Magical Fantasies

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Final Fantasy belongs to Square Enix. I own nothing that you recognize.

Chapter 1 - Scabior & Locke Cole

He was a treaure hunter, an adventurer in search of gold and precious artifacts, not some average, run of the mill thief. He hated being called a thief, and had lost count of how many times he'd had to correct people on what he was.

He had no use for the world he lived in. After Rachel's passing, he felt like he had nothing left. She was his ultimate treasure, and she was precious to him. Without her, all that remained was a town full of angry villagers who despised him, rejecting his presence, and making him feel like an outcast, unwanted and alone.

It was time to leave Kohlingen and search for some place better, somewhere he could be accepted for what he was and not hated for something he wasn't.

But the world he discovered was nothing like his own. There was magic, and there were magical creatures, but they were far more powerful than what he was used to in his world. It was as though the time before the War of the Magi had come again, and magic was used freely by skilled practitioners of this lost, ancient art.

What kind of world was this? He felt as though he were surrounded by Magi. And that was when he saw him, a man wearing a leather jacket and plaid scarf. This man had the look of a trail-worn traveler, his wild and unruly hair tied back in loosely braided ponytail, with several strands escaping the confines of his ponytail and spilling forward into his face. There was day old stubble on his chin, and a rip in the left leg of his faded plaid pants.

"An who might you be?" the man asked, approaching Locke and gazing down at him, taking in the sight of his unusual clothes and the dagger he'd slipped under his belt. "You don't look like you're from around these parts."

"My name is Locke. And no, I'm not from around here. You might say I'm passing through, trying to find my place in the world after my village rejected me."

"Interesting." The stranger reached towards the blade tucked into Locke's belt, carefully running a finger along the hilt before Locke backed away, eyeing him suspiciously. He didn't trust the people in this land. Not yet, not when he knew so little about them.

"Where's your wand?" the stranger asked.

Locke looked somewhat confused. "I...I don't have one. Why do you ask?"

"I ask because you look like the sort who is capable of using magic. An yet you don't appear to 'ave a wand."

Locke studied this man carefully, taking a moment to consider what he'd said. "I can use magic," he said at length. "But I don't think it's the same as what you can do. I'm capable of doing magical damage to my enemy in battle. But only in an emergency, and only if I've been seriously injured."

"Then you aren't fully in control of your magical abilities, if you can only use it in an emergency. I can 'elp you with tha." The man held out his hand. "Name's Scabior. I'm the leader of a group known the Snatchers."

Locke took his hand and shook it. "And what is it that you Snatchers do?"

"We snatch things. Money, people, anything I can get my 'ands on. If I see something I like, I take it. Finders keepers, right?" Scabior grinned, and a smile spread across Locke's face.

"You're a treasure hunter, like me," said Locke.

"Sure, if you want to call it tha. Most people prefer to think of me as a thief. An I've picked enough pockets to earn tha title. But there's a difference between Snatchers an common thieves."

"Really?" said Locke, his curiosity growing by the minute. Perhaps he'd finally found a place that would accept him, where he would fit in and could put his skills to good use. "Tell me more about these Snatchers," he said. "I think might be interested in joining your group."