AN: Remember, Harry's viewpoint, and other characters', do not necessarily reflect my own view. Characters might not like each other at the start and may misunderstand each other. Don't take this as me 'bashing' on any characters. I honestly love them all as characters, and like many of them as 'people', but all of them are deliberately flawed and represent an array of opinions.
Anders had been happy enough to see Harry leave his clinic, albeit a bit reluctant to return Harry's wand and the other belongings taken from Harry's pockets, including his mokeskin and house keys. The man obviously had questions he wanted to ask as well, but for one reason or another had bit them back. Marian and Bethany Hawke, who Harry had found out were indeed sisters, had left to return to their own home, with a promise from 'Hawke' Hawke to discuss business and arrangements later, after Harry had chance to rest properly and get orientated. Varric had offered to show him where he could get a bed, which was in the same inn Varric had set up near permanent residence in- until this expedition he was planning paid off anyway.
"So you and Hawke are going to go into a tunnel filled with strange tainted monsters, and bringing Anders along with you?" Harry raised a brow as he walked along with the shorter man, occasionally taking quick observations of the area as they went, taking in as much detail as the sparse torches allowed in the night. They'd left the stinking and dark area aptly named 'Darktown' via a lift, and were now in a maze-like area known as 'Lowtown', which all appeared to be carved from the same single rock as Anders' clinic had been. This world seemed stuck in the dark ages, and Harry had a feeling the whole place was probably one big nocturne alley.
"Ah, Blondie isn't so bad." Varric seemed to have picked up on some incredulous tone in Harry's voice, giving him a knowing smile, "He's just passionate about mages and magic. Now he knows you're not a demon with a pretty mask, he'll warm up to you- It's the elf you'll need to watch out for."
"Elf?" Harry couldn't help but wonder if this world had its own demented version of Kreacher, and pulled a face at the thought. Varric noticed, expression shifting to barely hidden disapproval.
"You don't like elves, I take it?"
"What? No- I mean- no, as in, I like elves just fine. I've just had some bad experiences with them- not that I'm generalising, I've also had a house elf save my life. I don't- I like elves." Harry flustered, and Varric seemed amused, if still disapproving for one reason or another. Harry felt that was fair enough, as he'd rather stuck his foot in it there. He wanted to try and explain that the idea of an elf having a problem with him was one he was familiar with, thanks to Kreacher, and that's what he was put off by. Harry really did like house elves, thinking the little people were some of the best people, but now everything he said would sound like overly defensive protests.
"Well, Fenris has a problem with mages, especially 'odd' ones like yourself. However if Hawke vouches for you, Elf will probably leave you be. He has an honor-debt-thing going, and hasn't tried shanking Blondie yet, but it' only been a couple of weeks, so there's time yet."
"He's had... bad experiences I take it." Harry thought back to Dobby and the Malfoys, to Kreacher and the wall of mounted heads. He wouldn't be surprised if a house elf grew a grudge against wizards. However, it still seemed odd that the group had a house elf. They didn't seem the upper class sort or people to live in a house that 'had' a house elf. If that's even how things worked in this world. For all Harry knew elves never developed that strange relationship they had with wizards in his world. He'd never truly understood how that had happened anyway.
"An ex-Tevinter Slave; Tevinter is a country ruled by mages." Varric explained, and it somehow comforted Harry that Varric believed his story enough that he was putting in the effort to explain details of this 'world', even if he was wearing a small amused smile while doing so, "Still allows blood magic and slavery. Elf is a fugitive on the run. Makes for a broody, romantic figure in any tale. He's also part of our motley group, along with Rivaini. She's also boarding at the Hanged Man, so we'll all be neighbours. Providing you get a bed of course, but there's usually a few spare. "
Harry was beginning to figure Fenris probably wasn't a house elf then, unless this world had house elves as romantic interests. Although honestly, that wouldn't surprise him too much, with the way things were developing. Harry suddenly had the sinking feeling he'd embarrassingly been misunderstanding a lot of things.
"Quite the group you've collected." Harry offered, keeping the conversation going even as he was distracted by his own thoughts.
"I'm blaming Hawke for it. She can't say no to strays. We've also got the beautiful Aveline, the soon to be Captain of the guard, but she's been with Hawke even longer than I have. Altogether we've got an apostate, an abomination, a dwarf, a fugitive, a pirate, a to-be guard captain and Hawke. And now you." Varric paused, looking at Harry again, seemingly not sure how to describe him.
"So…" Varric hesitated slightly "What were, or are you, in your 'world'?"
Harry almost sighed at what Varric wasn't saying. It was obvious by the way he asked the question he still didn't fully believe Harry's story either, but was going along with it. Harry didn't answer for a moment, looking at the path ahead. They were beginning to get close to the inn. Harry could tell because its 'sign' was a large painted wood carving of an upside down hanged man. It was even hung from a chain for accuracy. Combined with the lifeless carved walls, and spiked ledges, this city was beginning to give him a feel of a nightmare.
"I'm… An Auror. It's like a guard for witches and wizards- or mages, as you'd call them." Technically, Harry was still in the training phase, although his involvement in the Wizarding War had sped up his advancement quite a bit, so he did his training out in the field.
They had reached the inn, and as Varric stopped to open the door, he gave Harry a curious look, "A guard for mages? As in 'hunt down all wild mages and stick them in a circle' guard or a 'protect mages from the people with pitchforks' guard?"
"Uh, more 'guard' guard? I chase down criminals and dark magic users. 'Mages' and 'non-mages' in my world live in separate communities. In fact muggles, ah, non-mages, don't even know about magic. I'm finding it a little odd that this world is so... open." Harry wasn't really sure what Varric meant by putting witches and wizards in a circle, and brushed it off as another term he'd learn about later. It was rather strange for Harry to talk about his life and world like this, as most people who didn't know such things shouldn't know such things.
"Oh wow. Specs, you have got to tell Blondie about this world of yours. Or maybe not- he'll never shut up about it. But that whole 'open about magic' thing? Not quite. Let me sit you down and teach you about the world, young Harry."
Varric's intended lesson was postponed while they got the business of Harry's accommodation sorted out first. It also turned out 'Rivaini', or Isabela as she was properly known, wasn't about just yet, and was likely out 'doing piratey things'. Harry also stopped Varric to check about legal tender and if gold coins were gold coins regardless of what was printed on them. Varric took a look at his galleons, and stated that gold was gold, but Harry might want to find some silver and copper instead, to avoid unwanted interest. Harry luckily had a few knuts and sickles on him too, but had been hoping to get more change somehow. Harry also realised that he was going to have to figure out a source of income if he was stuck here for too long, as the change he carried in his mokeskin wasn't going to last.
Hopefully he wasn't going to be stuck here long.
Harry was in luck that there was an available bed, although he didn't really consider himself lucky upon seeing it. It turned out only Varric could afford to buy out an entire room to himself, being such a long-time and valued patron, and all the other rooms were closer to the hostels of the modern world, meaning Harry was sharing sleeping space with strangers. On top of that, the whole inn had a feeling of someone had stuck cardboard and plywood together and thrown sand about, with the added touch of morbid décor.
"So, Kirkwall really has a thing for dark and gloomy, doesn't it. Are the corpse-people really necessary?" Harry gestured to one of the painted figures on the wall. It was some kind of stylised rendition of a half-naked, starving man, eyes empty and mouth gritted in silent agony.
"Ah, it's not called the City of Chains for nothing. Used to be the heart of the Imperium slave trade. The magister's had the idea that demotivational murals made for better slaves. Or maybe the slaves needed to express themselves through art? Who knows…" The man looked around then nodded, a wry smile on his face, "One day, I'm going to buy this tavern."
When Harry raised an eyebrow at him, Varric just shrugged, "Hey, a dwarf's got to dream. And this place has grown on me. Now, seeing as you've finished moving in already, what with having no belongings with you- which we shall remedy- you've got to come over to mine and swap stories."
So Varric did have dwarfism. Or his race was 'dwarf'. He'd mentioned it a few times before, but Harry hadn't really been paying attention or applied the term to Varric before. Harry had seen dwarves before, remembering the time at Hogwarts when Lockhart managed to get a gaggle of them to dress as cupids for Valentines, but the only similarity between them was 'short and stocky'. Varric didn't even have a beard or giant nose. Harry really needed to check these things before he ended up sticking his foot in his mouth- even more than he may have done already. In all likelihood, the woman who had summoned him probably wasn't human at all either, but if Harry could deal with goblins, centaurs, mermaids and giants, he could deal with whatever new creatures and races this world threw at him.
Varric's room had far more charm to it. Harry presumed he'd had most of the furniture moved in, and part of the room done up, which was in keeping with how long the man said he had lived there and was planning to live there for. The barmaid, Nora, even brought their order to them. Harry felt himself let his guard lower, which he hadn't done since he'd arrived.
Although that might also have had something to do with the way Varric seemed to be able to charm the feathers from a phoenix. Harry didn't want to share his life story and didn't mention the war, or his role in it, or Voldemort, but he didn't feel like Varric was asking for that. Instead, he shared stories about pranks, school day shenanigans, odd stories from his job, general facts about the wizarding world, Britain and his world in general- and Varric gave back as good as he got or better, being a natural story teller.
"I'm not kidding! This was honestly a sport for teenagers- but you haven't lived till you're hurtling through the sky, with nothing to stop you…"
"And Anders kicked down the door, ablaze with blue light, roaring "You will not hurt them!". The scoundrels inside froze with fear and dropped their hostages, but weren't quick enough to escape the mage's wrath. But the instant the battle was over, the gentle healer replaced the vengeful spirit, and the kittens were rescued from their intended watery grave…"
"Draco was a real piece of work. He's gotten better since, but back then… But it was glorious. Absolutely glorious. Hermione had him against the wall, wand to his throat, he's whimpering and begging and she just lets him go- Malfoy laughed as if he had just called her bluff and thwak! I could replay that memory over and over…"
"No shit, there I was, at the grand ball, watching this noble chat non-stop to my brother, and Bartrand's face is getting redder and redder, and he starts doing this little dance. He keeps making to step away, but she just drags him back to discuss how devastating it was the servants towel dried rather than air dried her pedigree mutts- then this dark patch begins to spread across his groin and all I could do was stare- and let me tell you, no one wants to end up staring at their brother's groin. And this Orlesian, wearing this ridiculous feather gown, collapses dramatically, because she just saw a dwarf piss himself, and in all the commotion, no one noticed Bartrand dive under the table…"
"-Well, whose the new guy, Varric?" The amused voice that interrupted their story swapping belonged to a stunning dark-featured woman, who had slipped into the room unnoticed, taking a seat as if it was her room they were in. "Sounds like you two are having fun. No one thought to invite me? I was listening to yet another drunk wax lyrical about my 'divine features', waiting for you to swoop in and rescue me. Apparently I'm like a goddess, only fleshy, but the best kind of fleshy."
Drawn out of the conversation with Varric, Harry sat back and took a sip from his drink. It was some kind of mild sour ale; not the best drink he'd had but Harry appreciated the liquid all the same. Harry had learnt quite a lot from his banter with Varric. Such as how this world had suffered from something called 'The blight' that spawned monsters, and that mages were under constant threat of possession and that the Chantry, a Christian like religion, had ordered all mages to be taken to a 'Circle' and taught subservience. Harry was deeply unsettled by it all and was even developing a sense of guilt- he had to focus on getting home and couldn't afford to be drawn into the problems here, but turning a blind eye to it all left a bad taste in his mouth. He should to get back to Anders and try and get those notes from him as soon as possible- the other magic user had not been willing to let an unknown walk off with notes on blood magic and Hawke had sent him and Varric off before Harry could argue with Anders over it.
Right now, however, his attention was taken by who he suspected was Isabela, or 'Rivaini' as Varric called her. The woman obviously had many tales to tell herself and would probably manage to do so with as much charm as Varric. Although that smile of hers hinted she could also run the dwarf under the table with dirty details.
"Ah, Rivaini, didn't you hear? Swooping is bad. And you don't quite fit the role for damsel-in-distress I need for my stories. I was thinking of using Anders for that role." Varric poured her a drink from a bottle that wasn't on the table before, "This is the newest duckling Hawke added to the collection. Rivaini, this is Harry, Wizard from the Beyond. Specs, this is Isabela, Pirate Queen and Scourge of the Seas."
Harry frowned quizzically, "Duckling?"
"Hawke likes to gather together lost and interesting souls and take them under her wing. She's picking them up at an alarming rate. First Anders, then Fenris, then the lovely Isabela, and now yourself- all within a few weeks..." Varric shook his head, although he had a slight smile on his face, "So long as it all helps her get the gold needed for the expedition, I can't complain. Plus, this ragtag group is excellent for making stories."
"How are you so certain I'm part of your growing group?" Harry asked, leaning back and crossing his arms. It wasn't that Harry didn't want to be part of the group, after all it would benefit him vastly to be part of it for now, but it wasn't like he intended to stay for long. Nor did he feel Hawke knew him well enough to 'adopt' him like that. Varric just shrugged with a smile.
"You can just tell with Hawke. And you sealed your fate by offering to work for her. She's a big mother hen really, and we all follow after her- She's a natural leader, I'll give her that. Except for, I don't think most mother birds lead their brood into bandit infested crime dens." Varric didn't seem to mind putting himself under the category of follower, but Harry had a feeling that wasn't quite the relationship he and Hawke had. From what Varric had said, it sounded like the two had met rather recently and were dependent on each other for success and were more like partners than leader and 'duckling'.
"Only the fun ones do. I'll admit I stick around for the fun and coin Hawke seems to finds- not like I have anything better to do without a ship." Isabela added, but Harry found himself tilting his head in confusion.
"So what does Hawke do exactly? Is she a mercenary that picks up tagalongs?"
Varric shrugged noncommittally, "Hawke's an... entrepreneur. The Hawke Sisters made a name for themselves in Kirkwall as being people who get things done. When the local guilds tried to smoother all the activity that immigration was bringing, Hawke's group was the only one that could stand against the Coterie. They made connections, proved themselves capable. A lot of the underworld, along with other organisations, recognise the name Hawke. I made them mine and my brothers partners in this expedition because I could bet my life's savings that the Hawke Sisters will make it succeed, even if they have to drag the entire expedition kicking and screaming into the deeproads themselves."
"I haven't really known her that long, but you can't stay in Lowtown without hearing about the 'Hawkes'." Isabela waved a bored hand, "Haven't heard about you before though." Isabela pinned him down with a grin, her golden lip piercing catching the light, and continued cheerfully.
"So, 'Wizard from the Beyond'. Hawke sure knows how to pick them. A mage I take it?" Isabela asked it casually, as if it didn't matter, which went against what Varric warned was people's general reactions to rouge mages. But, perhaps that spoke more about Isabela's character than Varric's information, "Where from? Your accent suggests Ferelden, but I hadn't heard of any place called the 'Beyond' or uses the term 'wizards' seriously. Shop title?"
Judging by the entertained smile on Varric's face, he was going to enjoy watching Harry explain himself, and the resulting reactions, at every opportunity he got.
"Uh, not quite. More like: I'm from a country that is a little bit like Ferelden, I think, only from a different world." Harry nearly winced explaining himself. He hoped he wouldn't have to do this too many times, as even he didn't fully believe himself as he said it. It was too fantastical.
Obviously Isabela agreed, as she gave Harry a blank look. After what must have only been seconds, but seemed far longer in the awkward silence, Isabela shared a look with Varric that promised he'd give her a more detailed, more trustworthy, explanation later.
"Well." Harry rapped the table nervously, "Pirate Queen sounds a lot more interesting. How does one become queen of the pirates, exactly?"
Somehow, Harry got the feeling his obvious change in topic was a bad idea, judging by the suddenly mischievous smile on Isabela's face. It was almost predatory. His nervousness only seemed to encourage her.
"Pirate Queen's pop up all over the place- I'm far more interested to hear about a mage from another world. After all different cultures always find different way of… enjoying themselves. I can't begin to imagine what an entirely new world could come up with."
Harry had a feeling she wasn't talking about wizarding past times. He glanced to Varric, who seemed to take pity on him.
"Well, Specs here is a married man, so I imagine he probably won't have the stories you're hoping for, Riviani."
Isabela sighed, "Married men are no fun. Unless they let their wives join in as well."
Harry felt himself blush, mouth open, torn between flattery, indignation and embarrassment, but Isabela simply continued with a smile.
"Anyway, I wouldn't call myself a Pirate Queen. Queen's won't get their hands dirty. But I did have a ship and a crew that did very well for itself- until that blasted storm destroyed that." Her tone was light hearted, but there was a fury in her eyes. Harry figured there was more to the story, but was fairly sure it was one Isabela wasn't going to share tonight. He can't imagine loosing one's crew was easy either, though he had no idea how close Isabela would have been with them.
"Still, you have to have a reason to be one of Hawke's ducklings-" Isabela paused abruptly and looked to Varric, "what's a baby hawk called?"
"Eyas, I think." Varric offered helpfully, "Not as interesting an image as ducklings being led by a mother-hawk though."
"Well, I don't exactly know many people here, and I don't know how to get back home- yet," Harry replied, frowning. "Anders' has some notes that might help me, but he's keeping a hold of them. Doesn't trust me, apparently. So, as Hawke is one of the few people I've met in this world that hasn't tried to kill me, I'm hoping she can help me find a way back home." Harry didn't want to go into great detail, especially as he suspected Varric was going to share with the others in the group what he'd been told with Isabela later anyway. He was far too tired to explain it all, and there was a lot more to it than what Harry had explained. Plus, the way Isabela raised a brow when he spoke about 'this world', just reminded him of how unbelievable the whole situation was.
At least he had something of a plan now. Hawke had enough influence on Anders that Harry hoped Hawke's approval would encourage Anders to trust him enough to hand over the notes. However, the notes by themselves would likely be insufficient. They seemed to understand magic differently here, and he would be dreadfully lost trying to figure out what and how the blood mages pulled him through by himself. He almost certainly needed Anders' help- or maybe Bethany's considering the witch seemed less suspicious of him.
On top of that, Harry needed to survive. The image Varric painted of Kirkwall was that it was a harsh place to live, and a strange, naïve magic-user wouldn't last long at all between its walls. He was depending on these people to act as guides, hoping that they'd keep him alive either out of good will or because he was useful to them. No doubt the process to return him to his world take time, which would mean Harry would also need to take care of more mundane needs: food, shelter, clothing and so on. All of which would take coin.
Either Isabela was a mind reader or money was on her mind. Maybe even always on her mind, if he was judging her character right.
"Stranded here as well? I'd say something about being in the same boat, but that'd be a bit in bad taste. With the Hawkes and Varric squirreling gold away for this expedition, I wouldn't mind having a mage to help out with a few schemes for myself- Anders has this horrible habit of glowing in the dark." Isabela leaned forward, all seduction and danger, "How discreet can you be?"
Varric seemed to find something funny, "On top of being married, he's also a guard. Doing well tonight, Riviani." Isabela looked disappointed, and intrigued, shooting another look at Varric, but didn't speak as Harry tilted his head.
"Depends on what you need me to be discreet on- because I'm very good at hiding, should I need to. And getting past locks. I might be able to extend my magic to hide others as well."
That was all true. He didn't have many of his belongings on him, only his silenced sneakoscope coming to mind as potentially useful in this context, but he knew a few good spells. And unless the locks were highly complex or magical in nature, alohamora could deal with them. A few silencing charms and disillusionment spells would help with stealth as well. However, he'd practiced these skills in order to prevent crime. He'd only just met Isabela, and while she didn't seem like a bad person, he wasn't sure how altruistic a 'Pirate Queen' could be. Still, if she could find use for him in plans that weren't against his morals, he wasn't about to turn her down. He needed all the coin and allies he could get while he was here.
"So, I find you jobs that don't upset your delicate guard's sensibilities and I get a mage that can make my life easier?" Isabela was practically purring and Harry hoped he hadn't just signed over his soul somehow.
"Ah, right- sounds like a plan." At Harry's stuttered response, Varric chuckled.
"Alright, business can wait till morning. It's bedtime for Specs. Healer's orders. Anders made it clear you're meant to be recovering from crazy blood mages."
Harry pointedly ignored the 'bedtime' comment and gave Varric a confused look, "I honestly didn't think he cared so much about me."
"Nah, Blondie's seems to be something of a softie- under a lot of brooding and angst. But I wouldn't read too much into it- he's a rebel with a suicidal cause and a healer, and you're still his patient, even if he gets all glowy around you." Varric explained with a shrug.
Isabela just looked intrigued, "Someone's going to have to tell me what got his knickers in a twist."
"I'll let Varric have the pleasure of doing so- I think I'll take Varric's 'advice', and go test out my bed." Harry smiled apologetically to Isabela and nodded gratefully to Varric, who raised his drink in acknowledgement, before getting up to leave.
"Fine, but we're going to have to get to know each other better if we'll be working together!" Isabela called after him.
Harry just made an amused sound in response, making his way next door. Of course, he didn't intend on going to bed before he got a few things sorted; such as a few cleaning charms, one or two cushioning charms, a selection of wards to give him more privacy…
It turned out he was in the room across from the one where Isabela and a few of her surviving crew were staying. He found this out when Isabela poked her head into his room as he was finishing off some of his charms and told him as such in case he 'needed' them. Harry had gotten the idea that she'd lost her entire crew, but apparently a few had washed ashore after her. In his own shared room, Harry had picked the top bunk on the three-tiered beds with the best location and hoped no one tried messing with him. Upon casting a few wards, Harry discovered his magic still felt strange, as if it was catching on something, but at the same time felt almost empowered. He'd have to investigate that further later. He wasn't nearly satisfied with the security by the time he crashed on the bed, but he was too exhausted to care. Not even about the fact he had no change of clothes in which to sleep in. Or really any belongings for that matter. What mattered right now was that he was on a reasonably soft horizontal surface, with wards, and at least two people nearby who would probably try and make sure nothing tried to kill him in his sleep.
When Harry awoke, he was relieved to find himself back in Hogwarts.
Swinging his legs out of the poster bed, Harry rubbed his face tiredly. That was one of the strangest and most lucid dreams he'd had, barring his visions of Voldemort. More of a nightmare really. He was going to have to share it with Ron and Hermione later. Even if Hermione hated divination and oneiromancy, she'd probably be interested in how fleshed out it was and Ron would get a good laugh from it. Something about dwarves and elves- he'd have to write it down, he was already forgetting.
Looking around, Harry frowned as the other beds were all empty. Strange. Normally Ron woke him up before heading down to the common room. Harry frowned at an empty bed for a moment before realising that there were people around, it was only Ron's bed that was empty. Dean, Seamus and Neville had to be around, but Harry wasn't really paying attention to the people suddenly crowding the dorm room. He'd never really liked crowds. Hurrying to catch up with Ron, Harry flew down the stairs and entered the living room of Grimmauld Place. Harry paused, frowning.
Ron wasn't here either. Were they all having breakfast already? Maybe Ginny was cooking, but he'd have to eat quickly, or he'd be late to work. Moving towards the kitchen door, Harry paused again, frowning.
What?
He slowly drew his hand away from the door, scanning the room more thoroughly. The room was different. What was different?
Frowning, Harry paused again.
The pictures on the walls were wrong. They were empty, or out of focus, or contained the same repeated image of himself and Ginny. Other frames had people he didn't really recognise trying to get his attention. The room in general seemed unfocused. Harry felt as if he was in a pensive memory; the ones were people didn't fully recollect the memory and there was blurred grey-space where the mind filled in what it couldn't remember. Parts of the décor seemed wrong and of the wrong time period. Pieces of moving furniture and the paintings on the wall all seemed to want his attention, trying to catch his eye, but all of it together made each individual thing get lost in the sea of hectic movement. Only the door in front of him seemed bright and clear.
Was he in a memory? What had he been doing that needed him to look over a memory?
He Paused. He Frowned.
No. He was dreaming. But it was wrong. It didn't feel quite like it was his dream. It felt external, not internal.
He opened the door, and entered the Burrow's Kitchen. It felt safe and warm. There was the distinctive sound of a clock ticking, and he remembered the Weasly family clock, and thought he should check up on how his in-laws were. He must be tired, because he couldn't quite work out what the clock was telling him, it's hands pointing all over the place, none of the pictures or words were clear. He looked again, and it was all different. It took a moment to realise it was the wrong clock.
He snapped back to himself, remembering he was dreaming. Did this count as lucid or only vivid? Did it matter?
He needed fresh air. Leaving the Burrow, Harry walked along the edge of the Hogwart's lake.
No, he was still dreaming. It was still the wrong dream.
Hedwig hooted at him from a branch. He smiled and followed her, the path becoming clear.
When Harry awoke properly, it was to a musty, dry room and the sound of drunken mumbling. He felt marginally better than he had before he'd slept, but he felt strange. It felt almost like he hadn't slept, and he couldn't remember dreaming. Rubbing his face and tiredly freshening himself up with a few charms, he made his way out of his room, still in the clothes he'd arrived in. He supposed he should invest some coin in blending in and get himself a few articles of clothing.
Despite it being morning, the noise of the inn was still impressive. Or at least, Harry thought it was morning. His room didn't have any windows, but the corridor was amply lit with light pouring through the windows and a large hole in the ceiling, suggesting that it might be later than Harry first thought. How long had he been asleep? Neither Varric nor Isabela answered the knocks on their doors. He'd felt silly knocking on Isabela's considering she shared it, but nonetheless no one answered, and it didn't feel right to try and go inside either room without permission from one of the inhabitants. Heading down the small stairs into the main room didn't give him much of a hint, as the place had no clocks or other timepieces. He probably shouldn't expect such things to be common place, considering how this place seemed even more medieval than the wizarding world was. He supposed he could have cast a tempus spell, but it was a little late now, considering there were still a few inn patrons about and he was supposed to be hiding his magical nature. The patrons for their part seemed an… inebriated lot, at any hour of the day. At least the barmaid was still about and sober.
"Ah, Nora wasn't it? Have you seen Varric- or Isabela- about?" At Harry's question, Nora blinked and looked him up and down. She'd given him strange looks last night, but hadn't made comment. It seems she still wasn't going to say what she found odd about him, but Harry could take an educated guess and say his style of dress and his glasses weren't common apparel in these parts.
"Messere Varric left this morning, Serah. I think miss Isabela is around somewhere. Do you need anything?"
Harry shook his head and thanked her, even though her information made him slightly uneasy. It wasn't that he was incapable of being independent, but he needed someone friendly to play guide and cultural translator. He only had a bare description of what a Templar looked like from Varric, and that he was to avoid them, but who knows what other little dos and don'ts Varric forgot to mention. Still, if Isabela was about, he'd better go find her, even though he wasn't sure where she could be hiding if she wasn't in the main room or her own- actually, maybe it'd be best he wait in the common room for a while.
It turned out waiting in the common room was the better plan, as Isabela found him as he was about to dig into a bowl of the inn's 'famous stew'. She explained she had been in one of the back rooms discussing business with someone. Harry knew said business was illegal, but also knew it was none of his business- he wasn't an Auror here, nor a guard. And he was getting the impression nearly all the business in Kirkwall was on the less legal side of things.
"So, what meat is in it today? Can you tell? I swear, it had nug meat in it once. Strangest flavour, like dirty pork-chicken." Isabela smiled roguishly at his bemused look, and Harry stared at his spoonful of stew distrustfully, before shrugging and popping it into his mouth. He had no idea what a nug was, but if other people could eat it, he could eat it. He mildly regretted it, after tasting it, but determinedly kept on chewing. Isabela seemed to approve of his indifference.
"You're a little bit of a mystery, you know that? You look all clean and dressed smartly, but I know very few people of wealth who'd deign to eat mystery meat. Not born into money?"
Harry swallowed his mouthful of what he suspected to be some form of cow offal, and shrugged. Technically he was born into wealth and grew up in an upper-middle class household. It was simply that said household wasn't the most generous of carers and he'd gone through a war. Also, wizards had access to rather unusual food supplies. Certain breeds of dragon were considered a delicacy.
"It's not like I can be picky right now, anyway. However, I was born into wealth." He grinned as Isabela looked more interested. He'd told Varric a bit about his life, such as learning he had magic when he was eleven, going to Hogwarts and how similar that was to a circle, as well as a few anecdotes on the wizarding world. But other than the fact he was married to a woman named Ginny, went to a more liberal version of a Circle and had a few crazy adventures, and then became a mage-guard, Varric didn't know that much of him to have shared with Isabela. Or the others, as Harry was sure Varric would also tell Hawke about what he'd learnt of their new misfit.
"Oh, I do like unveiling a good mystery. Noble house fallen to scandal?" Harry smiled and shook his head at Isabela's curiosity.
"So, Varric is off somewhere?" Harry asked and Isabela looked unimpressed at his obvious evasion, stealing his drink in what might have been retaliation.
"Hawke dragged Varric off this morning on a job she'd found- something about missing Templar recruits. I personally try to avoid anything to do with Templars or fanatic mages, so I opted out. Anyway, I wanted to get to know a potential 'business partner'." Isabela's eyes suddenly pinned him down with sharply as she leaned forward, "However, when I tried to wake you earlier I found that I couldn't find you, despite knowing for sure you hadn't left the room…"
So Harry's wards had worked. Harry missed the implications of what Isabela had said, too relieved at knowing that the strangeness of this world didn't interfere too much with his magic. Harry swallowed another mouthful of mystery stew and raised both brows with a somewhat smug smile.
"Perhaps you should have called?"
"I did."
Harry blinked, "Oh. I must have been more out of it than I thought."
"I've heard blood mages will do that to you." Isabela allowed, finishing off his drink. "You're going to teach me your hide and seek skills later. So, you're entirely unfamiliar with Kirkwall?"
At Harry's nod, Isabela continued, "How about we get better acquainted while I show you around? There's only so long I can stand to be in here, and you slept for an awfully long time."
"I was thinking about doing a little shopping…"
For some reason, the excited gleam in Isabela's hazel eyes didn't seem like the usual kind some people seemed to have about shopping.
Harry ended up trading a few of his galleons for an equal amount of trade standard silvers from Isabela. He didn't get the impression Isabela had swindled him, especially as he offered to give her a percentage as a thanks for helping him out. She still might have done though, but it appeared it was roughly enough to get the essentials, and he stilled had a few galleons tucked away for safe keeping. He'd tucked his sneakoscope into his brown trench coat when getting ready that morning, hoping that it would give him a heads up on any ill intentions around him by vibrating in his pocket. However, the thing hadn't stopped buzzing around in his pocket since it left his mokeskin. It seemed like Kirkwall was rife with ill intentions.
Coin sorted, Isabela had guided him away from Lowtown, pointing out that he could get cheap food and supplies there, but if he wanted good gear, he needed to go to the Hightown bazaar. 'High' town was… better than 'Low' town, he guessed. He bought a few of the local pastries to take with him, as he wasn't sure when he'd get chance to eat later and didn't want to waste coin on the presumably more expensive foods in Hightown.
Harry had no idea what elfroot was, or if it went well with goat, but Isabella explained it tasted something like spinach while being confused as to how he'd never encountered elfroot.
Although, had he known he was going to walk up a bloody long staircase to get to the other part of Kirkwall where Hightown was, he might have reconsidered the option of sticking to the Lowtown market. The different districts of Kirkwall were aptly named.
However, halfway up the staircase, Harry was glad he agreed to go. The view from the steeply ascending stairs was amazing. Lowtown's maze like streets wound below, not appearing to have any logical layout or thought, sitting cradled within the cliff it was born from. Sitting away from the main town, in the middle of the bay, was an intimidating fortress, watching the ships as they crept through the narrow channels that must lead to the main sea. Harry thought he could see more of Kirkwall's macabre architecture on the cliff faces, in the form of giant statues of starving men, curling in pain.
"That's the Gallows." Isabela spoke, nodding towards the fortress Harry had been staring at, "And the sea is beyond there. Had the Siren's Call only made it within this bay…"
The stranded pirate trailed off with a sigh, staring wistfully at the narrow channels before shaking her head. "Pointless now thinking about it now. She's all along the wounded coast, probably along with the remains of my crew. But, I play it right here, I can sail away on a new ship, with a new crew, a new woman." She looked towards Harry with that, smirking before gesturing to the stairs again. Harry took a moment before following the hint.
"The Gallows… that's the 'circle' right? Varric said that's where they keep the mages."
Isabela sighed dramatically at his question, "Yes, that's the Gallows- it's also where they detain anyone coming into the city, before allowing them in the docks. Look- I get it, you're a 'wizard', or a fancy mage, from some… far away land. But please, please, don't start with the mage liberation speeches. Because I sympathise, I really do, but I've spent a night wandering Kirkwall with Anders and Fenris and there's only so much a person can cope with."
Harry blinked, frown creeping onto his face "I… No, I was just asking."
He tried not to let Isabela's obvious aversion to the issue of mages blatantly being imprisoned in this land bother him, glancing behind to take another look at the threatening building that ruled the centre of the bay. The rest of the steps were taken in silence, Harry eating one of his pastries, until they reached Hightown proper and began to navigate between its much more logical streets.
"So, noble's here really like…" Harry trailed off, watching a man go by in a pink and yellow outfit, obviously made with expensive materials.
"Themselves?" Isabela supplied, watching the same man with a bored look.
"Well, I was going to say 'colour'. But that too."
Harry definitely didn't want to dress like these folk, even though he wasn't so keen on what he saw people in Lowtown wearing either, and aside from Anders and Bethany no one seemed to be wearing robes, and even then, those were dress-robes.
"Isabela? If you saw someone wearing robes, what would you think they were?"
"Hm? Well, depends on the robes. Drab- scholars. Drab orange- Clergy. The circle here makes it's mages wear blue robes I think- you can tell mages robes though. They look fancy. I love Anders' shoulder pieces. Means you can literally 'ruffle his feathers'."
Harry looked down at his standard issue Auror uniform. The brown trench coat on top of clothing more typical of the muggle world stood out like a sore thumb among the more archaic styles of Kirkwall. Well, archaic to him.
"So, unless I want to look like a mage or scholar, I should probably avoid robes."
Isabela let out a surprised noise," You know, I've never really thought of a mage that would bypass robes. I like to imagine it's to help the magic flow- more 'breathing space' downstairs after all."
With that comment, Isabela eyed his trousers, and Harry coughed uncomfortably.
"How about we stick to shirts and trousers for now then?" Harry almost requested and Isabella shrugged in response, leading him to promising stalls.
Most of the fabric was coarser to the materials he was used to wearing, unless he wanted to pay for the really refined materials, but he wondered if he couldn't do something about that with magic. Although he couldn't recall any charms off the top of his head that would soften fabric or generally improve it. However, it was more the styles that were problematic for Harry, leading Isabela complaining he was worse than an Orlesian noble woman when it came to shopping. In the end, he settled for three basic tops that weren't so garish, along with a selection of 'small clothes' and trousers. From Isabela's disapproving looks, Harry guessed he was probably making some kind of fashion faux pas, or at the very least wasn't dressing attractively or interestingly enough for her.
He'd just bought a satchel to put them in, intending to enchant it later to carry more, when Isabela called out.
"Hawke! Fancy seeing you up here, rubbing shoulders with the gentry."
"Hey now, we Hawkes are technically noble on our mothers side."
Looking up from packing the clothes away, Harry saw that Hawke was indeed in the bizarre with them, and with Isabela's call, began leading her group towards them. Harry recognised Bethany and Varric, who smiled back amiably, along with the excitable Mabari hound Varric had told him was simply called 'Dog' because Hawke lacked imagination and sense. However, there were two new people with Hawke that Harry couldn't name.
Both were stern and eye catching in their own ways. One was a rather handsome woman, tall and armoured, with bright ginger hair and a leather headband around her forehead. She held herself in a way that quietly demanded respect. The other was an unusual yet familiar looking man with white hair and even whiter tattoos and, for some reason that stood out to Harry, wasn't wearing shoes with his ornate black armour. When Harry's bright green eyes met guarded moss green ones, Harry finally realised what looked familiar about him- he had similar features to the woman who he first encountered here, including the Grecian bridge of the nose, large eyes and pointed ears.
"Wasn't expecting to find you here either Isabela, or Harry- lucky we did though, as we were about to go to the Hanged Man to find him." Hawke nodded to Harry in greeting as she said this, and the two new faces appraised him again with the knowledge of who he was. Harry could safely say this group was gossiping about him behind his back…
"Well, me and Harry here were just doing some shopping. Hawke, agree with me here-shouldn't Harry invest in some more flattering clothes? He's going for boring old clothes that old men would wear." Isabela complained and Harry glanced down at the satchel with a frown.
Hawke looked unsure of how to answer, but by then Harry was watching the faces of the new people anyway, trying to get a read on them. The woman was frowning at Isabela, obviously disapproving of her, while the strange man had a faint smirk on his face, which Harry suspected was both humour at Isabela's antics and at Harry's expense. Harry was beginning to feel that, aside from Hawke Sisters, Isabela, and Varric, he was going to have a tough time getting along with Hawke's 'merry band'.
"I'm sure Harry would look dashing in anything, although I'm sure some might prefer he dress otherwise. However, you can 'explore Harry's wardrobe' another time- right now, I have a job." At this, Hawke turned to Harry, "We found work looking into missing persons- Templar recruits. We expected Templar foul play, but by the looks of it, blood mages are involved."
Harry stood to attention. There was a lot to take from that- firstly, there was the fact people, young people most likely, were in serious danger. And then there was the whole Templar and blood mage business. Harry wasn't sure what Hawke was thinking, getting him or Bethany involved with Templar business, after what Varric had told him, but if there were blood mages involved, Harry wanted in. He wasn't passing up any chance to go after blood mages, especially as they might be connected to the group that summoned him, and might have more answers.
"You seem suited to the job as well, as you've already shown your ability to hold up against blood mages, and I'm sure you'll have notably less problems with Templars than Anders…"Hawke continued and the white haired man scoffed, drawing Harry's attention to him. Noticing that, Hawke introduced them, "Harry, this is Fenris, and this here is Aveline, an old friend of mine."
Oh. So that's an elf- the Elf even. Harry would have flushed from embarrassment, if he hadn't made the effort to contain his reaction- it wouldn't have made a very good first impression. Harry held out his hand again on habit, and after a glance, Aveline took his forearm in a firm embrace.
"Seems Hawke has added you to her group. Varric's only said a little about you, but I'm sure I'll learn more soon enough." Harry found her voice as firm as her grip, and decided 'firm' was a very good descriptor for the woman- not that he was complaining. She let his arm go, and turned to Hawke.
"However, that'll have to wait till another time. I want to see this through Hawke, but I have my duties to return to- be sure to inform me of how it goes." Hawke looked disappointed, as did Bethany, but returned Aveline's gesture of placing her hand on her shoulder and nodded.
"I understand- but we need to meet up for drinks later."
"If there's time."
"Stay safe, Aveline!" Bethany called after her.
Harry remembered Varric telling him that Aveline was in training to become Captain of the Guard, and now from what he saw, he thought it seemed the perfect job for the woman. He didn't question her need to be elsewhere- in fact he wondered how she found the time to follow Hawke in between her duties. The higher ranking Aurors were always complaining about a lack of time to sort out paper work, uphold the law and actually live their lives.
After watching Aveline go, Harry turned his attention to Fenris, offering him his hand in the same fashion he had the guardswoman, resigned to having his forearm grasped instead of his hand. Only Fenris didn't even raise his hand in acknowledgement.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." Harry prompted, which was met with an unimpressed stare.
"We'll see." The man's voice was surprisingly deep and gravelly for his physique.
Ah yes, Harry recalled that Fenris had a 'problem' with mages. Harry lowered his hand and smiled, although his eyes were almost as hard as the other man's.
"I'm sure we will." Harry challenged and Fenris narrowed his eyes, scowl deepening. Harry found he didn't really care- he knew that Fenris likely had very good reason to distrust some magic users, but Harry hadn't done anything to earn this man's disapproval.
Hawke and Varric both seemed to notice the tension, and Hawke quickly tried to refocus the attention.
"Well, we found out our source lead us to the Blooming Rose- that's where our recruits seemed to have gone missing."
Before Harry could open his mouth to ask where or what the Blooming Rose is, Isabela grinned excitedly, "Wait, you're telling me there's a job at the Blooming Rose? Count me in, this sounds like it might be fun."
Oh dear- if Isabela was this excited about the place, it probably wasn't a good thing. Catching his look, Bethany confirmed his fears dejectedly.
"The Blooming Rose is a… brothel, to put it nicely."
At least Bethany seemed as excited about the destination as he was.
AN: Varric and Isabela seemed to get along from the get go, but I still feel I may have made these two a bit too chummy. Isabela has really only known the others for a couple of days, and probably hasn't even gone out on 'adventures' with them that much.
If you were confused by the dream, don't worry, you were meant to be.