voice interrupted his reverie.
"I am thinking of the days before I came to the citadel of Québec."
"Good thoughts, or bad?"
"Mostly bad. Still, there were good times. Sometimes, my mother's family left me behind during a hunt. During the hunt, there were only a few people left in the village. The old, the sick, the very young. While they were gone, I dared to play with the other children. Only then. I particularly remember this one girl I played with. She was my special friend. I wonder what happened to her?"
"Died in childbed, likely enough," answered Ronald. "You know how early their girls are married. If she's alive, she probably has four or five children. So stop thinking romantic thoughts about your old sweetheart."
"You're heartless, Ronald."
"It's the only way to live out here in the wilderness. If you cared too much, you would die of grief. What was her name?"
"Hermioniah."
"Odd name. Not a bad one, but odd. When did you last see her?"
"When I was seven, her father the shaman was driven out from our tribe by my uncle."
"Ahh. Well, a word of advice, Henri. Do not mention this to Ginevre. Ever."
"Of course not!" Henri laughed, thinking of Ronald's sister, to whom he was affianced. "Ginevre's eyes would turn as green as mine to hear I ever thought of another girl."
"Exactement. She is a trifle unreasonable, isn't she? Though, she'll make you a perfect wife," Ronald added quickly.
"Yes."
Henri was happy with the arrangement that had been made for him with Ginevre. The girl was beautiful, with fiery red hair and brown eyes the colour of beaver pelt. She would be a capable wife and mother, just as her mother before her had been. He could hardly thank the Véslées enough for taking him into their family as a son and giving him their most prized daughter. Nevertheless, he was glad he wouldn't be marrying till after this mission. He needed time to get used to the idea of being a married man.
"When will you and Lunette marry?" he asked Ronald, to distract him from the topic of Ginevre.
"As soon as she agrees to give up her heretic beliefs," replied Ronald. "I can't marry a Huguenot. It would not be allowed."
"Are you sure she will give up her religion?" asked Henri skeptically.
"Certainement. She loves me, doesn't she?"
"Some people, Ronald, prefer their principles to their lovers. I have never seen Lunette compromise about her beliefs."
"Just watch when I get back."
Henri decided not to press the issue. Ronald could be quite stubborn. Perhaps it'd be best to let him find out for himself.
"Where is your friend?" said Ronald, after a long silence. "It's very uncomfortable lying in the brush here, and I am…"
"Hungry. Yes, I know."
"Your friend could not come. He sent me instead." They both jumped at the voice. Turning around, they stared at the person behind them.
She was an Iroquois woman, about their age, dressed in brightly beaded animal skins and moccasins. Her dark hair was long, thick and tangled, and she had the disheveled look of anyone who has long been in the wild without the comforts of civilized life. But if she was not a beauty, she had about her an almost enchanting air of determination, and the sharpest eyes the two had ever seen.
"How come we didn't hear you creeping up on us?" demanded Ronald, but Henri's mouth had fallen open.
"Hermioniah! Is that you?"
Author notes: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Stay tuned for the next, in which Henri will get reacquainted with his old friend, and his mission will be explained.