Standard Disclaimer: I don't and will never claim to own Harry Potter or Pathfinder.
"Oh, yes, okay," he flustered out, "well anyways, you are, as we say, some very powerful entities bitch. Harry, I think yours is fate, also you are probably a magus, and Luna, I think you might be an oracle."
At that Noram gasped and fell off his log, Gorag growled, and Milon stuck her head out of a tent. "An oracle?" all three queried in unison.
Looking proud, Rorin drew himself up and exclaimed, "Yes, an oracle! Quite remarkable I know, but it isn't the first time something like this has happened."
Turning his eyes back towards the stunned duo, he asked, "Has anything unusual happened to you in the past? Are you perhaps blind, crazy, deaf, lame?"
Putting her fingers to her chin in an expression of pondering, Luna drawled out, "Well, I don't think I'm blind, a few people have called me crazy, I can hear you so I'm not deaf, and I am reasonably sure I can walk. What do you think Harry?"
Still a bit in shock, Harry instead turned an accusatory glare towards Rorin, "Who are you to ask her if she's crippled? What business is it of yours?"
Ignoring the glare from the boy, he answered nonchalantly, "Oracles are usually marked in a terrible way, deities using them as conduits for their power will often burn out or curse them in strange ways. Sometimes it drives people insane to simply taste divine power." He didn't seem disturbed at the least about the concept of insanely powerful being driving people insane, indeed it seemed a normal occurrence.
"Aye, my cousin was made an oracle for Asmodeus, he there about screamed until his voice went hoarse." Gorag chimed in.
Milon rolled her eyes, "Your cousin was already insane. First time I showed some trans-dimensional coins to him he there about chopped my head off screaming about gnomes in Zurich or some such nonsense."
"You try being tortured by gnomes for six months!" Gorag replied hotly. The two companions glared at each other, hands flying to their weapons.
Flustered Harry held up his hands and shouted, "Hold up! You're saying Luna can go insane at a moments notice?! How do we get rid of this?"
The two shared one last heated glare before Rorin piped up, "You can't, only deities or arch devils can, and the price is often not worth it. Don't worry though, at least nothing evil has claimed her for their 'mouthpiece' in the world of the living." He patted Harry's shoulder in a comforting manner. Strangely Harry derived no comfort from the gesture.
"Great, that makes me feel so much better. Can we tell what 'thing' made her their 'mouthpiece'?"
Snapping his fingers, a book levitated towards the wizened man. Flipping through he pointed towards a page with full drawings of strange symbols. Etched in charcoal were pictures of animals, skulls, trophies, and strange machines, each with a soft flowing text below it.
"These are the symbols of the various forces that deities stake their domain. Each deity has a number of domains, some overlapping, some unique. The combination of the domains is what is always unique to a deity."
"Usually when a young boy or girl is found to be an oracle, usually by a religious head, they are given a copy of this book. The book, for lack of a better phrasing, sends out a tiny call to a deity. Each symbol represents a unique address through which the spell sends it's signal."
Thrusting the book before Luna, he asked her to close her eyes and point towards symbols with any connection to her.
Squeezing her eyes closed and humming softly to herself, she pointed to a cross, a pentagram, a broken chain, a card, and a road. Upon pointing to each symbol, they each backlit with an ethereal light, sending a pulse of magic seemingly into the sky. Harry carefully felt each pulse as it left the book, extending his senses to the proverbial sixth sense that is natural in wizards.
It is this sense that nearly blinded Harry in the sheer potency of the magic, what started as a trickle with the first runes swiftly grew into a blinding inferno of sheer power. Magic that closely reflected the airy and wispy nature that he had associated with Luna burst forth from the tome, diffusing into the sky.
As quickly as the magic came, it coalesced, forming into a shapeless mass that looked faintly of a spiral. Spiraling, it's tendrils touching the clouds, the pure bundle of magic fell upon Luna, settling it's feelers into her skin. From his short distance away Harry could practically feel the magic on his skin, it's touch cool as a dainty breeze in the night sky.
As the magic sunk into her pale skin, a soft voice, seeming more commanding in it's softness of tone and it's feminity, appearing all at once imperial and free, lofty and down to Earth, resounded from everywhere and nowhere.
"My child, I claim you in the name of Desna. May the stars watch over your dreams."
With the last word Luna burned brighter than all the stars in heaven, before collapsing to the ground in a heap.
A tuneless melody, powerful and beautiful came over the camp. The tune struck a chord in the hearts of the adventurers, casting their mind to taverns and campfires, where bards sung songs of freedom and heroes.
As soon as the music ended, Harry dashed from his place where he had stood stock still.
Rushing over to her still form on the beach, he cradled her head in his lap. Murmuring comforting words, Luna blearily opened her eyes.
"Harry?" she called weakly.
"I'm here Luna, I'm here, it's okay, you're okay." Harry looked to be on the verge of breaking down. He scanned her body for physical injuries, while the group behind him whispered in hushed tones, not wanting to disturb.
"It was so beautiful." She whispered before her head fell back, her mind casting her into the realm of Morpheus. Harry carried her prone form to the bedrolls, gently laying her head against one of the pillows.
Glowering at the group still whispering by the front of the tent, in a deep low voice, "What just happened? Don't give me any crap, tell me what the fuck just happened there."
Being hardened warriors, the group didn't so much as shiver at the dangerous undercurrents in his voice. Instead Milon calmly explained "She's blessed child, the goddess of dreams and stars has claimed her."
Anger poured through Harry's veins. Thoughts of horrors, visions of Luna's psyche shattering, ending up like the Longbottoms, overcame him, sending the poor befuddled boy off the edge of rationality. His aura flailed a brilliant green and red, swirling around him. With a cry he lunged at Rorin snarling.
-Crack-
In the moments it took Harry to jump towards the unfazed Rorin, Gorag was up and faster than Harry could blink he had backhanded the furious teen.
Condescendingly Rorin explained, "She has been claimed, there is nothing you nor I can do to help her now. Now stop acting like a child and discuss this like an adult or her plight will be for naught."
He clutched his cheek which stung from the pain of the slap and his wounded pride. Choking back tears he unsteadily got up, ignoring the offered hand of Gorag.
"Explain." he spat, venom dripping on the word.
Rorin pinched the bridge of his nose, as if to ward off an impending headache, and sighed, he waved his hand behind him and sat on the newly conjured chair that had shimmered into existence. He motioned for Harry to take the only remaining chair in the crowded tent.
Milon commented to her companions, "Why don't we go find some food, let these two talk."
Nodding in agreement, the trio marched out of the cramped quarters and headed towards the forest. Inside the tent Rorin reached into his robes and procured a pipe.
Disregarding the steaming teen across from him, he calmly searched for a small bag of tobacco, lit his pipe, and sucked in a deep breath. He exhaled a smoke ring towards Harry who fumed silently.
"Ah, much better, now what did you want to know again?"
Roiling beneath the surface, Harry spat through clenched teeth, "What the fuck is an oracle and why is my friend unconscious out there."
Taking another breath, Rorin peered down his nose, "What do you know of deities?"
Startled by this seemingly random question, Harry paged through his memories, searching for information. "They're usually wizards that made Muggles believe them divine. The wizarding world doesn't have churches usually, though they do believe in the afterlife. Some of the old rites use pagan deities, but most have died down after being outlawed."
Rorin snorted at this, "And where did everything come from then? It's a large multiverse out there."
"No one is sure, muggles think it was some big bang and wizards tend to believe it was the will of magic." Harry explained. He was beginning to wonder whether this man was all there. By his posture and seeming leadership position amongst the group, Harry didn't want to underestimate him, but his frequent tangents made Harry wonder.
Rorin slowly got out of his chair, reached for a book, and showed it to Harry. It was written in a strange tongue, once more Harry recognized the smooth flowing words from the book of symbols. In one large two page sketch, it showed around twenty people, ranging from a sulking figure to an aristocratic figure, to a wretched drunk laughing uproariously.
Harry realized that it was probably a picture of the deities that the people in Rorin's realm, and how many others, believed in.
Puzzled he asked, "Alright, I give up, what am I looking for here?"
Confusion crossed Rorin's face before comprehension. "Maybe you need an explanation of your powers first." Once more he drew a book, but this one he held in a strange reverence.
"My powers?" Harry choked out. If it was anything like Luna he was thinking to decline, being used as a mouthpiece for a strange being with enough power to do that was not his definition of a gift. His mind cast back to the previous conversation, "You mean magus powers?"
Beaming Rorin said, "Precisely! You, my young companion, are a magus. Magi are crazy bastards who use swords in one hand and spells in another, sometimes combining them for startling effect. Picture a sword that electrocutes and drains the life force of an enemy, that's a magus."
"As a magus you should be able to read this book, but perhaps like you're friend there, it's a bit untapped so to speak."
Harry had never before so much as touched a sword, and to be told that he had the capacity to use them with magic, was a bit far fetched in his opinion, and he told Rorin as much.
Rorin explained that due to dimensional differences, what could be skill with a sword in one was skill with something else in another. In essence this meant that Harry's wand could be considered a sword in the eyes of the multiverse. Whether this meant that Harry could use a wand in one hand and magic in another was something Rorin wasn't too sure on.
"Alright, Harry, I need you to try to concentrate here. Look at the words on the page, see how they flow." Rorin looked at Harry expectantly. Harry noticed there was a definite flow to the words, almost like the flow in ancient runes. However the flow of runes is not something taught, much to the goblins exasperation when they receive new untrained warders.
Harry carefully considered the mans words. The flow of the words is not something that he is used to focusing on, in the required Latin course at Hogwarts he was never really the best with languages. However, his eyes were drawn to the way the words knit together, rather than the words themselves.
His eyes moved towards the words, and he began to take in not what the words meant, but how they flowed from one letter to another. The soft strokes danced together in a ballet of horizontal, vertical, and diagonal lines of ink. The inherit poetry of language was never as clear to Harry as it was at that moment, how the words of a text assembled in order to form ideas, sentences, syntax.
It seemed to the young wizard as if Magic itself was guiding his eyes, filling his mind with comprehension. The very flow of the words themselves seemed to hold a magic in and of themselves, and Harry slowly opened up his sixth sense to the magic of the written word.
Understanding dawned on Harry's mind, and in a corner of his mind not flooding with the new found language he briefly wondered if all of this foreign magic felt the same.
Pleased, Rorin sat back in his chair and softly clapped, startling Harry from his reverie. "Good, good, now to answer your original question, go back to the page prior to the one with the pantheon in it."
Shifting through the ever growing pile, Harry triumphantly drew forth the book. He skimmed the pages, until he reached something on oracles.
Oracles are widely regarded the mouthpieces of the gods. An oracle is chosen from birth for qualities a deity possesses and idealizes in a mortal. Oracles are usually realized sometime in puberty, prior to that the knowledge of the deity has the potential to drive a child insane, despite how good a Deity may be.
Oracles are the unravelers of a god's will, and reach towards mysteries that encompass our universe.
To be an oracle is to be blessed, they channel the pure magic of their deity, not diluted as with clerics. Oracles are frightfully powerful, and can commune easily with powerful beings.
Oracles though, for their gifts, are also given curses. These most frequently manifest as blindness, lameness, and deafness, but can also manifest in even more horrible ways.
It frightened Harry at the prospect of Luna being a mere puppet for a god's will, a good little dancer in the weaves of a highly powerful being. Harry was aware that such was the case for many powerful wizards, including the greatest wizard of all time, Dumbledore. The wizengamot was a constant puppet show and ballet of subtle manipulations, and the thought of being caught up in a divine politicians sticky web made his stomach churn.
"Okay, what was that thing that claimed her? Desno or something?"
Rorin rolled his eyes good-naturedly and chuckled, "Desna, not Desno. Goddess of dreams, travelers and the stars. Quite a good goddess so I hear, even if most of her followers aren't all there. Their high priests are usually not all there, seeming to have part of their mind focused on Desna's subtle tapestry of dreams."
Harry instantly drew parallels to the girl sleeping outside. The dreamy expression, the love of the night sky, and the constant motion that encompassed Luna. He often joked that she moved with the motions of the moon.
"I see," he whispered softly, "that makes sense."
But one worry nagged at his mind. The text mentioned a curse. While Harry could see Luna as some proverbial star child, his blood chilled at the thought of such a vibrant soul unable to view the sky, or unable to hear the chirping of birds, the rush of water, the crying of babes.
As if reading his mind, Rorin said not unkindly, "There is no way to know what the curse is until it shows. Usually it is something that would have significance in the oracles life, some traumatic event."
Almost on cue, Luna began to stir in her cot outside the tent. Harry was instantly to his feet and by her side, holding her hand.
"Speak to me Luna, can you hear me, can you see?"
In a soft, watery voice she smiled and said, "I spoke to her, I can see clearly now. The tapestry she weaves of all mens dreams. I saw the most wondrous things, fantastic creatures, dreams of good and bad men."
Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Harry helped her to her feet. Once she took a few tentative steps, he dismissed the idea of lameness, blindness, and deafness. Barring that what else did the book say?
'More horrible ways,' the thought echoed through his head. Snapping his view towards the tent, he practically begged, "What other ways can it manifest. Rorin I have to know."
Sighing softly, Rorin looked forlorn. Once more he explained, "There is no way of knowing, the methods too innumerable to count. I'm sorry Harry, Luna."
Sensing her boyfriends distress, Luna reached for his hand and squeezed. She looked up to his face and noticed his expression darkening.
Softly caressing his face with her slender fingers, she murmured, "We'll face this together." Luna loved many things about Harry, his passion, his wearing his heart on his sleeve, his ability to stand up for what is right, not easy. But she knew that Harry had a tendency to assign the blame for everything that could even remotely be attached to him to himself.
Knowing Harry for so long, she also knew that he would keep blaming himself until he either forgot about it or eventually moved on, and nothing she could say would change his mind. She could practically see the cogs turning in his head, correlating events, assigning blame to himself.
Bemoaning the unfairness of it all, he softly reached out and hugged her, reaching a resolution and resolve, "We will."
"Hem, hem," the couple turned towards the amused, at least as far as a creature could look amused, face of Bill.
"If you're done, I can hear someone calling for you that-a-way." One of his wings unfurled in the direction of the manor house.
In the excitement of the day, Harry hadn't realized that the sun had slowly started cresting to the West, throwing a pale orange light across the lake. Shadows stretched high, he did not want to worry his mother, possibly making her call a search for him.
Before heading off, he turned towards Rorin, "How long are you guys staying here?"
Rorin's expression softened a bit, "We never really know, the will of the gods can make our stays range from short to long. This will be our last though, I really want to drag it out a bit more, so probably closer to a few months at the least."
Rorin pondered for a moment, an expression on his face that his close friends and families could tell you meant that he realized that he had forgotten something, perhaps important. As the teens reached the hill, he let out a cry and ran back towards his tent, swiftly searching the books.
In the short time he had known Harry, Rorin felt some teacherly duty to assist him with his new powers. He also knew that his friends would keep moaning until they got at least some measure of booty from this new world. With a cry of success, he held up a book, blue with a golden clasp.
Crying out to the duo who just now were reaching the top of his hill, he all but sprinted up the incline. Breathing heavily, he held out the book to Harry, panting out "Book... spells... magus... treasure."
Letting the old man catch his breath, Harry looked the book over. Once again he felt the soft tingling, similar to the feeling of the magical words that flowed together.
"Rorin, breath, repeat that please."
Caught up with his breath but still a bit read, Rorin finally announced, "Here, take this and practice with it. You said you were leaving to school in a two days no?"
Brief nods from the duo.
"Well then, I'll cut you a deal. I'm going to assume you are coming for Yule, and you said this school of yours is a castle correct?" More nods, "Well castles almost universally have traps, monsters, and treasure. I'll give you this book now, on trust, and you get me some of that sweet boo.. I mean treasure from the castle."
Seeing their apprehensive looks he quickly admonished, "I don't mean steal the heart of the keep or something! I just mean a few suits of armor here or there, maybe magical portraits that look at you, some examples of the worlds magic."
Holding the book to Harry he hopefully looked at the boy and asked, "So, do we have a deal?"
Harry reverently picked up the heavy tome, and felt a sharp sting on his finger. The book had drawn a bit of blood from his hand, sealing it to him and him alone unless voluntarily given, at least until Yule.
"I... I don't know what to say." He stammered, as he paged through it. Cautiously, he quickly read one of the passages. It described the words and motions for a spell, Acid Splash, and when he read it, a sharp pinching, faintly reminiscent of the feelings of magic from prior, echoed in what felt like the back of his eyes. Immediately after the sensation faded, he felt positive he could remember and use the spell.
"How about yes?" Rorin asked, amused at the reverence the boy held for such a common trifle. Perhaps the treasure of this world would be even easier to acquire than usual.
"Sure sure, yes, I mean, okay." Harry managed, flushing slightly at the soft chuckle from Luna lips.
Taking the book and the arm of Luna, they walked arm in arm up to the manner, reflecting on the days events. Reaching the low incline that Potter manor was stationed on, they saw the relieved face of Lily Potter.
Walking swiftly down the heavenly trodden path towards the two, Lily grabbed Harry in a bone breaking hug and scolded "What were you doing out there young man! You left hours ago and you missed lunch! You're already skinny but now you're going to waste away skipping meals like that. I was almost ready to call for aurors to search to property for you."
Faintly embarrassed over his mothers concern, but still reveling in the worry and love in her voice, he returned the hug and pulled away, reassuring her. "I'm fine mum, really. We just went by the lake and lost track of time."
"I'm afraid it's my fault Mrs. Potter." Luna said in her sing-song voice. "We saw a gathering of purple-winged lace flies and we just had to go investigate. Did you know they only gather where the boundaries of reality are being torn apart?"
"Right, I'm sure they do, Luna." Lily managed. She was still a bit uncomfortable with Luna's creatures and conspiracies. She refused to believe in Nargles and Crumple-Horned-Snokacks and their ilk. However, Lily was never one to make her son's only real friend feel unwelcome, so she tended to accept belief without really believing herself, but Harry could tell she disapproved once they started dating.
Of course, the boundaries of reality really were being torn apart, but Lily didn't know that.
The three of them talked quietly as they walked up the drive to the entrance of the manor. Lily questioning them about the strange animals they claimed to have discovered, though she couldn't get the names right, and the two of them indulging her with fantastic claims of odd beasts.
The entrance hall of the manor was large but cozy, the same could be said about the rest of the ancestral home. Painted in golds and reds, the manor was Gryffindor taken to the extreme. Harry was never a big fan for the colors, but it was home.
"I'm sure you two want to get freshened up before dinner, we're eating in a half hour." Lily walked briskly towards the kitchens.
Despite being a Lady of a Noble and Most Ancient house, Lily demanded to work side by side with the two house elves they had in their care. Though she realized that the elves were necessary to keep such a large home in order, she faintly disapproved of the creatures. Perhaps it was her Muggle sensibilities, but though she accepted their companionship, she didn't really trust the elves with much.
Of course the elves were incredibly offended the first time she worked with them, but it swiftly developed into a routine.
Dinner was a forlorn affair, with Godric moping at the table and everyone else struggling to not make him uncomfortable or confront him about his emotions. The last time the twins' parents tried to talk to Godric he nearly blew up his room in grief and rage.
It seemed the only thing that could bring him out of his depression was the presence of Ron and Hermione. To say that Harry got along with either was a vast overstatement. He despised the lazy attitude Weasley brought out in his brother, turning the formerly hard-working boy into a slacker who used Granger for help. The fact that Granger did nothing to dissuade the two irked Harry.
The causes that Granger also brought up and her reverence for authority whilst demanding that her own be acknowledged were things that further cemented her on his bad side.
It was also needless to say that neither Luna nor Harry were very fond of the Weasel. Besides dragging his brother down, Weasley was especially cruel to Luna, having known her from childhood. Indeed, it was Weasley who coined the nickname 'Loony.' When Harry heard about this, he near hexed the little Weasel into next week.
After dinner Harry politely excused himself to his rooms. After a chaste goodbye kiss Luna also flooed home.
Harry quickly brought out his runic project, area privacy and silencing wards. Despite the fact that active runes was NEWT level material, Harry had a knack for them, and runic wards were much more powerful than wand wards. The issue with them being that it was slightly easier to tear them down if they were done by a beginner, as beginner rune clusters usually ran on ambient magic from the air. Due to this ambient power, the control rune could easily be overloaded, shutting off the array.
Drawing the blue book from his pants where he hidden it, he paged through, looking for something to test. Deciding upon the memorized spell Acid Splash, he carefully mimicked the hand motions.
The were nothing complicated, not like spells anyways where things such as a simple levitation charm required four separate wand motions. The spell itself was simple, almost like a quick flick of the fingers, only with a gesture before hand.
Flicking his fingers out swiftly, he chanted under his breath, "acidum adipiscing."
The feeling that overcame him next could only be described as 'magical' at a later date. A soft short pinch-like feeling reverberated in the back of his eyes and power trickled through his arm, short and sizzling. At his finger tip was a tiny green orb, glowing with an arcane light.
Unsure of what to do with it, he willed it forward as he flicked. With a short sizzling it impacted his bed, burning a hole clean through the sheets.
Startled, he near jumped at the short whine that accompanied the travel of the object.
Cursing his stupidity under his breath, he quickly repaired the damage to his mattress.
Inspecting the damage, he was surprised to note that the wood wasn't damaged in the slightest.
'Curious, it doesn't seem to affect the wood of the bed, just the sheets and mattress. I wonder how many times I can cast it?'
Performing a quick acid resistant (many potions mishaps) charm on his wall, he cast again and again at the same spot. Every time it was a brief pinch, which seemed to lesson each time he cast, followed by rushing then sizzling.
Oddly he didn't seem to tire at all. To use such a spell with a wand would have most likely exhausted himself by then. The only thing this spell seemed to cost was willpower, a gesture and muttered words in pseudo-Latin.
He idly wondered if all spells were like this, and paged through the book searching for what seemed like a more difficult spell to cast. Finally settling on shield, and also wanting to test it with spells (thank Merlin for living in a magical home) that he was familiar with, he quickly cast it on a desk. On the desk a shimmering white shield pulsed, and he felt the tell tale pinch once more. This time, though, it seemed to take a lot out of him, where Acid Splash was a stream, this was a brook or a river.
"Diffindo" he muttered, sending a low powered cutting hex at the desk. The shield didn't falter or break, but the spell went right through it. Disappointed, he turned to the book and hastily searched for the shield spell.
Apparently the spell was different from normal spells such as Protego, instead of shielding until breaking it shielded what it could but refrained from breaking. 'Not extremely useful' he thought, filing the spell away for later.
Curious, he tried to cast a spell of equivalent difficulty at himself this time, wondering if his 'store' of spells would wear out.
"Feather Fall!" he cried, and in a flurry of feathers he felt a feeling of lightness. The pinching came once more, but he felt certain that if he tried another spell of the same difficulty that it would fail.
It seemed as if he could only cast a certain number of spells of each level, as he was calling it, a day, as Acid Splash seemed to work fine.
Exhausted, he settled amongst the feathery pillows of his soft bed, and drifted off to sleep.
It was dark, thunder roiled in clouds above, and the earth churned in agony as lightning struck it. Harry stood in the middle of a field, the bodies of the damned and dying scattered around him. The crows and vultures that feasted on the dead gorged themselves with the flesh of warriors.
Corpses piled high, men, women, and children, most wearing weapons of some kind. A child held a broadsword, a sight that would have amused Harry if not for the fact that a crow was pulling his eye out.
Harry retched violently, spewing all he had ever ate. Of course, the bile was but one stomach amongst many, as the field was soaked in bodily fluids.
Navigating the maze of the field, Harry walked for what felt like hours. Stumbling upon a field, he saw a horrific sight.
A man, snake faced, eyes-glowing, stood next to a woman on a platform carried by adoring slaves. Parading through a town, light flashed and struck citizens at random.
But the truly horrific sight was the slaves carrying the platform. Rings clasped around their hands, impaling them to the dais. Piercings and tattoos adorned each slave, marring their features with what Harry now recognized as the Dark Mark. Worst of all, Harry recognized them through their twisted faces.
Godric, Dumbledore, Lily, James, Neville, Ron, Sirius, Remus were but ones among many. Every order member he could recognize from the various meetings, and most of his friends carried the perverted duo.
"Horrible, is it not?" came a voice, musical in nature. Harry realized the quality of it was familiar, but he couldn't place it.
"This is the future of both of our worlds, unless you take my child with you on the morrow."
Child, music, "Desna" he spat the word as if it was a curse.
Soft laughter came from everywhere and nowhere. "It is I, I am truly sorry if you feel as if I have taken away your choice. Pharasma warned me that her champion would react like this."
Pharasma, the name sounded familiar. He distantly remembered it from another life, another time. The dream seemed to have stretched on for years. 'Pharasma, think Harry think.'
"Goddess of Fate?! I am no pawn of the gods!"
Boisterous, be bold in the face of fear. Drilled into his head by his Gryffindor relatives. Fear is indeed what struck him to his core at the sound of that.
"Keep some of the fire, magus, it shall serve you." The voice seemed as sad as it could, yet small undercurrents of amusement rippled through it.
"Serve me? Answer me coward, who dares speak but not show themselves?" Fear was indeed the motif of the day, Harry reflected idly.
Lightning struck once more, this time to the side of Harry. A figure stepped out of the bolt, a figure that made his heart race.
The thing using Luna's face, perverting her muscles, seeing disgustingly from her eyes, spoke to Harry once more.
"The realm of dreams is my domain. You shall serve Pharasma in this quest. Return with Rorin. Unless you like what you see?" The Luna-thing waved her hand to the image before them. The duo were torturing Godric, laughing at his plight.
"Of course I don't!"
"All it takes for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing. You are a good man Harry, you are a blessed man. We will be watching."
"Why, why me, why...
"me... why me" Harry awoke with a jolt. The sun was cresting the horizon, illuminating his room in brilliant hues of orange and red.
Red, the color of blood, so much blood. Turning over quickly, Harry retched onto the floor. Later he would swear he could taste the corn from his first year welcoming feast in the bile.
If there was one thing Harry would give anything, even his own life for, it would be to prevent that. But why should he trust the goddess? Perhaps it is a ploy by some dark wizard? Maybe it was just a nightmare.
All thoughts such as that disappeared when the door creaked open.
Fearful, Harry swiftly drew his wand from his nightstand and smashed his glasses to his face. Leveling it to the door, he saw something that chilled him to the bone.
Luna, standing in the door, the sun catching her hair. Her eyes were listless, and once more she spoke in that awful voice. That voice that sucked the free will from mortals, that forced men to do whatever it took to attain it, to reach their dreams. The voice of a devil pales before the voice of mans desires. And it was with a voice such as that, that the words "Because it is your destiny" made him retch once more.
The answer to his feverently mumbled question ignited conflicting emotions in his heart. Fear, hopelessness, despair, and partially, resolve. Resolve to prevent whatever nightmare he witnessed. Resolve to regain control of his own life.
After the words fled from Luna's open lips, she collapsed to the floor like a puppet with it's strings cut, tears streaming down her face.
Bolting from his bed in only pants and nothing else, he once more hoisted her to his bed. He quickly summoned bottles of calming draught from his mothers store, and forced the vile concoction down her throat.
Tickling her throat to make it go down, she sighed inaudibly and relaxed. Stroking her hair, she looked into his eyes.
Weakly she asked, "Was it real?"
Startled, he said in a voice that he tried to force bravery into, his past resolve, but still sounded shaky, "Not if we can help it."
"We will help it right?"
"What kind of chosen would we be if we didn't?" At that, Luna chuckled weakly.
The two teens slowly collected themselves, picking their forms off the floor of his room. Sitting on his bed, the two held each other before speaking.
Breaking the awkward silence, but knowing it would go on if nothing was said, Luna softly initiated first contact. "So, we have to leave today?"
"I guess so, stupid gods." Harry muttered, fire blazing in his eyes.
Nibbling on her lower lip as she did when she was deep in thought, she asked "Why today though? Surely we need more time?"
"It's probably cause the bloody express leaves tomorrow. You're right though, we need more time. I don't want to leave without money, food, water."
Luna tilted her head questioningly, "Harry, we both know we couldn't withdraw money without our head of house knowing. I don't want to have to explain to Daddy why I am withdrawing several thousand galleons after we already went school shopping."
"Though, in a house like this, we could probably knick some canned goods and maybe some books before we go."
"Good idea, why don't you get some food before my parents wake up and I'll go get some books from the Potter library. You know only Potter's can enter. I'll also see if I can get a sword from the sparring room."
Luna looked so resigned, and Harry understood how she felt. To force children to take up sword at this age was disgusting, and he quietly cursed every god who's name he could recall.
Setting up an alarm ward on his parents room, Harry quietly made his way to the library. Recalling his promise to Rorin for knowledge, he grabbed books on history, magical theory, and potions, and stuffed them into his bottomless sack. Hesitantly, he also grabbed a Potter library ledger, which could call upon any book in the library no matter the distance. It was also enchanted with a standard array of spells that protected it from the elements.
Hesitantly, he also sneaked off towards the sparring room, and grabbed one of the swords that lined the wall. The training room was large, with suits of armor holding swords that would be used and worn by sparrers. The center platform was elevated slightly, and the walls had permanent charms that negated damage.
If Harry did what he thought he would be doing at the behest of some strange cosmic entity, this would be the last time he left the room. Memories welled up in him, laughing, playing, sparring, his brother.
The resolve that he felt earlier only grew, to protect those memories, to ensure that future generations could experience them, he would do anything it took.
"Now, why would you be sneaking around the manner at this time of day, and coming down here to grab a sword no less?" An amused voice called from the wall opposite the exit.
At the noise Harry practically jumped out of his skin. Landing ungracefully, nearly stumbling, he glared at the portrait.
"You wouldn't happen to be setting off on an... adventure now would you?" Harry saw what was clearly a portrait speaking to him. The man in it was middle aged, with a certain hardness and lining on his face that indicated much time outdoors. Besides the usual jet black Potter hair, he had sparkling blue eyes well creased with laugh lines.
Suddenly remembering that portraits could report to the head of house at any time, Harry briefly considered destroying the portrait. He would have to if it couldn't just flee to another, and instead resolved to keep silent.
As if sensing the worries of the young man, the portrait settled into a smirk that seemed natural on his face. "Well, my young secondary heir, I see my guess wasn't too far off. Be assured I will be seeing Lord Potter about this, unless..."
Realizing the bait, but also realizing he had no choice in the matter, as James could surely restrain him from leaving with the companions, he played along.
"Unless what?" He shot accusingly.
Twinkle in his eyes the portrait elaborated, "You see, it gets awfully boring here. I asked to be kept here in this room in hopes of seeing action but apparently dueling fell out sometime in the eighteenth century. Shame really."
"Anyways, I want to go with you." His features settled into another smirk.
Of all the things Harry expected, that was not one of them.
"Wha- what?"
"The nerve of some youth." Louder the portrait said, "I wish to go with you!"
"I heard you!" Harry snapped, "But why? You have no idea what I am even going to do?"
Exasperated the portrait exclaimed, "I already told you why! I'm bored. And you're young, you want a sword so obviously it will be exciting, and anything is better than staring at this empty room."
Sighing audibly, Harry asked, "I thought they specifically enchanted those portraits so they wouldn't get bored."
The portrait looked sheepish all of a sudden, "Well, you see, I kinda asked the painter to not include that precisely because of this reason. Adventure lad! Think, boooty, treasure, poor saps getting bamboozled. You have to take me, come on."
"And if I refuse?" Harry glared, unwilling to give an inch to a picture.
The self satisfied smirk once more, Harry could swear his face was stuck in that arrogant expression. "Then I report you're little adventure to Lord Potter."
Knowing he was fully trapped, Harry acquiesced, "Fine, but you won't exactly be able to see from a satchel. Also won't you get in trouble as well for coming with me?"
Eyes sparkling mischievously, he directed Harry to a small corner of the room. After sliding a small brick a centimeter to the right a cubbyhole opened. A smaller portrait, much smaller in fact, as well as a wicked looking sword were hidden in the hole. The portrait, Arabeck Potter, explained that the smaller portrait was linked regardless of distance. It also had a permanent sticking charm to the back with a command word, 'dimittam', to release it. This way, Arabeck reasoned, he could ride on the front and get a piece of 'the action'.
Alerted to his parents waking by the ward, he quickly made his way back to his room.
Still warded, he waited for Luna to return. A short bit later she entered, a small bag in her hand. In the bag was a small cache of galleons the house elves found for her, claiming she was baiting for nifflers. She also had a small horde of canned goods, enough to last at least a month. Water, they figured, was covered simply with an Aguamenti charm.
After making sure everything was in order, the two sat on the bed. Luna quietly withdrew into herself, mourning the loss of her father for what she suspected might be a long time. Both teens had already written notes to their loved ones explaining it may be a while before either get back, that they had something important that only they could do.
Sensing something wrong that words couldn't heal, Harry settled for touch and softly rubbed circles in her back. She seemed to calm slightly at his touch, and nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder.
Truth to be told, though he appeared stoic on the outside, Harry was also mourning the loss of his parents. At least he thought he could talk to them through Arabeck, who could visit other portraits as well.
Trying to steer clear of those thoughts, he rambled on a bit softly, trying to comfort both of them. He spoke of the wonders of the new world that he could see, the new magics and completely foreign cultures they could visit. He imagined what adventures they would encounter and vocalized slaying dragons and saving villages.
The smell of cooked food interrupted their brooding, and they sat down for what would probably be the last meal in their world for a while.
Lily and James were so focused on Godric's agony over Cedric that they ignored the wistful expressions and sad looks on Harry and Luna's faces.
Turning away from the sight of the white manor was like turning their back on their world, and it was a while before they steeled themselves for it.
Approaching the hastily but professionally built camp, they were faced with the barrel of a long rifle before Noram recognized the two teens. Approaching the remains of the fire from last night, they called out loudly for Rorin.
Bustling from inside the tent, ink dripping off his hands and curses on his tongue, Rorin emerged with an annoyed expression on his face.
Annoyed, until that is he saw Harry's pouch. With a shout of child-like glee he hastily approached Harry and asked what he had there.
Rolling his eyes Harry explained that inside the pouch was a series of books. With a squeal and an expression that neither teen thought they would ever see cross those aged features, Rorin grabbed the bag and began tearing through the books at lightning speed, copying them with a spell.
While Rorin was copying inside the tent, squeals of joy creeping out, Milon hailed the two.
"Hi you two, what's with the long faces?" Milon called out from across the shore, rabbits strung from her belt.
With a shared glance, Harry spoke up, "That's actually what we wanted to talk to you about. But we felt we should wait for Rorin before we talked to you guys about this."
Milon looked at Gorag, who shrugged helplessly. With a resigned sigh, she sat down on a log across from the two, skinning the rabbits.
A half hour later Rorin finally emerged from the tent, a large stack of books behind him, being sucked into a chest. Strangely enough the chest belched rhythmically, as if consuming the books.
Flustered and red-faced with barely contained enthusiasm, he thanked the two profusely.
After nearly choking on his lunch, Rorin finally calmed down enough to notice the look on the duo's faces. The look of dread and resignation was something he knew well. He saw it most often on the faces of novice adventurers who left home.
"You want to come with us don't you." He asked, confirming his suspicions by the startled look that crossed the two's features.
Choking on his own lunch, he required some help from Luna, who hit his back to dislodge the stray morsel. After a coughing fit Harry choked out, "How, how did you know?"
"Well, when you have been adventuring as long as I have, it's a look you get to know on the faces of new adventurers." Rorin explained. Mentally he was contemplating if it was a good idea, they had never taken anyone with them. In all the journeys to parallel dimensions he had undergone, none have really wanted to leave behind all they had. Hells, they didn't even know whether time would flow the same between dimensions.
But when the chosen of Desna, a deity that could torture you with bad luck and nightmares, asked to come with you, it was kind of hard to say no.
"Desna said you would agree or else, I don't know why she was so vague but she certainly seemed scary enough." Luna informed him.
A soft shudder ran down the spines of the battle hardened adventurers. Or else was often the subject of many villainous rambles, but when it came from a god through and oracle, you damned well paid attention.
At this point Noram was returning from scout duty, and a meeting was called in the tent amongst the four of them to decide if they wanted to take some greenhorns with them back home.
Approximately 5 minutes after they entered the tent, the four emerged and swiftly agreed. The fact that they all seemed nervous and glanced at Luna out of the corner of their eyes did not escape either.
The fact that Desna herself threatened them made this one of their shortest dimensional visits, adventurers as a lot were very superstitious. Mainly because they knew the value of luck was the difference between being eaten by a dragon and being insanely rich. In fact Desna was one of the most commonly worshiped deities amongst adventurers. Luck, traveling, and using the stars to navigate were all immensely important to those who lived a hectic life.
While Rorin gathered the required dimensional energies with Bill to cross the boundaries of reality one last time, Gorag, Noram, and Milon were talking to Harry and Luna.
"Sorry to pry, but uh, have you figured out your curse?" Noram asked timidly.
"Oh it's no bother really. Apparently I am eternally plagued by nargles, quite terrible really." Luna explained dreamily.
"Nargles?" Milon drawled, not used to Luna's creatures. Harry knew that wrackspurts were one of the metaphors Luna used. Some creatures were real, some metaphor. Wrackspurts were metaphors for the force that compels people to steal or be cruel.
Not wanting Luna to go into a long-winded explanation, Harry quickly asked for clarification on how she knew.
To demonstrate, Luna dropped a galleon onto the ground, where a stray wind carried it ten feet away. The coin didn't seem to want to be picked up, and it took her a good 3 seconds to pick up the stray galleon.
"Oh you're haunted." Gorag said with a look of comprehension. "Minor demons will constantly follow you and mess with your stuff. Really annoying really."
When the group asked if she discovered any new talents, she twirled around in a circle and a brilliant cloak unfolded across her shoulders. The cloak shimmered in the sunlight, and seemed to protest the treasonous rays, as if built for softer light. The sight was actually quite blinding, and Harry could see how attackers would have a tough time making out her form. The cloak seemed to ripple with constellations and swirls, drawing the eye from any one place. It drew oohs and ahs, and Harry immediately recognized it from his book on oracles as a Cloak of Many Stars.
Finally, after two hours, there was a horrendous noise from the manor. As Rorin made them all clasp hands to finally transport, Lily and James were rushing out, note in hand.
With a flash of light and searing pain, Harry and Luna toppled in a heap with their four companions. They stood in the middle of a stone room, a blood red pentagram carved on the floor. Candles provided the sparse lighting that was present. Runes were carved into the floor surrounding the circle in an intricate pattern. Harry recognized the runes as being Greek in origin, but was confused as a runic diagram in Greek around a circle kept things in.
With a jolt, he realized that perhaps things could come in and perhaps follow the travelers. All of a sudden very nervous as new blood to the circle, he waited for the banishment that never came. Breathing a sigh of relief, he finally noticed his surroundings.
Looking to the far side of the room, a huge double door stood, arching up to the ceiling fifteen feet above them.
At the shocked gasp from Luna, Harry turned behind them and nearly fainted. Stored in a gigantic cage of crackling iron stood a horrific demon, it's skin crackling with a green energy, it's body chitinous carapace. It had the head of a horse but the body of an ant, and seemed to be thrashing against a circle drawn on the floor in it's enclosure.
Harry swiftly noticed his companions were passed out from the pain, sting indeed, and swiftly Enervated them. Each awoke with a jolt, and graciously accepted the pain relief potions Harry passed out.
Luna was busy exploring the room, skirting around the demonic creature to examine the multiple bookshelves that aligned the far left wall. To the far right there appeared to be some sort of ritual alter adorned with the heads of fearsome creatures. Harry idly noted that dragons were much larger in this universe.
"See, I told you we would start passing out!" came the high voice of Milon.
"Yes yes Milon, you were right, I was a fool to argue, now what kind of hosts are we?" Rorin grouched.
As if the word hosts was magic, all eyes snapped to the shaky looking Harry, and to Luna who was busy climbing an alter to some demonic entity.
"Get down from there!" Rorin snapped. A wrong footstep could potentially unleash the creature that he had imprisoned in the load stoned, and that would not be pretty. The last time it was unleashed there was a lack of births all the way to Yovaria.
"Sorry!" Luna squeaked before tumbling off the alter. Quickly Harry had a Feather Fall on the girl, and she glided down smoothly.
"Ooh again again!" she squealed excitedly. Harry shook with silent laughter at his girlfriends antics.
Before she could begin to scale the alter again, Rorin cleared his throat loudly. The amused expression on his face gave away his faux anger, as he scolded her for being a 'dreamy idiot who almost destroyed Vaneria'.
With another of the showy bows he was so fond of, and dramatic poses by Gorag, Milon, and Noram, Rorin proclaimed, "Welcome to Toran Tower!"
Soon all six descended into hysterics at the ridiculous poses and what followed was a tour where the two new found dimensional travelers were able to forget the families they had left behind on their own planet.
While it seemed to have nothing on Hogwarts, the tower was a masterful piece of architecture. The castle had a large courtyard where every manner of plants from flesh eating to pollen producing were stored.
The grand hall was enormous, and Rorin gleefully informed the Ravenclaws that they had hosted all manner of royalty in it's stoned walls. The whole room seemed to ooze aristocracy and dignity, whilst also feeling as if a family could eat there normally.
The library was perhaps the best part to Harry, with it's own spiral staircase and folded pocket dimensions. Knowledge and magics from thousands of universes was stored there, as well as most rare and treasured books from that dimension. The sheer number of curses stored within the pages could wipe out a capital city.
Luna herself enjoyed Gorag's zoo of strange and exotic animals. The whole western wing of the building was full of glass cages where all manner of animals, from owl bears (which Luna immediately recognized as Umgubular Slashkilters) to swamp creatures, were stored. The sheer variety made care of magical creatures class look like a joke.
After a particularly fine dinner served by invisible servants bound to Rorin's will (Hermione would have seizures) they met in the map room.
This room was impressive to both. Above was a complete star chart, filled with drawings of constellations, as well as the one and a half moons the planet had. At their feet was a detailed map of the planet, which was flat. The main continents of Abraxia, Yovaria, and Romul, crept from the North and South in a manner reminiscent of a helix with Romul in the center surrounded by an ocean.
A small dot was located in the North Sea, in the inland ocean created by Abraxia and the Northern Edge. The faint flashing words 'You are Here' were visible.
"Well, we are here," Rorin said, pointing towards the red dot, "and where do you want to go? I can arrange a teleport for you two where ever you desire."
"Perhaps it would be best to explain the politics of the regions?" Luna asked. The two had no idea where would be a good starting location for an adventure.
"Of course of course, silly me." Rorin went into an explanation of the current politically climate. Romul was the center of the Empire of Damocles, which extended upwards and downwards from the channels that divided the ends of the helixes. The Empire was seen by many as the only hope of unification.
To the south in Yovaria, three countries warred. The left most edge was inhabited by the Union of Seafaring Traders, who possessed the majority of trade incoming by resorting to piracy towards the Romuls. The had colonies to the North of the channel as well.
In the center, the Horse Alliance held power. Most horses along the continents were produced here, as well as nightmarish steeds breed in the volcanoes that make up the center of the continent.
To the East was the remains of the last World King, a burgeoning nation lacking leadership but possessing remnants of lost technology. It was basically a group of hamlets united by the dead remains of the last World Empire.
In the North continent of Abraxia Barbarian tribes ruled to either side, and the center was ruled by the Archmages of Redroad, who used magic to enslave populations, and the undead to perform menial labor.
When the time came to make a decision, Harry, being champion of Fate, decided spinning around in a circle and guessing was the best choice. Before they knew it, they had transportation arranged for a small hamlet in the Union of Seafaring Traders.
After a night holding each other in this strange new world, the witch and the wizard in a new universe waved goodbye to their friends, and took their meager belongings with them, towards new adventure.
A/N So that's the second chapter, I'm going to be revising the first chapter minorly. I am not too happy with my writing style at the moment, and any tips are welcome. I suck at dialogue, I will freely admit, but I want to practice without resorting to x told y z.
Character sheets are up at:
Harry - ?sheetid=657254
Luna - ?sheetid=657255
I am currently debating whether I should have Harry be able to use Slot Wand with his sword. I think I will as it makes sense, and I want to use Harry Potter skills in this new world. Too many crossovers I have read just used the names of main characters instead of their skills.
The other thing I considered is using Harry's wand as his Magus Sword, where he could enchant it but I didn't see how that would work. Perhaps boosting the effects of spells but I don't know how touch attacks would be delivered.
I think Luna as a Heavens Mystery makes the most sense. I mean it just screams Luna. I tried to make the curse make sense, and since Luna was constantly getting stolen from by the girls in Ravenclaw I thought the Haunted curse made the most sense.
I'll introduce the mystery woman with Voldemort soon.