December 9: Contracts with Fae:
She sat in the middle of a clearing in a forest of enormous trees, scraping the iridescent sky that stretched from horizon to horizon, when she heard the first call.
The grass swayed around her as she perked up, peeking out from under the wide brim of her hat.
It wasn't a traditional summoning ritual, not in the least.
Yet it was a call, an earnest one and it was for her.
So she answered it.
With a flash, the Witch of the Fae disappeared from the unearthly clearing.
Harry cursed as he dodged the bone breakers flying through the air at him, the flash of purple light passing mere inches from his jacket.
He was outnumbered. The magic users attacking him were average at best, and despite their weirdly flowery chants, preference for close combat, apparently limited repertoires, supreme arrogance (which would have irritated him more if he wasn't already used to similar arrogance in the Ministry), and lack of wands, he could have taken them on if it was one on one. Maybe even a two on one.
He had no hopes of winning against ten.
For the umpteenth time that day, he cursed accepting the Japan assignment.
For the third time in the last five minutes, he wished, no he prayed for help.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a circle on the ground light up with an eerie glow, just a few feet from him.
Despite his situation, his eyebrow quirked upwards.
Who still used proper circles?
Suddenly, a bright light flashed through the chamber, and a woman appeared on the circle.
Her cerulean eyes snapped onto his green ones.
His assailants were exclaiming about… something. A curse flew by the woman. She broke her gaze, glancing at the other inhabitants of the room, eyes married in annoyance.
She waved her hand.
And suddenly, they were alone.
Eyes widening in surprise, Harry turned to face the woman, taking her in.
His cheeks tinged pink as he took in her svelte form, wearing some kind of bluish purple leotard, legs clad in translucent black stockings, splattered with stars, melding into golden heels that graced her feet. The leotard covered her torso up to her breasts, also intermittently splattered with golden stars, its sleeves covering her slender arms, black gloves covering her hands. A weird cape, the bluish purple of the leotard, was clasped around her shoulders, held in place by a four pointed star clasp, its furred collar covering her slim neck.
Her face was beautiful, ethereally so, framed by flowing silvery blond hair, he cerulean blue eyes locked on him. On her hair, a floppy honest to god wizard hat, of the same bluish purple, adorned with golden stars, its brim curving down slightly over her face.
Her voice broke the silence, beautiful and sultry, "Servant Caster answers your summons. I ask of you, are you my master?"
Harry blinked, head cocking to the side, "What?"