Reviews:
EVA-Saiyajin: I know that we PMed more about this, but a more hostile side will be present, it would be unbelievable if everything went smoothly.
PrometheusDark: Zodd is a joy to write for, and I'm happy that it is able to hold attention. There's a Harry and Schierke moment to look forward to this chapter. Glad that you enjoyed!
MorphCross: Thank you, I'll be sure to do my best, and I love that you are greatly enjoying the story.
Pyromania101: The Dursley's (at least Petunia and Dudley) do have some redeeming qualities to them if things had been handled differently, Harry might have had an easier time. So glad that you enjoyed, and a lot of back and forth occurs this chapter.
Lightningblade49: Zodd speaks the truth, the Death Eaters need to learn to get a better hold of their powers for sure.
Greyjedi449t: Thanks! Hope you enjoy this one, too.
kaxipoptos: Snape does have a hypocritical side to him for sure, but that's also what's fun about writing for him. Harry and Schierke will have a talk this chapter. As for Zodd, I am trying to draw parallels between him and Guts as they both tend to act in similar ways, as well as drawing parallels between several other characters.
Guest: Thanks, I'm happy you enjoyed.
Greer123: Not a problem, I tried to highlight the key moments with the memories so it wouldn't seem contrived. And writing for Zodd is always fun.
Celexs Draconia: Glad it made for a good two-part read. I hope to keep up the work.
Grocamol: Thanks, it's always nice to hear feedback, too.
Necrogod: Not a problem, enjoy the next one.
Gwen Zenier: Thank you! There will be interactions between Harry and the students at one point, as well as Guts, too.
Hairul The Nightrage Beast: Zodd is always on the lookout for strong opponents, and the Death Eaters were lacking in that field to be sure.
"Potter was here?"
They sat in what Voldemort presumed to be a solar toward the back of the hawk-like palace of Falconia. It was a circular room with a high ceiling, light curtains fluttering with a passing breeze of the open terrace door. Like the rest of the city, it was grand, pristine and white, and carried a feeling of emptiness.
He was no architect, but he didn't have to be to see that this place was lacking any real substance to it. The place was swarming with muggles, after all. Filthy, disgusting muggles, they walked the streets free with smiles on their faces like their lives actually meant something. How the being sitting across from him could stomach it, Voldemort did not know.
The disguised Godhand sitting across from him regarded him with a disinterested glance. "Indeed. Zodd spoke the truth; he encountered the boy whose fate is tied to your own."
"It will not be for long," Voldemort insisted. The prophecy referred to one who was his equal and he had never been one to share. The fact this being before him could be considered a god was the only thing stopping him from firing off his favorite spell.
"Do you know the full context of the prophecy?" blue eyes met his red ones.
"I know enough." Only what Severus had overheard before being discovered. "I would assume you know it in its entirety?"
"Of course. Causality governs all, that is how prophecy is made."
"And for that, I am grateful." But not toward a once-muggle. "The power bestowed to me has made me magic incarnate. Potter's end will be swift."
"Perhaps," the human Godhand did not sound convinced. "Zodd spoke many a truth, your followers lack proper knowledge of their gift, and, if you were to face the boy now, you will die."
"Potter is a boy with no exceptional magical talent," Voldemort argued. "I have-,"
"-Have you seen him in action?" those eyes, they were like walls of ice.
"I have not. But you have?"
The Godhand developed a sort of faux coy smile. "On occasion. The boy whom you say to have no extraordinary magical talent held his own against the apostle who made short work of your subordinates, he is quite imaginative when it comes to casting spells, and he even survived an encounter with my cohort, Slan." Potter survived against the Godhand?! "You look dumbfounded, Lord Voldemort. Would you like to confirm it through one of the others?"
"They… are here as well?" his eyes scanned the room for any subtle movement; any shift of shadow, down to check the floor was still solid and not the face of Conrad or Ubik.
"They are not like me, they were not reborn into this world through a host, but it is open to them. Unable to change their appearance to how they once were, they reside in the lower level of this palace, unable to fully leave." Those icy eyes found his once again. "You could just as easily talk to them as you would to me."
Damn him! Voldemort internally cursed. He knew what that was; it was a power-play. He was at a disadvantage before, but that was just confirmation that he had no control except perhaps where to steer the conversation.
"A tempting offer, but one I must refuse." If only he could use a few choice words. "But back to Potter, I was told that when the time was right that he would come to me. I am in the land where he resides; once the moment comes I will end him." And then I'll deal with you and the other four.
"And he will, your showdown with him is inevitable. But that is not why you were summoned here. There is more to this world than just your obsession with the boy, and Falconia is the first example of such."
"You could have informed me of such through dreams as you have always done," Voldemort pointed out. "If there is another phase to the plan, I hardly see why I had to come here for such a matter." Other than to waste my time.
"Dreams can only convey so much. Face to face interaction is much more preferred in this case. As you might have noticed, Falconia is home to many other apostles like yourself, each making up a part of my band as well as-,"
"-I have my own followers, and none of them would see me pledge my allegiance to someone else. You are fully capable of-,"
"-Do not interrupt me."
An invisible force seemed to be pressing down on Voldemort's shoulders, making his upper torso bend forward. His head remained at an angle to where he could still see the majestic face of the one called "Griffith" looking down at him like a benevolent god.
"My apologies…" Voldemort said through clenched teeth. "I forgot myself." Forgot myself in that I ever made a deal with four once-muggles. Enjoy it while you can, Femto.
The force removed itself from him, allowing him to sit up straight once again. "You are forgiven. Many of the newer apostles still have a more rebellious side to them it comes as no surprise that your underlings saw fit to harass my betrothed. It is excusable."
As it should be. The little doxy probably said something to offend them in the first place.
"Will you punish them for their action?"
"As I see fit." Not entirely.
"I see. I leave them to your judgment." He didn't sound too concerned for the girl
"So what is it I was summoned here for if not to be a part of your new band."
"As I was saying, this world has undergone a great change since the end of the war; creatures that are common on your side of things are considered a rarity here, myth, even. And now they are returned, a true miracle brought to life and Falconia is the only refuge that is offered. Our worlds are more or less aligned; the connection is still fairly new. But there are other points in your world with strong connections to magic, yes?"
"There are." After his time in Hogwarts and Borgin and Burke, he had scoured various locations for objects related to the founders to become Horcruxs. He had learned of many a magical place, Egypt had strong ties, as did Japan, Africa, and many parts of Eastern Europe. "Do you plan to invade there next? Pardon my bluntness, but the weapons here are primitive compared to the ones on my side of things. Loathe as I am to admit it, muggles there are quite advantageous when it comes to weaponry, leagues beyond what your army may possess."
He still remembered from the first war, one of his Death Eaters had been shot with a gun while raiding a muggle neighborhood. Not to forget the World Wars and the devastation that came from it. On second thought, do it. Invade, and let it all crumble around you.
"Hm." He seemed completely unconcerned. "And the people on the other side, they are diverse?"
Diverse? "In what sense?"
"Culture, society, faith."
"Very." It was absurd. "Do you seek to appear to them as a god?"
"Not through myself, I don't. Patience is key in that regard. You have answered all for now." He rose from his seat, Voldemort doing the same.
"That is all? What will happen now? I do not plan on staying in this city longer than I have to."
"The golden rule of apostles still stands," the Godhand informed, "do as you will. You made it here easily enough, you can make your way back."
"And what of Potter?" Voldemort did not like how nonchalant he brushed aside the topic of the one who was his rival.
"As you've been told, he will come to you." Those eyes never seemed to blink. "If you wish to seek him out, it is within your full right to do so; ambition is a powerful tool for those like us." Me more than you. "Just look at Emperor Ganishka, a once proud apostle turned to a tree to bridge our worlds. Ambition was his ally, but he strayed too far from his path, wouldn't you agree?" He mentioned it with a smile on his face, but his eyes conveying the hidden meaning of consequence.
"Absolutely." Voldemort followed him from the room, a dark shadow hung over his eyes.
"Is that the one?" Locus' question was pertaining to the individual escorted over to them by the ruler of the city.
"He is indeed," Zodd confirmed at seeing the displeased-looking wizard. The disguised Godhand sent them a silent nod of the head.
"Captains," he greeted both War Demons, "do show this man around and escort him to where his underlings are residing."
"Of course, my Lord," Locus put a mailed hand to his chest, bowing his head like a proper knight should. Zodd was less formal, giving only a nod of affirmation. Let Locus and even Grunbeld act the part of a knight, all of them were still monsters in their own right.
"Very well, I have other affairs to set in order; I trust you'll carry it out to the best of you ability. Good day to you both." He walked off, white hair barely disturbed from the breeze of the open terrace where Zodd and Locus stood looking out over the city below, leaving them with the newest arrival, the wizard.
"A warm welcome to you, lord." Locus bid his greeting to the other apostle who didn't see fit to offer one in return. "If you would, follow us. The ones who came with you were temporarily detained for their transgression."
The queen was by no means a fighter, but she was a source of conflict. Zodd mused. Perhaps it is the only way she can only be considered of the same make as those before. The same make that he was grateful in a way for previous conflict, but compared to someone of previous warrior caliber, the queen was the biggest disappointment.
Locus continued. "You should be pleased to know that their injuries are healing remarkably fast. Impressive considering that they sustained those injuries from Captain Zodd."
The warlock narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "Yes, impressive indeed. Had they not been caught off guard things would have ended quite differently."
"They are meant to be your soldiers; soldiers should always anticipate a fight." Zodd professed. "It would have ended the same regardless."
"Brute force is your ally, but compared to a high power, it is a leaf in a stream, washed away."
"Spoken like one who has yet to grasp the reality around him." He was seriously starting to wonder if that boy wizard was a rare of his kind, he had been nowhere near this incomprehensible. "You have been an apostle for how long, a year? Maybe less? What have you accomplished in that time?"
"I would not be here if I had not accomplished a feat on my end," the warlock did not back down. "But I see no reason to explain it, I've nothing to prove." Your attitude would suggest otherwise.
"Ahem!" Locus stepped between them, his long, dark locks swayed with each turn of his head. "Another altercation is not about to erupt, is it? I would rather not have to explain why to Lord Griffith."
The one called Voldemort curled his lip, but said, "No. No trouble at all. Lead me to my subordinates." He was clearly displeased, but like every other apostle, he knew better than to upset one of the Godhand. He could make subtle japes or talk down to other apostles he believed beneath him, but never to the Godhand. And should his behavior get out of hand like he allowed his followers to do, there would be no getting out of that.
Acting like the noble knight he fancied himself to be, Locus led the way through the maze that was the palace of Falconia. Voldemort's eyes casually glanced between every pillar, every corner, not trusting them or this city fully, only to the extent that they were under orders to do no harm unless he were to act as an aggressor.
"You are very quiet," Locus said out loud.
"Conversing is not necessary," Voldemort responded, not sounding thrilled. "I will be sure to tell as much to my subordinates. Their power is a blessing but they seemed to have forgotten themselves." He only seemed to be saying that as a way to assure them that he was in control over those who followed him, like a lion roaring for a display of power.
"Power such as ours is a blessing," Locus added, "the heat of a fire. Extraordinary to behold, and dangerous if burned."
Spoken like a real knight of the land. How long will you keep up the act? Locus had no one to win over or fool, he was among two other apostles here.
Voldemort's red eyes seemed to shine darkly. "Then the one who underestimates that power would be a charred crisp." Zodd could feel his stare. This apostle was arrogant, but he did have a fire in him to fuel his drive. In that regard, he was not so different than any other soldier.
"The boy wizard who you marked, you seek to kill him?" Zodd asked.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes to resemble a snake. "So is my destiny."
"I once issued a prophecy to him, he survived. Expect him to try and struggle against it, as well as the swordsman he travels with." The ultimate struggler.
"The Black Swordsman?" Locus recalled what Grunbeld had said. "The one who fights like a hound out of the abyss?"
"A muggle then?" He seems awfully fond of that word. "You have bested a few of my Death Eaters, but given your state, it is… believable. But one who is muggle to the core, that would be of no concern."
Locus seemed ready to shed some more light on this "muggle" swordsman, but a warning growl from Zodd shut him up. If this warlock apostle wanted to put his faith in prophecy and his abilities over reality, let him. The golden rule of apostles was to do as you please. Zodd would tell him no more, nor would he play with the notion of what would happen if this apostle did encounter the Black Swordsman.
He did not need a prophecy to know that outcome.
You-Know-Who and Boy-Who-Lived
By Rita Skeeter
No, you are not dreaming, dear reader, the title is not a ploy, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned after all these years. Largely believed to be dead, this dark wizard made his return loud and clear on the spring equinox by publically attacking the ancient site of Stonehenge, leaving nearly two dozen muggle tourists dead.
Amelia Bones, the head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement received word of a disturbance on the site and took a team of Aurors to investigate. They were in for the shock of their lives when they arrived to find the bodies of muggle on the ground and the Dark Mark hovering up above. But what is truly disturbing was how You-Know-Who appeared.
According to Auror John Dawlish, You-Know-Who did not appear as he did at the height of his power, rather, as a youthful looking man with sharp features, a man whom you would casually pass down Diagon Alley.
Could this new look mean that his dark powers have lessened, or perhaps, strengthened over time? You'll be pleased to know that this reporter got to ask that question when Minister Fudge held a press conference shortly after it was brought to his attention.
"Any appearance is concerning," Minister Fudge answered. "We are talking about the darkest wizard to ever exist."
Minister Fudge went on to say, "There were next to no signs of his return, this has come as a surprise to us all. I've done my duty and informed the Muggle Prime Minister about this and the site of Stonehenge is now under magical confinement. Please understand that your Ministry is doing everything in its power to make you feel safe."
Safety is something that we all desperately need with uncertain times ahead of us; and how better to feel safe and secure than the return of our young savior, Harry Potter.
That's right, you read it here first, Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, The-Boy-Who-Lived has made his glorious return as well. Amelia Bones has had the privilege of meeting with our savior while escorting Headmaster Albus Dumbledore back to Hogwarts only to discover a muggle ship anchored in the Black Lake.
"Yes, yes, it is all very exciting news," said Minister Fudge. "I believe this has been something we have all been anticipating. I wish I could have been there to shake Mr. Potter's hand and extend a proper welcome."
When asked what was discussed with Mr. Potter, Amelia Bones was very tight-lipped saying, "Mr. Potter's privacy is his own and I do not wish to shatter any sense of trust that could be established with him or those he travels with, so I shall refuse to answer any questions pertaining to what was discussed."
I don't know about you, dear reader, but that seems awfully fishy and selfish on Madam Bones' behalf. Whatever was discussed surely pertained to his magical education, as the only thing Madam Bones was at liberty to reveal was he was in possession of a rare magical artifact. I'm sure that once the third task rolls around, we can expect to see our savior in action as he will no doubt compete for glory and sportsmanship in the tournament he was chosen for. That, of course, raises the question of how soon will Mr. Potter officially enroll into the esteemed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardery?
Not only that, but making his return in such a fashion, he must be trying to inspire us with a promise that he will save us as he had when he was just an infant from the terror of You-Know-Who.
This is looking to be an exciting time for Hogwarts as the students eagerly await the opportunity to meet their savior. Perhaps a lucky lady will even get the chance to win over the heart of our young hero in the process.
For more on the story of Harry Potter, turn to page 7.
"Where did you get this?" Harry crumpled up the newspaper with moving pictures, tossing it to the other side of the ship's cabin.
Schierke had pulled up a chair next to his cot, reading it alongside him. He had been in bed since returning to the Sea Horse, the whole ordeal had given him a strong sense of vertigo, even with all the things he had been through on the journey, he never expected to be back in this world, let alone deal with the fact he was famous among a society of wizards.
"An owl flew over with a copy of one," Schierke pulled out two other presses. "Along with these two." Harry looked them over to see that they were two more papers about him and this "Voldemort" character. Did he make that name up or something? Harry had to wonder. It was far from the strangest name, but still outlandish. "Owls have been flying to that castle since sunrise," Schierke went on. "They were even stopping at the other ship; too, they must be trained to stop where people are."
"Really?"
"Probably. It's still up on deck, hooting. Serpico suspected it wanted payment for the delivery, but Puck wants to befriend it and keep it as a pet."
"At least he's looking on the bright side," Harry did sort of envy the blue elf on his positive outlook sometimes, he was just feeling overwhelmed now that he could use some.
"He is," Schierke agreed. She kicked her feet across the floorboards, not meeting his eyes. There was something on her mind.
"What is it?" he asked.
She lifted her head. "What do you mean?"
"You fidget when something's on your mind."
"Well… a number of things more like."
"Like what?" they were probably more or less the same things he was still coming to terms with, but he should still hear her out.
"This place, mainly, their society, people, things mentioned in this paper, this Voldemort person, all of it." Yeah, more or less the same.
"I know, it's jarring."
"The way this… Rita Skeeter, wrote about you, it's like you're some kind of demi-god," Scheirke recalled. "She assumed so much, no one can honestly believe that you would just up and join their society, would they?"
"I don't know," Harry ran a hand through his already messy black hair. "That Dumbledore didn't seem too stable and he's the headmaster of a school. Then there was that Snape idiot, he hated me at first sight."
"Well… yes, you have a point," Schierke agreed. "Sorry."
She had him confused. "Sorry for what?"
"For not standing up for you more back there. I just… learning that there were other mages out there, I guess I assumed they would be more like Mistress Flora so I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, it was probably as much a surprise for them as it was for us. But after reading this… my opinion has lessened significantly." She tried her hardest not to pout.
"Things still worked out." She looked at him curiously. "…For the most part."
"You mean, for now." She corrected. "From the sound of it, it sounds like they're expecting you to compete in some sort of tournament."
"They can expect it all they want, doesn't mean that it's going to happen." He offered a small smile.
"They'll probably insist."
"Well, let the headmaster deal with that then," Harry answered. "A part of the reason why I even agreed to let them view my memories was to show them that we aren't to be pushed around. With the way he was acting, I didn't want him trying anything again, and if someone does say something about this, or even try anything, it won't go as smoothly as it had before."
"You sound serious about that."
"You sound serious when you said that," Harry offered. "Like I would just abandon you all to take part in some game."
"What about saving an entire people from this dark wizard?" Schierke furthered. "Don't want to fulfill your duty as Boy-Who-Survived?"
"Pretty sure it's the Boy-Who-Lived, and… did you just tease me?"
"I don't know what you mean. They seem fond of making up long-winded names; I might as well give you one, too."
"Then I would think you would be more creative instead of just rehashing that one," Harry argued. "You could at least make up one from the things I actually remember doing. They praise me for beating this guy when I was a baby, but how could I have done anything?" a bit of ire surfaced. "No one is alive to remember what happened except for Voldemort and I doubt that he would just calmly talk to me about it."
"So… do you believe what the headmaster said about Voldemort believing in a prophecy?"
"If he does, that's his business. I made my stance clear."
"And now that you're back, you're not worried he'll come after you?"
There was a method to how she was asking her questions. "If he does, we'll deal with him. After everything that we've encountered and trying to accomplish, an evil wizard seems the least of our worries. Besides, I survived the fight with that Daiba guy in Vritannis and he used magic."
"He killed your parents, though…" was that what she seemed so anxious about, bringing up the subject of his parents?
"Yeah, he did." She looked at him expectantly. "What?"
"Do you not care about that?"
"Schierke, what do you-?"
"-Let me finish, please." He shut up. "I… didn't mean to phrase it like that, but… they were still your parents. I… never knew mine, only Mistress Flora, so… aren't you at least curious about them? About the life you could have had here? The two men we first met, Black and Lupin, they knew your parents, if Voldemort didn't believe in whatever prophecy, you could have had a normal life here. If it were me, I'd… I'd be curious, I'd want to know more, but… even here the goal hasn't changed, healing Casca takes priority. But after that…" she struggled to find her next words, but Harry could guess along the lines of what it was she was going to say.
"You'd want to know if I'd want to learn more or try to find a way back to Midland."
"…Yes. It seems a trivial thing to want to ask, but… it has been something I was thinking about."
"Schierke, this world might have been where I was born, but I don't think of it as home. My relatives, I hated that place, and after seeing just a few reactions to how these wizards view me, I wouldn't want to be here either. Don't get me wrong, Midland has more than its fair share of faults, too." Demonic apostles, religious zealots, an incestuous king were to name a few. "But it is all of yours home. We all have our own motives for traveling together, but it works somehow. Even after this is all over, I'd like to be somewhere where I could be with the people I trust."
"… You mean that?" she sounded hesitant, cautious.
"Of course I mean it."
"…Then… why didn't you tell us you were of a different astral layer?"
He realized the order in which she had asked her questions. "Oh." Yeah, there was no getting around this one and it was bound to come up sooner or later. "I guess… when it first happened, I didn't know what the hell was going on, I was just some scared kid who was just along for the ride in someone else's story and this was before learning about magic and the likes." She listened but dared not to interrupt him. "Honestly, I never even thought that I would be back here again, the place I lived before, I assumed it was just a part of the story I was done with, I never knew there were people who would have wanted me back."
Harry could understand Black and Lupin's motives for that ritual, but that didn't mean he was particularly happy about it, being pulled from their destination to a place that had the means to fully heal Casca. That was probably sounded contrived since Guts was willing to go to any means to achieve his objectives, but Harry at least trusted the Black Swordsman over the wizards.
"And even after learning about magic, the astral layers, I didn't tell because… it never seemed important." She looked a mix of perplexed and mildly irritated. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant more like… I stopped thinking about it." Now she just looked… perplexed. Perplexed, but still hearing him out. "Like I said, I thought it was just a part of the story I was over with, it had nothing to do with not trusting any of you or anything like that. Hell, I probably would have at one point, but compared to everything else, it didn't take precedent."
Schierke was silent, absorbing what he had said and eventually nodding her head. "Hm. I see. I think I figured it out."
Now it was Harry's turn to be perplexed. "Figure what out?"
"You."
"Me?" Harry pointed a finger at himself.
"Yes, you." She sat up straight in her chair. "You're not a coward, far from it, you're just ashamed."
"Ashamed?" he parroted.
"Yes. It's as you said, you felt that your past was irreverent; you were just a part of someone else's story. Before, that Snape man mentioned that there was a gap when they viewed your memories. It was of how Casca became how she is now, wasn't it?" his silence was answer enough. "And from what you told me previously, and from what was said up in the castle, your relatives weren't the kindest of people so you wouldn't want to bring them up. In Midland, you had a new life, a new start for yourself, but it was with another story, one that you were along for the ride. Maybe that's why you went back in the troll cave to help Guts, to try and make some change in a way, to move past what came before; you feel ashamed of all that has happened and for not being able to have changed it." She looked him in the eye, two sets of green meeting. "Am I wrong?"
Harry stared back at her, taking each and every word she had spoken in. She wasn't wrong. At first coming to Midland, it hadn't been his story, but it had felt like a leap above living with the Durlsey's. With the Hawks, he had value to him, even if he was just a spectator to the events going on around him, just a kid who was taking part in a much bigger story. And then the Eclipse came, the day where everything he thought he knew came out from under him. After it happened, Guts chose to surround himself in darkness to fight monsters and gods, Harry had chose to try and move forward, to learn more about the world and of magic, distancing himself from what had transpired, because he knew that he had been useless back then, only contributing to taking a willing hostage.
"You're right."
Both of them were silent now, perhaps waiting for the other to say something. Schierke eventually caved.
"Do you feel ashamed now that you're back?"
"I feel frustrated that we were pulled off course. I feel weirded out that a bunch of people view me as some sort of… miracle baby, or whatever, but… not ashamed, not now. In the grand scheme of things, nothing has changed. We still all have our own motives, and Casca… she still comes first." Perhaps one benefit of being here was the fact that Black was his godfather. Based on how he behaved, he clearly wanted to be a part of Harry's life if only by virtue of his parents' memory. If he could find something that could be a clue to healing Casca, there was an opportunity to exploit that.
"I spoke with Guts yesterday," Schierke mentioned. "He said something very similar about that. And if you truly believe nothing has changed, does that include…" she rolled her hands, waiting for him to pick up on what she was getting at.
"You and me?" Harry guessed.
"We never really had a chance to talk about it, and I thought it would be selfish if I brought it up with everything that happened since." She had broken eye-contact.
"I said nothing has really changed," Harry reiterated, patting her hand. "Unless you want one of those students to win over the heart of their hero, as Skeeter put it."
"Oh, I'm sure that you would revel in the fame." She joined in on the joke but she still seemed insecure about it as well.
"Anything I can do to convince you otherwise?"
She quickly looked at him before gaining a contemplative expression on her face. She scooted closer, tilting her head and putting a finger to the side of her face. Harry waited for her to say something, but he was met with a curious glance. Schierke now tapped her finger against where it was on her face.
Oh.
Leaning forward, Harry was going to peck her cheek when his mouth came into contact with the end of her wood staff. "Ow!" he clutched his mouth, swearing he could taste a splinter.
"Sorry," Schierke apologized, "but for everything, you still kept it a secret for far too long." She fiddled with her fingers. "But… I can at least understand why." She rose from her chair. "Even if you believe nothing has changed, why not prove it? Farnese is expecting us for a lesson in ten minutes, unless she chooses to enroll in that school, of course." She reached her hand out. "Who knows, maybe it'll end up making a difference."
Still rubbing his mouth, Harry looked at her outstretched hand. He took her smaller hand in his larger one. "Yeah. I'm sure she'll love to hear all about it." He didn't even bother to look at one of the other fallen papers, one being much more quirky than the others. The Quibbler.
Crumple-horned Snorkack Spotted, You-Know-Who, and Harry Potter in Midland.
By Xenophilius Lovegood, Chief Editor/Publisher
Let fly and let loose a variety of words, the existence of the mystical crumple-horned snorkack has gained another cause for existence from a lovely Norwegian fellow I met on vacation a few weeks ago. Lovely chap, truly, while my Nordic tongue can use some improvement, it hardly mattered as he pointed me to what I suspected to be the majestic beasts mating ground.
While many nargles floated around his head, the site showed all the signs of a mating ground. Trampled grass and scorch marks from when they bump horns for shows of dominance.
This may seem trivial, but I believe it is a far step above mentioning any news about You-Know-Who as likely every other paper will be doing so as well. And, of course, it is cause for speculation about Harry Potter as well. But I can guarantee you that what you read here is absolutely 100% factually true. A good friend of my daughters, whom she refers to as Sonia has met Harry Potter on one such occasion in a city called Vritannis.
Sonia was kind enough to share the details with my daughter who wrote to me about their interactions. Sonia is a girl of my daughter's age who resides in another realm of existence in a country of Midland and would explain where Harry Potter has been for all these years.
For more information on Midland and those who reside there, please, fold this page in half, bend the right corner and look at it upside down.
"See, I told you that he would mention you."
Sonia listened as Luna read off what her father had written. Her room within the palace of Falconia was located near the top of the falcon design with her bed placed near the open terrace, directly underneath one of the branches of that massive tree. Because of it, it was like Luna was right in her room, she wasn't, of course, Sonia had reached her hand out through the projection of her, that was how clear she appeared.
"What else does it say about me?" Sonia asked, hanging upside down off of her bed, looking at the image of Luna on the floor, turning through the pages with those absurdly neat looking glasses on. Luna claimed it helped with reading the paper, and Sonia wished that she knew how to read so that she could one day try them on.
"I told father that you were an exceptionally unique girl with an ability to see what others could not." Luna smiled as she said so.
"Ohhh!" Sonia mimicked a love-struck maid. "You have a silver tongue about you Ma… Mad… uh… what was that word you once used? That… French word?"
"Mademoiselle."
"Yeah! You have a silver tongue about you, Mademoiselle Lovegood." Sonia corrected herself. "Keep going! What else does it say?"
"Everything you told me about everything, but many people won't believe it." Luna didn't say it sadly, just as she normally would.
"What?" Sonia fell off her bed. "Why not? It seems perfectly believable to me." Something was off. "Wait a minute! Are more kids making fun of you?"
"I am missing my left shoe," Luna wiggled her exposed toes freely. "But lost things always have a way of finding their way back."
"Doesn't that make you mad when they do that to you?" Sonia asked. She considered herself a pretty mellow girl, but even she had her limit, like if someone were to badmouth Griffith.
"Not too much," Luna turned a page of her father's paper. "I feel sorry for them, mainly."
"Huh?"
"I feel sorry that they have nothing better to do than to steal other people's things. It's quite sad."
Sonia folded her arms. "Yeah, well, if I ever get the chance to talk to some of these girls, I'm really going to… let Irvine teach them a lesson." Sonia didn't see much of the wolfish archer, but he was her favorite out of all the Hawks.
That at least got a laugh out of Luna. "I don't know how they would react to that. Many of the students here aren't use to danger."
"A lot of people here aren't used to danger, but now they're living in a city overlooked by a giant tree that used to be a giant and they're living better lives than before," Sonia offered. "Who would have guessed? And if it wasn't for that tree, I would still need to look at Griffith to be able to talk to you."
"I'm glad that you don't have to be around him to talk to me anymore," Luna said. "I don't feel comfortable when he's around."
"Huuuuuh?" Sonia tilted her head at a near-impossible angle. "You're not still on about that, are you?"
"Do you mean that you don't feel put off by him?"
"Why would I? With Griffith, we have this city, rich farmland outside the walls, us being able to talk. I can't think of anything bad about him." Sonia didn't like people badmouthing Griffith, but Luna was her friend so she had to at least hear her out on why she thought that.
"Doesn't he seem too perfect?" Luna asked. "My mother used to say that things with impurities are always the best because you know that they're real."
"So… what? Do you mean he's like Irvine and the others?" Sonia hadn't quite got that impression of Griffith, just that he was something… more.
"No." Luna answered. "Just too perfect to be a human. I worry about you when you're around him."
Well… Sonia could see how she could see it like that. Griffith was polite and well-spoken, but authoritative enough to command an army of demon warriors. He was calculating, but charming in how he treated people of every background; playful, but serious, knowledgeable yet never pretentious, poised but not overly so. In short, it was like everything a person should be all rolled into a knight-in-shining-armor. But was that really a bad thing?
"Okay, he's practically perfect, but so what?" Sonia asked. "He even gave me a position as High Medium and he even gave me this hat thingy, too. Look!" Sonia reached into the trunk at the end of her bed to pull out the cranial ornament. "Don't I look terrific?"
"You look like you just remembered that Griffith has summoned you for a reading." It wasn't Luna who spoke, but a voice from Sonia's doorway that belonged to the young Mule Wolflame.
"Hiya, Mule!" Sonia greeted. "That's pretty bold of you, entering a lady's room without knocking."
"I did knock," Mule informed, "but you were too busy talking to hear me." He looked around the room. "Who were you talking to anyway?"
"You still can't see her?" Sonia laid down parallel to Luna, pointing right at her vivid shape.
Mule rolled his eyes. "Still keeping up the act of an imaginary friend? Fine. Do as you will, just be at the ceremony hall in five minutes. Griffith has everyone who's attending gathered already." He exited her room, leaving her alone with the image of Luna.
"What ceremony?" Luna asked.
"Oh, it's just this thing for people who lost loved ones during the war to get a chance to say a final goodbye. Since I'm a medium, Griffith thinks I might be able to get in contact with their spirits." Sonia wiggled her fingers for spooky emphasis. She stopped at seeing the concerned look she was getting. "It's safe. Griffith will be there."
"If you truly believe that."
He stayed quiet as he observed Lady Farnese in her practice. She was kneeling in the salt drawn circle, candles lining the circumference, eyes closed as she focused her attention on remaining clear of mind. Well… as clear of mind as circumstance would allow.
Her two teachers were trying to keep their cool about them, but Serpico could tell that Schierke's ire was starting to surface, not from any wrongdoing on Lady Farnese's behalf, just the noise.
"Remember, Farnese," Schierke began, "the key to accessing your luminous body can't be through force. Instead, you have to be of peace of-," KaBANG! WHEEE! "-You have to be of peace of-," Fwooooohhh! Phweeeeeeee! Her eye was starting to twitch. "Peace of-," she stopped herself short, looking out the porthole of the ship as if to anticipate the next sound. When none came, she continued.
"You have to have peace of mind. Feel your physical body become weightless as you experience a new-," KABAAAAA! WHEEEEEEEEEEEE!
She slammed the porthole shut, touching the end of her staff to it, and tracing the outline. If Serpico had to guess, it would be a charm that canceled out the noise. He had been awake when the owl flew to the ship carrying a set of papers with it. He saw a flock of owls flooding to the school this morning, probably delivering the same news. Now that the word was out, a group of students seemed to have gathered on the shore, firing off sound spells to get the attention of those aboard the Sea Horse. And it was oh-so-annoying.
Serpico had to hand it to Harry though, in spite of all of this, he was keeping his cool about him and not giving in to the fame he apparently had in this world. On that topic, Serpico would have been warier, but he was in no position to say anything to Harry about keeping it a secret, Serpico still never told anyone that he and Lady Farnese were half-siblings, so he was in no place to judge in that regard. And Lady Farnese perhaps saw this new setting as a way to further her studies, unperturbed.
Except for the spell-fire, of course.
"That's better," Harry told Schierke as she took up the position she had before on the floor of the cabin.
"Teachers, what does a luminous body even feel like?" Farnese asked. "How would I know if I've achieved it?"
"It'll be like you're looking at your body from someone else's point of view," Harry explained. He rubbed his lip which was bearing a small cut from what looked to be wood. One glance over at Schiekre cleaning off the end of her staff was as good a guess as any.
"And… what exactly can I do once I've found it?" Farnese further questioned.
"Mostly make contracts with the spirits of the land or even call upon the Four Elemental Kings for assistance," Schierke answered. "You leave the land of physicality to join forces with something beyond comprehension."
Farnese nodded, probably not fully understanding the full concept, but still not willing to give up either. Serpico watched as Farnese began concentration again, his own eyes traveled to the porthole window, the flashes of light still flying high into the sky, exploding with unheard sound. He was actually quite grateful that they decided to move further away from the castle, the noise would have been unbearable if they hadn't.
Oh? His narrow eye caught sight of something moving through the water, and it wasn't the squid that resided in the depths. It was small and going at a moderate pace, a small one-person boat.
He glanced back over at his half-sister and her two teachers. "I don't think my mind is clear enough."
"Perhaps some water to ease your thoughts?" Serpico offered a cover excuse to go investigate. He excused himself, making his way up to the deck of the ship.
As expected, he wasn't alone. "So, you saw it too?" Guts was casually leaning on the rail, his sole eye never losing sight of the incoming boat.
"By chance, yes," Serpico admitted. "It was too far away me to see who is in it.
The man from the crow's nest called down to them. "Should we warn the others, mates?"
"Don't bother," Guts told the lookout. "I'll see what I can do."
As the boat neared, it slowed its pace, coming to a near stop as it pulled up parallel to the port side of the Sea Horse. In the boat was a boyish-looking man with a build that suggested he had been athletic once in his youth, even sustaining a broken nose on more than one occasion.
"Good morning!" the man called up to the two of them. Guts didn't respond, but the man hardly seemed interested in that. "Borrowed one of the first-year boats, but it's worth it if it means seeing Harry Potter of all people." He smiled up at them.
"Just who the hell are you, you loon?" Guts asked. Serpico had been encouraged to admire tack in people as a child, but Guts always undermined that, but not always in a bad way.
"Ludo Bagman," the man called up. "Judge in this year's Triwizard Tournament. Can I just say, to have young Harry Potter compete is an outstanding honor. The hope that he will bring to everyone, a jolly good show!"
Ah, he is one of those who views Harry as a savior. And Serpico thought the headmaster had agreed to offer sanctuary for the time being. This is a point against his word to be sure.
"What the hell is it you want?" Guts asked, his tone as stoic as ever, but with the tell-tale signs that it would not go in this man's favor.
"Why, to inform Harry of his duty as a champion of course!"
"Ah, I see." Guts turned to Serpico. "Fetch me a rope, will ya?"
Serpico cocked a brow, but Guts gave him a look that said, "just do it." Guts tossed it over the side, allowing Bagman to grab onto. Guts began pulling him up, stopping short when Bagman was at the rail.
"Welcome aboard," Guts said, letting the rope fall free, taking Bagman with it. He hit the boat he came in with a sharp cracking noise, leaving Serpico to believe that the man might have broken a bone or two, or at least dislocated something.
"Uuggh!" Bagman moaned as he clutched his leg.
"Looks like you need some help there," Guts sarcastically called down. "Why not visit that healer? Try keeping her busy, why don't ya?"
Bagman fumbled around in the bench of his boat, eventually getting to a sitting position, with his wand pointed out, the boat moved back toward the castle, the sole occupant casting a sour glance back at the Black Swordsman.
"I expected something like that was bound to happen sooner or later," Serpico gave an empty sigh.
"They'll probably be more," Guts mentioned, taking a new position and leaning on the rail. "A shame too, with the two, almost three, mages we got, the adults aren't as mature as them." He shrugged. "Magic, huh?"
The ceremonial hall was located in the top center of Falconia's palace, large and circular with enough room to fit nearly two-hundred people, and Charlotte suspected that's how many people showed up for this. The event was not exclusive, meaning anyone from the city was welcome to attend, a complete contrast to how things had once been done, her step-mother would have had a fit to be sure at the sight of all the commoners who were in attendance.
But it was as Griffith had said, "We have all lost someone in our lives, high and lowborn included, so why should one be left out of witnessing this event?"
They were wise words like always, Charlotte expected nothing less from Griffith. She was even pleased to notice that none of the arrivals from the day previous were in attendance. Lord Voldemort, she wondered if he was born with that name as it sounded made up to her, or his followers were nowhere to be seen.
That word the woman had called her, muggle, while she did not know what it meant, it stung. It stung and she had run to find Griffith, to tell him of what had been said. She need not to have worried once she found how Zodd had handled them. The man was a brute, but he had been effective in his methods. He was even harsher to the words he spoke to her as he escorted her back to her room. It was painful to admit, but the demonic warrior was right, she did play the victim. She ran to Griffith for help, because Griffith was that torch, that light that inspires people. Much like this place in its beauty.
The ceiling was open to one small branch of the World Tree that hung above. The branch dipped down through to opening before heading back out to make a shape that resembled a U. in the center of the room, she sat on Griffith's right and the medium girl, Sonia had his left along with the High Pontiff of the Holy See. The man was at least eighty years of age, missing most of his hair and teeth with low-hanging jowls giving him the appearance of an old hound dog. He looked to just be clinging to life, but he had promised Charlotte, "I won't die until I see you married to Lord Griffith, only then will my purpose in life have been completed." It was a touching sentiment from a man she hardly knew, and she made sure that she would say a prayer for him to maintain his health.
"Sonia," Griffith addressed the blonde girl, "are you ready?"
"Uh-huh!" Sonia gave an enthusiastic nod, her ceremonial hat nearly falling off of her head. Griffith placed a hand on the girl's shoulder and the crowd waited with baited breath for what was to come.
"Daddy?" a young boy's voice called out. A shimmer of light was drifting down from the branch above, a shape begins to take the form to that of a man in armor. He looked like just mist at first, but the closer he came to this young boy and his mother, he took on a more solid, but still transparent blue hue.
And he wasn't the only one.
More lights drifted off, floating to find a specific person. Ghosts. She was seeing ghosts, they all were. Not the kind of ghosts' parents would tell their children to scare them into behaving, but the remnants of people who had once been a part of their lives. And they wept. The living wept as they were reunited with a version of a loved one, not forever, but presented the chance to say a parting, to say words that were left unspoken in their time with the living.
"Griffith," Charlotte whispered to him, "how is this possible?"
"The dead never leave us, loved ones, ones who came before; they share some part with us, the living. This city is that of miracles, a connection to those we once knew is not impossible."
Ones who came before? Charlotte kept a look out for any light that might come her way. She had been only six when her mother had passed, she could not even remember what she had looked like, but Sir Laban and Minister Foss would tell Charlotte that she looked just as her mother had. Perhaps she would get the chance to talk to her, just one last time, to show her how much she had grown from a child, to introduce her to Griffith, to perhaps gain her blessing to one day marry this man.
No such spirit came. The only spirit that looked in her direction was that of a man she did not know. He wore a mix of ancient jewels on his hands and arms that mixed well with the tribal pelts that draped his shoulders. His would-be dark-hair was done in three long braids down his back, a bit of scruff on his chin. He could not have been more than thirty. He wasn't looking at her so much as he was just looking and taking in the scenery like it was all new to him. That was when his eyes slowly traveled over to hers, their gaze locking, and two sets of blue eyes met. Blue eyes very much like her own.
She did not know this spirit. She did not know what this was, or who he was connected to, she had never seen anyone she knew who resembled this man. So why, why was he staring at her? He didn't move closer, nor did he seek someone else in the hall to visit. She did not know this spirit, so why…? It was a fleeting feeling, but one she had felt only once before in her life on a fateful day as it raced past. A timeless sort of feeling.
It was like a soft whooshing sound as the spirits one by one began to fade. Griffith was watching her and eyeing the spirit of the man from the corner of his eye, his hands supporting a sleepy-looking Sonia. "My apologies, everyone. But this ceremony has to be cut a bit short on account of our medium's current state. I do hope that you all were able to make a final peace with those you have lost."
It snapped Charlotte out of the trance she had been in. "Oh! Will she be alright, Griffith?"
He nodded. "This was her first practice with it. I imagine it took a lot out of her to perform."
"That is understandable. I wish you could have seen people from your past. The people who made up your first Band of the Hawk, I think they would love to see you know, to know that their bravery has made way for all of this to be possible."
He seemed to give a sad smile. "I imagine they would as well." It didn't occur to Charlotte until after, but Griffith still had yet to tell her the full story. Perhaps once they were married. Yes, there would be no secrets between them then.
A/N: A lot of back and forth went on this time, next will be more HP-centric. Thanks for reading.