{AC/HP fic} Good Men Still Exist

[ladyhoneydarlinglove]

Fandom: Assassin's Creed/Harry Potter
Characters: Connor Kenway, Achilles Davenport, Malik Al-Sayf, Aveline de Grandpre
Rating: G
Word Count: ~2300
Summary: Connor tends to an injured owl, and in the process, makes a new friend. Gen. Part of Endy's beautiful AC Harry Potter AU.

--

The first thing Connor notices when he enters the Great Hall for breakfast is that there’s already a small flock of owls gathered around his usual spot at the far end of the table. He frowns, because that’s unusual; normally the owls at least wait until he’s sat down to come over. So Connor’s not entirely surprised, though still rather upset, when he reaches his spot and finds an injured owl on his plate, hooting feebly as she tries to lift her broken wing. The other owls crowding around her look up at Connor with large, questioning eyes; they seem to know that if anyone can help their injured fellow, he can.

And Connor does, because how could he not? He scoops the injured owl right up and leaves the Great Hall, darting through the main doors and across the grounds to Achilles’ hut as quickly as he can, growing slightly more frantic every time the owl lets out a pained sound. By the time Connor’s reached the hut and bursts through the door without any sort of preamble, he’s rather hysterical.

“I need unicorn hair!” he gasps, though he remembers after a moment that there’s nobody there; Achilles will be having breakfast in the Great Hall with the rest of the teachers. Connor sighs irritably and sets the owl down gently on one the most comfortable armchair before scurrying off to find the unicorn hair. He’s glad Paul showed him where to find it, even if Paul is kind of strange and keeps trying to make Connor ride on his back, which Connor knows from reading Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is definitely not normal.

Connor finds the unicorn hair strung up next to the fireplace; he grabs it and then sets to work, carefully pushing the owl’s wing back into it’s proper position before binding it tightly. The owl makes a few pained cries at the beginning, but Connor shushes her gently and strokes her head, and eventually she calms down. By the time he’s done binding the wing, she’s nuzzling his hand affectionately, and when Connor gives her some water and food, she eats hungrily. Connor only wishes that he could summon up a mouse or two, but he won’t learn that kind of magic for at least another few years.

Connor is loathe to leave the owl, but he can’t be late for Potions again or his professor will kill him and then Achilles will make him do chores until the end of time. So he sets the bird carefully on the large perch Achilles keeps in the corner because this isn’t the first injured owl Connor has taken in and it certainly won’t be the last. The owl hoots gratefully, and Connor gives her one last affectionate stroke before he jets.

--

Connor goes straight from his last class of the day back down to Achilles’ hut, not even bothering with dinner, forgetting about it completely in his haste to get back to the owl. Achilles seems to have anticipated this, because there’s a bowl of warm, hearty stew waiting for Connor on the kitchen table when he arrives. “She’s asleep,” Achilles says gruffly when Connor immediately turns to go to the owl, making the boy pause.

“Is she doing okay?” he asks, moving instead to sit down at the table.

“As well as an injured animal can do,” Achilles answers, taking a seat as well; he lets out a relieved sigh as the ache in his knees diminishes. “But she’s eating; that’s a good sign. She’ll probably be better in a few weeks.”

Connor glances back at the sleeping owl and smiles. “Of course she will,” he says. “She’s a fighter.”

Achilles raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Connor nods. “I can tell,” he says wisely. “She was very brave when I was bandaging her up. She’s going to be just fine.”

Achilles raises an eyebrow, opening his mouth, but then seems to think better of it and just sighs instead. He’s grown too used to dealing with Connor and his multiple animal friends to want to bother.

--

There’s a single owl waiting for Connor in the Great Hall the next morning, holding a letter in its beak dutifully. Connor takes it with a murmured word of thanks and feeds the owl a few treats before sending it on its way. He’s not quite sure what the think of the letter; Connor almost never gets mail. His only family (so to speak) is Achilles, and Achilles doesn’t need to send him letters.

But he realizes after a second that the letter isn’t addressed to him. The name on the front says Aveline de Grandpre.

Connor frowns; his first instinct is to assume the owl simply delivered the letter to the wrong person, but after a moment’s thought he decides that probably isn’t the case. He’s never heard of an owl delivering a letter to the wrong person, and when he thinks about it, he realizes he knows the owl that delivered it; it’s Ezio’s. And unless Altair has been practicing advanced spells on his brother again, Connor is fairly certain Ezio is not synonymous with Aveline.

Connor frowns at the letter as he ladles himself a bowl of oatmeal, trying to think if he knows anybody named Aveline. He doesn’t think that he does, though that doesn’t mean much; Hogwarts is huge and Connor can’t possible know every student. He wonders briefly if Ezio meant to have it delivered to a girl, but that doesn’t make sense either. Ezio wouldn’t bother with a letter; he’d just go up and ask a girl out. Or possibly kiss her. Or even just start making out with her. Connor’s seen him do all three.

“Connor?”

Connor jumps, spoon dropping into his bowl a wet flop as he whips around. Ravenclaw prefect Malik Al-Sayf is behind him, looking very sharp in his perfectly pressed uniform and wire-rimmed glasses. Connor flushes. “H-hi Malik,” he stutters, scowling at himself internally. Being around Malik always makes him tongue-tied and Connor has no idea why.

“I heard about your injured owl yesterday,” Malik says. “Is it alright?”

“She’s fine,” Connor exclaims brightly, perhaps a bit more cheerful than absolutely necessary. “She’s got a broken wing and it’ll take a couple weeks to heal, but she’ll make it. She’s very brave.”

Malik gives him a curious look, and Connor’s flush deepens as he remembers that not everyone sees animals the way he does, but if Malik finds his sentiments odd, he lets it slide. “Good. I’m glad,” he says with a slight smile. Connor’s answering grin is enormous.

“Thanks, Malik,” he says, turning away when his cheeks start to grow hot again. His eyes land on the letter, and his brow furrows. “Hey, Malik, do you know anyone in the school with this name?”

Connor hands Malik the envelope; the older boy takes it with a thoughtful frown. “I don’t believe so,” Malik answers after a moment. “Where did it come from?”

“Ezio’s owl gave it to me this morning,” Connor explains. “But I’m obviously not an Aveline, so I don’t think it was meant for me.”

Malik hums thoughtfully. “Could it belong to your injured owl?” he suggests after a moment.

“Oh,” Connor says softly. That makes perfect sense; he’s suddenly embarrassed he didn’t think of that himself, especially since Malik probably thinks he’s dumb now. “Yeah, it probably does. But…” Connor frowns. “But wouldn’t the owl have just gone straight to her owner if she was injured then? I mean I know the owls really like me, but I don’t think they like me that much.”

Malik snorts. “Connor, animals like you so much I’m fairly certain a injured manticore would drag itself all the way here from Greece to be taken care of by you.” Connor frowns, because surely that’s an exaggeration.

(Sure, there was that one time he found a baby acromantula injured in the Forbidden Forest and had nursed it back to health before helping it get back to its parents, and yes, now Connor can go anywhere he wants near the acromantulas without having anything to fear, but Malik certainly didn’t know about that. Besides, manticores are much more dangerous than acromantulas. Probably.)

“Why don’t you give it to another owl and see if they can deliver it? Maybe write a note explaining the situation.” Malik gives Connor another small smile. “I’m sure your owls are intelligent enough to find this Aveline, whomever she is.”

Connor beams (Malik thinks his owls are intelligent!), nodding. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that,” he says. “Thanks, Malik. You always know what to do; no wonder you’re in Ravenclaw.”

Which is really just a dumb thing to say and Connor’s cheeks go bright red, but if Malik notices (which Connor is sure he does, because how could he not?) he doesn’t say anything, only smiles. “Have a good day, Connor,” he says, waving as he walks away. Connor watches him go and tries not to grin when Malik immediately goes up to Altair and starts arguing with him about showing off in front of the first years.

--

The letter Connor writes is short, and not very eloquent (writing has never been Connor’s strong point), but he thinks it will suffice.

Dear Miss de Grandpre;

You don’t know me, but my name is Connor Kenway and right now I’m taking care of your owl. She was injured on her flight and has a broken wing, but she should be better in a few weeks. In the meantime, I’m sending you your letter with one of my owls. Don’t worry, I haven’t opened it.

Sincerely, Connor Kenway

He sends the letter with Dinde, Connor’s smartest owl and the one most likely to find this Aveline de Grandpre. Dinde hoots gleefully when Connor tells him his mission and flies off the second Connor finishes trying the letter to his leg. Connor smiles after him, enjoying the way his black silhouette looks against the setting sun before he turns to tend to the twenty-some owls that have landed around him, all eager for the treats they know he has.

--

It takes Dinde two and a half weeks to return, during which time Connor keeps tending to the injured owl with the determination of a parent tending to an injured child, which helps keep his mind off the fact that Dinde hasn’t returned yet, which for Connor’s smartest (and usually fastest) owl is highly unusual. Connor almost cries in relief when Dinde swoops down to perch on his shoulder one morning, and feeds Dinde three whole chipolatas before he even notices that Dinde has a letter tied to his leg.

It’s addressed to Connor in a very neat, elegant script, even more beautiful than Malik’s, which Connor didn’t even think was possible. The paper inside is soft as butter and covered with even more of the elegant writing, printed out in perfectly symmetrical lines with shining blue-black ink. Connor is a little afraid to hold the letter as he reads, sure that his large hands are going to destroy it.

Dear Mr. Kenway;

We do not know each other, but I am confident that Orleans is in good hands. I am beyond grateful that you found her and took care of her, and I owe you a debt that I hope I will one day be able to repay. Not now, I think, for I am at Beauxbatons and judging from your last name you are most likely at Hogwarts. But the next time I am in the UK, I will be sure to meet with you and thank you properly.

I also wish to thank you for not opening my letter, for it was very private. I don’t know many people who wouldn’t let curiosity get the better of them; I am glad that some still exist.

Sincerely, Aveline de Grandpre

PS: If you can find any, Orleans much prefers voles to mice for her food.

Connor reads the letter several times over, stunned by the neat script, the intelligent words, and the gratefulness Aveline has managed to convey. Connor doesn’t know why; he doesn’t think that he did anything worth being so grateful over. He took care of an injured owl when he found her; who wouldn’t?

He tells her this in the letter he writes back that night.

Dear Miss Aveline;

Thank you very much for your kind words, but you don’t owe me anything. I was happy to take care of Orleans. She’s a lovely bird; I’ll be sure to send her back to you once I’m positive she’s in perfect health.

If you really want to meet up the next time you’re in the UK, though, I’d be happy to see you.

Also, you were right; I am at Hogwarts. What is Beauxbatons like? I’ve heard about it a little but nobody seems to know much except that it’s in France and supposedly it’s a lot fancier than Hogwarts.

Sincerely, Connor

The last part isn’t really necessary, but Connor feels compelled to ask it anyway. He doesn’t know Aveline, but he does know that he doesn’t want this to their last correspondence. And if he’s going to meet her someday, shouldn’t he know something more about her than just her name and that she goes to Beauxbatons? Connor certainly thinks so.

He hopes Aveline does too.

--

Dear Connor;

I insist that we meet someday in person. I should very much like to meet the boy who nursed my Orleans back to health.

I’m not sure fancier is the right way to describe Beauxbatons. It’s much more elegant than Hogwarts, I think; our school is a palace, not a castle. But I think our student body is probably much more pretentious than yours. For example, just the other day I saw some sixth years picking on a poor first year girl because she was poor and could only afford second-hand robes. Obviously I couldn’t let them get away with it, so…