CHAPTER 3:
A CONVERSATION AT NIGHT
It was a month since Harry had been brought to Eruyt Village. On the one hand, he would have been bored out of his skull, if it weren't for the books he rescued from Nabudis. On the other hand, the village was admittedly soothing and relaxing. Some of it was the peace and quiet, the gentle serenity of the houses nestled amongst the tree trunks. Some of it was the natural beauty of the forest around them.
And some of it was watching bunny-eared women strutting around in little more than stilettos and clothing that was akin to lingerie.
Of course, many of them viewed him with suspicion or disdain. He got the feeling he was tolerated rather than welcomed. Jote confirmed this. For all of her having a thirty-foot pole up her admittedly callipygian arse, she was honest with him, and at least made an effort to make him feel, if not welcome, then wanted. And she was also a font of knowledge about the Viera and their traditions, and he was thankful to her for preventing a number of faux pas. Unlike his entry into Magical Britain, he had someone here to help him with the customs. He was sure Jote did it more to keep the peace than anything else.
Of course, it didn't stop him from pranking them occasionally. Including the Wood-Warders, after they had turned him into a pincushion. Like setting off hair-dyeing charms on them. He learned some interesting expletives that day.
A few Viera, however, viewed him with curiosity and interest, even some happiness, if only because he was something novel and new. Mjrn especially. In fact, she was probably his only friend amongst the Viera. Okay, so Death was trying to set him up with her, given her earlier comments. But it didn't hurt that, besides the whole sexy bunny-eared woman thing, she was both good-natured and curious, and actually listened to him. And he knew that she was interested in him, in more ways than one. He just wanted to take it slow. Ginny's ghost was not easy to dismiss, after all.
He remembered Death's words about Eruyt being almost as much a cage as the cupboard the Dursleys made him sleep in. And frankly, she wasn't too wrong. It was very much a gilded cage, one that many would be happy to live in. And it wasn't actually a prison per se as much as it was a community that wanted to be isolated from a chaotic world. It was like the Wizarding World in miniature, minus the Death Eaters, though the disdain towards anything 'other' was certainly there. But it was more like elves wanting to be isolated from the world. He could understand their reasons, and Jote was at least patient enough to discuss, even debate the matter with him.
But for someone like Mjrn, Eruyt Village was a cage. And to be honest, it was to him too.
One night, he couldn't sleep, not after a bad nightmare where he saw his family being annihilated by Fiendfyre, the eldritch flames consuming their flesh. And they were screaming at him, demanding that he save them, and blaming him when he couldn't. So he left the dwelling of Jote and Mjrn, and walked to the fountain in the Spiritwood, the part of Eruyt which could be considered a village square.
The fountain was where the Viera went to meditate every day. He didn't see much point, himself. Meditation never really worked for him. If he wanted to relax, he'd read a book. But for once, he sat near it, and listened to the sounds it made.
He heard the approach of someone else long before they sat down next to him. "Your sleep is troubled," came the unexpected voice of Jote.
"It has been for a long time," Harry admitted. "Even before I became marked by Death. I used to have nightmares of my parents dying. I remember my mother screaming, her murderer laughing, and a green light. I'm amazed I even remember that much, I was only one year old at the time. I remembered a lot more whenever I encountered Dementors." On Jote's look, he explained, "Creatures that cause your worst memories to come to the fore, sucking the happiness from you. And if they think they can, they will also take your soul."
"Horrible creatures," Jote said. "Why a green light?"
Harry chuckled bitterly. "Because the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, shines bright green. Here, green light is a vital magic. But back home, it means 'duck for cover, or you're dead'. I was the first person known to survive it. That's how I became known as the Boy Who Lived, even though it was something my mother did. Famous before I was out of nappies. And Dumbledore left me with my relatives to shield me from my fame. And you know what my relatives did."
"Treated you like a thrall," Jote said. He had told her a little about his life before.
"Yeah. The Dursleys weren't the worst Humes…but they were certainly not good examples by any means. Looking back, it's remarkable I ended up at Hogwarts remotely sane. Anyway, I saw my family dying again. We were always in danger because I was a great hero who had stopped Voldemort again, but there were many who wanted revenge. One day, they succeeded. My wife, my children, many of my best friends and their children…they were all killed when someone used Fiendfyre on our home. I regenerated, despite being burned to ashes…but I had lost my family, and I couldn't get them back. I was already treated with suspicion, as while I tried to hide my lack of aging, some people noticed. When I survived, I was viewed as Dark. Not for the first time. But I showed them how Dark I could be."
"You took revenge." It was no accusation, or even a question. She simply stated it as if she had seen his life already.
"Yes. Ironically, the one who helped me most was once my most bitter enemy at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy, however, had gotten used to a quiet life, albeit with political machinations. The ones who attacked me were rocking the boat, and he helped me track them down to get rid of them. But they eventually lured me into a trap, used Fiendfyre on me again while I was trapped in a room, and gathered up my ashes and dumped them through the Veil. I reformed in your world, just outside Nabudis. And, well, you know what happened there."
Jote listened. It had the cathartic air of a confession, that whole speech. Eventually, she said, "You still feel the hurt, don't you? It is like a phantom limb, a part of you forever severed, but still tickling maddeningly at your mind. Your family and friends burned away from you. I too know this pain. My parents died when we were still young by Viera standards, and I had to raise my sisters myself. When Fran left us, it felt like another loss, for a Viera who leaves the Wood is dead in our eyes. That is why I am concerned about your friendship with Mjrn. I am sure it pains Fran to be severed from the Green Word as much as it pains me to consider her lost to us. But your friendship with Mjrn may lead to another loss."
"At the risk of sounding trite and pseudo-philosophical, life is loss. Life is change, filled with loss and gains. Besides, you're older than I am. I'm not saying you should be used to loss, or that it should be easier, but you should be ready to feel its sting. Just saying. I think I heard in a movie somewhere once that 'life is pain: anyone who tells you differently is selling you something(1)'."
"Movie? Oh, you mean these recorded plays you spoke of before." Jote looked up at the sky, silently for a time, before she said, quietly, "It is not for my sake that I say this, Harry, nor is this for the sake of Eruyt or the Wood. I speak as a concerned sister. Mjrn knows even less of pain and loss than I. I know you think her stifled within Eruyt, and I even agree to an extent. But what pain and loss will she suffer should she venture out of the Wood? And should you become infatuated with each other, only to separate, how much more pain and loss will she know?"
"You don't want me to hurt her, is that it?" Harry said. Upon seeing Jote nod, Harry said, "I can't guarantee that I won't hurt her inadvertently. But I don't want to, Jote. I may be more than a little mad, but I know better than to try and inflict such things on her, because I've gone through a lot of loss and pain." He emitted a bitter chuckle. "Actually, there's a curse on my world that inflicts the most profound agony, the Cruciatus Curse. It's one of the most painful things I have ever endured. But it's nothing compared to the pain of a broken heart."
"So you understand what I am asking?"
"Try not to play with Mjrn's feelings, and don't start any serious relationship with her unless I'm sure of it," Harry said.
Jote nodded. "Then you do understand." She looked to the sky again, mostly hidden by the canopy of the Wood. "One thing I will ask of you, regardless of whether you ensnare the heart of my sister, is that you be our eyes and ears in Ivalice. A Hume would raise fewer questions than a Viera. And given the Cloak that you have used on occasion for your puerile pranks…"
"Hey, those were high art."
"Highly irritating, certainly," Jote retorted. "But the Cloak gives you stealth, a veritable boon for any spy. Would you agree to be one for us?"
Harry chuckled. "Well, as long as I get to prank others in the outside world. And as long as you don't object to giving Mjrn the choice to leave the Wood, but an informed decision. If she wishes to stay in Eruyt, fine. If she wishes to travel, then also fine. But I think she should be given a choice nonetheless. I mean, you choose to be the leader of Eruyt Village, don't you?"
"Not exactly. Who shall lead us if I do not? I have people I can train for the position, true, but there are few who are worthy, who can truly hear the Green Word."
Harry nodded. At first, he thought she was like any other person who claimed to have a hotline to a god. But Death disabused him of that notion. The Wood did exist as an entity. She was also, in Death's words (not that Harry disagreed) a stuck-up, jealous, possessive little bitch who didn't want her worshippers wandering off. Harry decided that voicing this to Jote was a bad idea. For all her being stuck-up herself, she was at least trying to be the best leader for Eruyt that she could be.
"I suggest coming back to your bed, Harry," Jote said. "Nightmares never go away, but they are merely phantoms brought up by your mind, with few exceptions." She stood, and reached to him with her clawed hand. He took her hand, and got up.
Mjrn couldn't sleep either, but she didn't go to the fountain like Harry or Jote did. Instead, she closed her eyes, and tried to go back to sleep. She heard her sister and Harry return, though, and watched through the barest crack in her eyelid. For a moment, she felt a pang of jealousy in her breast, an emotion she had only felt when thinking about Fran and her freedom beyond the Wood. She didn't know why she felt this jealousy, as she was sure that there was nothing between Harry and Jote. And yet, it was there.
Harry slid back into his bed, while Jote retired to her own. And Mjrn watched as Harry fell into sleep. Or try to anyway. Whatever demons had woken him from his slumber saw fit to keep him out of said slumber.
He was perhaps her only friend in Eruyt. Fran's departure had robbed her of one of her only friends, and Jote, while she loved Mjrn, treated her like a child, always. It was so unfair.
But she also knew that Harry was going to be groomed to be Eruyt's eyes and ears outside the Wood. And she was also certain, come hell or highwater, that she would accompany him outside. Her heart yearned for the novel and the new. And only outside Eruyt would she get it…
CHAPTER 3 ANNOTATIONS:
A conversation between Harry and Jote. I did this to show that Jote, despite the stick up her arse, is a decent person. Just too traditional and set in her ways. We'll have some more Harry/Mjrn in the next chapter.
1. A quote, or at least a modified one, from The Princess Bride.
