Awake And Alive
Chapter 2
Notes: This chapter will include at least two or three time-skips. I don't think I need to write the entire time Harry spent training in the Land of Shadows. Not if I want to get to the good stuff in time though… Such as the debut of the new Manannan Mac Lir in the true supernatural world. Let's face it, the Wizarding communities and their people are rather xenophobic by nature, so it stands to reason that they wouldn't try to explore what else could be out there. A quick note: if my readers want to see the picture from which I drew the inspiration for the divine armour of Manannan Mac Lir, they should go look for the illustration named Dangerous Waters by Sir Pigeonz on Artstation. For the picture of the dress that I described Scáthach wearing, they should contact me in private for the link to the picture. Now I think I rambled enough. Let's get this show on the road!
Harry knew he was normally great under pressure. His most astounding achievements in life came during do or die moments. He also learned better by doing than when studying. But Scáthach had him beat on every level. It had only taken her a few times of observing him using Apparition for his teacher to understand the mechanics behind the spell. Now each time he tried to get away to use magic on her, she would close down on him too fast for him to be able do anything and she would smack him around until he was able to escape or more likely, until she allowed him to slip away. The one time he tried to use Fragarach against her, she literally laughed in his face (She had a beautiful laugh) and with one twirl of her spear, removed it from his hand and sent it far away. A swordsman, Harry clearly was not. Well, at least not yet.
Scáthach was truly a warrior without peer, since she had immediately understood his dependence on his wand to cast anything worthwhile. He had more bruises on the other side of his body from sheltering his all too fragile wooden focus from her attacks. That was how his first week went. But each time he fell, he always got up and went back into the fray. He needed to be stronger. He needed to learn how to use Manannan's powers at their best. The training was harsh and his teacher relentless, but that was exactly what he needed. You couldn't change the world without getting your hands dirty after all. Week after week, he was learning more, adapting faster to any situation.
He still couldn't cast anything worth a damn without his wand, but at least he had a few less bruises than before. Well, until the Witch of Dun Scaith upped the level once more that is. Calisthenics were something that was on every day's agenda. His trainer also gave him a rest day once every week. It was all good to repeatedly put him through the wringer, but he was still partially mortal. So Harry truly needed some time to rest and heal if he didn't want to crumble. It was the harshest workout he ever had, but he knew with certainty that it would give him the results he had been looking for in the end.
But there was some unexpected good news! The day after his fourth rest day, Scáthach had thrown him all the way down into the river since they were training on the hill nearby that day. It was after he foolishly tried to combine the disarming charm and his physical strength with the goal of depriving her of her spear. It seemed that some other powers of Manannan had been unlocked, since he quickly found out he could breathe underwater and move like he was still on land. He could still swim normally if he willed it though, which was a relief. He quickly found out that he could also manipulate and shape water to his will, so he decided to use it with the goal to surprise his teacher. While still underwater, Harry willed several tendrils into existence and then commanded them to lash out with the firm intent to grab her.
Scáthach managed to deflect quite a few, even with the help of her two spears! But in the end, Harry only had to get lucky once. And when he did, the tendrils of water that had caught her pulled the immortal woman into the drink as well. He knew better than to mention the girlish yelp she let out when he managed to grab her though. Harry was many things, but suicidal was not one of those. When they were both back on dry land though, she more than likely decided to make him pay for the affront since he was beaten black and blue in no time at all. He did have a really hard time fighting back, not only because she was much better than him on every front, but the water had accentuated her skin tight clothing… It was very distracting… Oh well, no pain no gain as the old proverb said… the wonderful sight had made the bruises he received for his stunt more than worth it though...
Later that night around the campfire outside of the castle's walls, Scáthach had to admit if only to herself that the boy had truly taken her by surprise with his water tendrils. It had taken much longer for Sétanta to be able to catch her off guard like her new student just did. Perhaps she should ask the name of her new pupil? He wasn't the Man of the Sea, not yet. So she would not call him by his divine name. Not until he was worthy of it. But his accomplishments today were worth using his mortal name when addressing him.
«Boy, tell me, what is your name?»
Harry, who was chewing some cooked meat, swallowed his bite before answering
«It's taken you this long to ask? And I can't believe I forgot to introduce myself to begin with. Ugh, I'm an idiot. My name is Harry Potter.»
«Then I will remember your name and use it. I will not call you by your divine name until you've earned it. You may call me «teacher» or by my own name, Scáthach, if you prefer.»
Earning his teacher's respect was an important milestone for Harry. But it was just one of many to come.
At first Harry had feared that there would be nothing to eat in the Land of Shadows, forcing him to do regular food supply trips back into the living world. He could have done it without any problem, crossing the borders in between the various dimensions was surprisingly easy for him, but it would have seriously cut into his training time. But while the lands immediately around Dun Scaith Castle were dead, further away from the fortress the wilds were prospering. There was no shortage of prey animals. But they were all bigger than what could be found in the regular world. So it was part of the challenge to hunt and kill such beasts. Seriously, he even saw a male Irish Elk bigger than three adult polar bears put together! At first, Harry hunted exclusively with the aid of his magic. But as his skills and abilities progressed, Scáthach asked him to use what she was pounding into his head and body to do so. Of course, the young man had come back more than once empty-handed due to his lack of experience. But it didn't discourage him. Day after day he gained more experience and got better.
After two long and hazardous years, the last Potter had become a very good hunter. He had a very good motivation, because if he didn't bring back any sort of game or fish, he wouldn't have enough to eat. He was also getting better as a warrior. He still wasn't able to pull a definite win against his teacher, but she had to use more and more of her true power and skills to put him down. He was also managing to force a few draws here and there by now. His body was now conditioned to Scáthach's very strict standards, so he only had to maintain what he now had rather than start again from scratch. These days they were working on his swordsmanship and on what little wandless magic he could do. While the former was progressing by leaps and bounds, the latter was stalling. It seemed that almost a decade of using a matched focus to channel his arcane power had atrophied whatever it was that permitted him to use magic without it when he was a young boy.
Frankly, Harry was at his wits end on how to remove the crutch without snapping his wand in two. Perhaps he could try to fuse it with Fragarach and see what happens? It was food for thought.
xXx
Meanwhile, back in the World of the Living, the Goddess Morrigan had been quite busy. While young Harry was training to regain the ancient strength of Manannan Mac Lir in the Land of Shadows, she made her rounds to awaken her fellow Tuatha Dé. The Man of the Sea wasn't the High King of their pantheon, but he was a major deity for a reason. His power was quite considerable. His return would be a signalled to their brethren that it was time to step back into the world once more. It was such a shame that Yahweh was no longer among them, for he would likely find the prank they were about to pull on modern society quite amusing. Once her rounds had been made, she decided to go look for more information about the boy who was now sharing his body and soul with the Man of the Sea. Her chosen destination? Hogwarts Castle. The boy was clearly a wizard, so what better place than his Alma Mater to look for information concerning his life? Soon enough she was letting herself into the private parlour of Minerva McGonagall.
The Morrigan would not admit this to anyone, but seeing the look of surprise on the face of the elderly woman when she noticed the goddess sitting there was worth her weight in gold. The quarters were very well protected, but a goddess such as herself couldn't be hindered by mortal magic. Not without very specific runic inscriptions that the Tuatha Dé had done their very best to erase from history. Before the Head of Gryffindor House could work herself into a rant, the Morrigan conjured a tea set with a simple wave from her right hand and waved the Cat animagus into the seat in front of her. Swallowing her retort, the witch did as she was bade. This woman was clearly more than she appeared. It would be an interesting and enlightening conversation on both sides.
«I am the Goddess Morrigan of the Tuatha Dé Danann. I encountered your former student, young Harry Potter, a few days ago. He piqued my curiosity, so I came here to learn more about him.»
While Minerva was tempted to bombard the goddess with questions about Harry's well-being and location, she was not fool enough to provoke such a mercurial deity. So she swallowed both her pride and her questions. She would give that boy an earful for vanishing on her without prior notice and for abandoning his duties to Wizarding Britain when she saw him next. Seriously, even his father had not been as troublesome while he was a student! And James actually went out of his way to look for trouble, contrary to his son! She took a breath, a sip of her tea then started to explain what she knew about one of her favourite students.
Both women couldn't help but snort in fond exasperation after Minerva told a few stories of Harry's misadventures in these hallowed halls. It was clear that both Harry and Mac Lir shared the same relationship with trouble, they didn't need to go looking for it, it found them all on its own. It seemed that young Harry's fate had been quite tumultuous even before the awakening of his past life. A child of prophecy was always in the thick of things, whether they liked it or not. Headmistress McGonagall and The Morrigan discussed the boy for a few more hours before the goddess took her leave. She simply dissolved into a flock of ravens after getting up from the comfortable chair she had been sitting on and left through the now open window.
xXx
Down in the region of the Underworld governed and inhabited by the Fallen Angels, Azazel, Governor General of the Grigori was currently dealing with the bane of every leader the world over; paperwork. At other times he might have blown it all off and gone and done something more interesting, like researching Sacred Gears or even skirt chasing, but he was waiting for a particular report today. His spies had told him that there was something unusual going on in the United Kingdom and Ireland and his lead agent stationed there was due back for a report at any moment. Azazel was a tall man appearing to be in his twenties with an average build, black hair, golden bangs and a black goatee. He was wondering what was happening for the tone of the message to be that hurried. Did one of those shut-in wizards get chosen to be the vessel for a Sacred Gear? It was rare, but it did happen occasionally.
The Three Biblical Factions were a bit divided on how to deal with the Wizarding Enclaves. While he wasn't certain how Heaven dealt with them in the modern era, Azazel had instructed his people to leave them alone as much as possible. What resources the Grigori could direct towards interacting with them outside the various Gringotts branches around the globe weren't worth the headache of shattering their superiority complex. He knew for fact that some of the Pillar Houses went fishing in their magical academies for Pact Magicians, but it wasn't usually a subject he brought up when speaking with Sirzechs Lucifer.
A silver coloured magic circle flared on the floor in front of his desk, bringing him out of his musings as his agent appeared within the room. Once the light was gone, the agent stood at attention like a soldier and in precise military form, gave a salute, and then began speaking.
«Lord Azazel, I bring… Not ill news per see, but rather odd news all the same. The goddess Morrigan's presence was detected at the start of the week in Scotland, my Lord. Once near Gruinard Bay, then later, all the way up at Hogwarts Castle; and that's not all, Sir. My team is quite adamant that they felt the presence of Manannan Mac Lir himself going back and forth in between the Land of the Dead and the Land of the Living. We also felt other powers associated with the various Celtic Gods stirring these last few weeks. We can't be one hundred percent certain, but everything seems to point towards a resurgence of the Tuatha Dé Danann, my Lord.»
Azazel had seen and done so many things in his many years of life, even before falling from his Father's grace. He was used to dealing with the many quirks of the various pagan gods he interacted with in the past. But no other pantheon was as battle and curse happy as the Tuatha Dé. Their resurgence would mean that interesting things, in the Chinese curse sense of the words, were bound to happen. Great, just what they needed, having to deal with those crazies again. Much to the great surprise of the Fallen Scout, Azazel began banging his head repeatedly on his desk. It really wasn't Azazel's day, that was for sure. And he would have to call Michael about this too, ugh. After all, their deceased Father's Faith had more or less stolen the worshippers of the Tuatha Dé. Heaven had to be ready in case one of those loonies decided to go pick a fight with the Heavenly Host on a whim. Don't get him wrong, even on opposite sides of the conflict, Azazel still had a lot of respect for their Father's Strongest Soldier, but he could only take so much of his goody two shoes ways outside of a battlefield.
After he finished bashing his skull against his desk, the Governor General tiredly dismissed his scout and told his secretary that he didn't want to be bothered unless the world was about to end. He then locked and warded his door against intruders and eavesdroppers, and once assured of his privacy, began channelling the necessary power to create a violet magic circle in the palm of his hand. With a very careful application of his power, Azazel held the supernatural equivalent of the cell phone in the palm of his hand. Bringing it to his ear, he waited until his estranged brother answered. Strangely, it wasn't Michael who picked up the phone; judging by the female voice he could guess that it was Gabriel. Well, it could have been Sariel, but she wasn't as «peppy» for lack of a better term.
«Moshi, Moshi?! Gabriel speaking, who may I ask is calling?»
Azazel sighed a bit and then said
«Hello Gabriel, it's Azazel. I would like to speak with Michael, could you put him on the line please?»
«Azazel?! Oh my gosh! It's so nice to hear your voice again! It's been ages! How are you?!»
Even after everything that happened, Azazel could never stay angry with the bubbly Seraph for very long. She was the kind of person you just simply couldn't hate, no matter how hard you tried. A genuine smile made its way across his face. He really did miss her voice.
«I'm doing just fine, and you? You are keeping yourself away from trouble, I hope?»
Their little discussion continued for a short while until Azazel heard an amused sounding Michael speaking from nearby.
«Dear sister, could you hand me the phone please? I would like to speak with our wayward brother.».
There was some fumbling and some other background noises before Michael's voice was clear over the phone
«It has been a while since we last talked… brother.»
Azazel knew that Michael didn't really hold a grudge per see, but some wounds, even somewhat healed by time, ran really deep. Some things had been said on both sides of the battlefield and couldn't be taken back no matter how much they tried. Things would never go back to how they were before his Fall from grace. Azazel and Michael had clashed spear to spear many times during the Great War, doing their absolute best to kill or at the very least maim each other. But they both had to rise above those grievances, for the Greater Good of their people.
«Listen, Michael, I know that things will never go back the way they were before… Well, you know. But I'm calling you about something very important.»
Even if the line was supposedly secure, Azazel would not be dropping what was basically State secrets willy nilly. You never know who could hear them after all. After a short pause to assure himself that his estranged older brother was actually listening, he continued,
«I'll be blunt, Michael. My people just gave me a report that basically says that the Tuatha Dé Danann are most likely in the process of making a come-back. They first felt the goddess Morrigan's particular presence on the western side of Scotland before she went eastward toward that magical academy the British Wizards built during the middle ages. Then they felt an aura that they swear belonged to Manannan Mac Lir, making repeated trips between the Land of the Living and the Dead. And a few days after, my people felt many of the other Tuatha Dé Danann begin interacting with the world once more.»
For the first time since the Spanish Inquisition and the Salem Witch Trials, Azazel heard his older brother utter a long string of nasty curse words. Then, if that wasn't surreal enough already, he heard what was more than likely Gabriel emitting a loud gasp of horror and/or indignation and the sound of flesh hitting flesh hard followed promptly by a sharp masculine exclamation of pain. Then to top it off, Gabriel began to seriously scold their older brother for his colourful language. If the situation wasn't so dire, Azazel would have given himself a case of the hiccups by laughing at his sister's antics. The Mighty Archangel Michael, God's Strongest Soldier, the Leader of Heaven, being scolded by their baby sister like he was a misbehaving school boy. This would have been priceless blackmail material in any other situation. After a good ten minutes of hearing Michael's repeated apologies and Gabriel's furious scolding, the Governor General spoke up once again
«Gabriel, can you stop scolding him, or at least, save it for another time? I'd like to finish talking to our brother before somebody tries to barge into my office, asking for help and claiming it's an emergency when it definitely won't meet the requirement I set.»
There was some grumbling at the Fallen Angel's request, but the most powerful woman in Heaven relented. When both men were sure she was no longer nearby, they collectively let out a sigh of relief. Gabriel was a true force of nature when her ire was provoked.
Michael, the ever gracious, thanked his estranged brother for his life-saving intervention.
«Thank you for your help, Azazel. Gabriel does not anger easily, but when her ire is provoked...»
Michael didn't finish the sentence, but there was no need. Both men knew that it was unwise to arouse their younger sister's temper.
«Yeah, trust me, I understand. Penemue can be a real pain too when she loses her temper. Listen, for all of our differences, I don't want Heaven to be plunged in chaos so it's why I called you to give you a heads up. Mac Lir was known to be a rather chill guy back in the day, so perhaps we can bring him to a negotiation table, but the Morrigan is well known for being unpredictable; and don't get me started on the Fomorians.»
«I truly appreciate the heads up, Azazel. I will make the necessary arrangements to shore up the defences of Heaven's territories just in case. I will even go reinforce the Gates of Heaven myself. By the way, speaking of negotiations, have you made any headway in convincing the Seventy-Two Pillars to join us for a peace summit?»
Azazel frowned a bit, not that his siblings could see him since he didn't use the «videochat» mode when he first called Heaven, but answered all the same
«Sirzechs and Serafall are all for it, Ajuka too, even if he's not the most enthusiastic fella when deprived of his labs. Falbium is almost convinced and most likely stalling because he wants to laze around some more, but the Council of Elders are taking their time to come to a decision. Sadly, I think it will take a few more years before we can have something more substantial than the current Ceasefire.»
Both leaders continued to talk for a while before Azazel hung up the «phone». The conversation with his estranged older brother had not been as painful as he first thought it would be. Maybe there was some true hope for things to get better between Heaven and the Grigori after all. Azazel wondered if he should also share the info about the Tuatha Dé with Sirzechs or perhaps Serafall, but after a few minutes of consideration, he decided not to. That particular pantheon's period of activities had been before the time of the current Great Devil Kings after all. They likely wouldn't know what to do with the information.
xXx
It had now been a grand total of five years since Harry's arrival in the Land of Shadows and his progress since that time had been astronomical. The differences between how he had been when he arrived and his current state were like night and day. He could now fight on par with Scáthach at her very best and win against her half of the time. But still, his divine spark had yet to ignite and it was starting to worry him. Mac Lir's memories were now almost entirely integrated with his own and more of his former life's powers were showing up each day. But he still wasn't a god. Also there had been a very interesting developpement between Scáthach and him that he didn't see coming. These last few days, he won more spars than he lost and that got him some interesting looks from the woman in question. But the decisive change arrived when he came back from his most recent hunt with the cut and salted parts of a deer and absentmindedly offered some to his teacher. There was a strange light passing through her ruby eyes before she decided with a soft voice
«Bring the meat up to the castle's kitchens, please. Tonight we will be eating and sleeping indoors. Oh and take a bath before dinner this evening, will you? You smell.»
Her answer was a bit strange but not worrisome, they usually camped outside unless it was raining, but the sky was clear. Knowing not to look a gifted horse in the mouth, Harry accepted the request easily. It was always nice to sleep in a proper bed with a good mattress instead of on a simple bedroll. And taking a hot bath sounded really nice too. Dun Scaith Castle was comfortable enough. While Scáthach didn't have servants in the conventional sense, her castle was staffed with spirits she had beaten into submission during the thousands of years she spent in the Land of Shadows. And they had learned to be quite good at their job to avoid displeasing their mistress.
After a piping hot and relaxing bath, Harry dressed himself in simple jeans and a shirt that he had to resize with the help of magic. When he eventually returned to the World of the Living, he would have to go on an overdue shopping trip. During his time here he had hit another growth spurt, stopping at a very respectable two metres tall, his body now featured broad shoulders and well muscled arms. His hair was much messier than usual since the only way he could cut it was with the help of his wand or with Fragarach, but he made do. It was the same for when he needed to shave like he did today before his bath. When he was ready, he made his way down to the banquet hall. He didn't know why they were eating on such a large table since it was only the two of them, but Scáthach was from a much different time period than him, so what was normal for her could be archaic for him. He was free to think what he wanted, but he wasn't going to speak his thoughts out loud.
Once arrived at destination, he saw that Scáthach wasn't there yet. Being polite, he waited for the Lady of the castle before taking a seat. He didn't have to wait long before he both sensed her presence and heard her coming. And what he saw left him entirely speechless. Her long, lustrous magenta hair was adorned with a modified tiara. On the right side near her temple, there was a beautiful barrette with a purple flower and a gold ornament hanging from it. She had some sort of choker made of fabric around her throat along with an amethyst as a pendant. Her deep purple dress was held by the back of the neck and left her shoulders and arms bare, covering her forearms up to the wrists. All in all she was extremely gorgeous. He had never seen such beauty before.
It was when Scáthach spoke with an amused tone of voice that his brain rebooted
«Close your mouth Harry, lest you swallow some flies. Should I assume that you like my dress?»
Harry was quick to answer back
«Do I like it? The word «like» is not strong enough to explain what I feel when I look at that dress right now. I love it, Scáthach! You are truly beyond gorgeous!»
Her answer to his compliment was a slightly bigger smile crossing her lips and with a simple movement of the head toward the banquet hall, she took the lead. And knowing full well that Harry was watching her, she deliberately added more sway to her hips as she walked away. His muffled groan made her smile with satisfaction, not that he could see it of course. She still had it. The meal was very good and the wine too. It was the first time Harry ever tasted wine. His relatives would never have given him access to any, and at school, it wasn't something easily obtainable since it was much more costly than Butterbeer or even Firewhiskey. The conversation between friends was light and interesting. The lovely woman in front of him was telling him a few anecdotes about some of her former students and in turn Harry told her about some of his misadventures during his magical education.
Things turned to the surreal when he clearly felt Scáthach's dainty looking foot starting to caress his knee then going slowly but surely toward the inside of his thigh. Now, Harry wasn't a complete novice when it came to women. It seemed that the horrid reputation his relatives gave him by spreading all those lies finally did him a favour since he had a few hook-ups with a few teenage girls living around Little Whinging in his summer after Fifth year, before Dumbledore came by to pick him up. It turns out that they liked «bad boys». Of course, he never breathed a word of that to his friends. Hermione would have had his hide and Ron would never leave him alone until he told him all the juicy details.
So while he wasn't all that good at picking up subtle signals, this was an incredibly obvious one that even a blind man couldn't miss. He looked at her, clearly seeing her hooded gaze and her inviting smile. So he wasn't imagining things. When he got up, she did the same and sashayed hypnotically towards him. Slowly, sensually, she brought her deceptively powerful arms around his neck and after she got on her tiptoes, Harry closed the gap between them by putting his own arms around her waist and leaning down enough to give her a kiss.
A simple kiss turned into two, then five, then tongues got involved and hands started to roam on both sides. After she started grinding herself against him, Harry lost all rational thought. Using his superior physical strength, the godling took Scáthach in his arms bridal style and sprinted towards the great staircase leading to the private quarters. While he was taking two or three steps at a time, his would-be lover was busying herself by undoing the buttons of his shirt with her remarkably dexterous fingers, while also peppering his skin with tantalizing kisses. Since Scáthach's bedroom was closer than his own, Harry headed there. He had been there a few times, when she had needed to patch him up after a few more extreme duels over the years. Once he opened the door with one hand, he closed it again once inside with a foot, before walking toward his teacher's bed. There was no hesitation, no second guessing, no gentlemanly attempt to make them slow down to take their time.
Harry sat Scáthach down on the foot of the bed and soon they were making out once more. His hands were far from chaste, exploring all she had to offer over her clothes and even where he could get under them. Then she growled something that sounded suspiciously like
«Clothes...off!»
And from there, clothes both masculine and feminine, ended up all over the floor and the new lovers joined together in a dance as old as time.
xXx
A few days later, Scáthach and Harry were fighting. But this time it was far different than usual. They were both doing their very best to kill each other. Not that there had been any problems in their fledgling relationship so far, but it seemed that nothing more than a true life or death situation would trigger Mac Lir's divine spark. So in the hope of once more becoming a god, Harry Potter fought once again for his very life. Harry was using Fragarach in one hand and his wand in the other, still unable to use precise casting without a focus, while Scáthach was using both of her spears against him. So far they were evenly matched even if she had the advantage of range. After one very close call and needing breathing room, Harry cast a silent and motionless banishing charm at her, which caught Scáthach in the solar plexus. There were no words exchanged, both warriors knowing that it was a do or die situation.
Both fighters took a quick breather, before launching themselves back into the fray once more with nothing more than loud war cries. Fragarach and Gáe Bolg Alternative clashed together, causing sparks to appear. Harry had to apparate blindly to not get skewered by the second spear that was much too close for him to deflect. They didn't stop to take a breather, there was no time. Harry wanted to, no he needed to become a god once more. Something deep in his gut told him that he would need that power sooner rather than later. The World would need Manannan Mac Lir once more and he couldn't be found wanting.
Both Harry and Scáthach fought each other for hours with no clear end in sight. In the heat of battle, Harry almost snarled the two words, the six syllables, he had swore to himself to never utter. The incantation for the spell that had made him an orphan. The one and only Killing Curse. That lack of attention for self recrimination nearly cost him everything, but at the same time, it gave him exactly what he was looking for. Scáthach's voice and her sheer killing intent snapped him out of his temporary funk, but it was too late for him.
« Here I go. Stab and penetrate...»
One of her spears was illuminated with a bloody red aura of energy and was sent his way at ludicrous speed, zigzagging at impossible angles. He was somehow able to get Fragarach up in time to block it, but the momentum gained with the speed was too much and broke through his guard. The spear found its way through his right shoulder joint and pinned him to the cliffside, making him drop his wand. While it hurted like a bitch, Harry didn't have time to do anything about it since his teacher/lover and now perhaps his executioner wasn't done. Her voice resonated once again
«Thrust and drill!»
The other spear illuminated itself from within like the first one did and with a shout of
«Gáe Bolg Alternative!»
Scáthach launched it toward him. That second spear also travelled at ludicrous speed and was honing for his heart. But even if everything seemed hopeless, Harry wasn't about to give up. But before he could try to bring to bear what little wandless magic he could do, his lover's second spear was inches away from his heart. But before it could make contact, there was suddenly a loud gong like sound echoing from everywhere and nowhere. Then an intense golden light exploded from Harry's pinned form, encasing him entirely in less than a second. The light expelled the first spear that ran him through and healed his wounds in seconds all the while blocking the second spear before it could reach him.
Then a powerful force slammed into the Witch of Dun Scaith, threatening to bring her to her knees. It had been over two thousand years since someone made her feel so little! When the light died down, Harry looked entirely different. Clad in gold and black armour, a closed helmet shaped like a stylised fish, tassels of blue cloth that reminded her of seafoam flying in the wind, a stylised belt buckle and Fragarach in the form of a golden sword that had a similar shape to a Dao. Harry, no, Mannanan Mac Lir walked toward his previous foe but stopped near her without attacking. Both lovers/adversaries stared at each other for long minutes, before the pressure on the immortal woman let up. She smirked at her pupil, before kneeling willingly and declaring out loud
«Hail, Manannan Mac Lir, Lord of Capes, King of Tír na nÓg, God of the Sea and Ferryman of the Dead! Hail!»
Harry stayed quiet for one more minute before dismissing his armour. There were no major physical changes upon his person, except that his emerald green eyes seemed to be more luminous than before. It was like they could be filled with light at a moment's notice. And the remains of his famous lightning bolt scar were gone. The glasses he had been wearing when he came here in the first place were also missing, the more he accessed Mac Lir's powers, the more his deficient eyesight corrected itself. Once he was near enough he didn't say anything but he grabbed Scáthach by the waist and hoisted her onto his shoulder. Too stunned to say anything, she only started to laugh when he began making his way back toward Dun Scaith Castle without putting her down. They didn't need to speak, she could see his intentions clear as day.
«Randy as a god, huh...»
Scáthach and Harry would hardly leave her bed chambers for the next three days.