Disclaimer : Anything you read here that comes from the Harry Potter books is not mine. If it comes from the Dragon Age games then it also isn't mine.
Note : Canon up to and including book 5 of Harry Potter is observed. Anything after that is for the most part ignored.
2013/08/26 – Minor edits, mostly stupid mistakes and a couple of tweaked sentences.
Chapter 2 :
The dark lord lay on the floor with his neck bent at a sharp unnatural angle. His eyes, brown ones apparently, stared blankly upwards and all Harry could think was that he really should have taken the time to ask what the bastard's name was. Why Harry and the dark lord hadn't both been vaporized when the circle imploded was a mystery but Harry had long ago given up looking too closely at near death experiences so he just chalked it up to typical good fortune. It was his good fortune anyway – the dark lord's arrival had involved a high speed impact against a wall with his head bravely leading the charge and the results had been both predictable and really not all that fortunate. Coming second, and right on the dark lord's heels, Harry had in turn been thrown head first into the dark lord who then proved that he did have at least one redeeming quality. His corpse had made for a surprisingly serviceable cushion.
After Harry had finished catching his breath and taken a second to roll the unmoving wizard off of himself he had stood up, kicked the dark lord a few times just to make good and sure he wasn't faking, and then finally taken a look at his new surroundings. Unfortunately he'd been quickly if reluctantly forced to the conclusion that he was no longer in New York. It wasn't a hard one to draw. Harry may not be a native but even he knew that New Yorkers weren't big on living in caves.
It was admittedly a very nice cave. It was large, and round, and perhaps a third the size of a quidditch pitch. Oddly while the floor and the first ten feet of wall were made of smoothly cut stones above that arched the more rugged formation of a natural cavern. Scattered around the outside of the room were ugly three foot tall decorative stone containers interspersed with brightly burning torches. There was also a series of slightly raised platforms of dubious purpose spread out symmetrically in front of the two opposing unbroken walls, each of them large enough for a man to stand on but all strangely vacant.
What wasn't so nice was the pit, filling at least half of the cavern, which sat in the middle of the chamber looking suspiciously bottomless. The yawning abyss isolated one small platform from the rest of the chamber and it was there that he and the dark lord had made their landing, mere feet from what was undoubtedly a very long drop. There were only two entrances one of which was on the far side of the gaping chasm and, conveniently, one leading away from the platform in the opposite direction.
Harry hadn't spent long in his perusal before deciding that, fascinating as the odd locale was, he really had better places to be. There was an attractive blond witch and a bottle of firewhiskey waiting for him that he really needed to get back to and the archaic scenery wasn't exactly inviting. So, of course, he went with the most convenient form of exit and tried to apparate.
Apparition, the preferred method of travel for wizards everywhere, let them vanish from one place and appear in the next with little more than a bit of concentrated magic. Convenient as it was, it did have its downsides. For example, the sensation of travel strongly resembled that of being squeezed through a very long straw which, while not painful, was still quite unpleasant. Worse, an unfocussed wizard faced the very real possibility of leaving something important behind like a nose, or a finger, or even a lung. More relevantly if the wizard in question was either unknowingly under the blanket of hostile wards or much too far away for his magic to reach ahead to his desired destination then it would rebound violently and leave the traveller standing right where he'd started but now with an unpleasant pounding sensation in his head.
Harry had first tried to make his way to New York. Afterwards he had sat on the floor for a while, trying to keep his head from coming apart, and hoping he was just under some effective wards. When the pain subsided he had tried for Hogsmeade in Scotland which had only left him feeling even worse than the first attempt. In desperation he had tried one last time and aimed instead for a small town in France only to collapse on the ground whimpering as he waited for his brains to stop oozing out of his ears. So much, he had thought upon his recovery, for the firewhiskey.
Harry gave himself several moments to indulge in a good bout of pointless self pity. It only felt fair. When he was done with that he reluctantly decided that perhaps he should focus on the good bit, the part where he somehow wasn't dead. If he just kept looking at it from that angle then things really didn't seem quite so dire. Resigned to his situation, Harry decided to have a good rifle through the dark lord's pockets.
What Harry discovered was that when you were trying to tear down the walls between realities you apparently travelled light. In a small money pouch the dark lord had about ten galleons, five sickles, and a dozen copper knuts as well as two more sickles and three knuts in loose spare change. Not exactly a fortune and perhaps proof that being a dark lord wasn't the highly rewarding career choice that it was billed to be. Harry had also acquired one slightly used wand made of cherry wood, several books of varying size, and a half dozen sticks of Wrigley's spearmint gum.
The wand went in one of Harry's pockets along with the three others he'd confiscated during the war and held onto in case of emergency. He doubted he'd ever find a use for any of them but he had no idea when he'd next see a wand shop and it certainly didn't hurt to have another spare. What surprised him was that any self respecting dark lord would carry around a wand made of cherry wood but then again, considering where he'd housed his evil lair, it was obvious that self respect hadn't been one of his priorities.
The books had been hidden in a pocket with a mildly enlarged interior and for the most part they were labelled with interesting titles like "Curse, Curse, and Curse them some more." and "How to curse your enemies down to the seventh generation." Apparently he'd been the kind of dark lord not afraid of holding a grudge. Some kind of book on dimensional theory was a bit more interesting but the gem in the collection was the small, plain, leather bound journal filled with what was undoubtedly the dark lord's own hand writing.
A quick glance showed pages upon pages of notes that appeared to go over in detail every aspect of the aborted ritual. Harry blanched when the first of the relevant passages revealed that the dark lord had, in fact, been trying to summon an elder god right into the middle of New York. He stemmed an instinctive moment of panic by reminding himself that it hadn't happened, the dark lord had failed and the elder god in question was probably sitting at home pouting about having the door slammed in its face. At least it implied that he hadn't imploded the circle for nothing. The journal, along with all the books, went into the pocket where he normally only kept his galleons. If he threw them in with the rest of the books he'd probably never be able to find them again.
The gum got tossed into the pit. So did the corpse. He considered saying a few words in ceremonial farewell but wrote it off as a bad idea. They wouldn't have been very polite words anyway. With no other immediate concerns Harry took off his robe for a minute and gave himself a further going over. He stretched a few times to make sure the ache in his muscles wasn't anything to worry about and patted himself down but turned up nothing worse than some bruises. Harry did notice that he was now freezing without the temperature regulation charms embedded into the inner fabric of his robes and he considered that somewhat ominous as an hour prior it had been the middle of summer.
When he was again wrapping himself in his robes his eyes were drawn to the silver deputy badge Howard had forced on him which was still shining brightly on his chest. He was about to remove it when he recalled that he also had something else of Howard's and that it might prove to be a bit more relevant. Forgetting about the badge he reached into his pocket and pulled out one slightly crumpled piece of parchment.
Harry had very little idea how the tactical parchment actually worked. Howard had spent quite a bit of time bragging about what it could do but very little explaining how it managed it. It would probably be useless to him as mapping the office building had required a series of rune stones laid out around the building exterior. On the other hand Howard had briefly mentioned something about the map hacking into preexisting heavily warded areas and while he'd been sketchy on the details he still figured it was worth a shot. So Harry flattened it out, gave it a moment, and was pleasantly surprised when the invisible quill began sketching an oddly narrow structure.
Five chambers of varying size lay in roughly a straight path, each connected only to the chamber beside it. One end appeared to have an entrance that led outside the wards while the last chamber was a dead end. Several purple dots and one brown formed in the last chamber while Harry's own dot, now blue, appeared against the closest wall in the one next to it. When it was finished drawing the parchment hesitated a moment before finally pulling a name for the location out of the ether and the title 'Andraste's Tomb' inked itself ominously across the top of the page.
Harry really only had three choices as to his next action. He could stay where he was but that was a bit useless and Harry had never been the type to wait and hope for a rescue. He could head towards the entrance in the first chamber though he of course had no idea what would be waiting for him outside. Finally he could proceed inwards and see if whoever those purple dots belonged to were willing to talk and judging by the muffled shouting he'd been hearing for several minutes he was guessing the answer to that question was going to be yes.
When Harry got his first look at the motley group he figured this wasn't exactly their home away from home either. The stone hall in which they had gathered was narrower than the great hall of Hogwarts by half but appeared to be nearly as long. At the far end a set of steps rose to a circular raised dais and in the centre of that dais stood the statue of a vaguely defined woman with one hand hidden from view and the other raised palm upward and cradling an actual burning flame. Two towering stone soldiers stood eternal watch over her from either side of the dais, their spears held tightly in their fists and were presumably meant to look ready to skewer any one who didn't pay her the proper respect. The rooms occupants had gathered across the steps and, preoccupied as they were, none took immediate notice of Harry's entrance.
"Be done with it warden, we will hardly miss her company." The biting admonishment came from a severe dark haired woman situated half way up the stairs. She was pretty, her features sharp and well placed, her moderate length hair well tamed, but something about her expression was dark and unfriendly in a way that didn't invite admiration. Her top was little more than a strategically placed piece of purple cloth looped around her neck and draped across her chest. A black leather skirt hung low on her hips, emphasizing her lithe figure and leaving the top of her hips bare. One arm was naked while the other was covered completely in a long black sleeve topped with an accessory on her shoulder that seemed to be trying to grow wings. To complete the costume she held in her hands a ridiculously tall gnarled stick upon which was mounted a red glowing crystal the size of a large fist.
The man whose back she was addressing was six feet tall and stood on the dais itself wearing an actual suit of gleaming plate mail armour the likes of which Harry had never seen outside of the halls of Hogwarts. Even there the only examples he'd ever crossed paths with had been standing empty guard over the students or adorning the animated figures which frequented the ancient portraits. The set this man wore seemed bulkier than those he recalled and its thick overlapping plates of silver embossed steel were most likely impenetrable to any physical assault that didn't involve a sizable battering ram. Standing at the very top of the stairs and facing completely away from Harry all that was visible of his head was a plain, mismatched, curving helmet of obviously lesser quality.
"Give it to me Leliana. Remember who I am." The man's confident voice also sounded harsh and angry. He held a long, ornate, deadly looking sword and it was pointed at the woman he was addressing with the clear intent to use it. On the other arm he wore a large shield the shape of a rounded kite and like the raven-haired woman his voice carried the slightest taste of Harry's homeland.
Leliana, as the man had named her, stood in front of the stone statue with a small urn made of pottery cradled protectively against her left side. She was young with straight, crimson hair that framed her face, and the aristocratic beauty of her features was marred only by her horrified expression of disbelief. She was dressed in tight leather pants and wearing a brown shirt confined underneath a strange thick leather coat. In her free hand she held a sword of her own but it was dwarfed by the one being wielded against her. Harry could just make out what appeared to be a bow and quiver peeking over her shoulders but with her hands full they would do her little good. Judging from the way she held the urn he doubted she would be putting it down any time soon.
"I once thought you were a man I could be proud to stand beside but how quickly I discovered I was wrong." Her voice was melodic and when she spoke the hint of France in her accent was undeniable. "You take what you want and leave no prisoners and in the name of the Maker I just stood by and watched. I was wrong to do so and this, this I will not let you get away with."
Despite the defiant tone in her dulcet voice her eyes held the torn acceptance of someone who knew with surety that they were about to die. Harry had seen that look before, sometimes when staring in a mirror, and he decided that he might just have to do something about it.
Another man was there as well but he seemed content to watch in silence from the foot of the steps. He was a massive figure with dark skin and braided white hair and Harry immediately suspected there must be a giant somewhere in his family tree. He waited impassively in shirt and pants of small interlocking metal rings and held against his shoulder a sword as wide as one of Harry's hands and probably a few inches longer than Harry was tall. The argument didn't seem to concern him as he waited for the woman to finish. Harry suspected from his lack of expression that the giant would not only be willing to kill Leliana but that he wouldn't feel anything when he did so.
The final member of the group was a huge brown furred hound which Harry supposed explained the brown dot that had been represented on the tactical parchment. Fortunately he seemed too busy sniffing at a suspicious spot of muck near one of the stone guards to notice Harry. The monstrous animal looked almost big enough to maul a small bear.
"This has to be done. Do you really want to die for a piece of pottery?" The man in plate mail tried one last time but Leliana stood resolute.
"Be done with it warden I grow weary." When the giant man finally spoke it was in a deep uninterested voice. "If you mean to kill her then kill her and let us be on our way."
Leliana's head turned and her eyes widened, perhaps realizing for the first time what Harry had known as soon as he walked in the room. None of these people would stand with her.
"Sten? Will my death truly mean so little in your eyes?" Leliana asked the giant with dismay.
"Dead. Alive. Your fate has little importance in my journey. If you are to die then you should be quick about it and hinder us no longer." Sten, as Harry gathered he was named, gave his reply without inflection.
"I agree with the Sten. The chantry wench wastes our time. Send her to join her precious maker and let us be on our way," the raven haired woman drawled.
"What you intend is blasphemy!" Leliana turned away from the unsympathetic ears of the two companions to face again the warden. "If you do this..."
She didn't get the chance to finish the sentence. Light flashed off the steal of his sword as the man Sten had called warden swept it suddenly towards her neck. The attack was so quick and abrupt that it was over before Harry could react. The woman saved herself by reflexively throwing all her weight backwards. She half fell against the statue and the blade passed harmlessly over her but, unwilling to drop the bulky urn, she was forced to stop the following blow awkwardly with her own sword. It was a direct impact pitting her strength against his and with a resounding clash of steal the lesser blade was knocked from her grasp and off the dais to the floor below. The fight paused, over before it had truly begun, and Leliana made no move to escape. Instead she cradled the urn and looked up as the warden slowly raised his sword as if giving her one last chance to change her mind.
Leliana sighed and Harry could see the will to fight fade away. She had resigned herself to what she believed was her fate and even in defeat, she did not beg or plead. Neither did she hand over the mysterious urn in an attempt to buy her survival. Instead she held it all the closer and began to chant, her soft voice echoing clearly throughout the room in a measured cadence somewhere between speech and song. "O Maker, hear my cry : Guide me through the blackest nights."
The warden paused to listen though Harry couldn't tell what motivated him to stay his hand.
"Typical," the raven haired woman complained quietly in disgust. She turned away from the scene and stumbled as her eyes lit upon Harry. He was now standing only a dozen feet from the bottom of the steps, wand held ready in his hand and a spell on his lips. He decided that from now on, lacking her name, he'd simply refer to her in his head as 'the bitch'. It would simplify things greatly. The bitch's mouth opened and closed a couple of times in confusion and Harry couldn't help but smirk at her befuddlement.
"Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked. Make me to rest in the warmest places. O Creator, see me kneel : For I walk only where You would bid me. Stand only in places You have blessed. Sing only the words You place in my throat. My Maker..." When Leliana reached the third verse the Warden's patience had apparently run dry and he brought his sword down one last time with cold murderous intent.
Or at least that's what he meant to do. Harry, figuring that some intervention was long over due, summoned the blade and yanked it out of the warden's hands with a quick verbal incantation. "Accio!"
Having no desire to impale himself he let go of the charm fairly quickly. The sword flew about five feet and then, it fell, crashing abruptly and loudly to the stairs. The rest of the colourful cast joined the bitch in her surprise as they all finally took note of Harry's presence.
"Hello everyone," Harry greeted sombrely. The dog sniffed the air and growled a bit while the scantily clad bitch scowled and hefted her odd stick and the warden scrambled to retrieve his sword. Harry couldn't help but note that it was apparently hard to bend over when wearing a giant tin can. The one called Sten simply watched with his trademark lack of expression. While the rest were distracted Leliana slowly returned to her feet, her chant forgotten, and carefully slipped a slim dagger out of one of her boots.
"Now, I'm sorry to interrupt your murder and mayhem." Harry paused dramatically in consideration. "Actually, you know what? I'm not sorry in the slightest. In fact I'm much inclined to start cursing the lot of you. I'm fairly sure I already know who I should start with but I figured I ought to at least give you a chance to convince me otherwise. I'd really hate to eviscerate the wrong person."
Harry's eyes wandered from face to incredulous face waiting for a reaction.
"You do not belong here," intoned Sten finally and Harry wondered what it would take to get an emotional response from him.
"You have no idea, mate," replied Harry. He was beginning to suspect that he was much further from home than he'd previously imagined.
The warden had by this point retrieved his sword. Noting Leliana trying to discreetly put the statue between herself and her assailants he raised just one finger in warning. She stopped moving, apparently interpreting the gesture as an implied threat that their abrupt cease fire could come to an equally sudden end. Her gaze moved from the warden to Harry and he could see the slightest renewal of hope in her eyes.
Then the warden turned to Harry and for the first time his face became clearly visible. He had the kind of clean good looks that you generally saw in muggle movie stars and rarely in real life. He had well defined cheek bones and what Harry supposed would be referred to as a chiseled jaw. His nose had been broken at some point and healed slightly crooked but the imperfection only seemed to add character. His hair was mostly hidden by the helm but a few dark brown strands escaped to lie sweatily on his forehead. His expression was cold, arrogant, and hard, and showed not the slightest remorse for what he had been about to do.
"You're not from Haven," the warden stated flatly.
"No. I'm not from Haven," Harry replied though he suspected the question had been somewhat rhetorical. "And where would that be exactly? I'm actually a bit lost at the moment."
The warden and the bitch shared a sceptical look and Leliana's brief optimism faded as she took in his apparel. He wasn't quite sure what about his appearance would disappoint her. His robes were stylish and made of dragon hide, a material guaranteed to slow down even the nastiest of hexes. He held a wand in his hand, a pretty potent weapon given his not inconsiderable talent for violent magic. He had pretty much everything he needed for a last second rescue operation. Regardless, whatever she saw in him apparently convinced her that he was not the ally she required and she turned to plead with the warden.
"Please. Let him leave. He has no part in this." It took a moment for Harry to realize that she'd gone from facing certain death to begging for a stranger's life after which she probably expected to yet again find herself facing certain death. If Harry hadn't already been pretty sure he knew who the villains of the piece were that probably would have cleared it right up.
"No part? I think not my warden." The bitch eyed Harry with suspicion as she talked. "Here he stands witness at the end of the gauntlet where none before have passed. T'is perhaps another test? He wrested your sword from you with little effort so it is towards magic where his talents lay. Unaided he may be but with magic one is never truly unarmed."
She obviously didn't know much about magic if she didn't recognize a wand when it was waved in front of her. He had to wonder what her part was in that case and considered that perhaps she just went around hitting people with that odd stick of hers.
"Either way he's a witness," the warden muttered and then turned back towards Leliana before shouting loudly over his shoulder. "Mutt... chew his face off!"
That, Harry thought, sounded needlessly unpleasant. It also sounded like a horrible name for a huge man eating dog. He backed away quickly from the steps and raised his wand. On one hand the dog was trying to kill him but on the other it wasn't exactly Mutt's fault that his master was a complete and utter shite. With no time to debate he let his instincts guide him and sent the one and only stunner he expected to use in the upcoming fight.
The red beam of light left his wand, flew straight and true, and impacted with the quickly accelerating beast when it was still at least eight feet away. Mutt collapsed in mid step like a puppet with its string cut and slid across the floor to finish up lying almost directly at Harry's feet. He took a moment to gently nudge the slumbering beast with one boot. Mutt, he decided, probably wasn't getting up any time soon.
Harry looked up in time to see Leliana slide gracefully around the statue, avoiding a swing of the daunting weapon the warden wielded. She threw her dagger at him in response and it miraculously slid between an invisible gap in his armour and embedded itself to the hilt between two metal plates, deep in the shoulder of his shield arm. The warden cried out and stumbled.
When Mutt fell Sten finally decided to enter the fray, roaring loudly and charging towards Harry with his weapon raised over his head. Harry suspected the man had assumed the hound would take care of Harry with a minimum of fuss as he had been surprisingly slow to react. He made, Harry had to concede, for a very imposing sight and some people might even have found it a bit intimidating. On the upside it took some work to get that much mass moving so Harry had plenty of time to slash his wand and send a cutting curse directly at Sten's chest. He was understandably more than a bit upset when it bounced off his chain link armour, deflected into the stairs, and carved completely through a section of stone bannister.
"Bugger," Harry swore.
Butchery with giant utensils had once been a staple of muggle combat and at the time wizards had learned magic specifically intended for such barbaric encounters. Unfortunately for Harry that part of the defence curriculum at Hogwarts had been cut in and around the time of his birth. Some enterprising wizards had finally noticed that muggle preference had shifted towards pistols, shot guns, and atom bombs and suggested that perhaps a change in curriculum might not be a bad idea.
But lacking the proper education he was still a wizard and wizards, as a rule, were flexible. If a curse couldn't get through that armour he was pretty sure he knew more than a few things that would. Harry first began the wand motion to conjure some chains around Sten's ankles planning to buy himself some time. It wasn't normally a spell that he bothered with and the chains wouldn't last for long, but they didn't really need to. He flicked his wand twice and was half way through the twirl when he was struck by a bolt of lightening.
The experience was just about as pleasant as Harry would have expected if he'd ever stopped to anticipate such an event. His muscles locked up, his stomach clenched unpleasantly, and he toppled stiffly to the ground. He lay there for a moment, twitching, as his mind spun in confused circles. He was inside. There wasn't a cloud in the ceiling. He'd also just been hit by lightening. That probably meant magic. He wondered why no one had ever taught him that particular spell as it really sounded completely brilliant. The spasms waned and he realized his arm was again responding to his wishes. It was even nicer when a moment later his eyes stopped rolling uncontrollably in their sockets or so he thought right up until they landed on the sword wielding giant about to cut him in two.
Still disoriented, vibrating, prone on the floor, and not at all coherent, Harry in that moment couldn't really remember very many spells. In fact he couldn't remember any spells at all. Not being the kind of wizard who gave up no matter how dire the circumstances Harry pointed his wand and tried desperately to form some kind of coherent defence What came to him in that desperate moment was something so basic, so fundamental to his Hogwarts education, that even the firestorm in his head couldn't take it completely from him. The magic issued forth was directed haphazardly by what little will he had remaining and an instant later the giant sized butcher's knife that Sten was swinging down upon him was replaced by an equally giant stick with a large bright red bulge at one end.
It wasn't even remotely close to Harry's best work. The giant matchstick descending towards his head would certainly crush him as easily as the obscene example of a sword would have split him in two. Either way he was still about to die. Worse, if any of his enemies ever found out how Harry Potter had snuffed it they'd probably laugh their asses off. Maybe he'd get lucky and Sten would drop his body in the bottomless pit with the dark lord and then keep the circumstances of his shameful end to himself.
Harry was a bit surprised when he realized that his death was taking entirely too long. His mind began to feel a little less muddled and he noted that instead of beating him to death Sten had instead frozen in mid swing. The giant man stood staring for several moments at his weapon in abject horror. Then he stumbled, dropped the giant matchstick, and began screaming. Finding it odd that this was what finally got a true emotional reaction from the man Harry nevertheless didn't spend much time questioning his good fortune. He took a moment, tried to recall how to cast a bludgeoning hex, and then after it came back to him carefully aimed one at Sten's very large and very unprotected noggin. From that distance Harry really couldn't have missed if he'd tried.
Sten promptly collapsed. He also stopped screaming, which was good because while it had been a manly scream it had still been really bloody loud. He noticed in passing that, oddly enough, Sten was still breathing even after taking a bludgeoning curse strong enough to fracture the average wizard's skull. Shaking off the last effects of the lighting bolt Harry forced himself back to his feet and took a look around to see just where events now stood.
Two different problems caught his attention at the same time. The first was that Leliana had some how managed to end up sprawled across the stairs and the warden stood gesticulating with his sword in the air above her. He still had a dagger in his shoulder but it hadn't stemmed his enthusiasm and Harry was fairly sure he was either taunting her or giving her yet one more chance to rethink her choices. Either way Harry unfortunately didn't have much time to dwell on the matter.
The reason for that was the second problem he'd noticed which happened to be a huge green glowing boulder that vaguely resembled a closed fist. It also happened to be flying straight towards him. A faint hazy trail of green smoke extended backwards from it reaching all the way across the room to the coldly smirking bitch. She had long since descended the steps while Harry was distracted and was holding her over sized walking stick firmly in front of her with a two handed grip. That, Harry decided, probably answered the question of where the lightening had come from.
Wizards don't really use all that many different magical shields. The most basic is a protego which was easy to learn, quick to cast, and if you kept pumping magic into it then it could be maintained indefinitely. Additionally it absorbed and dispersed the incoming spells so you didn't risk taking out your mate standing beside you with a rebound. Unfortunately it also caved pretty quickly under any sufficiently powerful curse. The basic rule of thumb was that if you were forced to shield, and you didn't know what the incoming spell was, then you didn't use a protego. Fortunately for Harry he had always paid attention when studying defence because the incoming glowing boulder would have caved a protego like an over-ripe tomato.
"Reflectum," Harry intoned and he shaped his magic with a violent swish and stab motion an instant before the fist would have crushed into him.
A slightly less used spell, reflectum attempted to protect a wizard using a more efficient approach. It formed a curved magical matrix in front of the wizard that attempted to bounce the majority of the incoming spell safely away. Any magic left, magic that the spell hadn't been able to deflect, it would then absorb and distribute in a manner much like that of the protego. The largest down side to the spell was that it was nearly impossible to target the rebound and consequently you were just as likely to send the remains of the curse at your friends as you were at your enemies. That said Harry and Ron had once spent an entire afternoon practising reflectum with stinging hexes just for the fun of it and Harry'd always had really good aim.
The spell impacted the shield in a violent discharge of glowing green light. A reflected remnant of the curse, now distorted and resembling a giant radioactive mutant pigmy puff, flew off on at an angle towards its eventually destination. Of the remaining magic half was effectively absorbed and dispersed before the reflectum finally overloaded and collapsed amidst a fractured cloud of dark blue magical energy. What remained, the most important bit as far as Harry was concerned, sailed straight ahead on it's original trajectory and smashed into his chest with all the subtlety of a raging hippogriff. He had only a brief moment of lucidity while flying backwards through the air towards yet another unyielding stone wall to wonder which higher power he'd pissed off enough to suffer through such a ridiculously horrible day.
Harry hit the wall, hard, and unfortunately he'd left his dark lord corpse cushion some where down a bottomless pit.
"Please wake up." The words were the second thing that registered through the darkness. The first had been the pounding hammer trying to beat its way out of his head. Harry hadn't suffered a hang over so bad since Ron's funeral after which he and Neville had headed back to Grimmauld place and polished off the better part of three bottles of firewhiskey. It was only thanks to their superior wizard constitutions that they hadn't drunk themselves to death that night. He remembered that Cindy had wanted to go out for a firewhiskey but, then again, hadn't she promised him "such a good time". That sounded very much like she had meant sex. Why had they gotten so drunk if they were going to have sex? God, he really hoped she'd taken advantage of him because otherwise this could turn out to be very embarrassing.
"Merde." He vaguely recognized that something was being poured into his mouth. He hoped it wasn't more firewhiskey he was drunk enough already. Someone coughed in the distance.
"No! You must drink it. It does you no good to wear it." Wearing firewhiskey did indeed sound like a bit of a waste so when more was poured into his mouth he reluctantly did his best to swallow it down.
The ache in his head vanished immediately. He suddenly had arms and legs again and he couldn't believe that he'd forgotten all about them. Harry had always considered having arms and legs pretty bloody important. He had eyes too he remembered so on a whim he decided to try opening them. He was surprised to find the visage of a lovely stranger hovering over him.
She was really quite beautiful he decided. She had hair like fire and her features managed to be both delicate and strong at the same time. Her bright blue eyes were wet and her cheek was smeared with blood but she somehow made it work for her. That she was smiling down at him didn't hurt either. Still, after a few moments of confusion Harry finally sussed out just what it was that was wrong with her.
"You're not Cindy." The words came out in a muddled slur but that was normal after excessive quantities of Fire-whisky.
"I'm afraid not. One more my brave deputy." Before he could object she shoved the tip of a small vile of cherry red liquid into his mouth and poured the entire batch straight down his throat. He swallowed instinctively, it was either that or choke, and a moment later the fractured pieces of his mind slammed together.
"Bloody Hell!" She sat back, startled at the invective, and Harry pushed himself up quickly to lean against the wall. He'd hit the wall. He remembered that now. He'd hit the wall really bloody hard. "Bitch."
At Leliana's affronted look he quickly corrected himself. "Not you. The woman throwing around lightning bolts and giant green left jabs. Good potion by the way."
"You may admire the potion at your leisure once we are far away from here. I do not know how long it will be until they rise and I suspect they will not underestimate you so twice." It took him a moment to understand who she was referring to. The dog was still unconscious on the floor which wasn't really a surprise, a point blank stunner was nothing to mess about with. The giant also lay on the floor, the over sized matchstick still beside him, and his chest continued to rise and fall without difficulty despite the fact that his skull ought to be in about a dozen pieces.
The witch, given that she'd wiped the floor with him it didn't seem polite to continue thinking of her as 'the bitch', was lying face down with the hilt of a dagger sticking out of the centre of her back. Unlike the first two her injury appeared quite fatal so she probably wasn't about to get back up any time soon. Then again that's what everyone had assumed about Voldemort and where exactly had that gotten them? Finishing out the set the warden lay in a slump half way up the stairs. Harry could only assume that his reflected spell had hit its mark.
"Is he still..." Harry nodded at the form of the warden. The slightly dented tin can he wore made it hard to tell.
"Still alive thank the Maker," Leliana sighed and Harry turned to her with a skeptically raised eyebrow.
"He was trying to take your head off not..." Harry paused as he tried to get his bearings. "How long was I out for?"
"Several minutes only. As for the warden." The look of disgust on her face was genuine so Harry was sure it wasn't some misplaced affection that had kept her from finishing him off. "I believe the Maker still has a part for that one to play. It is not my place to decide his fate."
Harry pushed himself slowly to his feet and found that he felt surprisingly good all things considered. Leliana stood as well, one hand outstretched to support him if he stumbled but he managed without much difficulty. Harry nodded his head to the witch. "And her fate?"
"She would have killed us both had I hesitated. One does not take chances with a witch." She paused to gather up the small urn which had been previously sitting on the floor. "She and Marcus were lovers. We must be far from here before he awakes. Come, my deputy."
"Right." He took a few steps with a bit of trepidation but his legs held. His wand had rolled a few feet away and he picked it up, checking it over and finding with relief that it had survived unscathed. Leliana turned to walk towards the only entrance to the room and Harry took a moment to admire the rear view. "Don't you want your knife?"
"The dagger is not mine and I believe it only fair that it be reunited with its owner." Leliana looked briefly over her shoulder and smirked. "As I cannot return it in the manner I would prefer I believe this will have to suffice. I think he shall have no trouble finding it."
Leliana turned back towards the entrance to the room and Harry made a mental note for the future. This was not a woman you pissed off lightly. She stopped near Sten's sprawled form and stared at the giant matchstick that lay by his side.
"Is that..." She began the question hesitantly. "Was that truly once his sword?"
"I was actually aiming to turn it into something a bit smaller," He admitted with chagrin. "Not my best work."
"I have never seen the like from any mage. One thing into another. It was cleverly done but also very cruel." Harry's lack of comprehension must have shown on his face. "Surely you realized..."
"I just wanted to get rid of the sword," Harry responded slowly but he was starting to see where this was leading. "Does this have something to do with the way he went completely nutters?"
"A Qunari warrior is given one sword in his lifetime and he believes that the sword is the embodiment of his soul. Before he joined us he fell in battle and his sword was stolen. When he awoke he was driven to such madness by its absence that he butchered the family which found him down to the last child. For his sword to turn into a stick before his very eyes..." She shook her head and the sympathy was clear on her face. "I cannot imagine the horror. Can you turn it back? I fear what he will do if he awakens otherwise."
"He murdered an entire family? Then you brought him with you?" To Harry that sounded much like asking a death eater to watch your back.
"It is a long and complicated story and time is short." She admitted softly. "His sword? Please? While I regret his actions of those here only the warden and the witch had any true malice in their hearts."
"It will turn back on its own," Harry stated. Pleased with the response Leliana smiled and turned again for the entrance apparently expecting Harry to follow. He did of course, musing on the contradiction as he walked. Her vindictiveness concerning the warden and the witch contrasted drastically with the care she'd shown towards Sten and he wasn't sure what to make of it. He took one look back at the giant matchstick and finished the sentence with a muttered. "Eventually."
They walked in silence to the chamber where Harry had first arrived, Leliana preoccupied with her thoughts and Harry unsure which of his questions to ask first. When they reached the small platform she narrowed her eyes and stared incredulously at the gaping pit before them.
"No," She began. The statement was followed by what sounded like some very unfriendly words in her native tongue. In a fit of pique she kicked a small stone into the void before them and it fell, quickly and silently, far down into the depths of the earth. She calmed down after a moment and considered the walls of the chamber. "Perhaps I can climb around the outside. "
"Hold on." Harry could make a guess at what was missing but if they needed to get to the other side he had a far safer option. Reaching deep into one of his pockets he let his thoughts drift to his firebolt. He remember its smooth shaft and its finely shaped bristles and a moment later felt the sturdy handle of his favourite broom nestle solidly into his hand. Then he pulled it out.
"Where did... how did you... Maker's breath that is not possible." Leliana glanced between the broom and the robes incredulously. "How could you possibly fit an entire broom in such a small pocket?"
Harry held the firebolt level with the ground and nodded in satisfaction when the levitation charms kicked in and kept it solidly in place. Throwing one leg over the shaft and feeling the magic of the top quality racing broom hum beneath him he turned and smirked at her. "They're bigger on the inside. Now hop on."
"On? Is that a joke?" She looked down and finally noticed that Harry's feet hovered several inches above the ground. "Oh. It flies. Of course it does. Pockets that are bigger inside and brooms that fly. Swords that turn into sticks as well. Perhaps this is a dream and my head even now rolls on the floor at Marcus' feet. Though I certainly hope not, I rather suspect that if you are real then you have a fascinating tale to tell."
Harry rolled his eyes when he responded. "You're not dead."
"If I were dead and you were a dream you would undoubtedly say the same." Nevertheless she swung one leg hesitantly over the broom and slowly settled her weight down. "Ooh! It looks hard but feels like sitting on a cloud."
"Cushioning charms," Harry explained. She had nestled the small urn she had been willing to die for between them and Harry found himself a bit disappointed that the only point of contact was where she gripped the back of his robes firmly in one hand. The flight was brief, they were only going from one side of a pit to the other after all, but nevertheless Leliana whooped with enthusiasm as they landed near the opposite entrance.
"That was wonderful. Can it go very high?" she asked with laughter. "Please, deputy, tell me we can fly again after we have left this place."
"Very high, and very fast." Harry smiled, he was always happy to share his love of flying. Then he frowned. "Why do you keep calling me deputy?"
"You have not yet introduced yourself but you bare that word on your small metal shield. Is it not your badge of office?" Her words left Harry confused for a moment before he realized what she was talking about. Ripping the badge off his robes he shoved it deep into one of his pockets in embarrassment.
"My name is Harry, and the deputy bit was temporary." He told her sheepishly.
"Oh! Well then, I am Leliana." He was surprised but grateful when she didn't further question the presence of the badge. It would be the start of a very strange story and they both had far more pertinent issues to discuss.
"Pleased to meet you." Harry took a moment to slide the firebolt back into his pocket. Leliana turned towards the exit and he fell in step beside her as they proceeded to the next chamber.
"Oh no. I believe that the pleasure is most certainly mine. Your presence prevented a most heinous defilement from taking place and for that I will be ever gratefully. Then there is my head, which you assert still sits firmly upon my shoulders, and I believe I prefer it there." Leliana's voice was surprisingly cheerful given the subject matter.
"Defilement?" He asked, wondering if this is where the urn came into the story.
"Marcus sought to destroy the sacred ashes with the blood of a dragon." Her voice turned grave as she shared the revelation. "To destroy such a relic of the Maker – I can imagine no greater sin."
"Why would he want to..." Harry shook his head. Her statement had led only to more questions. "Whose ashes are they?"
She almost tripped as her head whipped around to stare at him, her expression turned incredulous. "But you are here. Surely you must know."
"This is, what was it again," Harry pondered for a moment. "I think it was called Andraste's tomb?"
"Yes. This is her resting place." Leliana nodded.
"Who's Andraste?"
Leliana stopped and turned completely to face him. "She is the Maker's bride. The Lady of Sorrow. It was she that broke the Imperium and brought the worship of the Maker back to the world. Her ashes which lay in this urn are said to have the power to heal any injury, cure any sickness, the blessing of the Maker lingering in her mortal remains. How can you not know this?"
Silence claimed the moment as Harry tried to figure out where to start. They had stopped in the middle of yet another chamber but it was empty and lacked distraction. Whatever purpose it had served did not seem to concern Leliana so he focused on trying to explain facts that he was only slowly coming to grasp himself.
"This morning I believe I was someplace very far from here." He started slowly.
"Another town? A distant city? Did you fly here on your strange and wonderful broom? How far would you have had to go to find a place that knows nothing of the Chantry?" She asked the questions in rapidly escalating succession.
"I suspect that I've come much further than that. Look, there was this dark lord, a nasty piece of wizard, and he was working some of the worst magic you can imagine. He opened a doorway between dimensions and I think I somehow got shoved through it when I shut him down." He watched as she considered his words. It was a conclusion he hadn't come to lightly but it would explain why he wasn't dead. The timing would have had to have been perfect but if the portal had finished forming in the same instant the circle collapsed then it was possible he had been thrown through it before the circle's energies could tear him apart. That would explain both why he wasn't dead and why not one single thing had made sense since his arrival.
"Dimensions. Length, width, height, that is the meaning of this word as I understand it." She ventured.
"But imagine if there were more. Picture different worlds stacked on top of each other." He let his wand snap into its holster and held his hands out over top of each other. "Near to each other but separated along an additional dimension that we simply can't perceive."
"The fade." The word was breathed out and her eyes widened with revelation. It wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "You say these worlds are separated but what if they were not? What if they were so close to each other that they touched everywhere and were held apart by only the thinnest of veils. Could you reach, perhaps, from one world into the next from within the dreams of your deepest slumber?"
Harry had to ponder the idea for a moment. What he knew was limited at best and was made up of as much guesswork as it was of actual knowledge. "I suppose that's possible."
"But you say there are more worlds. That your world is like this one. That it has land and sea and sky but with different places and people and history." Her rising excitement faltered. "But what of the Maker? Surely he exists in all things and in all places. If these worlds exist together then they must surely all be of His making."
"That..." Harry paused and considered his reply. He had to be careful not to alienate her. "There are plenty of people in my world who believe in some kind of all powerful god but I've never spent much time worrying about it. I've never heard the term maker used but that doesn't mean it isn't."
Harry thought back to the few occasions in his youth when the Dursley's had tried bringing him to church. He wasn't sure if they'd been hoping God would provide a means of suppressing his magic or instead been anticipating that he would strike down any wizard who dared repeatedly enter a place of worship. Either way when the other attendees had fawned over his polite demeanour and criticized Dudley's loud complaints the Sunday excursions had ended almost as soon as they had begun. It had been so very long ago, but the vaguest recollection of a repeated prayer lingered at the edge of his memories.
"Creator. At times, in prayer, the members of at least one religion in my dimension refer to their god as the creator of heaven and earth." Harry supplied. Didn't the word bare the same essential meaning? Either way after a moment of contemplation she seemed to decide the comparison was acceptable.
Modern wizards, as a rule, had never been strong proponents of religious thinking. In recent centuries especially the word religion was more often associated by them with witch burnings, inquisitions, or crusades. Harry didn't think mentioning that to Leliana would be wise. As friendly as she seemed he still knew little about her and it was probably best not to give her any ideas.
"I prayed to the Maker for salvation and you appeared. Perhaps he ferried you from your world and brought you to this one to act as his instrument." She smiled, seeming satisfied with her conclusion.
"Luck. I've always had ridiculous luck of both varieties," he replied sceptically.
"Or perhaps the Maker has always watched over you." Her expression softened and she placed her free hand gently on his shoulder. "It is an incredible story but I believe you nonetheless. My poor saviour, so far from home. Is there not any way for you to return?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders and began walking again. Leliana's hand fell and she continued beside him in silence. He had the dark lord's journal which might let him recreate the ritual. He'd have to alter it somehow, figure out how to use it to target his home dimension. It was a daunting task and while he'd certainly do the research he expected it would be far too dangerous to attempt even if he could figure out how to go about it. "Doubtful."
"Désolée." Leliana reached out and briefly squeezed his hand. He didn't know the word but he could recognize the intent. They proceeded in silence until they reached yet another chamber.
"What a mess." Harry commented upon first glance. Sectioned off by stone archways eight empty pedestals stood spaced evenly along the walls. Pieces of crumbled stone lay scattered everywhere across the floor.
"There were statues here," Leliana explained quietly, "Each representing those who shared her journey. It was here where I first began to suspect..."
"Leliana?" Harry prompted when she fell silent. He watched as she walked over to one of the nearest pedestals and lay her hand upon it.
"If you appeared as you say then do not know what this place truly is. This tomb was created to act as a test meant to judge the worthiness of those who came as supplicants. Here the spirit of each statue would demand your understanding of her life and journey." She sighed and her face fell as she stared at the broken remains. "I knew the answers. I knew all the answers and yet Marcus had no interest in them. Instead he would mock each of the statues and goad them until the spirit burst forth to defend this place from the unworthy. Yet we were no simple pilgrims and each wraith fell before us until none were left."
Shaking her head she turned to leave. "We should not tarry so. There is no telling how long..."
Harry gripped her arm and she pulled away forcefully and scowled at him in response. He held on, while he much preferred her when she was smiling he still needed to know. "What is it that you don't want to tell me."
"I am a fool. Is that what you wish to know? The signs of his intentions were there from the beginning. This was a holy place and with every step he did all he could to destroy the protections meant to keep the urn safe. He always intended to accede to Kolgrim's request." Leliana's shouts softened and she finished in abject misery. "But I did not see the truth until he defied the guardian at the end. While he was ensuring it could not prevent him from his foul deed I made my way to the urn in hopes of protecting it."
"And you did," Harry pointed out. His hand let off its restraint and instead rubbed her arm gently in an attempt to provide comfort.
"We did, " she replied. She forced a smile and turned to leave. "Now we must flee for I fear that Marcus will not let us leave so easily if he caches us."
"He's unconscious on the far side of a bottomless pit. I don't think we need to worry about him anytime soon," Harry pointed out but he followed her nevertheless.
The last, or first, chamber would pass unremarked as they continued onward each pondering their own thoughts. Harry felt entirely out of his depth when confronted with gods with wives and tests of faith. He was used to things more concrete and immediate like insane homicidal wizards and ravenous monsters. Still, he finally decided, he would make sure Leliana was safe before heading his own way. This land obviously had magic so perhaps there were practitioners here who could help him find his way home and maybe Leliana could point him in the right direction before they parted. It occurred to him that there was actually no good reason to hurry. While his disappearance would be noticed there wasn't anyone who would really miss him. He was mulling over that depressing thought when they first stepped outside.
The mountain slope upon which they found themselves was cold and barren. Sheets of white covered everything from the plateau upon which they stood to the top of the nearby craggy peaks. In the distance he could make out ruined temple entrances embedded within the sides of cliffs which had at one time been undoubtedly imposing bastions of worship but had crumbled and cracked over time under the centuries of wind and blowing snow. Several scattered remnants of buildings and stone circles dotted the landscape but few were in any way intact. "Well this is just..."
"Shh!" Leliana hushed him quickly. She leaned close and spoke in a soft voice that he had to strain to hear. "A dragon lairs upon one of the cliffs above. Sound carries in the mountains and I believe it would be wise if we do not seek its attention. Through the furthest ruins lies the quickest and safest path down the mountain."
Harry briefly considered suggesting the use of his broom but in truth neither of them were dressed for flying in arctic weather and there was a limit to what you could manage with warming charms. So he nodded his understanding and they headed out towards the distant structure.
Their journey was a slow one. The ground was crusted with snow and ice making footing perilous and the wind cutting into them was freezing and forceful. When it became too much he raised the hood of his robes and found the charms protected him well enough but he could see Leliana shivering more with each and every step. His wand slipped into his hand and he considered briefly whether it was best to cast the warming charm directly on her or to cast it on her garments. He didn't get the chance to do either before a long high pitched whistle cut across the mountains.
"What the.." Harry muttered as he turned in confusion. His eyes drifted from the stone circle to one of the temple ruins before Leliana's hand on his arm urged him to face back towards the now distant entrance to Andraste's tomb. "Bugger."
There, barely visible in the distance, stood the form of Marcus the warden watching them. His armour had been abandoned at some point, probably in order to scale the wall around the bottomless pit, and as they watched he raised one hand in mocking salute. Then he put both hands to his mouth and let out another long, piercing whistle. Leliana swore as the sound once again resounded across the frozen land. "Bâtard!"
"What was it that you said, that the Maker still had a part for him to play?" Harry asked. A loud cry of rage joined the whistle. The terrifying sound merged the roaring of a lion with the screeching of a bird of prey and the fury of a viking horde and the land quaked in response to its call.
"But... I never... this was not what I meant!" Leliana cried in protest. The warden saluted again before turning and disappearing inside the tomb, leaving them to their fate.
Harry glanced up, hand moving to retrieve his broom only for him to stop as he realized there simply wasn't enough time. The beast was already upon them.
Most breeds of dragons while volatile creatures were not prone to hunting wizards or men. They liked to be left alone, to tend to their young, and to hunt and devour a variety of animals of the four legged variety. They were for the most part only mildly intelligent and generally not overly vindictive. But the creature coming for them was like no dragon Harry had ever seen.
It was long and lean with obscenely bulging muscles defining its arms, legs and torso and contrasting sickeningly with its skeletal frame. It had to be at least sixty feet long from tail to head and the massive bat like wings stretched out to cover the sky above them as it descended. It was covered mostly in black scales except for its wings and crest where there was only the dark pink hide of its skin. The dragon crashed into the ground directly in front of them and the earth quaked from the impact. Harry and Leliana both stumbled briefly and righted themselves in time to watch as the monster raised its head and screamed at the heavens.
This, Harry thought, was turning out to be the worst day of his life. He'd first been attacked by wraiths, a being surpassed in foulness only by the soul sucking dementors. Later necessity had led him to the suicidal collapse of a ritual circle only to instead find himself most likely banished to another dimension on the far side of creation. He had then been electrocuted, thrown head first into a wall for the second time within the span of a single hour, and now to top it all off a dragon was going to eat him. From the look in its eyes as it stared down at them it was also an evil vindictive dragon that liked to play with its supper.
Well, it wasn't like he'd never fought a dragon before, he supposed it was time to add another to his record.
"Hey you with the beady eyes!" Harry hollered loudly in the hopes of gathering its complete attention as he slowly walked sideways, away from Leliana. Her startled eyes followed him and he gestured surreptitiously towards the meagre shelter of a near by dilapidated stone circle. She shook her head at first in denial but Harry glared at her and gestured again. She took a quick glance at the dragon and then after sending him a few worried looks slipped away silently. Something in her motion attracted the dragon's attention and it began to turn its head so Harry renewed his assault. The results were effective. "Look at me when I'm talking to you! I'm going to find your nest, fry up your eggs, and make a nice golden omelet with them! Are you listening to me you bloody useless wanker?"
He wasn't sure how much of that the dragon understood but it certainly seemed to grasp his intent. It ignored Leliana completely, which had been the whole point, and instead turned the full weight of its baleful glare directly at Harry. He had a brief moment to question the wisdom of his approach before it opened its maw, inhaled once, and then bathed him in flames.
The inferno lasted for ten seconds but as far as anything caught in its blast would have been concerned it might as well have been an eternity. In its wake ice and snow had boiled away leaving only scorched earth and stone in a huge swath in front of the dragon. Of the irritant with the audacity to threaten her clutch the dragon could find no sign. Turning to where the red haired one still fled the dragon prepared to follow.
"OK. Now I'm just brassed off!" In his brief respite while the flames poured from the dragon's mouth, aimed at his previous location, he'd had some time to prepare. With a flourish of his wand he completed his spell and beneath the dragon's feet a circle of snow and earth transformed into cloying, viscous mud. The creature floundered as it tried to wrench free but instead its massive weight pulled it downward and it sank quickly and deeply into the muck. In the end only its torso remained visible above the quagmire and the dragon screamed in rage as it twisted violently, searching desperately for solid purchase. It turned its head to find and devour the irritant and when it found him it made the mistake of staring at him threateningly for just one moment too long.
Harry took advantage of the perfect target and two bright conjunctive curses sped towards the creatures eyes. A moment later its world turned to darkness and enraged it snapped its jaws towards the place where he had last been. With a sharp crack Harry vanished there and reappeared elsewhere. The creature's teeth closed only on empty air.
"That's the fifth time something's had a serious go at killing me today and I'm sick of it." A brief incantation and five seconds of wand work brought a golden lion into the world and with a roar it rushed at the floundering beast before it. The lion had no means of breaching the thick scales of the dragon but it was quick and agile and had claws more than capable of rending the vulnerable hide of its wings. The dragons screams escalated with both fear and pain as the unseen threat tore at sensitive flesh and tendons.
"I'm tired." With some effort a second lion joined the first. Pouncing on the remaining wing and tearing into it with brutal efficiency.
"And I'm hungry." As the thrashing creature again tried to claw its way out of the muck Harry abruptly cancelled his first spell, leaving the dragon's limbs embedded deep in heavy earth and stone.
"And really I just want to go home so could you please just bugger the fuck off!" Cutting curses just reflected off its hide but his first try with a bludgeoner smashed into its head effectively and increased the already titanic volume of its protestations. Satisfied with the result Harry began hammering curse after curse into the creature's writhing cranium until finally something loudly cracked and the creature went suddenly silent. It fell still and its head dropped to lay upon the ground even as the lions continued to tear away at its now fraying wings.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead Harry stumbled groggily towards the stone circle. It had been a long day and in addition to having the stuffing beaten out of him he had expended an awful lot of magic. It was no surprise that it was finally catching up to him. He didn't get far before Leliana appeared and she moved to support him with one arm as he stumbled. The other still held firmly to the urn as it had from almost the first moment he'd seen her.
"You were magnificent." He could hear the smile in her voice and he had to admit he was feeling pretty proud of himself. It wasn't every day you came out on top in single combat with a dragon. "For a moment I had thought you burned to ash. I was very cross with you."
"You were really upset?" Harry prodded with amusement. The distress in her voice was evident but it was exceeded by her joy at his victory.
"Oui, heart broken. If it was done with you then inevitably it would next have come for me." Harry laughed and did his best to stand on his own. It was a little touch and go, but he managed. He was about to suggest that they make good their escape when a violent tremor shook the earth. His animated lions went air born as they were catapulted into the distance and the dragon, apparently still alive, after a moment of colossal effort managed to rip a second of its arms free from the confines of the earth. Harry didn't even try to work up the pretence of surprise, it had just been that kind of a day.
"Leliana." He calmly raised one hand to Leliana's face and turned her shocked gaze from the struggling dragon to his own. "I need you to think of someplace safe. Think of someplace far from here and someplace you know well. Picture it in your mind and hold the memory there."
Staring into her confused eyes he raised his wand and gathered the threads of his remaining focus. "Leglimens"
Mind magics. He wasn't fond of them but occasionally they had their undeniable uses. He still wasn't sure if the tomb was protected by apparition wards but if it was they had ended at the entrance. It was what had given him a fighting chance against the dragon and now, in a land where all he knew was the place where he currently stood, he used his mediocre skill in leglimency to skim his companion's mind in search of a safe haven.
Her thoughts were turbulent, disorganized in the face of the days events and he frantically grappled with the deluge of memories as he tried to pull together the reflected imagery his words should have formed in her mind. What he found was the sight of a sleepy looking church, surrounded by a small village and containing a beautiful rose garden within its walls. The memory was distorted by time but it was clear enough for his purpose. As the dragon finally tore itself from the ground with an enraged cry Harry slipped out of Leliana's mind and reached for her. She squeaked in surprise when he wrapped his arms around her and then a moment later with a twist and a crack they vanished.
Authors Notes :
So there, as promised I've now added Dragon Age to the mix. I would have had this posted yesterday but events conspired against me and I spent the entire day out.
First – Leliana's chant was taken directly from Dragon Age. I also stole and remixed a very tiny bit of dialogue from the game at the beginning of the urn confrontation.
Now I'm sorry for anyone who really likes Morrigan – I quite like her character and I didn't go in intending for her to die but it just kind of happened. Sort of like the giant matchstick which I keep telling myself is more than a little bit silly. Frankly the entire confrontation around the urn morphed drastically from my original intent but the version which featured a slightly more clever incarnation of Harry just wasn't nearly as much fun.
I also realize that I turned Harry into a bit of a punching bag for a while but frankly I dropped him into the deep end and he really didn't take things seriously enough. In short he kind of got what he deserved. But he's still alive, he saved (and in turn was saved by) the damsel, and he got to take out some of his frustration on a dragon (and that again just kind of happened. He was originally supposed to skip straight to the running away but when I started writing it he was just so pissed off that he kind of got away from me.) so try not to feel too sorry for him.
The next chapter is scheduled to be quite a bit less violent. I've only barely started it so my best guess is a week or two before posting but I'm headed out of town for work next week so we'll see what happens.
As always reviews are welcomed and I'd love to hear what you think. In particular I was worried about pulling off the Dragon Age characters, especially Leliana, but I feel like I managed OK.
And yes, for those who recognized it I did steal a line from Doctor Who. In my defence, it was a really good line.