Chapter 3: The Cold Song

Harry cursed himself, wishing for a Room of Requirement in this world. Searching through tattered books on Telvanni led to little on Neloth. Only in some books, would his obsession even be mentioned, but that instant flame of emotion it ignited quickly dwindled.

"Reading is haaaaaard," Harry whined out, jokingly sounding like a pre-teen.

Although he prided himself in being cool and collected, he was an impatient brat. Without instant results to either confirm or deny Elynea's story, Harry left Neloth's small library, leaving towards the kitchen. He would just bother someone else today.

When Harry arrived and looked around at platters of untouched food, he found Ulves Romoran not cooking, but leaning against a wall and flicking his fingers. The Dunmer cook might have won against Elynea in a competition of laziness. Unlike Elynea, who at least pretended to sell goods, Ulves was more content to sleep in the kitchen, guzzle its stores of Sujamma, and repeat the process.

All of these qualities deserved punishment; not just banishment from Tel Mithryn, but being subjected to experiments as Neloth's test subject. Despite his disgust, Harry was strangely found of Ulves. The Dunmer cook lived up to Harry's view of mortals as pathetic. Ulves exemplified mediocrity and didn't pretend to have importance like Elynea. Ulves knew he was pathetic and beneath Harry.

"Harry," Ulves almost coughed out his name.

"Ulves, not working as usual. Tisk tisk."

"I forgot about the guest we had...Tel Mithryn has never housed such royalty." For one fleeting moment, Ulves' Dunmer arrogance broke through in sarcasm.

"You thing too highly of me, subject." Harry played along, watching Ulves' expression ease as if they were friends.

At times, Elynea and Ulves reminded him of Hermione and Ron. Elynea was the more intelligent Dunmer whereas Ulves exemplified Ron's worst traits. Both Dunmer were crude copies of his memories of his former friends, Harry thought almost snidely to himself. He didn't care for Hermione, but Elynea was the Gryffindor girl's future if she had forsaken books to divulge in petty gossip. Ulves took Ron's laziness with school work and defined it as an entire lifestyle. Even Ron accomplished something if it involved Quidditch.

"Save the fancy words for a better person, king," Ulves paused, before dropping the charade. "What do you want?" The Dunmer yawned.

"I'm bored."

"Don't bother me then."

"I'm sorry I interrupted you drinking the last of Neloth's Sujamma."

"I trained years just to get this alcohol tolerance," Ulves choked out a laugh. The Dunmer was sick in both mind and body.

"How have you not been promoted to a councilor? There's the schools of Mysticism and Alteration, but truly the ancient, obscure art of getting sloppy drunk is esteemed among the Telvanni."

Before Ulves could crack a response, Harry noticed the Sujamma bottle from which Ulves had been drinking.

"What's the year on that, anyways?"

"Third era, 427..."

"The year of the Nerevarine," Harry whispered, his thoughts returning to his painful conversation with Elynea. This was too coincidental, as if Harry's life had been prewritten to discover this past.

"Neloth won't mind me drinking this. They drained Vvardenfell dry to make enough booze to celebrate Dagoth Ur's defeat that year."

Harry didn't respond, preferring to roll his eyes at Ulves.

"My family was apart of Redoran back then. It wasn't until the Ash Year and their displacement that they came to serve Neloth and the House. I drink to them." Ulves smiled, his eyes beaming with gluttony.

Instead of continuing to disapprove, Harry did something he knew he would regret. His research had led nowhere, so like Elynea, he would lower himself and ask of Neloth's past.

"Elynea was barking something about a conspiracy to kill Neloth and the Telvanni councilors back then. Please say you know more than her rumors."

"That's an odd question to ask," Ulves remarked, but the Sujamma had already killed any suspicion the Dunmer could have mustered. "I'll tell you, because unlike those wizards, the Redoran are honest."

Ulves had never spoken anything more interesting to Harry. Just like Elynea, he had been of actual use to Harry today. The young wizard almost felt grateful, but quickly denied that thought. Ulves was but another tool.

"My ancestor Anise Romoran was involved with several fights against the Telvanni even...let me remember, one of the councilors manipulated that Arch-Mage into killing the other councilors. Aryon? Yes, that was it. The Arch-Mage was fed fake information on what he thought were plans by the Telvanni to spy and ultimately eliminate the Guild."

"But why would he believe those lies? Telvanni aren't word-smiths. They're too addicted to their books to even know how to manipulate another person."

Most Telvanni were the Dunmer versions of Ravenclaws, too bound in ancient tomes and long-forgotten magics to even leave their grand towers.

"Aryon had ambitions to change the Telvanni and modernize it. Eliminating his fellow isolationist councilors without being directly involved would have changed the House. Neloth wouldn't have saved this House..."

That remark soured Harry's demeanor, pushing the edges of his calm facade. Like the elder wizard, his House was perfect and above a bumbling loon like Ulves. No matter how much the Dunmer amused him, the Telvanni could not be shamed.

"Did any of them live?" Harry needed to press further without letting Ulves affect him.

"Other than Neloth...Aryon." The Dunmer's words were starting to slur.

"Why didn't Neloth deal with him?" Harry asked as if he were a child enveloped in his favorite fairytale.

"Divayth Fyr intervened. Aryon also had the ear of the Nerevarine. He's retired now, doing who-knows-what just like Neloth."

"Don't speak that way about him," Harry barked.

The threat was not lost on the drunk; Ulves simply reacted.

"What, your precious Dunmer? You're young, naïve, and barely know him." Once again, Ulves had somehow summoned a brief glimpse of Dunmer arrogance despite his stupor.

"He enjoys me." The words clung strangely to the air, mocking Harry in how ridiculous he sounded.

"Like that means anything?" Ulves slurred. "You're just his latest subject. At least I know my place here."

"I..." Harry almost didn't know how to respond. He shouldn't be asking around about Neloth in the first place, descending to the petty rumors of these beasts. "I can't do this."

Harry left too quickly to even hear Ulves mutter a response. He couldn't deal with this right now; today had been rife with too much emotion for the young wizard. Harry's flesh felt like a porcelain doll being slowly pressed into the floor; every second caused another crack.

Overwhelmed with his day, Harry retreated back to his bedroom. Luckily, Neloth wasn't there. The Dunmer had probably deciphered the meaning of existence and learned how to achieve CHIM all by noon, whereas Harry could barely deal with two lowly servants and a conjuration spell.

The boy needed some sense of purpose. He couldn't admit it, but his life was stagnant without Neloth. At least in his old world, his life had meaning. Harry barely had the energy to leave the bed most days, but he still willed himself into action. He wondered if he was trying to prove his worth to Neloth by practicing magic and studying, but Harry could not think further. He could not deem himself unworthy of the wizard.

Shaking off his lapse into doubt, Harry refocused on the assassination plot against the Telvanni councilors. It was mostly deluded rumor (or what the Dunmer would call their rich, "oral tradition"), distorted through the generations since it happened, but the pursuit of learning the truth made the young wizard excited. Harry hadn't truly felt that since leaving his old world. The answer would be less important than the quest it entailed.

"Aryon is alive," Harry muttered to himself, trying to collect his thoughts. "He wouldn't help Neloth's servant, let alone his rival's lover...but he doesn't know I exist."

Harry almost wondered if anyone in this world knew he existed outside of the residents of Tel Mithryn. His existence could be easily erased, not even leaving a blemish upon this world.

"Aryon must still accept apprentices, but..." Harry gulped, wondering if it was worth even saying. "I would have to leave Neloth. Briefly of course."

The plan was vague for now, but Harry had all day to refine how to find Aryon. Even though he toyed with other options, none would work. He needed to visit Aryon in person, earn his trust, and display the cunning Neloth had taught him. Despite the glee he felt, doubt once again bubbled to the forefront of his mind.

"Will I even be emotionally stable if I leave?"

He could either live monotonously or prove himself to Neloth and live with purpose. Harry gulped, knowing what he wanted to do. It took no seer to see he yearned to prove himself, taste battle, and employ his ability to deceive. Tel Mithryn's people were now broken toys, overused by Harry and without hope for any future excitement. He needed to put them and this place away, saving only Neloth.

Harry would find and defeat Neloth's greatest rival. It was arrogant and foolhardy, but it had now become Harry's latest obsession.

AN: Well, this won't be just a two/three-shot. Does anyone want a character from the Harry Potter universe to appear in the story?