Chapter 12:
Harry choked on his tea (tea, it seemed, was universal) and gasped as the hot liquid burnt his throat. He coughed and spluttered, flapping a hand rather uselessly over his mouth.
"W-what?" He managed to get out through it all.
The Queen placed her own cup of tea down very delicately and said sternly, "I will not respond to such a crude exclamation. Furthermore, you are not a human, stop acting like one."
Harry had by now figured out that calling an elf a 'human' was like calling a human an ape. He quickly stopped waving his hand. "What do you mean betrothed?" He demanded.
"Exactly what it implies. We should begin selecting appropriate matches," she responded calmly, observing the top of her tea as it rippled gently, an invisible breeze cooling it.
Harry felt sick. "Betrothed, like marriage betrothed?"
"Yes."
"B-but…" he spluttered, "I'm only sixteen!"
She stared at him cooly. "Yes, I am well aware of that. Cease that ungainly stuttering. You will not be immediately betrothed, but we should begin narrowing down candidates. It could take some time."
Harry relaxed only marginally. "Time?"
"You must spend an adequate amount of time with each candidate to properly be able to consider how suitable she will be. Several years for each, I should think."
"Several years!" He repeated, gaping.
His grandmother looked at him sharply. "You are not a fish, close your mouth. And stop repeating me."
Harry's jaw clicked shut but he still managed to look rather bug eyed as he stared at her with a disbelieving gaze.
She continued on as if she hadn't just reprimanded him. "If we start with those closest to your age, then we can work our way through all suitable females over the next century until we've narrowed it down to a good twenty or so. In your second century you can pick the most appropriate match and then spend one or two more centuries making sure she is perfect. She will be Queen thus she will need to be the best of the best, is that clear? She will need to undergo training. You can be married after your first millennia."
Harry felt like he was having a particularly odd dream, because surely he hadn't just heard the words 'century' and 'millennia' thrown around so casually like that. Hearing his grandmother speak about his near immortality in such a flippant way really drove home that fact that he was going to live for thousands of years. His sixteen years of life was barely a drop in the ocean. His grandmother was talking about spending one hundred years alone just sorting through prospective brides.
Speaking of brides - Harry swallowed thickly and managed, "What about love?"
The Queen froze for the barest of moments. "Love?" She mussed. "Love is important. To spend so much time in the company of another you must at least like them. Love will come - if not, a fond companionship. Do not worry yourself with such things now."
Harry chewed his lip for a moment, thinking, until a stern glance from his grandmother had him stopping. He hesitated to bring up his thoughts, but he needed to know. "What if I fall in love with someone who...who isn't the best?"
"That will not happen," she said sharply, almost commandingly. "You will not associate with those who would not be worthy, therefore it will not present a problem." She paused for a sip of tea. "Which brings me to my next point; those lower House Elwý you have been associating with are hardly appropriate companions."
"They still have a House!" Harry protested.
"Their blood is too new."
"Grandmother…" The Queen looked at him sharply. He almost never called her 'grandmother', it was too informal. Harry continued softly, "They're important to me. They're honest and good people and they're my friends. I won't stop associating with them. If you allow me anything, allow me to pick my friends." At her darkening expression, Harry knew he was fighting a losing battle. "Isn't it important to have people you can trust with anything?"
He balled his hands into fists and waited. If she still refused, he was going to have to threaten to abdicate, despite how he had promised to be the best prince they could have hoped for. But if he just kept rolling over and submitting to everything they demanded of him, despite that they had the power to make his life miserable, he feared that he might never see his human friends again. He needed to start standing up for himself at some point, or they would never let him return to the human realm.
He only hoped Aunt Petunia had come up with a good plan if all else failed.
Besides, Harry Potter rolled over for no one. So maybe he was being the perfect grandson at the moment - but that was for the sake of family. It still send a happy shiver down his spine thinking about it. But if it went too far and his grandmother tried to control everything, then he'd have to start digging his heels in and refuse.
"You would defy me?" She ended up inquiring, a note of steel in her tone.
Harry raised his chin and looked her straight in the eye. "I wouldn't be a very good ruler if I caved in to every demand made of me, would I? I'm used to making my own decisions and paying for my own mistakes. I've never had to answer to anyone before." He took a deep breath and continued, digging himself in deeper but refusing to back down. "You're the Queen and my grandmother and I respect you a lot and love you. I would do anything for you, but…I won't let you dictate everything about me. I need to make some of my own decisions and who I befriend is one of those."
"What you have said could be considered treason. Our power is absolute. If I told you to marry the daughter of House Caerlin tomorrow, you would do it," The Queen hissed, eyes glowing dangerously.
Harry refused to roll over and play dead. "Maybe. And then I would hate you for the rest of my life." He watched with a wince as she sucked in a deep breath, the words hitting close to home. "Or maybe I would leave and abdicate."
"You would break your promise?" She snapped, now quite furious if the tendrils of hair snaking around her head was any indication.
Harry braced himself just in case she released her anger on him fully. "Yes! I only keep my promises to those that deserve to have promises kept."
It was a low blow, he realised and she realised it too. The air seemed to still and grow heavy with repressed emotion. A sharp wind rattled the glassware and caught the curtains, tugging them into a whirlwind of flailing fabric.
"I should have you collared for your impertinence!" She practically spat at him, fingers clenching into white-knuckled fists. A crystal goblet knocked over and shattered. Harry screwed up his eyes and held his breath, waiting for her to strike.
She didn't.
Abruptly, the wind stopped and he snapped his eyes open, watching her warily.
"You will make a good King," she told him softly, head tilted slightly to take in his rigid posture.
"What…" He began.
"Hush. You were right. I despise those who question me - I am not used to it. But you are right. You say you have made your own decisions up until now? Tell me about it. I wish to know everything you have done, and then I will decide what I will do."
Harry opened and closed his mouth, uncertain at the turn of events. What had just happened? Seconds ago she had been raging at him and now she was agreeing with him?
"I…"
"Tell me."
He knew exactly where to begin. He needed to convince her he was going to be a good leader and then maybe she would stop being so stubborn. "Last year the Ministry sent a woman to take over the school from the inside, repressing the students and undermining the power of the Headmaster and teachers. We rebelled against her, forming a group to meet in secret. We called it the Defence Association, or D.A. for short. I was the leader." He smiled almost sadly. "One of my good friends once told me I made a very good leader - that I was able to inspire loyalty easily. Then not a few months ago they went with me into battle and almost died. That was out of choice. I didn't ask them to come, but they did anyway. We got away, but barely."
His grandmother's skin seemed to pale, any colour draining from her face as she picked up a new goblet and poured a fresh cup of tea. A swift flick of a finger and steam rose from the top. She sipped it shakily.
"Battle? The humans are at war? You were put in danger?" She demanded uncertainly.
Harry realised perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to tell her about the Ministry battle - she might never let him go back.
"It was my fault," he hurried to assure her. "I left the safety of the school and broke into the Ministry. I shouldn't have done it and instead I ended up in trouble and battling my way out. It was a battle of my own making."
Whoops, he thought, that just undermines everything I just told her. Now she would think he was a bad decision-maker.
Indeed, it did not seem to mollify her much, but her hands stopped shaking and she pressed her lips together grimly, expression pinched. "I see."
"The world is a dangerous place, no matter where you are or what you are doing," Harry tried again. "And danger seems to follow me everywhere. Even if you locked me in a padded room, I doubt I would be able to last long before something happened." He gave a sheepish shrug. "It's just my bad luck."
"I dislike this 'bad luck' of yours," said his grandmother sourly. "This is not good news. You are being put in danger in this human world. You will not go back."
"No!" Harry all but yelled, shooting up in his seat, hands reaching for the armrests and clutching them like a lifeline. "NO." He repeated, voice cracking.
The Queen froze at the voracity of his response and she jerked back slightly. "No? This is non-negotiable. Your safety is paramount, this is not to be taken lightly."
"You can't," whispered Harry hoarsely, horrified at the thought of never returning. "You can't."
And she wouldn't. He'd make sure of it.
His grandmother's eyes flashed eerily and she slammed the goblet down on the table, liquid sloshing from the top. "I will not see another die! You will be safe. I will not allow you out of my sight until you are five hundred if I have to, but so help me you will not come to harm."
Harry flinched back, shocked at the unprecedented display of emotion from a woman he had long come to understand as having almost perfect control. And now, in under a week he'd managed to reduce her to uncontrolled emotional displays more than once.
It touched him that he had someone who cared about him so much - someone that was family - but he had others out there who cared just as much who he couldn't abandon. The Weasleys, Hermione, Neville, Luna…
No. He had to return. He had a duty and he had an adopted family he couldn't leave behind.
"You can't keep me here," he half-pleaded, half-ordered.
But his grandmother's expression merely tightened and she all but snarled a denial.
Harry fled. It was probably only the shock of someone walking out on her that allowed him to do it as well, or he might have been seized by her magic before he could have taken more than a few steps towards the door. Instead, he slammed the door on her scream of, "Araëmel!" and made for the stairs, thinking furiously.
They both needed to calm down. Arguing with her right now wouldn't make any difference. He needed a plan of action - some way to convince her to let him return to Hogwarts. But who to talk to?
Suddenly he desperately wished Hermione was there with him - she always knew what could be done. But he wasn't Hermione and there was no one who could replace her. All he had was Quenah, who would never dream of putting Harry in harms way, Meldir and Taswa who would probably die before disobeying the Queen and-
That was it, he realised sadly. Three friends. One who wasn't even his age - more like a favourite uncle.
So where to go? What could he do?
He stomped down through the levels of the palace, ignoring the way everyone stopped and bowed their heads at his passing. The day after his crowning, every single elf he had run into in the palace bowed or curtsied to him, stopping whatever they were doing to lower their eyes and duck their heads. He had felt uncomfortable leaving a trail of silence in his wake. He was no longer anonymous - everyone knew his face now. But after nearly a week of it, he had long resigned himself to his uncomfortable new position and easily ignored it.
He continued further down, passing through the first two palaces into the first one, like he usually did when he wanted to get away. As he walked he mulled over his situation - tried to think of an excuse he could use. Or even a way he could blackmail his grandparents into letting him go back. If worse came to worse he might even have to run away - but that was a last resort only.
He discarded the prophecy almost immediately. He got the feeling that they wouldn't give a damn whether or not the wizarding world went to hell because he wasn't there to defeat Voldemort. Neither would they like the idea of him facing a powerful, evil wizard out for his blood on his own.
They held no sympathy for humans at all, this he knew with certainty. But any and all arguments he could come up with all relied on the compassion of the one being convinced. He couldn't beg them for his friends' lives nor the lives of the wizarding world. He couldn't beseech them on behalf of his own promises and obligations. There was nothing left.
He was trapped.
Maybe he would have to run away.
He wandered down to the stables, feeling hollow. He passed horses in their stalls, watching as they poked their heads out to regard him with knowing eyes. He had always sworn that elvish horses were smarter than horses in the human realm - then again, he was only going off of muggle horses. Who knew, maybe magical horses were more intelligent.
He stopped by the horse he always rode. A black stallion. It always made him smile in wry amusement. What was more predictable than the Prince riding a black stallion? Perhaps a white one instead. Still, he was at least grateful for the fact that even if he didn't necessarily look the part of dashing prince - his horse always did. Because unfortunately for Harry, most of said princes had a far better grasp of riding than he did and probably didn't get bucked off quite so much. He was only glad he was able to flip in the air and land on his feet nearly every time, or he'd be a lot more wary of riding the beast.
"Hey, you," he murmured, stroking the horse's velvety nose. It snorted softly and bumped his hand. "Oh now you're nice to me."
He stood there petting it for a few minutes more, thinking of nothing except the feel of the soft hair and warm nose under his fingers and the smell of sweet hay and light sweat.
In his daze the faint sounds of wood crashing on wood and metal ringing on metal reached his ears. They twitched slightly, straining further to pick up more sounds coming from the practice courtyard. No doubt Meldir and Taswa were out there right now with Melcacrist, beating on one another with practice swords.
He wondered if he should join them. He wouldn't be able to speak to them much, but maybe he could work out some of his frustration and despair through a good work out and the opportunity to 'kill' someone.
Whoever said violence was not the answer was clearly on something.
He moved past the horses after one last pat good bye, heading for practice room where they kept spare practice swords and sparring clothes. It wouldn't do to ruin his nice outfit with rips and tears.
He found a jerkin in his size and a delightfully smelly and worn dirty cream tunic. He kept his pants and boots and picked up a wooden practice sword, hoping Melcacrist would indulge him this time around as well. The last time he'd interrupted a lesson things hadn't gone quite so well.
He emerged into the sunlight, blinking, body turning to follow the sounds of swordplay even while his pupils contracted to bare slits to take in the sudden influx of light. He came across the group of students hanging off the fenced in fighting square, jeering and shouting at Taswa and an opponent whose name he didn't know. He caught a fair amount of the insults and realised that they were insulting her parentage and her unprivileged background. It sparked a tinge of anger in him that he had to squash back down - after all, they were doing it on Master Melcacrist's orders.
And yet, he couldn't help but feel that some of them sounded a little too gleeful as they shouted insults. Like they were enjoying it a bit too much.
But nothing fazed Taswa. He watched, impressed, as she systematically took apart her opponent until the other girl was sprawled on the ground, panting, her sword five feet away in the dust. The jeering died down and there was silence except for Taswa and the girl's harsh breathing.
"Good!" Bellowed Melcacrist, peeling off from the fence and prowling close to the two. Harry took the opportunity to search for Meldir, finally spotting his friend near the other end of the crowd, in the back, hands hooked into his waistband.
He passed by a few of his peers, heading for his friend, and suddenly every head was turned and staring at him.
Melcacrist was speaking, "If you were paying attention like you were supposed to be, you'll have noticed what Iyara did wrong. Who can tell me? Pay attention! What the blazes are you all staring at?" The class parted until Harry, standing like a deer caught in the headlights, had a clear view of Melcacrist's angry face. "Ah, interrupting my class yet again, your Highness?" The elf asked sarcastically, but not cruelly.
Harry shrugged, holding up the practice sword in his right hand sheepishly.
Master Melcacrist grunted. "Well then, since everyone seems not to be able to take their eyes off of you, you can be my next victim. Get in here."
Perfect, Harry thought, striding through the parted students and hopping the chest-high fence with graceful ease.
"You!" Barked Melcacrist, pointing at Iyara sitting on the ground, "Get running, and don't stop until the next match is over!"
Iyara leapt to her feet, suddenly miraculously recovered (Harry well knew that Melcacrist was damn good motivation for nearly any kind of exhaustion), and sprinted for the fence, leaping over it in one fell swoop and jogging off, occasionally peering over her shoulder. Harry swivelled his head back around and regarded Taswa. His friend barely looked winded.
He swallowed.
"You'll be sparring Taswa," Said Melcacrist unnecessarily.
Harry cracked a morbid grin. "Don't beat me up too badly, okay?"
Taswa looked momentarily startled and then her eyes narrowed and a small grin split her face. That is, until Melcacrist chuckled darkly and suddenly the whole class tensed up. When Melcacrist was happy, that generally meant someone was about to get hurt - or worse.
"I've changed my mind. Araëmel, you do not have enough practice to take on Taswa right now-" Harry's shoulders began to relax until they caught Melcacrist's next words, "however I've been told you're a magical genius, a complete natural. Let's even the playing field. I allow you to use Gwý in any way you can during the fight and see if it manages to boost your fighting skills enough to take on my best. Got it?"
Harry exchanged wide-eyed glances with his friend. "Yes, sir."
Use Gwý? How? Harry racked his brains and then it came to him. He'd had lessons on the theory of this already - powerful elf warriors, the elite of the elite (and Meldir's dream job) used the application of air manipulation to boost their movements and become almost superhuman during a fight. They could leap metres into the air and almost fly (supposedly) as well as use it to knock out their opponent. The air became an extension of self and they utilised it like an extra limb.
In other words, Harry was going to have to hope his control was good enough, or he was going to be soundly thrashed.
However, what Melcacrist had said wasn't far from the truth. After so much exposure to magic in life-or-death situations, Harry had developed a keen instinct and was a quick learner. It hadn't taken him long to realise how to control his mostly instinctive manipulation of air currents.
Elwý, it seemed, always exuded magic. It was the reason why they always looked like their skin was glittering and shining, because the magic was always present. The more magic one had, the more they exuded and the brighter they glowed (although the difference was so minute only one with elf eyes could ever tell the difference). As Harry had discovered, this was why they could manipulate the air. Their magic attached itself to the air's very particles and it became an extension of self. All one had to do was control their will and the air could be commanded.
Of course, if one wanted to influence the air further away, they had to extend their magic and that's when things became more difficult. But it hadn't taken Harry long to catch on. He'd managed to cast a Patronus powerful enough to banish one hundred Dementors when he was thirteen, so a little thing like exuding excess magic was hardly an obstacle.
So with that in mind, he faced Taswa fully, squared his shoulders, hefted his sword...and then closed his eyes. For a few moments he blocked out everything around him, feeling his magic instead and coaxing more and more power from the deep well within him. He sometimes wondered if his magic was limitless, as it never ceased to come, flowing like an endless stream.
To elven eyes he began to truly glow as his magic saturated his skin and the air around him. With his eyes still closed, he focused on the outside again, taking in the feeling of multiple presences to his right, and the one in front of him. The air caressed his skin and hers and he felt it when they both moved.
He never even heard Melcacrist murmur, "Begin," only felt it when Taswa suddenly sprung. He didn't even have to open his eyes, he felt her move and twisted to the side, bringing up his sword to parry hers. He opened his eyes at the last minute to make last second alterations to the slant of the wooden blade, and then he braced himself for impact.
The blow jarred his shoulder and they leapt away from each other, Harry more gracefully than ever as the air steadied his landing. Taswa eyed him with surprise and not a small amount of awe. Then her expression hardened and she came at him again.
They fell into a rhythm. Taswa would attack and Harry would feel her move and block. If she attempted something he didn't think he could catch, he would simply dodge out of the way and wait for her to try again. She grew frustrated, and if the muttering to the sidelines was any indication, so too was the rest of the class.
She attacked with sudden vigour and despite everything he was hard pressed to stop her. His magic flared and wind rose up around him in a swirl, rebuffing her violently. She flipped, natural elvish grace lending her cat reflexes, and landed in a partial crouch, hand still clenched tightly around her sword.
Harry realised then that had he not had his magic, he would have ended up on the floor nursing a violent bruise. He would have to do something, and quick, before she came up with a way to sneak past his defences.
He wouldn't be able to overpower her with his current sword fighting skills (non-existent) which meant he would have to use his magic. Quickly, before she could recover enough to leap at him again, he brought round his left hand and and twisted it. Wind swirled violently, whipping around his hair and clothes and only an air-enforced grip on his sword prevented him from losing it. Sometimes he didn't know his own magical strength.
Taswa gave a cry as she was pushed back and abandoned any attack plan in favour of shielding her eyes from the abrasive sand that was swirling up in mini-tornados between them. Then, he watched in slight apprehension as they grew and grew and grew.
Somehow he doubted Taswa was going to find an opening now. But at the same time he could do nothing with his own sword. There was a violent barrier between them.
The wind trying to rip his hair off and shred his clothes was getting annoying, so Harry, content in the knowledge that for the moment he was safe, turned his attention inwards. Trying to concentrate on more than one thing was difficult, but he managed to push the wind back and his clothes settled down. He was now in the eye of the storm, protected, while everyone else was busy trying to shield themselves. Harry thought he glimpsed a magical barrier spread across one of the fences, keeping the winds contained on one side.
None of this helped Taswa.
Finding it unhelpful, he finally released control over the winds and the tornados died down, sand settled back on the ground and filling in the deep gouges the twisters had created in the dirt. Taswa straightened from her crouch and eyed him warily. Harry braced himself and bent his knees, ready to spring away if she attacked.
Or, he suddenly thought, he could just bat her away with a gust of air. It was sort of cheating, but Melcacrist had said he could do anything he was able to do - and Harry was nothing if not inventive and very very good at improvising.
Some would call it impulsive - Harry liked to call it instinct.
Taswa circled him slowly, feet stepping carefully and eyes narrowed. She faked a lunge, but Harry reacted instinctively, cutting upward with his sword, the winds he'd readied around it lashing out and knocking her away. She rolled and sprung to her feet, panting.
Harry lunged, taking his first offensive step, and tried to disarm her to end the match. His attempts were too clumsy though and she almost disarmed him. He leapt back and pushed her away with a wall of wind. The manipulation, now that he was used to using it in a battle situation, was becoming easier and easier. He always had been such a quick learner under pressure.
He wondered what else he could do. Part of his mind cast back to those superhero cartoons Dudley had liked to watch when he was younger, wondering if any of them had had the ability to control wind - or maybe if he could replicate any of their abilities using his own. He had to abandon his thoughts when Taswa took another swipe at him. She was fast - too fast - and he pushed off the ground, directing a burst of strong air pressure under his feet and almost panicking when it sent him shooting through the air faster than he had anticipated. But he was in control - all he had to do was direst his landing.
"Stay put!" Yelled Taswa, red-faced and clearly very irritated.
Harry straightened from his crouch and smirked. "And let you disarm me? I think not."
The muscles in Taswa's face twitched and she swiped at the air in a huff, running at him. Harry, anticipating a head-on attack, was taken completely off-guard when she twisted her body in a move that he would have thought impossible had she been human and brought her sword up from below. Her wooden blade caught his guard and not even an enforced grip could keep hold on it. His sword went flying, landing with a thump in the dust behind Taswa where he couldn't get to it.
Taswa brought her sword around again, aiming for his throat, a move that, if she managed to touch skin, would end the match. He ducked, rolled and sprang back up several feet away. Fortunately, Taswa hadn't pressed her advantage, choosing to instead level her sword at him and ask, "Do you yield?"
Harry's lips twisted slightly, "No."
"No?" She repeated incredulously.
"No," he repeated calmly, already concentrating on the sword behind her. It rose from the ground unsteadily until he managed a much firmer grip on it. Taswa didn't seem aware - she was still busy trying to figure out why he wasn't yielding.
"You have no weapon. I have disarmed you, you cannot possibly win now," she argued, taking an aggressive step forward.
Harry tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed in concentration. He was trying to keep the finger and muscle movements to a minimum so she wouldn't connect the dots, but it was so hard without a physical focus to direct his magic. He was doing it merely through mental willpower.
So he had to distract her some other way, at best unsettle her. What could he do - or say? - that would have her faltering?
"See," he said when he had the sword in position, "that's the funny thing. My enemies always underestimate me when they think I'm down, and that's usually when I strike and take them out." He paused and added, thinking of Quirrel and the diary spirit of Tom Riddle, "Usually they die screaming."
The information was enough to make Taswa falter for a few moments as her eyes widened, and he struck. His arm came up and around, holding an invisible sword and the sword in the air behind her mimicked his movements. It bore down on her with frightening speed, no long limited to how fast Harry himself could move.
Perhaps it was the speed, or maybe the shock of what he just said, but she couldn't respond fast enough. He knew she would manage to defend herself, but he thought he might have been able to disarm her anyway. Instead, he had put too much force into the blow and there was a sickening crunch and her fingers went slack, sword tumbling from limp fingers.
Harry froze in shock for a moment, staring at the odd position of her wrist, and then all his concentration broke and his own sword dropped to lie next to hers in the dirt. He darted forward in concern as she turned around, a pained look on her face. When their eyes met a strange expression passed over her face and Harry halted, suddenly unsure.
Melcacrist took that time to stride forward, the barrier separating the students from the fight winking out of existence.
"Let me see," he demanded immediately, reaching for Taswa's wrist. She held it out, obedient and silent, and his hand hovered above it gently. "Hm, it's broken. You will need to go see a healer."
"I'll take her," Harry blurted out quickly, feeling increasingly awful at what he had done.
Melcacrist rounded on him with an unreadable expression. He stared at Harry for a good moment before finally uttering, "You won this match. Very good."
"I hurt Taswa," he snapped angrily.
Melcacrist raised a brow, single ear moving back and up with it. "Accidents happen. There is always chance of injury when learning how to fight. It is a simple break, she will be fixed easily."
"I'll go with her," he reiterated stubbornly, eyes daring the older elf to try and stop him.
"Very well," said Melcacrist.
Harry sidled up to Taswa and bit his lip, hovering next to her uncertainly. Clutching just above her broken wrist with her other hand, she brushed past Harry, expression set, mouth pinched in pain but still not uttering a thing.
"Araëmel." Melcacrist's voice stopped him from following for a second and he turned uncertainly. "You've killed?"
Harry froze, eyes widening, and he realised that everyone had heard him speak when he had been trying to catch Taswa off guard. He swallowed. "I..."
Did Quirrel really count? Hadn't that been Voldemort's fault? Or was it really him who had killed the man? What about the teenaged Tom Riddle? It was just a diary...right? And when they had battled the death eaters in the Department of Mysteries, had they all gotten away or had any of them been inadvertently killed?
He ducked his head, fringe shading his eyes.
"I see," said Melcacrist slowly, as if the elf could read his thoughts. "Well you will have to learn to moderate your blows. This is practice, not life or death."
Harry flushed slightly, realising what his teacher said was true. "Yes, sir."
"Go now," murmured Melcacrist, still looking at him oddly.
Harry, glad to escape, quickly hurried after Taswa. As he hopped over the fence, the other students quickly scurried away from him, wary expressions plastered across their faces. He ignored them and quickened his pace, catching up with his friend as she reached the entrance to the stables.
Taswa paused briefly, darting a glance at him, before stepped inside.
"I'm not angry at you," she said suddenly once he had followed her inside, causing Harry to look at her in surprise. "I'm angry at myself for being caught off guard like that. I should have remembered what you are capable of and not taken you so lightly." Her voice darkened with real anger. "I was such a fool, now Master Melcacrist will not look on me so favourably. All he will see is overconfidence and incompetence."
"But I had an advantage over you," Harry muttered, worrying at his lip guiltily.
"But I am the better fighter. If I ever hope to be a great warrior, then I will have to learn to compensate for my disadvantages. I failed at that spectacularly today."
Harry hesitated and then said, "Not to brag or anything, but I do have a higher than average magical ability. I think I shocked even Master Melcacrist, because he was looking at me funny." He paused and scratched at an ear sheepishly as she slanted a look at him. "I even startled myself at some points. I didn't know I could do half those things!"
Taswa stopped walking and he quickly stopped before he could bump into her. She turned and stared at him. "You mean you did all that for the first time?"
Harry shrugged and nodded.
"How is that possible? I have seen those techniques from watching the Royal Guards train, and I had never expected you to be able to use them. I admit I was taken off guard. But I had assumed they had trained you."
Harry looked at her strangely, though inside he was reeling. Those were the techniques of the Royal Guard? He'd just come up with them on the fly! "How could they? I've only been here a scant two months. I've barely even begun to learn anything, especially fighting. It was all instinct and improvisation."
Taswa shook her head slowly, eyes wide but mouth smiling. "I don't believe you. You are so powerful. It is no wonder you are our Prince. I think you will be the greatest King since Caladharan himself."
Harry felt himself go red. Fortunately, Taswa didn't comment, simply began to walk again.
Greatest King since Caladharan himself? That was a hefty compliment. He tried to bat down the blush even as his mind reeled from all the new information he'd just learnt. Of course he had to be special here as well. He couldn't even just be any old Crown Prince, he had to go and be a ridiculously powerful Crown Prince.
Harry let out a small, ironic laugh. Of course. It figured.
He only hoped there wasn't a new prophecy involved, because wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake?
AN: Well, It's been a while hasn't it? Unforunately, I had nearly NO time at all to get any writing done when we had our two guests over. So, three weeks of no writing or drawing and I was going stir-crazy. Although, all the trips into S.F. and places like Las Vegas and L.A. were definitely keeping me on my toes! Anyway, I've got a month now to hang out with friends, keep writing this story (and others), get a few commissions done for friend's b'days, and ready myself for Japan. I leave August 31st. Meep!
Thank you all for the amazing response to my last chapter! The reviews were great. I kind of wish a few of you had left signed reviews so I could respond to the questions/issues you brought up more in depth. Instead, I'll just respond to them now breifly:
1) Foremost on my mind is Harry's characterisation. This is really important to me so I really appreciate those that comment on it. I'd like to explain my reasoning for the way he's acting, although I do hope that those of you who thought he was backing down too much are relieved that he hasn't completely lost his backbone. To be honest, I'd been sort of building up to him regaining himself after everything he's just been put through. If you notice, he begins acting far more complacent after his 'skin' is removed and this was my way of showing how he was dealing with everything in addition to a family. Of course, like a few of you pointed out, there are some inconsistancies in his thinking. And I definitely got a little too carried away with his 'in shock' personality to the point where I lost sight of his true personality. I can only hope that I can begin to correct that, but also keep in mind that he's not going to remain completely the same, because experiences change people. Hopefully, though, I can manage to make it a bit more believable, and please don't hesitate to tell me where I'm going wrong. This may be my 'cliched fic for my own enjoyment', but that doesn't mean I shouldn't still aim to keep my writing sharp and my characterisation decent. :D
2) For those wondering if Voldemort and Dumbledore (and the wizarding world in general) have disappeared off the face of the planet, don't worry, I'm working them into the plot, and rest assured, Harry will go back to Hogwarts. As for Voldemort, it's not going to be as easy as simply sending a whole legion of elves after him to rip him to pieces. I just...haven't quite worked out which bits of HBP and DH I'm going to work into my already very AU plot and which bits I'm going to leave out...but I'm getting there, never fear. And all our favourite characters will show up soon.
3) So a few people are wondering about Harry's future love interest. This isn't going to be a fic dominated by romance, not even as a subplot, but I'm definitely considering adding just a little in there. It won't play a major part in the plot at all though, sorry to those that wanted that...
4) Um, also, just to make it clear, er, no, I'm not updating at the same time as Bloody Skies. Haha. Definitely coincidence there! Kinda cool though. I love it when authors update at the same time. So...maybe this means we'll see an update for Bloody Skies soon? I hope so. XD
5) One person asked about Petunia and where she went and what she's doing. First, I would advise you re-read chapter two, especially the end, and then re-read a few of the conversations between Harry and his Grandparents about Petunia's banishment. But, just to make it perfectly clear, Petunia is not sitting around in Elwyn twiddling her thumbs, she was returned back to Number 4 Privet Drive as soon as she left Harry's presence and has since been living her life in the human realm while subsequently trying to figure out a way to snatch Harry back from his 'evil' grandparent's claws. Again, don't forget the conversation about the King and Queen's past actions concerning the treatment of their children and their determination to change things with Harry and be better parental (or in this case, grand-parental) figures. Sorry if I haven't made things perfectly clear. I do tend to be ambiguous when explaining things, as I prefer to have people work things out on their own, but I like to think I drop enough clues and explain enough things for the picture to become clear.
6) Which brings me to my last point. If there is anything that people aren't clear on and wish to ask about, please don't hesitate. I will reply to you, whether to your review, PM, or at the end of a chapter. Hopefully I answered everyone's questions this time around and didn't miss anyone.
Sorry for the long-ass author's note. Heh. But I think clearing things up for people is important so the story isn't confusing. I could go back and re-word sections and add things to the story, but I doubt everyone wants to go back and re-read the whole thing, so I figure a long AN is a good compromise. :]
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and hope there was nothing confusing. Please let me know what you think though! The response last time was amazing, so I'm really hoping this time will be the same. ^^
xoxRia