1860's SERIES #2:
MISUNDERSTANDINGS

Disclaimer: Highlander belongs to Rysher Entertainment, Gaumont Télévision, and Davis/Panzer Productions. Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. Any copyright infringements were not intended. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit.

Spoilers and Timing: Spoilers are for the prequel to this story, "Chance Beginnings".

Summary: Methos may have speculated about seeing Albus Dumbledore again some day, but he never expected it would happen when a thestral drops by to pee in his land lady's vegetable patch.

Methos knew that when he ran into those three Aurors the year before that he should have left England for good and not come back for at least a century. Yet, here he was, one year later, and he was still in the blasted country. Why oh why couldn't he have stayed on the continent for just a few more decades? Why oh why did he turn down Byron's invitation to stay at his country house for just a little while longer?

But, like many other times that he'd rather forget about, Methos had ignored his common sense, which was why he was in the mess he was in right that moment.

Although, it wasn't his bloody fault that the thestral had suddenly shown up out of nowhere in the middle of his backyard before taking a piss in his land lady's rose garden. It also wasn't his fault that, after the Aurors had shown up to take the thestral back to Hogwarts, that he was impervious to their memory charms. It definitely wasn't his fault that they had to make a big deal about his impervious constitution. As if their Memory Charms could stand against an Immortal memory, anyway, not to mention an Immortal's physiology. Sure, other spells might have done damage, but not even the Avada Kedavra curse was permanent on an Immortal.

Methos, of course, had an added advantage most other Immortals didn't. Methos had slowly learned over the millennia to control his Quickening. Part of that control allowed him to shoot out lightning bolts. Another part of that control allowed him use his hands to deflect a spell. The spell would circulate around his hand, kept in place by Quickening energy that created bolts that ran from his hand to the translucent spell. He could throw said spell back at his attacker, or he could shake it off.

As far as he knew, he was the only Immortal with enough power and strength to do that. He planned to keep it that way. Whenever he couldn't avoid a fight, he made sure not to use that advantage. With wizards, however, the rules were different. If they attacked him, he would defend himself; their surprise usual worked in his favor.

Methos had no desire to explain to the Aurors why he was impervious to their Memory Charms. He did try to explain that it wasn't necessary for them to cast one - after all, he was aware of the wizarding world. However, the Aurors wouldn't leave well enough alone and had decided, after what Methos was sure was so careful consideration, that he would accompany them back to the Ministry of Magic for further questioning.

Methos sighed as they led him to a room on the second level in Auror Headquarters. The room was obviously someone's office. A bookshelf took up the left wall while a desk stood opposite it. A magically produced window took up the wall between them. While Methos knew for a fact that it was a gray, overcast day in the real world, the window gave the impression of a cloudless, sunny sky.

He was instructed to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk. One of the Aurors stayed with him while they waited for whoever's office this was to arrive.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Methos asked, gesturing to the window.

The Auror only looked at him.

Methos sighed before leaning back in his chair. It was going to be a long day.

Gregory Longbottom was one of the last Aurors to arrive at work that day. His reason was a good one. According to him, anyway.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized to his partners, Albus Dumbledore and Ashton Sunders. He gave them a half-goofy, half-apologetic smile. "I had a little trouble with my stove this morning. I cast a spell to make an omelet, but when I got back from bathing in the pond, I found egg splattered all over the place. Took seven scrubbing spells just to get the stuff cleaned up."

Ashton only closed his eyes, refusing to give in to the sigh he desperately wanted to release. Longbottom may be his friend and subordinate, but Greg could learn to be a little more careful sometimes and less of a klutz. The resourcefulness and wit Greg used daily on the job were always missing whenever he did something that wasn't part of his Auror training. Would it kill the man to hire a maid, anyway, or at least a cook? It's not like Greg Longbottom couldn't afford it. Out of the three of them, Greg was the wealthiest; that much was obvious in his very dress. His robes were always practical, yet fashionable and made of very fine materials. Meanwhile, Sunders and Dumbledore had to stick to less costly clothing.

That wasn't the only difference between them. Sunders tried to be as professional as possible while on duty. Around Greg and Albus, however, it was difficult. Albus had a sense of humor that surfaced at the wrong moments. His strengths were his intelligence and his ability to look a person square in the eyes and instantly know if he or she could be trusted. Greg, meanwhile, liked to joke a lot, maybe a little too much. He could get the job done, but not without making at least one wise crack. Sunders was certain that boy's mouth would get him killed some day, if his clumsiness didn't do it.

Their magical abilities differed slightly as well. Albus was the best at charms, more specifically memory charms and summoning charms, both of which were extremely useful. Greg was the best broomstick rider, not to mention a pretty good potions maker and transfiguer. Sunders, meanwhile, was the best at tracking.

The three of them had been working for over two years, ever since Albus and Greg had graduated at Hogwarts with high marks in the NEWT courses required to become an Auror.

"What's the deal for today?" Longbottom asked.

"We've got an interrogation to perform," Sunders answered.

Greg winced. "Who's the lucky guy?" None of them liked interrogations of any kind. They were field Aurors, after all; sitting back and asking questions just wasn't something they enjoyed.

"He's a muggle." Ashton consulted a hand-written piece of paper. "His name's Peter Adams. It says he was involved in an incident with a thestral. When the Aurors sent to capture the thestral tried to cast a memory charm on him, it wouldn't work."

"That's new," Greg commented. He'd never heard of anything being capable of resisting a memory charm.

If Greg and Ashton had glanced at Albus at that moment, they would have seen a very shocked look on the young man's face. Fortunately, Albus' partners were busy reading the notes.

"They suspect that Adams might have had something to do with the thestral flying into his yard, that he wasn't just an innocent bystander," Ashton continued.

"So, where is he?" Greg asked.

"In my office."

They headed across the crowded room to the closed door of Sunders' office. All the while, Albus wondered with curiosity and some apprehension how his third meeting with Peter Adams would go.

Methos had to admit that the last wizards he expected to see were Albus Dumbledore and his two friends.

Methos stood as they entered, as was the polite thing to do. The last thing he wanted was to come off as discourteous and give them a reason to keep him there even longer.

As soon as he shut the door behind himself, Ashton presented Methos with a hand. "Hello - Mr. Adams, is it?"

Methos nodded.

"I'm Ashton Sunders. These are my partners, Gregory Longbottom and Albus Dumbledore."

They all shook hands. "I'm dreadfully sorry for all the trouble I've caused," Methos said, playing the part of the innocent bystander to the fullest.

"I highly doubt that you had anything to do with a thestral showing up your backyard," Sunders said, acting sympathetic to Methos' cause. Methos recognized it as the tactic it was and carefully kept his face neutral from Sunders' searching gaze.

Sunders continued, "However, these sorts of situations must follow procedure." He motioned to the chair Methos had just vacated. "Please."

The Immortal sat back down and the three Aurors took their seats facing him. "Would you mind going through the entire encounter once more, Mr. Adams?" Sunders asked.

Methos forced down an impatient sigh before he once again recounted the morning's events.

"I'd just returned from new stand down the street where I'd gone to get the morning paper. When I returned, I found my land lady in the backyard, feeding her chickens. We talked for awhile about random things before she heard an odd munching sound. The two of us turned around only to see a thestral munching on my land lady's cabbages. He was also, shall I say, using the outhouse in her squash crops."

"Did you know it was a thestral?" Longbottom asked, speaking for the first time.

Methos nodded. "Yes, I've had encounters with them before."

"Yes, that is one thing that interests me," Sunders remarked. "How is it that you aware of the wizarding world, Mr. Adams? I was told you were a Muggle and you had no magic relations."

"That is correct," Methos confirmed. "However, as I sure you know, obliviating charms don't work on me."

"Why not?" Longbottom interrupted him.

"Pardon?"

"Why don't obliviating charms work on you? As far as I knew, those charms could only be repelled through anti-magic spells."

"I’m not sure. They just never had. I've talked to many wizards and witches about this, believe me, but they couldn't come up with an explanation, either," Methos half-lied. Sunders and Longbottom seemed to accept this explanation, while Dumbledore frowned slightly.

"Anyway, as I was saying, I found out about the magic world one day when a wizard decided to perform a prank on some muggles. When the Ministry wizards arrived to clean up the mess, I was the only one there that the obliviation charm wouldn't work on." That answer was a part-truth as well. That situation did happen to an Immortal, it just hadn't been him.

"All right," Sunders said. "Any thoughts of why the thestral chose your land lady's garden to-do what he did?"

Methos shrugged. "I was just as surprised to see the beast as my land lady, I can assure you."

Dumbledore suddenly spoke. "Perhaps the reason the thestral came to your yard has something to do with the reason why the obliviating charm doesn't work on you," he said, obviously deep in thought.

Suddenly, he rose and, taking out his wand, approached Methos. "Would it be all right if I performed a few tests? I assure you, they're entirely harmless."

Methos paused, debating the situation. He really didn't like having wands pointed at him, but if he refused, it might look like he had something to hide. How he hated these sorts of situations.

Finally, he nodded. Dumbledore pointed his wand at the Immortal and said, "Ostendo Incantatem."

A shower of white sparks fluttered out of his wand and settled on the Immortal's head. Methos had to fight the urge to duck out of the way or defend himself by placing a hand between his head and the spell. He forced himself to stay still.

The sparks settled among each strand before disappearing. They waited for a moment. Nothing happened.

Undeterred, Albus began a second spell. He twirled the wand in a circle before stopping the wand directly in front of Methos' chest. "Orior evidens."

A Purple beam shot out from the wand and hit Methos' chest. He didn't feel it impact with his vest front and hoped that was a good thing.

Albus frowned before lowering his wand. Methos silently let out a relieved breath.

"Anything, Dumbledore?" Sunders asked.

Albus shook his head before turning and walking back to his seat. "No, none at all." He sat down and addressed Methos, "Whatever protects you from the obliviating charm isn't magical, and it is therefore doubtful that the thestral was attracted to you because of it. However, I'm pretty sure that Hogwart's thestrals are not just trained to not wander out of the forest but also to avoid any muggles that might see them. Someone or something lured the thestral to London."

Sunders nodded his agreement with Albus' speculations. "It is most likely."

"We'd need to do a little investigating," Greg pointed out. He cheered up considerably at the prospect of actual fieldwork.