I'm usually more organised in my cookie posting, but it was unexpectedly hot and stuffy today and I have The Lethargy.  I'm doing pretty well with the new Checkmate story, though, so I thought you might like a cookie from it.

This is PG rated; the main story, being Checkmate universe, is not however :-D

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Ron had played Quidditch in some pretty adverse conditions, including through a heavy snow storm, but this was still a miserable experience.  The cold moisture of the cloud quickly soaked through the elderly waxed canvas of his cloak and his hands grew numb on the handle of his broomstick; forward visibility grew poor as the evening began to close in early because of the bad weather.  He concentrated on keeping the tail-twigs of Harry's broom in sight, for his own broom wasn't fitted with a compass and he knew he'd be in trouble if he lost sight of him.

Then abruptly Harry swerved and dropped back to fly level with him.  He too was soaked - Ron could see his dark hair running with moisture under his hood, his glasses were almost opaque with raindrops, and he was pale with the cold.

"What's up?" he demanded, raising his voice to bridge the gap between them.

"I lost the others in the cloud about ten minutes ago," Harry called back.  "I've been following the heading Dad set, but we're on our own.  I think we should look for somewhere to set down before it gets properly dark."

Ron felt a twinge of anxiety.  "Do you know where we are?"

Harry shook his head.  "I reckon we're somewhere in Gloucester, but that's a wild guess to be honest.  But if we land, I can use the ley-lines to feel out the nearest wizard community and if we can get to it we should be able to find a Floo point."

"And where do we Floo to?"

"I'm open to suggestions.  But we can't keep flying through this once it gets dark."

"Okay, let's head down then."

This too was unnerving, but he followed Harry's lead again and presently they alighted in a small field.  It wasn't quite so cold on the ground, but the rain was much more noticeable and the heavy mists shrouding everything made visibility poor.  Harry handed Ron his broom to hold while he crouched down, running his bare hands through the straggling grass and weeds for a few minutes.  When he eventually stood up again, shaking a small slug from his left sleeve, he looked relieved.

"There's a magical community just over a mile from here, I reckon," he said.  "The signature's strong enough that it might even be that commune Dad was talking about, but whichever it is, we should be okay there.  Let's put the brooms away just in case, though, this is definitely bordering onto Muggle farmland and we don't want to run into any of them with brooms and stuff on show."

Ron dug the bag for his broom out of his backpack and began to run a couple of basic drying spells over the broom itself; they wouldn't be very effective in these conditions, but it was better than putting a cold and completely soaked broom back into the bag.

"What do we say if it's not the commune and the people want to know what we were doing out in this weather?" he asked.

"Tell 'em we wanted to try Muggle-style camping and got caught out?" Harry suggested.

"All right."

They started walking, Ron following Harry's lead again.  This time they deliberately followed the small tarmacced lane that ran alongside the field; the poor light and rotten conditions made it too risky to try walking through the fields.  Fortunately they didn't encounter any Muggle vehicles, or indeed anyone else at all.  The rain was picking up now and Ron could feel the cold water seeping through his clothes and running down his back.  Worse was the clinging weight of his saturated jeans and his boots were full of the water that ran down his legs out of the heavy denim.  He could have shouted with relief when Harry finally grabbed his hand and pointed to a heavy boulder half hidden in the hedge on the opposite side of the road. 

On first glance it was just a large chunk of stone but when Harry went up to it, it seemed to flicker and shift into something else; a properly carved stone with a single image on it.  Ron squinted and finally lit his wand so they could see it better.  The image was of the head and torso of a man in profile, with antlers on his head and a drawn bow in his hands, and it was surrounded by a ring of oak leaves.

"It's a coven," Harry said, and he sounded as relieved as Ron felt.  "Funny, I thought Dad said they were called the White Mare Coven?  Horses are a goddess cult, but these people obviously follow Herne."

"Does it matter?" Ron asked.  He felt he could be forgiven for little impatience under the circumstances.

"I don't think so."  Harry reached out and touched the stone, and a small section of the hedge a few feet away suddenly melted away to reveal a gate.  "Come on, they probably know we're here already.  Let's go and introduce ourselves."

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That's it - for now!

Mad Martha