Reviews:
PrometheusDark: Thank you. I'm glad that you enjoyed the fight and Harry is going to be in for it when he meets with Schierke for sure.
Guest: Thanks, I'm happy you think so.
Greer123: I'm happy that you liked it and it's great that you mentioned Bellatrix because I wrote her reaction to seeing Voldemort this chapter.
Necrogod: Not a problem, I hope you enjoy this one too.
Guest: I'm looking forward to the next chapter of Berserk as well, and the Berserker Armor is coming soon.
Hairul The Nightrage Beast: I hope Miura gets to the ending as well. But I do have an ending in mind for this story based on all the information given so far, but it probably won't be anywhere near what Miura will do with the actual story.
Energy-the-hedgehog: Luna is definitely the HP equivalent of Sonia, and I can say that Gaiseric is the Skull Knight we know. Gunderic is his brother and a certain brainiac of the series. As for Harry being able to talk to snakes, he no longer has that due to the Horcrux being made null.
Grocamol: I'm happy that you found it enjoyable and that both worlds go together nicely.
EVA-Saiyajin: I hope that you enjoy the story as you read and find it enjoyable. While I do stick close to the canon material, I do change some things around and have different endings to certain characters such as Charlotte, Rosine, and Silat. I hope that it will live up.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
Finally, after nearly fourteen years of being locked up in Azkaban Prison filled with soul-sucking Dementors and the soulless husks of those who had been kissed; Bellatrix Lestrange was at last free. And her recently acquired freedom could not have come at a better time.
Bellatrix still remembered the feeling that night, the night that she felt the dark mark on her arm burn and bristle against her pale skin. That feeling was the happiest she had felt since her incarceration after her torture of the Longbottoms; it was a feeling that no dementor could suck out of her.
Her Lord and Master had returned at long last.
Picking up on Bellatrix's ecstatic mood, she was paid visits from a multitude of dementors who all sought to leech off of and deprive her of her sanity (not that she had much of that to begin with). But her unfaltering loyalty to the Dark Lord made it all bearable. Just the thought, the very idea that she might be reunited with her Master was a feeling that could never be taken away.
And how was her faith rewarded? By a visit from a man she thought long to be dead; Barty Crouch Jr.
A powerful disillusion charm had been cast over the former inmate – much too powerful than a wizard like Crouch could have cast. But Crouch was not alone. Thirteen muggles were under the disillusion charm as well; a dead glazed over look clouded their eyes, a clear indication of the imperious curse at work.
Dementors cannot see, rather, they feel. They detected thirteen people entering Azkaban, and by the time Crouch was done, they sensed thirteen people leaving. The human aurors who visited the isolated prison would not notice that a dozen of their prisoners were missing until it was too late. When they did, Bellatrix suspected it would be front page news; with wizards like Antonin Dolohov, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, Mulciber and Travers, and Augustus Rookwood now on the loose once again.
Once they were a safe distance from the island prison, Crouch took them by a side-along apparition to their Masters new base of operations. Un-strangely enough, they arrived outside of her brother-in-law's manor.
Lucius? Bellatrix thought with more than a hint of contempt. What has he done to deserve this honor? I will gladly offer my own if it were to please the Dark Lord.
Upon entering, the House Elf – Droppy, or something like that, bowed his head nervously to all of them; his large green eyes filled with fear.
"Good evening, honored guests," the elf addressed. "Master Malfoy and his most… esteemed guest awaits your arrival in the dining hall."
"Out of the way then." Bellatrix was already rushing past the short magical creature, eager to reunite with her master for the first time in years.
She was familiar enough with the layout of Malfoy Manor having been invited to parties by Lucius when he was courting Narcissa and when Death Eater meetings were held in secret, away from the prying Ministry investigations. The others followed behind her in suit; not as eager as her, but still willing and wanting to see for themselves.
Crouch was the one to open the dining room doors for them, licking his lips in anticipation as the newly escaped Death Eaters filed into the room. Instantly, the smell of food hit them. Plates and silverware had been set for them and a wide variety of food lined the length of the table. There were roast duck and pheasant, baked and mashed potatoes with steamed carrots and beans, three whole chickens with buttered rolls, sliced ham served with pineapple, and pudding for dessert. Compared to the dull grey slop that they had been served in Azkaban, this was a feast worthy of royalty.
Bellatrix could tell that her fellow Death Eaters' mouths were watering at the sight of the feast set before them. They could have it, food could always be replenished, she was here for one reason and one reason alone.
And at the head of the table was where he sat. he was different from how Bellatrix remembered him, but his appearance was not an unwelcome sight to behold. Between the full head of dark hair, the sharp features, and calculating eyes, the Dark Lord appeared more comely and healthy than ever before.
And that feeling of raw magic radiating off of him… it could be no one else but him. Bellatrix always knew that her master was powerful in the dark arts, but this felt entirely unreal. Perhaps this new power has something to do with his new appearance.
"Good evening, my friends," the Dark Lord's voice was smooth. "Please, take a seat, enjoy the food. Lucius' House Elf has prepared all of this for you all; my most faithful followers."
Bellatrix went to his right, taking a knee instead of sitting. "My Lord," she bowed her head. "It is an honor to see you once more. I am not worthy to be in your presence, you who fights for the preservation of the pure-bloods and our way of life."
The Dark Lord gave a dry chuckle, but not one that inherently cruel or malicious. "I would expect nothing but that amount of loyalty from you, Bellatrix." The Dark Lord extended a hand to her, helping her to her feet. His skin felt soft but structured, almost invulnerable. She liked it; the feeling made her lord and master all the more powerful, he looked how he felt; regal.
"My Lord," she said in an apologetic tone.
"Come, sit, all of you. You've grown much too thin while locked up in Azkaban. Help yourselves to the food; it is a luxury only the loyal and most devout of my followers should enjoy."
The loyal and most devout? Bellatrix played the words over in her head. Master recognizes our work as important. Such an honor.
She sat and helped herself to the food provided. Normally, she would have dived in damning the silverware; but she was in the presence of the Dark Lord, she could not let the primal need of hunger let her make a disgrace of herself in front of him. The others didn't seem to mind too mind, taking the Dark Lord's words at face value and stuffing themselves muttering words of, "Thank you, my Lord!" as they feasted.
The Dark Lord was silent as they ate, opting to just watch them feed themselves. Bellatrix was more focused on the Dark Lord more then she was on her meal. She studied him, memorizing every angle of his handsome face, every strand of hair, and the glint in his red eyes; the slit pupils giving him an otherworldly gaze that had not been present even in his old state. Like many of the Death Eaters, Bellatrix often wondered how much dark magic the Dark Lord would have studied to appear the way that he had; now, she was wondering what he had done to achieve this new form. Much seemed to have happened since her incarceration in that accursed prison, time spent that could have been used serving the Dark Lord was spent having the happiness sucked out of her. She had to do something to make up for all that lost time.
"Something on your mind, Bella?" the Dark Lord asked, using her nickname, it was something she would only allow her sister to call her. "Is the food not to your liking? Perhaps torturing the elf will make up for it?"
"It is all delicious, my Lord," Bellatrix bowed her head in thanks. "It is a great honor to be hosted by one such as you."
His red eyes stared into her own. "You have many questions, Bella. You are curious as to how this is possible." As usual, he knew, he always knew.
"It is rather unbelievable, my Lord," Bellatrix chose her words carefully, knowing the famed temper the Dark Lord possessed; she didn't want one of the happiest moments in her life to be squandered by the torture curse.
"It is, isn't it?" the Dark Lord asked rhetorically. "Having been locked up in Azkaban these past years, the times are bound to change. It took time, yes, but the payoff was well worth it. Your Lord Voldemort is stronger now than he was before, surely you can feel the power that I now possess."
"Yes, my Lord. Of course, my Lord." Bellatrix was quick to affirm. "You may appear different, but there is no denying that it is you. I would know if it wasn't."
"I don't doubt it, Bella." The Dark Lord eyed the rest of the assembled Death Eaters. "You all, my most loyal of followers, you have endured fourteen years of torment in that prison while the cowards and slime were set free." A few boos and hisses went around the table. "Yes, I was stuck with the likes of Wormtail to look after me in my weakened state."
Wormtail?! That rat would have only returned out of fear, nothing more! Where is the coward anyhow? Perhaps Nagini ate him.
The Dark Lord continued. "You all know me. You know that I am a just lord; purging our society of those mudbloods who would change our ways and traditions, for that, they deserve no mercy." Would they be conducting a raid soon? Bellatrix certainly hoped so, it had been far too long since she had properly tortured a muggle. "But to those who remain loyal, who followed my will even after I disappeared, to them I am a benevolent lord."
"Yes, my Lord," echoed from each of their mouths.
The Dark Lord nodded. "And out of all my followers, who more loyal than those gathered around me tonight? While I was in hiding, I still managed to hear the talk of some of your works. The torture of those Longbottom fools, very well done." Those blood-traitors deserved every bit of it! "To compensate you all for your most noble work and sacrifices, I intend to reward the lot of you." The Dark Lord examined his hand. "This new body of mine, it has more than a fair share of perks. Who amongst you would like to be the first to receive a… pseudo sense of my power?"
As soon as the Dark Lord asked the question, Bellatrix was already out of her seat, kneeling before her master. "My Lord," she said, almost pleadingly. "I would be greatly honored if you would bestow it upon me first."
"Ahah!" the Dark Lord laughed and lightly clapped his hands. "Excellent, Bellatrix! I should not be surprised that you would be the first to volunteer. Your dedication has never been called into question before. I was considering Crouch for this first, but his inability to deliver the Potter boy to me cost him that honor."
"My, Lord, I will not fail in that task," Bellatrix promised her master. "With the power that you give me, I will chase the boy down until the ends of the earth so that he may be delivered to you."
The Dark Lord smiled. "I admire your drive to impress, Bellatrix, but the beings responsible for my current state have promised that Potter will come to me when the time is right; we merely have to oversee preparations on our end for it to happen."
Beings? What beings? Who could have bestowed this body to the Dark Lord? "I will still accept, my Lord."
Rising from his chair, the Dark Lord stood in front of the kneeling form of Bellatrix. "So be it. Let the desire in your heart be fulfilled as you experience a portion of this power."
He caressed her pale, gaunt face before moving his thumb to her forehead. He started rubbing circles and a heated sensation began building up at his fingertips seemingly channeling into Bellatrix's mind and body. It was like a hot liquid was being poured over her head and her vision became hazy, the only thing she could distinguish clearly was the sight of her master's eyes. His eyes… they almost seemed to glow. Her body felt like it was everywhere and nowhere, instead, it almost felt like the pseudo power was engulfing her from every side. It felt powerful, she no longer felt malnourished from her time in prison, she felt…almost like a goddess.
Guts and the others departed from Godo's after the funeral was done. Erica had given goodbye hugs to all of them before retreating back inside to mourn the passing of the man who had been a father to her. Rickert was a bit more composed, giving them a parting gift as well. It was something he had been working on with Godo before his passing; miniaturized explosives. They were a welcome addition to his arsenal considering how long it took to reload his cannon prosthetic after firing a shot.
Isidro had been excited at the concept of the explosives, offering to carry some to "ease the load." It was a complete garbage excuse, but if they got into another fight along the way on the way to this witches tree (and Guts strongly suspected that they would) it wouldn't hurt for the kid to have something he could use considering his sword skills were shit.
It was around midday now and they had stopped along a stream to rest for a bit. Guts had wanted to push on, but traveling with so many others now, it wasn't like going it alone; there were people who needed time to rest. Serpico, the sly attendant had managed to catch some fish from the stream and Farnese was attempting to cook.
"Perhaps I should do the cooking, Lady Farnese," Serpico offered. "I used to prepare some of your meals back at your house."
"I know that Serpico," she told him. "But, if I am to travel with them, then I need to learn to contribute as well." Farnese set up the frying pan and other cooking utensils easily enough, but for the cooking…
"You have to de-scale the fish first, Lady Farnese," Serpico instructed.
"Ah."
"And de-bone it as well."
"Of course."
By the time it was done, Farnese distributed portions to all of them, waiting for them to tell her how it tastes. "It's ah…" Isidro and Puck looked at each other with pinched faces, clearly not a fan of Farnese's cooking.
"I like it," Harry told her.
"Truly?" Farnese asked, looking like a naïve barmaid.
"Uh, yeah. It's ah, chewy. It's… different."
"I didn't undercook it, did I?" she asked.
"No, no. I meant different in a good way."
What is it with that girl? Guts wondered. She went from arresting and whipping Harry and wanting to capture him to wanting to assist them and acting like a housewife. Whatever it was that was going through Farnese's head, as long as it didn't become a hindrance, it was bearable.
"I agree with Harry," Serpico offered his support. "It does have a very unique flavor to it, even without any seasoning added." He was by far the most convincing, but even Guts noticed the flinch at the corner of his mouth when he bit into it.
"What about you, Guts?" Farnese waited for him to try as well.
He took a bite. "It tastes fine." It was far from the worst thing he had eaten, he was not a chef by any means.
Farnese took that as praise, and let Serpico handle the cooking of the other fish he had managed to catch. "Excuse me, Harry?" she asked. "If you don't mind me asking, what can we expect once we reach this, what did you call it? A spirit-tree?"
"It's where I learned it all," Harry told her. "Or, most of it anyways."
"Huh? I thought people were always born with magic," Isidro mentioned. "The stories about magic were always pretty unclear back in my village."
"Well, my parents might have had magic. When I first learned I had it, it was because I could talk to a snake and understand what it was saying."
"Seriously?!" Isidro exclaimed. "So you're telling me if I find a snake, you can talk to it?"
Harry shrugged. "I suppose so. I haven't really tried in a while."
"I talked to a bird once," Puck added. "It was not a pleasant conversation."
"I can't imagine why" Guts muttered.
"Being able to understand an animal? That sounds quite useful." Serpico said from his cooking. "It really raises the question of what they must think of us humans."
Farnese looked thoughtful. "But, it is possible for people to learn magic then, even if they aren't born with it?"
Harry eyed her curiously. "From what I understand, yeah. Why do you ask?"
"I was just curious," Farnese told him. "Before I even joined up with the Holy Iron Chain Knights, I… participated in a number of witch hunts." Serpico briefly stopped his cooking. "If this place is the only place where people could learn witchcraft without being born with it… how many people…"
"Oh!" Serpico exclaimed. "The fire is dying. I'll have to go and gather some more. Guts, would you accompany me?"
"Sure," Guts agreed, rising from his spot near Casca who spit her piece of fish out in disgust. "Watch her while I'm gone, Harry."
"Of course."
The two of them walked a bit into the nearby woods to gather what wood they could for the campfire. "I think that we found a fine batch," Serpico said after a few moments of gathering. "Surprising that we managed to find this much given the snow. Wet wood is never good for fires."
Is that all he was going to say? "That it?" Guts asked. "For a minute, I thought that you brought me out here to kill me."
"What? Oh no." Serpico shook his head. "I've no quarrel with you as it stands; while it was my previous duty to try and capture you, I've agreed to let bygones be bygones. However, I did wish to speak with you."
"Yeah? About what?"
"About Lady Farnese," Serpico said.
Farnese, huh? He doubted it had anything to do with her lack of culinary skills. "I'm listening."
"You see, I've been Lady Farnese's attendant for quite some time since we were both children. I lasted longer than any other of my predecessors and have gained an understanding of how Lady Farnese thinks and acts. She's changed in these past few days; cooking, looking after another person, those are all things that would be a foreign concept to her. I strongly suspect it has to do with you and Harry. You both showed her a reality to cling to beyond what she was taught and brought up on. And if that encounter with Zodd and that Griffith character was anything to go by, this reality is not going to be a kind one."
"I never said it would be," Guts reminded. "She chose to walk it anyway; if you want her out, drag her kicking and screaming."
Serpico shook his head. "No. Lady Farnese can be quite stubborn once she's set her mind on something. I cannot stop Lady Farnese from walking the path she chooses, but I can keep an eye out for her. Which is why if she should perish along the way…" Serpico's blue eyes opened fully, "I would have to avenge her."
"So, you plan to kill me if that happens?" Guts crossed his arm.
Serpico closed his eyes once more. "I sincerely hope that I will not be put in that situation. After seeing you cut through a horde of those things at the Tower of Conviction, defeat Father Mozgus, and fight on par with Nosferatu Zodd, I don't think I would stand a chance. But as it said, I prefer to let bygones be bygones. I just thought I would let you aware of my intentions if we are to travel together."
Guts made a sound between a snicker and a laugh. "You're something alright."
"If you say so," Serpico said. "Ah! We should perhaps be getting back to the camp. As much as she means well, Lady Farnese still has much to learn in the culinary arts."
Guts watched as the attendant walked back to the campsite. "Weirdo," he said before taking his leave as well.
It was later that night, having packed up their camp they continued along on their journey and making good time with it at that. They kept off of the main road and stuck to the forest. With the war going on with the invading Kushan, the roads would be a hot spot for raiding bandit activity.
Setting up camp once again for the night, Serpico agreed to take the first watch. Isidro had offered initially, but he was exhausted by the time they were finished unpacking.
Guts began to drift off as well once he found a comfortable tree to lean against. This is different from all that time on my own. The talisman drawn over his brand could allow him a pleasant night of sleep. Harry had even drawn the symbol over Casca's as well, not wanting a repeat of the Tower of Conviction. Maybe, sometime soon…
His thoughts lessened as sleep overtook him.
There was darkness. A thick fog seemed to stretch as far as he could see. This is a dream. It has to be. Here, Guts was missing his prosthetic arm, his armor, and Dragonslayer.
He was no stranger to nightmares, he had experienced them ever since Donovan had violated him as a boy and especially after the Eclipse. This sensation, however, it felt like the darkness was taking shape behind him, breathing down his neck like a hungry wolf.
It spoke to him.
It is a dream, a nightmare of yourself. You cannot control it – control me for much longer. I will get out. You will let me out.
Shut up! I got enough to deal with already.
Yes! Get angry! The angrier that you become, the more you feed that darkness.
You're just a fucking dream. You're not real.
No. Not yet. An image of Casca was visible through the fog. Neither is your dream for her. She is a broken woman. These weaklings that you've surrounded yourself with, they are holding you back. Give in to me, and they will not slow you down. Give in to me, and make Griffith suffer. That is all that matters.
Shut up, already!
He awoke in a sweat, his sword hand stiff. Guts had to flex his fingers to get the blood flowing again. Running that same hand through his short, dark hair, Guts let out a sigh of relief. The others slept on peacefully, Isidro and Puck snored and a bit of drool was hanging out of the side of Casca's mouth.
Guts grabbed Dragonslayer, laying the massive blade across his lap, bringing a strange comfort along with it. Just a dream, nothing else.
"Gah!" Isidro yelled as he slapped at another fly. "Hey, Puck, you're small and can fly, can you keep these things away from me?"
The morning had come and the party had ventured off further into the woods surrounding Enoch Village as soon as they were all up and ready to move. The further in they went, the denser the forest seemed to grow, and the wildlife became more apparent. It was a familiar sensation to Harry, having spent the better part of two years in these woods with the two witches who dwelled within. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Harry could swear something was off about this forest now.
Schierke had told him that since the rebirth of Neo-Griffith, the layers were starting to cross and overlap. If he was betting, Harry would put gold on that being the root of the problem. The forest was deeply rooted with the astral layers, after all, it wasn't too far out of the question to assume that this spot would be one of the first to experience the aftermath of an event like that.
"As a creature of nature, it would go against my moral code," Puck denied Isidro's request. "You must learn to respect the land, my pupil."
"So you're a pacifist now?" Guts asked the elf.
"I'm not like you; I don't see a need to fight when I get annoyed."
"You've been annoying me for two years, I haven't killed you yet."
"I thought I was your friend."
Isidro slapped away another fly. "Something tells me you shouldn't press your luck, Puck."
"Who is the student and who is the master?" Puck asked.
"The scenery of this forest is so unlike anything that we would see in Vritanntis," Serpico looked at the canopy above. "Quite the sight."
Farnese was trying to watch her footing, careful to not trip on any exposed tree roots or moss covered rocks. "I feel it would be better on horseback, though."
"Aaah! Auua!" Casca caught a butterfly, closely examining the pattern of its wings as it crawled along her finger.
"The path disappears pretty early on into these woods," Harry reminded them. "But, it should even out soon. I'm recognizing some of the scenery, we're getting close."
"Good," Guts nodded. Although his face remained stoic, a hint of anticipation could be heard by both Harry and Puck, having known him longer than the others, sans Casca, of course.
The relative peace and tranquility of the forest were shattered by an almost blood-curdling cry. "Aaarggh!"
"W-what the hell was that?!" Isidro looked around nervously, expecting something to jump out at any moment.
Serpico drew his blade, standing protectively in front of Farnese. "Who else besides us would have business this far into the woods?"
"No one," Harry said, his sword drawn as well. "I'll check it out; there should only be two other people this far in."
Guts followed after him. "Alright. Let's see if this is one of those witches."
Harry doubted it, the scream sounded nothing like a woman's.
Isidro watched nervously as the two of them went to investigate. "H-hey, anyone else feel we should follow after them? They are the two that kind of pull this team."
Serpico remained composed. "True, but that also means that they're capable as well. I'm confident any danger that they encounter, they'll be able to handle."
"They do seem to know what they're doing," Farnese agreed. "It makes you wonder how long that they've been at this." She sounded like she was… admiring them.
"Yeah, can't argue with that, but what about us?" Isidro asked. "One of them could've stayed."
Puck plopped down on top of his head. "Just remember your training, my disciple, and all will work out."
"You keep saying that, but-," krik. "What was that?" if it was just a squirrel or something, he was going to feel really put out. Something was creeping around the tree, and it was no squirrel.
"Get your sword out, and keep behind me," Serpico advised, his eyes trained on the strange creature that was advancing toward them, and it wasn't alone. Several others were emerging as well, all looking the same, but some carried bone clubs or farming tools.
"Keep back, you freaks!" Isidro swung his sword at one of the creatures. The monster caught the blade in its mouth, biting down on it. "Hey! Let go, you hairy bastard!" Isidro yanked the blade away, but he only pulled the hilt of the sword away; the rest of the blade broke off.
"Aw crap!" Isidro eyed his broken blade in worry. He was pretty much done for now. The freakish creature got ready to lunge at him and – a berry was thrown into its mouth?
Yeah, Isidro saw that correctly, a berry had flown straight into its mouth. The creature swallowed it and instantly started to hack and cough like the berry was toxic. Several more berries went flying toward the creatures and they began to flee as soon as they caught a whiff of the fruit.
"Huh?"
A short figure dressed in purple clothing and a wide-brimmed purple hat brushed past him, walking in a circle to encompass the group. Serpico spotted this figure too but strangely did not bother to stop the new arrival. Whoever it was, they were making a circle of salt around them. And they were carrying a staff like Harry's too. Well, not exactly like Harry's, but similar enough.
Isidro realized that it was a lady, one of the witches that they were on the lookout for. She was chanting something in a language he didn't understand, but it seemed to be working. Those… whatever the hell they were, they were retreating, running away with their short tails tucked between their legs.
"Huh! Ha! Hahaha!" Isidro laughed, watching the creatures run off. "Yeah, that's right! You're not so tough!" he supposed he should thank whoever it was that just saved their asses. "Hey, you, witch. Good job with that-," he stepped to give a handshake, tripping over an exposed root." Whoa!" to stop his fall, he grabbed the witch from behind, his hands accidentally landing on her front.
What's this? They don't feel saggy like some old woman's.
That was when she turned her head, and Isidro was able to fully see her short green hair and green eyes. She was probably just a year younger than Harry. "Hey, you're not an old lady."
Her face beet red and a sense of impending dread filled Isidro as her staff pointed in his direction.
Harry cut through the foliage with his sword and staff, Guts following not far behind. "Help!" the voice yelled again, it was definitely a man's voice. "Please, somebody!"
Lying on his back was an older man in his late fifties or sixties. He had a bit of grey stubble growing on his face – a face that was morphed into terror at the creatures closing in around him. They were short and covered in black hair. Their legs were stout, but their arms were long and they held various bone instruments as well as a few farming tools. Their noses were large and held a few whiskers; large teeth were visible from their lipless mouths, giving the appearance that they were grinning.
Trolls, Harry remembered Schierke saying something about how they had raided Enoch Village. They looked nothing like how stories would usually depict them; there were very little human qualities about them at all.
The trolls caught sight of the new arrivals, forgetting about the old man that they were harassing. With a twirl of his staff, Harry conjured up the tree roots to spring from the ground, wrapping around the furry trolls. Some were crushed instantly from the force being applied to them, others were clawing and trying to gnaw their way to freedom.
Harry cut them down before they could do that, Guts taking out multiple trolls with Dragonslayer. "You alright?" Harry asked, helping the older man to his feet.
The man coughed as Harry helped him up. "Well, you sure are sight for sore eyes, lad."
"Do I know you?" Harry asked.
"I suppose you wouldn't remember me," the man dusted himself off. "You stopped by my town some time back, asking about these woods."
It took him a few seconds, but he was able to put a name to this man's face. "Morgan."
"That I am."
"What the hell are you doing out here, old man?" Guts asked, eyeing the stranger warily. "An old timer like you should know better to go off without a weapon."
"Well, my business was about these trolls here. We all thought they were stories; we were wrong."
"So what? You decided to go hunt them alone?" Guts asked, not impressed.
"Oh, no. I'm too old to be fighting battles. I was seeking the witches favor. She helped me when I was just a boy if anyone could clear these trolls out, she can."
A flash of light briefly lit up the forest behind them. Magic. Harry was making his way back to where he and Guts had left the others, Morgan following not too far behind.
The sight awaiting Harry was not one he would be forgetting soon. Isidro was crouching on his hands and knees, his arms were coated in red-orange hair, and the sides of his face were as well. But the strangest thing of all was the tail that he had suddenly grown. He had been partly transfigured into a monkey.
And the figure standing with a heated face could be the only source.
She was obviously agitated over something, and from the conversations they had regarding Isidro, he knew that she did not think too highly of their traveling companion. He should probably say something now to maybe calm her down.
"Uh, hey, Schierke. I don't know what he did to get you angry, but it was probably something stupid." She lowered her head, her purple hat obscuring her eyes. "That was, uh, some creative magic just now." She wasn't answering. Taking a chance, Harry reached a hand out. "Schierke?"
Whack!
"Ow!" Harry grabbed his mouth where he had suddenly been hit by the end of Schierke's staff. "What was that- ow!" she hit him again. "C'mon, stop- ow! Knock it off!" she kept hitting him. "Knock it off, seriously! What did it I do?!"
"Stupid!" she yelled at him, hitting him again. "You stupid idiot!"
"How am I stupid?! Ow! Stop hitting me already!"
Ivalera flew out from under Schierke's hat, flying in front of his face as he covered the top of his head, Schierke's target striking area apparently. "Shame on you!" Ivalera snapped. "I've got a bone to pick with you!"
"What for?" Harry asked over Schierke's insults.
"You've got some nerve!" Ivalera floated with her hands on her hips. "Making Schierke think you were dead only to show up again perfectly fine! Shame on you! Do you have any idea how worried she was?!"
"What are you talking ab-ow-out? Wait? Do you mean with Zodd-?"
"Yes!" she shouted. "When I saw that fight and our connection get cut, I thought that you died, idiot!"
"I didn't mean to worry you," Harry felt her strikes begin to lessen to some degree. "I was expecting a verbal assault, not… this."
Schierke still appeared cross, but the faces of the onlookers were just baffled. Isidro (who was still part monkey) scratched himself in confusion. Serpico had a finger on his chin looking thoughtful. Farnese looked a bit worried but dared not say anything. Casca was fascinated with a ladybug crawling on her palm.
It wasn't until Guts grabbed Schierke and lifted her with one hand, did she finally relent in her attack; now looking rather nervous at the look Guts was giving her.
"What's this?" Guts asked. "You're not going around breaking girls hearts, are you?"
"No, of course not." Harry rubbed at some sore spots where Schierke had struck him. "Just a misunderstanding." Damn! She may be short, but she can hit hard.
Guts eyed Schierke closely. "You let it all out, short-stuff ?"
She avoided his gaze in a shameful fashion. "Y-yes. I apologize for my behavior." Guts set her down. "This isn't how I imagined our meeting going, but it is nice to meet you in person, Guts. I am Schierke."
"The one witch of that spirit-tree or whatever," Guts recalled.
Schierke nodded. "Yes, my mistress and I were expecting you to arrive because of Harry." he would have to ask Puck for some dust later. "We would be pleased to welcome you as guests to our sanctuary."
"So we're all good now, right?" Isidro asked, his tail twitching. "You can change me back now, right?"
"It'll wear off in a few hours," Schierke told him.
"It serves you right," Ivalera backed her friend.
"Hey, I didn't mean to grab your… uh, you know. It was an accident, honest."
Schierke considered it. "Well, I might have gone a bit-,"
"-I mean, there wasn't much to really feel anyway." Isidro should have left it alone. A short spark of lightning flew from the end of her staff, making his fur stand up on end. Guts didn't bother restraining her on that.
Puck had gotten wise and flown away from Isidro and over to Ivalera. "Hey, you're an elf like me!"
"Please don't annoy me," Ivalera asked the other elf.
Morgan stood watching the exchanges going on. "If I can beg your pardon, Miss. Witch," he greeted as politely as he could, "you wouldn't happen to be the same witch I met in these woods fifty years ago, would you?"
Schierke composed herself again. "I'm sorry, but that was not me. You refer to my mistress and teacher."
"She took on an apprentice, truly?" Morgan scratched at his stubble. "I've visited these woods many times since my first encounter with her, I was never able to find her home again."
Guts spoke next. "You said that you were expecting us, are you going to take us to this mistress of yours?"
"That is why I was patrolling the border, yes," Schierke agreed. "If you were all agreeable to it, I will escort you to our sanctuary."
Guts studied her some more before saying, "Alright. Let's meet your teacher then."
Schierke led the way through the woods, the rest following behind her. Harry and Guts followed the closest. "I really am sorry for worrying you like that," Harry apologized to the other mage.
"Fine," she replied.
"I get how it must have looked, fighting with Zodd and all. And I really do apologize, even though it wasn't entirely my fault."
"I know that. It was just… it was scary, that's all." She pointed her staff at his face, and Harry feared another whacking, but instead, "Oculus reparo." The crack in Harry's glasses mended themselves. "You're glasses were broken." He had never gotten around to fixing them after the fight at the Tower of Conviction.
"How'd you know about the fight with Zodd?" Guts asked. "Some kind of magic or something?"
"Thought transference," Harry explained. "With it, she could hear my thoughts and see what I was."
"That's why I said it was nice to meet you in person," Schierke explained. "I saw you through Harry's perspective, not my own."
Guts looked like he was considering how that was possible but just accepted that magic was the simplest answer there was. "Hm. I see. That saves introductions on our end."
"There is still Mistress Flora," Schierke reminded. "She wants to meet with you as well. I'm sure you have many questions that you wish to ask her about… everything."
"You don't need magic to figure that out," Guts said as the trees began to thin, giving way to the clearing that the spirit-tree resided.
"Whoa!" Puck exclaimed as he took in sight of the tree." You live here?!" he asked Ivalera.
"Of course!" the other elf almost bragged. "There's no finer spirit-tree in all of Midland." Harry didn't bother to correct her that it was pretty much the only spirit-tree in Midland.
"So this is where witches live?" Farnese asked, taking in the sight. "It is so organic like the house was built around to cater to the tree."
Morgan took a bit longer to catch up, but his eyes shone with a boyish sense of adventure when he beheld the sight. "It is just as I remember. It hasn't changed a bit."
Schierke continued to lead them forward, opening the way to the ever familiar smell of wood and sage that the interior of the mansion provided. More plants and jars of ingredients lined the shelves decorating the interior since Harry made his departure, that being the only noticeable change.
They came to a stop outside the double doors of Flora's study, Schierke giving a polite knock before hearing a voice respond from the other side. "Come in."
Flora sat in her seat, working the spinning wheel, and smiling kindly as they all entered. "Ah, Harry! How lovely to see you again. And you've brought companions along with you. Marvelous!" she didn't sound too surprised at all. "I am Flora, the Mistress of this spirit-tree. How may I be of assistance?"
Windham, Capital of Midland
The Kushan had taken the city; taken the castle. Princess Charlotte found herself a prisoner of the invading Kushan, and was now being kept in an isolated cell; the very top of the Tower of Rebirth, a complete opposite to where Griffith had been locked up by her father. And unlike the lowest level, the top of the tower was quite cozy, being equipped with a four-poster bed and an adjacent room for her handmaiden, Anna who had been taken along with her.
She had been locked up her for a few weeks now, hearing only brief mentions of what was going on in the city itself. Apparently, a small resistance band led by Sir Laban and Minister Foss had taken up in the underground of the city, Sir Owen had escaped, looking to muster allies to retake the city from the Kushan and the occupying Emperor Ganishka.
The Emperor had seen to her living arrangements himself, allowing her to live her in comfort for a price of course. And Charlotte had a feeling that he was here to collect his payment tonight as he entered her chamber.
"Princess Charlotte," Emperor Ganishka addressed in his accented voice as his large form approached. He was a tall man, fitting for an emperor. Like all Kushan, his skin was a healthy bronze and had dark hair. His beard was exceptional, having it grown out and styled, curling it upward at the ends. It was so thick that his mouth was completely obscured by the dark, thick hair. Multiple rings coated his fingers, each decorated with rubies and sapphires. "It is an honor to see you again."
She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Greetings, Emperor Ganishka. To what do I owe your presence?" she had an idea; she hoped to god that she was wrong.
"Have you thought over the offer I proposed to you?" he asked. "You do not want the slaughter of your people to continue now, do you?" how could she answer that? If she gave an answer he would invoke his right. "You Midlanders continue to resist my divine right of conquest. But if you were to become my bride and bear me an heir, the invasion would hardly be illegal. What is your answer?"
"I… I have not decided. I need more time to-,"
"-You have had a significant amount of time," Ganishka almost bellowed, his voice like a rising storm. "You live here in luxury while your people die. You mean to tell me that you have not made up your mind by now?"
He advanced toward her. She backed up to the bed. "S-stay away from me!" the fear taking hold of her, the same she had felt the time her father had tried to… "Please! Keep away!"
His large hands grabbed her petite shoulders. "Save countless lives by making a sacrifice of a ruler. The blood of rulers old runs through you; our child would have a divine right to inherit this world, inherit the Kingdom of Gaiseric, your ancestor."
"Stop!" the fabric of her dress was ripped and the cold air hit her exposed front. She backed away until her knees hit the bed. She fell back onto it, crawling back from the advancing emperor, his eyes as dark as a hurricane.
Her hand fell on the only thing that littered her cell, one of her embroidery designs. She held it up like a shield, her eyes closed in fear. And she felt nothing. Opening one eye, Charlotte saw that the emperor was no longer advancing toward her, his dark eyes fixed on her design; the emblem of the Band of the Hawk.
"So," Ganishka stroked his royal beard. "You are affiliated with my arch-rival." His voice was low like a rising storm. He turned on his heel, exiting her chamber. "The White Hawk, it had to be him."
Before the door could shut, her handmaiden, Anna, rushed into the room. "Princess!" Charlotte dropped the embroidery design and buried her face in the other girl's shoulder. Anna wrapped a blanket around Charlotte, covering her from Ganishka's assault.
"Stay please," she asked her handmaiden, not wanting to be left alone tonight. Anna obliged her request, stroking Charlotte's dark brown hair until she tired and fell asleep, but Charlotte remained awake.
She picked up the embroidery set again, studying the design. She often dreamt of Griffith, and the Band of the Hawk, hoping beyond measure that somehow that they were still alive and out there, maybe even coming to rescue her from this tower. But that dream was just that; a dream. The only other way she was getting out of here was if she fought her way out, and for a descendant of Gaiseric, she was no warrior.
There was a sound of a thunderstorm brewing outside and Charlotte hazarded a glimpse. What she was not a storm, but a… Did cloud touch down inside of the nearby City of Windham? The cloud was as tall as the castle, and it seemed to have a human form to it. A snowy white beard and storm-blue eyes; it almost looked like Emperor Ganishka. A strong gust of wind was blowing as well, the shutters of the windows began to open and slam shut repeatedly.
She forced one of the shutters closed as a blast of the lightning shot from the humanoid cloud and at a target below in the city. Even with the shutters closed a bright light was occupying her cell. But… this light, it wasn't from the lightning. Something had entered her cell.
A voice spoke from behind her. "Good evening, Princess Charlotte."
That voice. I know that voice. But… I must be asleep.
Turning to face the man, her heart almost stopped beating. It was like nothing had ever happened to him, no imprisonment, no torture, and no nothing. He looked better than ever actually. Dressed in a new set of white armor and his white locks as rich and pure as winter snow.
"L-lord Griffith?"
"Are you frightened?" he asked, studying her with his blue eyes. Are his pupils slit, or is it a trick of the light? "I hope that I'm not intruding at an inopportune moment."
"Are… are you truly Griffith?" she asked, taking a tentative step forward. Her hand reaching out to touch, to see if what she was seeing was solid and real.
"I must look different since the last time, but I assure you, I am who you suspect me to be. You helped to rescue me from my cell, it is only fitting that I rescue you from yours. Outside, my cohorts distract the emperor, allowing my person to be here."
"Cohorts… the Band of the Hawk? They live?" that lake of blood, that was the Hawks, so did some truly survive?
"A new Band of the Hawk that I have been recruiting, but yes, they follow me as the old one did."
Charlotte's hand touched his white armor. It's real.
"Do you wish to leave this place, Princess?" Griffith asked.
"You will free me, truly?!" she asked. He nodded.
"Go to the bed and hold on," Griffith instructed, waiting until she had done as he asked. He clapped his hands, and the tower seemed to shake.
Charlotte gripped the banister of the bed as the roof of the tower was torn off and a behemoth looked down in on them. It was nearly sixteen feet in height, and a single massive horn grew from the right side of its head. She would scream if she could, but a part of had seen that creature before; back then when that whirlwind and the lake of blood appeared, this had been the creature flying overhead, she was sure of it.
The creature lowered a paw and lifted Griffith onto its back where a pair of wings grew. With both paws, it lifted the bed from the room and took flight into the night. Charlotte held on for dear life, but the flight was very smooth, no wonder Anna was still asleep.
Griffith… what is this? This… demon? How is this serving you? She didn't want to admit it for fear that it was too late, but she was wondering if she should have stayed in that tower. Is this really you, Griffith?
A/N: So happy Valentine's Day or Single Awareness Day as is is better known. Both Voldemort and Griffith conducted a jailbreak. Thank you for reading.