CHAPTER 2:

A FIRST MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS

This was an impossibility. This seemed like something out of some fairy tale, or some silly ballad sung by some cut-rate minstrel. And yet, in a moment when she was going to die, a friend she had thought little more than a particularly vivid figment of her imagination had yanked her away from the brink of death. Those emerald eyes flashing behind glasses, that lightning bolt scar half-hidden by his messy black hair…and there was the fact that he had saved her with magic. He had saved the others with magic. And he used that name only he had ever called her, that only he had the right to call her, not even Griffith.

Cas.

They spent the journey to their next camp in silence. Where could they begin? Where should they begin? "Hi there, Harry. I thought you were a hallucination, an imaginary friend, a wizard from another world who claimed to have slain a snake that can kill you with a look, faced off against a dragon, oh, and had a rather persistent warlock as a nemesis. And yet, you saved me and my comrades with magic that, if we caught the notice of the Holy See, we'd end up invited to a barbeque. And how are you, by the way?"

Certainly, many of the members of the Band of the Hawk were quieter than usual, many shooting glances at Harry, especially Corkus. And Corkus NOT running off his mouth was unusual. Oh, those suspicious glances he shot Harry weren't unusual, but they were usually accompanied by suspicious mutterings. Maybe he was thinking to himself. Wow, Corkus actually thinking, would miracles ever cease?

She stole a glance at Harry, who was riding in a wagon with the unconscious body of that damned swordsman that Griffith wanted brought with them. As angry as she was with the swordsman, not to mention a touch resentful at Griffith's decision (she may respect the man, even adore him and worship him, but it didn't stop her from having issues with his decisions), she had to admit, he was an excellent fighter. Reckless, little more than a skilled berserker, but she had to concede that his fight against Bazuso the Grey Knight was impressive. And looking back at her fight against him, she noticed he had a lot of presence of mind: the moment he got shot with the crossbow she wielded, he took it into account, and used his sword stance to shield against another bolt, if only to his face and upper torso. So he had a brain as well as brute strength, even if it was singularly tailored to killing something.

Even in her anger, there was a small part of her that felt some pity for the brute. He was only their age, and the scar across his nose was old enough to tell that he had been fighting for his life since about the same time she and Griffith started. As infuriating and hateful that this grunt was, there was just something about him that piqued her interest, if only because she wanted to know precisely what had piqued Griffith's.

Harry, after a moment, seemed to succumb to boredom, and reached into a bag he had with him, before pulling out a rather thick tome, one that had a glossy cover with a beautiful painting on the front. She peered at the words of the title: The Lord of the Rings. On her look, he said, "It's a long ride, and thankfully, I'm not driving. You can read it later, Cas."

"…You got any booze in there?" Corkus asked.

"For medicinal purposes," Harry said.

"Smartarse," Corkus sneered.

Harry merely ignored him. And Corkus, for now, decided to let matters rest. Casca, however, frowned. The book was large enough to take up a good portion of the bag Harry had had on his back, enough to potentially displace vital supplies like food or a tent, as she saw no evidence of the latter. He had what looked like a flask made of colourful, glossy material, with a symbol that looked like a tick, and the word 'NIKE' on it. She guessed that was for water.

And she noticed Griffith's scrutiny of Harry. Only Griffith knew of Casca's imaginary friend, something told to him in confidence. Griffith had taken it in his stride, as he did most things. Then again, considering that creepy Behelit thing he kept around with him…Casca didn't like that blood-coloured bauble with the seemingly randomly-placed facial features. Hell, she could have sworn that once, she saw one of the closed eyes open, and peer at her balefully with a blue eye. The only reason why she didn't take the thing away and throw it into the nearest lake or ravine was that she knew how much her commander treasured the ugly little thing…

They eventually made camp, with Harry rolling out his own tent, and setting it up. It looked fairly basic, even if the material felt strange to Casca as she tweaked some of the material between her fingers. It was thin and glossy, and she was unsure how this would keep water from leaking inside.

"Cas, I know you guys wouldn't have plastic on your world, but please stop fondling it, otherwise, you'll have to take it out to dinner," Harry said as he looked on, amused.

Casca grimaced. "Did you need to put that so crudely? I hear enough vulgar jokes from the men."

"…Okay, good point. Are you seriously the only woman here?"

"The only one who fights," Casca said. "We occasionally have washerwomen and…those whose profession is for pleasure."

"Oh, sex workers," Harry said. "And this being a time when contraception isn't a thing…yeah. VD and pregnancies abound." He looked disturbed at this. Casca realised with a start that his sympathies were with the women. She knew this wasn't the norm. At best, whores were objects of pity, not compassion. Quietly, he asked, "Does Griffith allow any of his soldiers to rape any women?"

"No. Any who do are executed on the spot. Even Corkus knows to just go and visit a brothel."

Harry nodded solemnly. "Good. I've dealt with a few soldiers who thought they could do what they liked with women."

"Yes, I heard of that," came the voice of Griffith as he approached.

Harry leapt into the air. "Merlin's balls! Give a guy some warning! What are you, an albino ninja?"

"…Ninja?" Griffith asked. "In any case, we happened to pass through the Kaliss farmstead sometime after you did. I spoke to them while asking about supplies, and they spoke of a young man with raven black hair, green eyes and glasses, with a lightning bolt shaped scar. One who had used magic to save them from deserters. It took some coaxing to get that much out of them, though, given their fear that the Holy See would throw their saviour onto a bonfire. I have a somewhat more open mind, or at least a pragmatic one, where magic is concerned. Casca tells me that your name is Harry Potter. I am in your debt for helping save the lives of my comrades, Harry. Sadly, I may have to ask for your indulgence for a further period. A healer as good as you is a rare thing." He looked at Casca, and smiled. "Besides, given how much you seem to mean to Casca, I would think that you'd want a chance to catch up. Casca, I need you to keep an eye on our new friends. Especially the swordsman. I have the feeling that Corkus and his men may be insubordinate and try to attack him."

Casca fought down a flare of annoyance. Not at being with Harry, but rather, having to play babysitter to the brute who had nearly killed her. She was admittedly somewhat angrier at Corkus, but she couldn't take it out on him, other than berating and a light beating. She was an army commander, not a bully. In any case, apparently Judeau and Pippin were handling that…

"Get me down from here!" Corkus screamed, as he hung upside down from a tree, stripped to his smallclothes, and with the words I'm a greedy fuckwit scrawled in ink across his bare chest.

The massive form of Pippin crossed his arms. "Take your punishment like a man," the giant rumbled. "Maybe the blood rushing to your head might get you to actually think."

Well, Pippin reflected a few seconds later, it certainly got the belligerent former bandit to think of more swear words to hurl at me…

Casca stared around the interior of the tent…only, the inside seemed closer to a small but richly furnished house (Harry joked that she was in the TARDIS, whatever that was, as he brought in the swordsman's supine body). But many of the furnishings seemed alien to her. Harry went over to one squat device on a desk, and pressed down on part of it. There was a click, and then, after a moment, to her astonishment, music came from it. Eerie ethereal music, before someone began singing…

We passed upon the stair,

We spoke of was and when,

Although I wasn't there,

He said I was his friend,

Which came as some surprise,

I spoke into his eyes,

"I thought you died alone,

A long, long time ago…"

Oh no, not me,

I never lost control,

You're face to face

With the man who sold the world…

"Ah, David Bowie," Harry said quietly. "Well, Midge Ure, really, doing Bowie's song. Thank Merlin that the solar recharge runic array Hermione put on this tent works."

"What is this magic?" Casca murmured, touching the device.

"Actually, that's technology. Not magic. I mean, the power that keeps it running is fed by magic, but the rest of it? Well, to be honest, I only know the basics of how a CD player work. You guys are still in the Middle Ages. Then again, what did Hermione say? That Arthur C Clarke said that any advanced enough technology is indistinguishable from magic."

"Hermione…your friend from…your world," Casca said, trying to get a handle on the moment, even as Harry twisted something on the CD player, causing the music to decrease in volume.

"Yeah. I'm hoping she's safe."

"So…those adventures you told me of…they were real? Voldemort, the Basilisk, the Dementors…they were real?"

"…Yes. I'd be hurt that you didn't believe me…but I thought you were an imaginary friend too. One I never grew out of."

"…Same here. I'm…I'm still not sure that this is some dream, some delusion that's come about after I hit my head. I fell off that horse pretty hard, thanks to that bastard," Casca glared down at the swordsman. "What does Griffith want with him anyway? Does he want him to join us?"

"Hey, you know Griffith better than I do, Cas," Harry said with a shrug. His features softened, and he gave Casca a tired smile, a weary smile. "Meeting you for the first time, I mean in person, is the best thing to happen to me in a very long time. I at least have a friendly face, and not just memories." He chuckled a fatigued chuckle of relief. He then threw his arms around her and laughed as he embraced her, a cracked braying sound, but laughter all the same.

Had it been anyone else, she would have shoved them off. Indeed, she froze briefly. But she relaxed, as she realised he wanted nothing more than a hug. She placed his arms around his body. And she couldn't help a smile creeping onto her own lips. "It's good to finally meet you, Harry," she said. And it was good to finally meet him. To have some affirmation that he wasn't an overactive figment of her imagination. To feel his presence, to experience his scent…that made him real…

Griffith smiled rather wistfully as he peered at the strange tent the wizard had set up. While he had a rather strange and exclusive definition of friendship, it did not mean he didn't value Casca. She had been one of his first recruits into what became the Band of the Hawk after all, and her loyalty, skills and determination were valuable assets. But…he also wished she would smile more, that she would have more moments of happiness like this. He knew she wanted to be with him in some manner, but alas, his ambitions precluded that, and she knew that.

She had spoken to him of Harry Potter, the imaginary friend who was also a wizard, going on fanciful adventures. And now, said wizard was here. Griffith saw that as providence, whether shaped by the hand of a deity, or else by happenstance. Even if the wizard did not fight for the Band of the Hawk (Griffith knew that, as powerful as a wizard would be, using his powers in battle would attract unwanted attention from the Holy See and their Holy Iron Chain Knights), he could give Casca happiness that Griffith could never truly give her, regardless of whether it was merely as a close friend, or even as a lover.

Still, there was that interesting swordsman. The one who fought Bazuso the Grey Knight. True, he was reckless, but there was something about that that Griffith admired. He saw potential in the muscled warrior, potential that would be wasted outside the Band of the Hawk.

Yes…kismet brought them together, he was sure of it. He gently clasped the Crimson Behelit around his neck. Yes, he was sure of it…

CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:

So, Harry and Casca have had a little talk, and Griffith has been doing some contemplating of his own. The lyrics come from The Man Who Sold the World by David Bowie, and I don't own that, obviously. I prefer the Midge Ure version, though, and it shows.

Now, a few points I'd like to discuss. Firstly, Harry and Casca's relationship. At the moment, they're friends, and frankly, they're still coming to terms with the fact that their respective friend is real. No actual romance will be taking place just yet, and considering that they do have some conflicting natures, it will take some time. Harry prefers not to kill except in egregious circumstances, whereas Casca, being a mercenary, kills for a living. Casca also has a stronger temper than Harry. Finally, Harry comes from a modern society, while Casca comes from a medieval society where she's had to struggle a lot more to get to where she is now.

Writing from Griffith's POV was interesting. I wanted to think about what he thinks of Casca. Now, his little speech about what he considers friendship is actually somewhat callous, and it shows him to lack empathy somewhat, as do some of his actions. But I also decided, he actually does care about his comrades in the Band of the Hawk, at least to some degree, not just putting on a façade. I said he lacks empathy, not that he has none whatsoever. I think he does lead on Casca somewhat, but I think he and Casca have an understanding that he cannot love her, even if he wanted to, because of his ambitions. It's his obsession with Guts, and his refusal to accept Guts' desire to move on that leads, like a growing avalanche, to what happens during the Eclipse. So while he does have, IMO, sociopathic tendencies in some regards, he's not at all evil, especially not by the standards of a medieval fantasy world. At least at this point in the story. If Casca's happy with Harry, then Griffith is glad for her.

No numbered annotations this time.