Author's Note: In light of recent events I feel the need to state that I am LGBT and do not agree with anything JK Rowling has said recently. You cannot divorce the subject matter from the author however so if the story takes us back to HP Earth there are some things I will very likely address. As I will be addressing the admittedly purposefully used as critiques racism and imperialism in the Elder Scrolls universe.
We're not gonna jump immediately into another Daedric quest so soon though, we'll be back to Dawnstar later though, I simply want to set the stage for now. The College and Harry will be a lot more involved in magical weirdness in Skyrim going forward.
Chapter 21: Dawn of Knowledge
The port city of Dawnstar was Harry's first introduction to the bleak north-eastern edge of Skyrim bordering the Sea of Ghosts. He had heard stories that it, along with Winterhold and Windhelm, were trapped in almost perpetual snow and ice due to the combination of the positioning of the mountains and the Sea of Ghosts.
He had not been prepared for the bleak reality of it all. Even though they pulled into town a mere four hours after noon the deep grey of the clouded sky caused the town to seem as dark as night. The two largest residential areas of town seemed to be rows upon rows of shacks and small houses along both the shore for fishing and whaling and the mine against the eastern mountain for the miners and their families.
Along the main thoroughfare in town sat the inn, the jarl's longhouse, and the barracks and it was to the inn that they went.
By the time they had stabled the horses and carriage and Harry had set his stuff into his room the workers from the mine began to pour into the inn to sup and drink. They were so loud and rowdy that Harry could not help but overhear a few of them seated nearby conversing.
"What was up with ye today Borgny?" A Nordic woman was asking a Nordic man, who though he had a powerful build and wide shoulders seemed slumped forward and exhausted.
"It's those Oblivion blasted nightmares, Bodil. I haven't had a lick 'o sleep for the last week!" He retorted loudly.
"Huh," The now named Bodil replied intelligently, "Wasn't the bard complaining of that the other night too when she dropped that whole middle verse of Ragnar the Red?"
Tuning out the crowd, Harry attempted to return to his meal.
The next morning as they were leaving Harry was stunned to see the sun rising just over the lighthouse out of the morning mists.
"Ah, I suppose that is all the more impressive for how dark and dismal it was yesterday," He mentioned in passing and the cart driver nodded.
"Oh aye, that's where it gets its name from. 'Where the sun greets you as it begins its journey' or somesuch they say!"
Harry pondered that as they jostled away in the very direction of that rising sun, towards Winterhold.
The northern road was ice-slick, rocky, and dangerous, often having to cut in from the coastline due to erosion.
However their day and a half journey was nowhere near so dangerous as the pass had been on the way to Dawnstar, the most dangerous encounter was an Ice Wraith that Harry had chased off, sparing the driver the fire salt based concoction he apparently usually used to ward off the creatures, something akin to bear spray mixed with bug repellant from his past world from what he had gathered.
Winterhold, Harry thought as they rolled into the town at around noon, was an even bigger and bleaker disappointment than Dawnstar.
At least Dawnstar, he mused, had houses and people and industry.
Winterhold had supposedly at some point been the jewel in the crown of Skyrim. Built by Arch-Mage Shalidor, ruled by the dynasty of Ysgrammor, and reduced to squalor by the Great Collapse. Postulated to be aftershocks of the eruption of the Red Mountain, he had been warned by his father that the locals blamed the College for surviving when the majority of what had once been a great city had not.
"Well here ya go, Harald," The driver announced as they pulled in to some stables by the inn, "I'm going to have a drink. Good learnin' to ya!"
With a shake of his head at the man's strange indifference Harry grabbed his pack and headed off up the road towards the College.
As he left the main square of undamaged or repaired buildings the denizens of the ruined city began to eye him suspiciously, as the only reason to head into that portion of the city was to move past it and on to the College of Winterhold.
They were not exactly wrong, that was what he was here for. Though in his battlemage styled armor he had gotten some odd looks before his intentions became obvious.
As Harry continued on he was increasingly angry and frustrated with the state of the city, it had been seventy-five years or there-abouts since the Great Collapse. Surely, he thought to himself, that if they had wanted some kind of progress could have been made on rebuilding or expanding the city outwards again before the economic and diplomatic situation with the other holds had deteriorated this far.
As the ruined and snow covered buildings began to clear Harry was met by a curious sight. A winding and zigzagging stone bridge with archways and magical light wells placed intermittently along its length.
As he neared the first archway an Altmer woman seemingly appeared from thin air, "Welcome to the College of Winterhold. I am Faralda, one of the senior Wizards here. I trust you found your journey to Winterhold not entirely unpleasant. Now, I must advise you that if your only purpose in being here is to complain, you would be far better off speaking with the Jarl of Winterhold. If, however, you seek something more, I will be happy to assist you!"
Harry's eyebrows rose up in surprise at the message and threats hidden within that statement.
"Truly? Relations are that bad with the city? Well, regardless, I would like to enter the College".
"You might be able to enter, but what is it you expect to find within?" The senior Wizard countered.
"Well, this was the place my father felt best to continue more specialized education in the magical arts," he pondered for a moment and added more, "Though I suppose you could say I wish to unravel the mysteries of Aetherius and beyond!"
That last note was him thinking back to his overall goal of possibly finding a way home.
"Ah, the immortal plane. It is said to be the source of all magic. This is a noble goal, indeed," She however smiled mysteriously at her own response before continuing.
"It would seem the College has what you seek. The question now is what you can offer the College. Not just anyone is allowed inside. Those wishing to enter must show some degree of skill with magic. A small test, if you will,".
Harry nodded, but a roguish grin crept upon his face, "I will face your test, Senior Wizard Faralda!"
A strange timber crept into his voice and she frowned before continuing almost condescendingly, "Cast a Firebolt spell onto the sigil, if you please,".
A laugh came over the young mage as he thought back to a passage from the Lord of the Rings which Hermione had lent him one year, "I am no conjurer of cheap tricks! You wish to see Destruction Magic? So be it!"
He raised his hands and gathered his magicka, unlike many times before this was not in combat so he did not have to worry about pacing himself, lightning crackling in both hands Harry gave in to the sense of competition and dramatics that had welled up at her superiority.
"FULMENASTER!" His personal incantation was reserved for when he specifically dual-cast the expert-level Shock spell.
Hands pointed to the sky a mighty thunderclap rang out across the rocky coastline as a bolt of lightning thrust up into the sky, a reverse of the natural phenomenon.
The Altmer had barely flinched at the loud noise of the spell, she frowned, "What did you say your name was, young man?"
Harry grinned, "Harald Secret-Fire,".
Recognition flashed across her face as she connected it to his earlier statement, "Ah, well your father always did have a talent for dramatic timing if not actual dramatic actions, and I was having a rather boring day, you may enter,".
The gates slid open, almost certainly by magic, and the College of Winterhold was merely a quick jog over a bridge now.