Reviews:
brokenstrings001: This chapter has Guts doing things out of the manga, and Harry's part is quite large this time around.
Greyjedi449t: Thank you very much. I'm glad that you're enjoying and looking forward to the next one.
Greer123: I'm happy to hear that, and yes my Thanksgiving was good.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
True to her word, Flora reserved their question and answer session until the morning. The elderly witch and her young disciple convened at the crack of dawn in the dining room of the spirit-tree. Miniature versions of the large golem Harry had faced walked about presenting their hosts with a fruit platter variety so the residents could then break their fast.
"Good morning to you," Flora said, spotting Harry peeking in from the entryway of the dining hall. "Please, come and join us. The golems have gathered fresh fruit, do have some."
Taking a seat opposite of the two witches, a short little golem walked over and presented him with a fruit platter as well. "…Thank you?" Harry said to the tiny rock person. The golem made no sign of acknowledgment and walked to stand off to the side of the wall.
"You're wondering how they exist, aren't you?" Harry saw Flora looking at him from the corner of her eye. "No doubt it is one of many of a long list of questions."
"Did you do that mind trick again?" Harry assumed.
"No. That would just be intuition on my end," Flora smiled. "They each contain a talisman within them."
"Like a charm or a necklace," Harry listed.
"More like a small artifact," Schierke said, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a cloth. "Mistress Flora made each Talisman from scratch and charmed them so that they could then take the form of the golems we have now."
"These are different from the one when I first came here," Harry observed how peaceful and content these ones seemed to behave. "So, the more powerful talisman there is, the stronger the golem would be?"
Flora looked impressed. "What an astute observation. Yes, that does tend to be the case for most of the time, but look closely at these golems here." Turning his attention, Harry noted that all the golems looked exactly the same, just much smaller from the goliath he had encountered.
"They all look alike."
"That is because I used the same type of talisman for each one. And because of that, they can join together to create one of the sizes that you encountered before. That branch of magic is known as enchanting."
"So there are different types of magic then?" Harry asked, feeling a jolt of excitement. "Like ones that require a wand, or making potions?" he was really just asking about what people usually associate with witches and wizards.
"You wouldn't be wrong to think so," Flora nodded. "But that is only an outside view on the study of magic as a whole." She saw that she had him hooked, and she continued. "Magic is a school of thought, it is meant to go beyond reasoning. Magi study this aspect of the astral world and can gain a better understanding of the bigger picture that unfolds around us. Think of magic like this tree; there are many branches of it, each stretching out to one plain or the next, but in the end, they are all rooted to one place. Does that help clarify?"
He thought over her words. From the way she phrased it, she made it sound like magic was a living thing, something that could grow in anyone and far more ancient than humanity or just about anything else. If different schools of magic were like branches, and then the tree would be thought it, something that all people and animals were capable of in some regards. He nodded. "I think so, yeah." He thought over his next question. "So, in what other ways does magic branch out?"
Instead of answering, Flora picked an apple from the platter and examined it from every angle. She seemed determined to memorize every aspect that she could, taking a bite out of it she tossed it to the side. "Watch closely." Before Harry's eyes, a form began to take shape in Flora's outstretched hand, slowly at first, but it soon turned into a tangible object. It was the apple she had tossed away previously. Harry knew it to be the same since it had a piece missing from where she had bitten into it.
"A form of astral summoning," Schierke finished her dish.
"I'm glad to see you're keeping up with your studies, Schierke." Flora commended her student. "It might seem like a trivial thing, but that apple represents the first steps in the study of the astral world of magic."
"Astral magic," Harry repeated. "So what about magic with wands? You didn't need one for what you just did." He pointed out.
"Care to explain, Schierke?" Flora asked the girl, who gave a quick glance at Harry before giving a quick nod.
"Many mages have used wands in the past, yes, but a mages true power comes from within. A wand is merely a tool to help focus the flow of od; other times rely more on one's understanding of the astral world."
Harry eyed Schierke's wooden tool from where it was leaning against the table. "Yours looks more a staff than it does a wand. And just what is od anyway?"
"Od is life-force," Flora answered. "Od exists in every nook and cranny of the world, sometimes it is stronger in a more natural environment, but all creatures have an od to them, humans are no exception. By directing the flow of od is what gives a mage their magic, to begin with." She paused for him to absorb this new knowledge. "As for wands and staffs; both are tailored for the wielder. Wands are better suited for quick magic. Sure, you can say an incantation and with a wave produce fire or transfigure one thing into another, but the use is limited. They are too small to accommodate massive feats like the ability to ascend into the astral layers or produce a luminous body. Staffs can do all a wand can do but are more complex and harder to use. They are capable of holding and channeling massive amounts of od, but pose a higher risk to the user if something should ever go wrong when performing a ritual or spell."
Harry eyed Schierke's staff with a greater respect and determination. If someone so young was able to wield a staff, then he could too. "Where did you get that? Did you make it or something?"
Fluttering down from the ceiling was Ivalera, who had been absent from the early morning breakfast. "You bet she did!" the elf praised her friend. "You're looking at the youngest witch in all of Midland."
"Don't go thinking you can use it," Schierke held the staff close to her. "I spent a lot of time and effort into crafting it from the bark of this spirit-tree; if you want to use one then you'll have to make one yourself." She seemed to realize what she had implied as soon as she had finished speaking.
"My, my," Flora raised a brow. "Are you opening up to our visitor so soon?"
The young witch quickly shook her head. Her hat flopped around, looking as if it might fall off at any second. "No, mistress! That's not what I-,"
"Nice to know that I succeeded in making a friend," Harry lightly teased as well. Schierke planted her head down on the table. Her hat covered most of her face, but Harry could see that she was glaring in his direction.
Flora patted her on the back. "But in all seriousness, Schierke has just brought up a very good point. If you truly wish to study and practice the arcane arts, you must be willing to commit yourself." She handed an apple to Harry. "I do not expect you to succeed your first time, but try and do what I had done previously. Study the apple; memorize every detail, its exact shape, and size, how heavy it feels; everything. Once you've done that, discard it, and see what happens.
An apple. Just a regular old apple. It was red in color, but one side had a splash of green added in. the stem was short, and a bit pointy at the end, with a single large leaf stemming out. The bottom was a bit bruised, and one side, the one with the green, seemed smaller than the other.
"Once you are sure that you've memorized its every dimension and detail, set it aside and close your eyes," instructed Flora. "Image it in your hand once more." Letting the apple roll to the end of the table, Harry closed his eyes and held out a hand, imagining that the apple was back in his palm.
He felt nothing drop or materialize; he clenched his eyes tighter, imagining harder. He could see the apple in his mind's eye. He remembered how heavy it had felt and how large it had been, the small patch of green, but had there been a hole in the leaf? How long was the stem exactly? It had a point to it, but…
Harry opened his eyes and was not surprised to see his hand still held nothing. It was hard not to feel a bit disappointed in himself, here he was asking away for all these magical questions and he couldn't actually do the magic himself.
"Mistress did say she didn't expect you to get it on your first try," Schierke said, actually sounding a bit comforting. "It's actually easy, once you understand it." Now Harry frowned in her direction, he knew it was a hidden verbal jab.
"I seem to remember you failing at your first attempt as well, Schierke." Flora reminded the girl who shied away from her teacher's gaze. "And don't pretend like you didn't feel it."
"Felt what?" Harry asked.
"Your od," Flora said. "With a little training and a better understanding, summoning an apple will be child's play."
The cool water was refreshing as he submerged himself into the pond. The fight with the Snake Baron had left its fair share of marks on his body, and the water succeeded in putting his body at ease. After traveling during the night, and fending off more spirits, the early morning sun had, at last, began to rear its blinding head, putting an end to and more attacks that might happen throughout the night. This morning, Guts could relax and take a much-needed breather.
The pond was only about thirty feet in length, and eight in depth; but still large enough to accommodate more people should they join in, not that he would let them, of course. His gear and other necessities were piled up near some reeds, about halfway from where he was now. Sinking into his neck, Guts closed his eye and just allowed the water to lightly lap over him. It had felt like such a long time since he could actually relax. While fighting apostles and spirits, he was always so engaged in the fight itself, that the idea of actually being able to enjoy himself after had started to seem like a foreign concept; one that was fleeting.
He could not stay here forever, eventually, he would have to keep moving out into the world to continue on his quest, and a moment like this would be a diamond in the rough, should he ever fall under ideal circumstances. His chin touched the water level, as he leaned against the rock he was situated against. Maybe moments like this would become a more common occurrence, but that was just wishful thinking on his end, but never the less something to think about.
A place like this, with its shallow but warm water, secluded from everywhere else. It was a comforting thought. Casca might even be by his side, a warm, true genuine smile on her face. He closed his eye. She would be back to the way she was, she would snap at him occasionally, but her smile afterward… his mind began to wander. Casca's smile morphed into an expression of terror and revulsion, either from him or the dark wings that descended from above. The Wings of Darkness. The dark shape raised its head.
Griffith.
He opened his eye and found the world around him to be a turquoise tint, and out of focus. Water flooded his senses, and he raised his head above the surface. Coughing up some water, Guts realized that he had fallen asleep. He had allowed himself to drift off a little too much.
Some rustling occurred from the reeds where his gear was stored, and he waded his way through the water to investigate. Whoever it was hadn't noticed him approaching yet, and he saw why. They were not some skilled bandits or wary animal, but a group of three kids who seemed fascinated with his metal arm, armor, and of course, Dragonslayer. Some ways away by the road a wagon were parked, and a short man, presumably their father waited.
"Didn't you dad ever tell you, kids, not to go snooping around?" his voice disrupted the once innocent scene as the kids finally took notice of his presence. They gave a collective scream as they turned tail and ran back to their awaiting parent, hopping into the wagon and quickly fleeing the pond.
Guts pulled himself out of the water and began to dress himself. After putting his armor back on, he went for his black cloak and heard snoring coming from underneath it. Lifting it up slightly, Guts was greeted with the sleeping form of the elf Puck. The annoying little bug had been following him ever since Koka, and even after all of his attempts to tell the pest to buzz off, the elf continued to stick by his side. Probably because he can't survive on his own.
"Get out from under my stuff," Guts said, yanking the cloak away and jerking the blue elf awake.
"Huh? Wuzzgoinon? Who?" Puck sleepily asked. He looked up at the scowling face of Guts. "Oh, you're back from your bath. I guess I must have dozed off keeping guard of your stuff."
"Some job you did, a couple of kids were snooping around here just now." He was unimpressed with the little elf's ability to safeguard anything.
"Really?" Puck asked. "They must have sensed I was dozing off under your stuff. Kids are more attuned to magical creatures like me." He smiled proudly.
"Well if you like them so much you can probably catch up to their wagon," Guts pointed out. "Travel with them and leave me the hell alone."
"And leave you all to yourself?" Puck tried to play up his importance. "What happens when you get into another fight and need my dust to help heal you? Admit it, you need me around."
"I admit that you're a serious pain in my ass, got any dust that can cure that?"
Puck pouted in indignation. "No need to be so mean. I'm just trying to help you out." Guts began to pack up the rest of his gear. "And all your stuff is exactly how it should be, thank you very much."
"Where's my coin pouch?"
"…What?"
"My coin pouch," Guts repeated. "Where is it?"
"Have you checked your pockets?" Puck asked nervously.
"I'd feel it if it was there. Let me guess, one of those kids probably took it while you were dozing off." Useless bug.
"Don't go blaming me for that!" Puck verbally defended. "Why didn't you stop them as soon as they came over? It's not like you dozed off too." Guts didn't answer. "Wait, did you? Then what right do you have to go blaming me?! Besides, those kids are probably poor and needed a few extra coins."
"So because some farmer went and had a few more kids than he knew what to do with, I end up paying for that?" Guts asked sarcastically. "I oughta track down that wagon and-,"
"Excuse me," a new voice jutted in before Puck could say otherwise. Both turned to look at the young girl who had approached them. Long blonde hair framed her innocent face, wide smile, and large blue eyes.
"What do you want, kid?" Guts asked, feeling a bit aggravated by her sudden appearance and cheery disposition.
She looked not at him, but at Puck. "Do you have an elf with you?"
"He's yours if you want him." He might be able to pawn the little bug off.
The girl shook her head. "I just wanted to see. I've never seen an elf before; except for in my dreams."
Sensing a more suitable audience, Puck fluttered over to her. "Name's Puck!" the elf gave a toothy smile. "Nice ta meetcha!" she reached out a finger and poked Puck in his stomach. "Oof! Watch it with the manhandling. This one tosses me around enough." He pointed an accusing finger in Guts' direction.
She laughed. "My names Sonia, what's yours, stranger?"
"Why? And didn't your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"
"Hm. Nice to meet you too, Why. And you have an elf with you, and they're supposed to be creatures of good so you can't be all bad."
"Look, I'm not really in the mood for this right now," Guts told the girl. "Why don't you run along or something?"
Sonia looked a bit put out, but Puck tried to assure her otherwise. "Don't worry about him. He's just crabby because some kids stole his money."
"Well if you're looking for money, why not come back to my town? The local tavern has a lot of gambling; why not play to win?"
"He doesn't have the best history with taverns," Puck accounted.
"Yeah, the last one I went in I ended up with you following me." Puck pouted once more.
"I think you should try," Sonia advised. "I got a feeling that you might leave with some money."
"You have a feeling?" Guts asked. "Well don't I feel lucky now."
Sonia nodded. "My feelings usually turn out to be true. I had a feeling about this one boy who passed by not too long ago. I get the same feeling l did then when I look at you now."
Puck flew back over to Guts' ear, and he resisted the urge to toss the bug into the pond. "I think this girl might be a medium."
"You mean like psychic stuff? Sorry to break it to you, but I don't put much faith in prophecy or any of that crap."
"It's not prophecy," Puck told him, "it's more like… well, a feeling about something."
Guts looked over to Sonia who was absentmindedly twiddling her thumbs and rolling on the balls of her feet. "Are these 'mediums' usually air-headed?"
Puck didn't answer that.
"Alright, I'll humor you, psychic girl. Which ways your town?"
She showed them the way, humming a tune and tilting her head back and forth all the way to her town which seemed a downscale version of what Koka had been. The tavern was easily identifiable, being located just at the end of the main street. Some faint laughter, as well as some shouting, could be heard coming from inside.
"Here it is!" Sonia happily exclaimed. "They don't allow kids like me inside, so best of luck on our gamble."
Guts lightly scoffed. "Yeah, luck." He went inside. Each table came with a candle, some of which were lit. Beer stains marred the wooden floor, and much more were sure to follow as the patrons cheered as some poor bastard seemed to tell a particularity humorous joke.
However, the general peace and lightheartedness disappeared when an intoxicated patron grabbed one of the waitresses and held her with a knife to her neck. He approached the frightened bartender with his hostage. "That last game was rigged, you old hack!" he yelled at the bartender. "I want the winnings you collected!" he momentarily pointed the knife at a pouch of money behind the counter.
Puck flew onto Guts' shoulder. "C'mon! You're a jinx when you walk into bars! You should do something."
Guts eyed a knife resting on the table nearest him and threw it straight for the disgruntled patron. "Agh!" the man let his hostage go as the knife found its way into his arm. With the man caught off guard, Guts drew Dragonslayer. With a single cut, he severed one of the man's legs from the knee down. "Aaaaaggghhhh!" he fell to the floor clutching at his severed limb.
His action drew all eyes in his direction, but he ignored them, heading straight for the counter. "You saved her," the bartender said as Guts approached. "Thank-, eh?" Guts walked past him behind the counter and retrieved the coin pouch the man had been so distressed over. He jingled it around, hearing the coins collide with one another inside.
"Feels heavy," Guts noted. "I think I'll take it. A little reward for saving her life." He placed a single gold piece on the counter. "Sorry about the mess." He made a move to leave the bar.
"H-hey!" the bartender seemed to find his voice. "You can't just-," Guts cast a gaze over his shoulder; his hand patted the hilt of Dragonslayer.
"There isn't a problem, is there?"
The bartender made the smart move to not say anything.
Outside, Sonia was leaning against a wooden pole, seemingly awaiting their return. "That was quick. Did you win anything?"
Guts didn't answer, but he reached into the pouch and tossed her two gold pieces. "Thanks for the tip." He went to exit the town, his business here all done. Sonia didn't follow, but Puck, unfortunately, did.
"You are just plain mean sometimes," Puck flew along beside him.
"And now that you finally know that, will you leave me alone?" Guts didn't want to sound too hopeful.
Puck seemed to know that his smile would annoy him. "You might be mean, but I can tell you got some good in you too. And I'll stick around until you see that too!"
I really hate this bug.
Everything that was, there was always more to it. That had been the first lesson and the one that was supposed to be the most important. Both flora, and to a lesser extent, Schierke, had tried to explain as best they could about the many branches of magic, and how they all function when properly used. He had already been briefly introduced to summoning and enchanting, but there were others, many others.
Transfiguration, it was a sit sounded, to take one thing and manipulate it into another. It could be as simple as changing the color of a bed sheet or turning a human into an animal. Ivalera had accidentally spilled a drink on Schierke's clothes and the young witch had briefly turned her companion into a ladybug.
One Harry was surprised had a category of its own, defensive-based magic. The entire spirit-tree mansion was protected by it through the talisman carved into the surrounding trees, as Schierke had shown him that one night. But personal shields could be erected as well with the proper symbols drawn and a salt line. The flaw in those was that the charm would only protect against supernatural threats, not physical ones.
Then there was potion brewing, a topic which Flora actually let him practice alongside her and Schierke. The main reason being aside from the fact that he was still a novice, was that potion making did not require any prior magical experience. The potion itself would have magical properties, but the brewer could be anyone who understood what it was they were doing. And with a few helpful tips from Flora, Harry brewed his potion alongside Schierke.
"Add a few crushed mint leaves," Flora instructed him.
Harry read over the list of ingredients. "It doesn't list mint leaves." Schierke took the time away from her own potion brewing to hand him a bowl of leaves.
"Mistress Flora has been doing this for a long time. After a while, you take away a few tips that no list could ever show you; your own experience. You'll never learn to grow if you just go by what's put in front of you."
"Does that mean that you messed up bad at one point?" Harry jokingly asked, accepting the leaves and adding them to the cauldron.
"Everybody makes mistakes," she informed, turning her head to look at him. When she did, Harry couldn't help but stare. "What?" she asked.
"You wear glasses."
They were oval shaped, not as large as his, but still noticeable. He had been so enraptured with his own potion he never saw her put them on. "So." She sounded a tad indignant. "I'm farsighted and I can read the text better with them. Besides, you wear glasses too."
"Yeah," Harry admitted as much. "But you kinda look like an owl with them on."
She had to blink a few times to try and comprehend if he was serious or just teasing. "No, I don't!" Ivalera flew up and studied Schierke as well. "What do you think, Ivalera? Do I look like an owl?"
The elf pondered. "…Owls are cute." Schierke pulled her hat down over her face.
"Both of you potions are looking quite fine," Flora examined their work. "You've taken an important step into understanding that not all magic requires a wand, it can be as physical as we are now."
That had been another thing; the physical. When Flora had first explained it to him, Harry thought his head would actually explode. There was the notion that the world they resided in now, was not the only one to exist, there was other worlds, or layers rather, that intertwined or occasionally overlapped. They were the astral worlds.
For starters, there was the physical world, the world of humans where what you see is what there is; overall nothing exceptional. Not until the astral layers. They were what witches and wizards tapped into to draw their magic, even if they knew it or not. These layers were the birthplace of magical creatures, beings with innate magical abilities, such as elves like Ivalera. They once crossed over to be a part of the physical world, until they either died or were killed in which they returned to the astral plane of existence. Having magic make up a part of which they are, no magic can ever be truly killed.
Then there was the interstice. It was a place where people like Harry, Guts, and Casca now existed. It was like a place between the physical and astral, hence why the spirits came for them at night; it was because of their brand. The brand came from a part of the astral world, and was now a part of them; physical beings.
Lucky us, Harry bitterly thought.
With a deeper understanding of magic, mages could project a "luminous body" or their means of traversing the astral layers without their physical bodies. But it was risky. The most powerful magic that can be pulled to assist from the astral world laid the deepest in, and therefore the most dangerous. The deepest layer was known only as the abyss. It is a swirling torrent of madness and despair that would be impossible to escape from.
Finally, there was what Flora called the "ideal world." It was a world in which both humans of the physical, and creatures of the magical existed. However, a link to that world was near impossible to establish. It would have to take a direct link of sorts to actually be able to travel there.
It was confusing but fascinating. The ultimate contradiction that only made sense to mages; and what led Harry to a question that had been bugging him for quite some time and he had asked as he and Flora walked around the spirit-tree. "All this stuff is fascinating, but why don't more people know about it?" Flora's smile faltered. "If all of that is true, then other people must know at least some things about it. How can anyone cover up the fact that this isn't what's only real?"
The elderly witch seemed to ponder how best to answer. "It was because people knew that the knowledge was lost to most. Tell me, young Harry, how much do you know of the Holy See?"
"It's the main religious organization for all the western countries. I take it they didn't like the idea that something went against their teachings." She nodded.
"Magic had been around for far longer than any religion had," Flora elaborated. "The founder of the Holy See believed magic to go against the divine will of their god and began the first of many witch hunts. Over time people stopped believing in many magical creatures and the magic was less. Believing in a spell, an idea, anything that is what is most important." She pursed her lips. "He was horribly misguided."
"Wait… you knew the founder of the Holy See?" He had gotten the impression Flora was older than she looked, but the Holy See was hundreds of years old, maybe even a thousand.
"I considered him a friend at one point. He had an aptitude for exploring beyond reason, and was quite handsome as well." He didn't need to know that last part. "He thought by taking certain actions that he was saving lives, but he ended up killing a great many."
"Sounds like someone I know," Harry muttered under his breath. "He thought that mages were all focused on using dark magic or something like that?"
"Dark magic?" Flora repeated. "Magic is what you make of it. A simple cutting jinx could cut a man's throat as easily as it could some leaves. A levitation charm could kill someone on impact if the height is high enough. And a spell that could be used to end one's life, imagine if someone was living a life of pain, someone, you cared a great deal about. If the best way to help them was to use a spell to kill them, would you? Magic is what you make of it." Harry was under the impression that Flora had used that last example from personal experience. As they neared the end of their walk around the tree, Harry noticed something he had not previously. A door was built near some of the roots, blending in almost perfectly. Flora followed his gaze.
"An old storage room," she said a bit too quickly. "I keep some of the more, unstable for lack of a better word, items down there. Two of them, in particular, are not to be trifled with." He looked at it with a newfound curiosity. "But Schierke tells me that you have a gift when it comes to snakes." She led him over to a small garden where a few garden snakes slithered around. "The gift of talking to snakes is called parseltongue. But, I am curious about what you know about warging."
A/N: So this chapter was pretty exposition heavy, but I thought it important to explain the concepts of magic this chapter. The next one will have warging and Harry beginning to craft his won staff. Thanks for reading.