Harry woke up before even realizing it.

One moment, he was warm and comfortable. The next he desperately needed to take a leak. And getting out of bed, he groaned and ached like he hadn't in months.

"I thought quidditch aches were bad..."

Rolling his feet to warm them up and shivering so that his knobby knees were almost hitting each other, he put on some clothes with utmost haste. Five minutes later found him outside, standing by the outhouse and moaning into the crisp morning air. Washing his hands with some of the fluffy snow a dozen paces back, he shivered again.

It wasn't quite morning yet.

The first rays of the sun had only just begun to peek over the horizon, cresting over the tall mountains to the east and highlighting their contours. Looking to the north-eastern sea, he could even see the light slowly starting to overtake the shadows of the dark sea, glittering and shimmering far, far away.

He thought he had already gotten used to the rugged beauty of blue skies, tall mountains and black waters back in Hogwarts, but this land—Skyrim as he had learned yesterday in the evening—really was something else. Breathtaking, almost.

Too bad he was still stuck here.

And like that, his good morning cheer was gone, just like the vapour of his breath vanished into the cold with the wind. It was beginning to become a habit, he realized; growing annoyed and angry at his sullen thoughts at every hour of the day. Harry shook his head and returned to the Windpeak Inn briskly, and if he stomped his feet by the door to get rid of the snow a bit too loudly and angrily, he didn't have the presence of mind to care.

Returning to his room before anyone noticed or had time to complain, he sat down on the bed with a huff. Where minutes before it had been heaven on earth without worries, now it was just a sour reminder of the previous day, its failures, and of being stuck here. His helplessness. What good had six—well, five and a half—years of Hogwarts been, if he didn't have a spell for when he actually, truly, needed it?

The premier institute of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world...

He tried to desperately think of anything that he might have learned over the years that could help going through year by year as well as he could still remember, but it proved a futile effort which only resulted in his stomach growling more insistently as the morning hours passed and the other occupants of the inn began to wake up. Torn between his desire to defend Hogwarts from his own criticisms and the growing pit in his belly, he ran a hand through his hair, noting once again how greasy and scraggly it was becoming.

How long would it take for him to start looking like Snape?

"Ugh...!"

Finally giving up and in, he got out of the room and headed for the counter, before noticing that Thoring was standing by the large firepit and was fiddling with what looked like a large, dry ball of black tangled hair. It wasn't until it almost burst into flame from the smallest spark, that Harry realized it was some form of fire-starter. He felt very lucky then to at least have his wand in his pocket, not having the faintest clue as to how one would actually start a fire without an Incendio-charm. Or muggle matches or a lighter, in a pinch, he supposed.

"Good morning. Slept well, I hope?" Thoring asked cheerfully, though not overly loudly, as he dusted his now sot-covered hands on his apron.

Harry nodded, remembering having called upon his Patronus-charm again last night right before he had fallen asleep. Perhaps it really had worked. The thought alone was enough to lift his spirits a little. At least enough to consider breakfast as more than just a chore. The most important meal of the day, as Ron would say.

"D'you have anything for breakfast?" Harry asked.

"Of course. Pick your poison, friend. Bread, cheese, apples, and yesterday's fish stew will be warming right up by the fire, if you're wanting something heavier to start your day with."

Having thought of his best mate had suddenly awoken an appetite in him, one he usually did not find himself faced with. "Well... I'll take a bit of all then, I s'pose."

Or perhaps he was just hungry after yesterday. Or 'eating his worries away', whatever Dudley had thought that was.

Thoring frowned but said nothing as he nodded. A few minutes later Harry was munching on a piece of slightly stale bread with a big slice of cheese, from an actual cheese wheel, slapped on top of it in a facsimile of a sandwich, waiting for the fish soup to come to a simmer above the coals.

"Hello, Harry," a familiar voice spoke up behind him and he turned around to return the greeting.

"Morning, Lu—" he paused, his eyebrows vanishing beneath his messy bangs at the sight of her this morning. Or rather, her hair. The usually-slightly-messed-up —in an adventurous and carefree manner— blonde hair now looked like a murder of crows had made their nest in it "—na," he finished lamely, as soon as he had managed to swallow his mouthful without choking.

She smiled winningly, completely ignoring his reaction as she sat down next to him. "Are we having breakfast, then?"

"Oh, err, yes."

He offered his other, yet untouched loaf and the rest of the cheese to her since he was already getting satiated anyhow, and he hadn't even gotten his bowl of fish soup yet, not wanting to gorge himself into a stupor first thing in the morning. Maybe just missing Ron didn't mean he would have his appetite, after all.

Luna smiled at him and accepted the offering happily. "Oh, thank you. I'm afraid I don't have anything for you, though."

"That's alright, Luna. I'm waiting on the soup to warm up, is all," he reassured her, pointing at the fire.

Her eyes widened and she nodded appreciatively.

Catching Thoring's eye, Harry mimed for another bowl, in response to which the innkeeper smiled and hurried to bring one over. He didn't miss how the older man's disposition had suddenly turned much friendlier again, now that Luna had woken up.

Wondering perhaps if the man was just as bewildered and bemused by her hair as he was, Harry shrugged and decided to not bother thinking about it too much anymore. The fish soup wasn't very good, but the broth was very warming, and soaking the rest of his slightly hardened bread in it and allowing it suck up all the salt and flavour really enhanced its edibility, returning some of his earlier appetite.

"How do you feel about heading out to see Frida today? We could see about those herbs you found," Harry suggested as he stood up.

"Perhaps we could catch another mudcrab and eat it for lunch again?" Luna suggested, licking her chops after devouring not one but two whole bowls of the fish soup, much to the innkeeper's apparent pleasure.

"Err," Harry intelligently replied, wondering whether all his thinking of Ron had affected Luna as well. Shaking his head at the meaningless thought, he shrugged. "Alright. Do you want to do something until noon, then?"

It wasn't like he had any plans, now that he had figured out that they were stuck here, he thought a bit bitterly before waving it away.

Tilting her head, Luna appeared thoughtful as she considered his question.

Waiting for a minute, Harry frowned. She still hadn't answered or so much as moved from her position. Shaking his head he decided that she wasn't going to answer him, so he turned his thoughts inward again. Maybe I should try to figure out how to keep making money, for now.

He wasn't sure how it would help them get back to Hogwarts, but having money seemed like it was the kind of thing that would help.

Could he find a way to turn his magic into easy money? Something that wouldn't get them in trouble? If he knew how to do permanent transfigurations, then that would have been an easy way to make a lot of money with the traders down by the docks. But with his current skills in transfiguration it would just feel like he was cheating them; the same way as confounding a muggle for their money would.

"Would you like to walk back, again?" Luna finally asked and he had to frown.

Why would he want to walk back? There was nothing there, they had seen that yesterday. And he could just apparate them back if they wanted to go there again.

So he shook his head once, decisively.

"Oh..." she seemed disappointed, deflating slightly.

"Do you want to go back there again?" Harry asked, hesitating a little to even ask.

But she only shook her head, confusing him further. "Oh, no. Not very much, anyhow."

"You there," someone called out just then in a voice like gravel, approaching them from the outer door, stopping any ponderings over what Luna wanted in their tracks. Harry blinked, turning to look at the approaching stranger wearing a yellow robe and hood, whose voice was like ground rock and ash, wondering who the stranger was addressing, only to realize that it was apparently him as their eyes met and Harry's blood ran cold.

Red eyes burning in a deep-set face of unnatural, corpse-like pallor reeled memories of a graveyard, of a shattered ministry, of the worst nightmares that had plagued him since he had learned of magic. Instinctively reaching for his wand, Harry stood up with a jolt and turn. Taking this in stride and not realizing that he was panicking, the stranger reached up and lowered the hood to reveal his face completely.

"Huh?"

Harry blinked, realizing that the man wasn't Voldemort, despite the very similar eyes. For starters, the dark greyish-blue skin—while just as unnatural a skin-tone as the dark lord's—was nothing like Voldemort's pale pallor. For another, the dark lord wouldn't have been dead caught with such pointy ears. The man also had a nose, Harry supposed after a moment as he calmed down, realizing that he had been getting worked up over nothing. Slightly embarrassed now, he stuttered out a reply.

"Oh, err, yes...?"

The man began to speak again, but Luna's butted in and caught him completely off-guard.

"You're very large for a house elf. Have you come to warn us of the Ministry of Magic?"

"Oh, err... Thank you? Or rather, I haven't?" the dark-skinned man...?, seemed very confused, inadvertently joining ranks with Harry, shaking his head once.

The more closely Harry looked, the more he realized that this probably wasn't a normal human being.

The completely red, almost glowing, eyes were the most obvious sign. But their shape and slant, and the heavily ridged forehead and extremely sharp chin and jaw made him seem somehow very alien in a way altogether different from Voldemort's snake-like, terror-invoking visage. And perhaps it was just this individual elf, but his voice was very dark and scratchy, in a way that Harry had never before heard, which was what had originally caught his attention to his approach.

Look around, Harry couldn't help noting how Thoring wasn't reacting to the yellow-garbed stranger's presence at all. Is this normal here...?

"Oh, I see," Luna said. "But you should be very careful of them, sir. You see, they have been enacting terrible plots, such as turning goblins into pies. Who knows when they will come for the house-elves." Luna nodded, deathly serious and dire in her warning to the stranger.

Shaking his head, he replied aghast, "Why would anyone wish to make a goblin pie? That sounds awful."

"Indeed." Luna only nodded again.

"Wait, there are goblins here?" Harry asked, suddenly growing excited as he got right up to the man. "Do they have a bank branch anywhere nearby? Please, it's urgent!"

"B-bank? What? No. Goblins do not have banks, and you don't bake them into pies...!" The stranger was now obviously even more confused than Harry had been earlier. Shaking his head, he bemoaned to the heavens. "Oh Lady Mara, did you truly mean for me to seek assistance from these two...?"

Harry deflated at that, realizing with hot embarrassment that he had been jumping to conclusions again.

"This - this is all wrong, let's start over. My name is Erandur and I am a priest of Mara. She has sent me a vision, where I saw the two of you. I wish to ask for your help with an important task." The man turned to Luna then, hesitating for a moment before continuing. "And while your kind usually do refer to my kind as dark elves, we prefer the word from our own tongue: dunmer. I have never before heard of 'house-elves', nor have I been referred to as one before, to be quite honest."

Luna couldn't have looked happier at what she had been told, her eyes were as wide as saucers. "Daddy will be so happy to hear that the elves have finally recognized our common cause against the Ministry! I'll make certain we run a whole issue on the dunmer as soon as we can in the Quibbler!"

Harry chuckled as he palmed his face, he couldn't help it. He just knew he would be forced to explain this to Ron and Hermione in the future and they would think him completely mental for it. "Yes Hermione, the dunmer are real. No, I didn't think to ask if they wished to join spew."

Shaking his head, all but able to hear Hermione's rebuttal about it being S.P.E.W. already, before he brought his attention back to the elf before him.

"So, uh, err... how can we help you?" he asked hesitantly, giving the stranger some respite from Luna.

He was now starting to remember some of the words the man had mentioned. Words, like 'Lady Mara', 'priest', and most importantly 'vision'. If a decade at the Dursleys had taught him something, it was how to spot 'freaks'. Or well, 'nutters' as Ron would put it.

Harry's uncle Vernon had often and loudly complained about them, how they were always bothering good, hard-working people for money and never going out and working for it themselves, talking miraculous nonsense to justify their begging and bothering of honest folk. Harry wasn't sure how much of that he believed, but Erandur had made it clear that he wanted something from him and Luna, so perhaps there was something to Vernon's rants after all?

"Yes, well... My Lady Mara has granted me a vision, guiding my steps before you. There is a terrible curse upon the people of Dawnstar, plaguing their sleep and threatening their very souls," Erandur explained, growing more heated by the second. "I must journey out to put an end to this, and she has conveyed to me that you would be able and willing to help."

"Oh, well, umm... She must be quite something to do that. Did she hear about us from someone in Dawnstar, or...?" Harry fished, trying not to sound too rude about the other's beliefs.

But Erandur only laughed. "The Divines hear many things, my child. But even I was surprised when she lead me to you."

Harry only nodded, saying nothing to that as he firmly mentally crossed over the man before him as a complete nutter.

Perhaps sensing that reticence, the priest frowned. "You... have heard of Mara, haven't you? The handmaid of Kyne?" Seeing no reaction from either, he continued. "The Mother Goddess of Love, of the Imperial Pantheon...?"

Glancing at Luna, Harry shrugged as he suddenly realized that perhaps insulting a stranger's religion in another country wasn't the brightest of ideas.

"Where from do you hail, to not have heard of Mara?" the priest wondered and Harry realized suddenly that Thoring was now paying rapt attention to the conversation as well. This isn't good, what do we tell them...?!

"I'm from Ottery St Catchpole. It's in Devon, you see, and I live with my father there. But right now we're a little lost, Harry and I," Luna answered without hesitation as she glanced at him with a smile.

Harry's goggled at her careless words, just blurted out like that.

The elf blinked, his bright red eyes appearing confused only for a moment before he nodded. "Oh, well... I see. It is a shame that Mara's love is not known there, for hers is gentleness and kindness that all deserve."

What, Harry thought.

"Oh," Harry said.

Was it just that easy?

Luna nodded sagely at the elf's words. "I will make sure to tell daddy about Mara, I'm sure he will want to write about her as well."

"I see, your father is a scholar then." Erandur nodded, before shaking his head. "Regardless, I wished to speak with you two about the nightmares that the locals have been suffering from, and about putting a stop to them."

"Oh well, we'd be happy to help..." Harry began, trying to think of a way out of this situation. "But how could we? We've only been staying here for a few days."

The priest smiled softly. "And for two of those nights, there has been a surcease of suffering as a mighty white stag has guarded the dreams of the innocent and restless, granting them long-sought repose."

Harry cringed, realizing that logically speaking it was rather logical. Perhaps he had gotten too used to being around airheaded witches and wizards who wouldn't make such obvious connections. " So did, uh, lady Mara, tell you that?" he probed, hoping to uncover whether or not he had been seen casting spells.

Erandur shook his head. "The townspeople spoke to me of the white stag, leading me here. I only recognized you from my visions as I saw you just now."

Nodding, though feeling still a bit wary and confused as he did so, Harry said nothing. Though the mention of visions did not go unnoticed. While three years of Divination hadn't exactly granted him the gift of the Sight, it had made him rather apt at spotting fake fortune tellers.

"I understand your hesitations - I, too, was worried over how young you seemed when Mara granted me the vision. But last night, I was visited in the night by the white stag as he made his round of the village," the priest continued with a wry smile. But soon it turned pensive as he looked down, breaking eye contact. "A mighty guardian he is - to be able to ward the dreams of the entire town from Vaermina."

Despite himself, Harry felt a cold shiver run down his spine and his mouth suddenly felt very dry. Swallowing his nervousness, he asked. "Err, Vaermina?"

The elf nodded.

"Yes. The Daedric Prince of Dreams and Nightmares, Vaermina. There is... an old temple of hers not far from Dawnstar. It was abandoned long ago, but I fear that it was not laid properly to rest, and its evils have begun to awaken. And if something is not done soon, then all of Dawnstar may be in danger."

"Oh," Harry replied, still uncertain how much of he believed this elf, but unable to just ignore the suffering of the people in Dawnstar. How tired and drawn out they had been days before when they had arrived here and how much of an impact his Patronus-charm had on them.

Already he could feel his urge to help rising, despite his wariness and hesitation still holding him back. He glanced at Luna and realized that she was looking at him with piercing focus. Half-cringing simply at the intensity of her gaze, he almost expected her to say something; expectations of the boy-who-lived, telling him that he should or shouldn't help, her own beliefs at how the nightmares must have been caused by one of her strange creatures or even curiosity at this Vaermina so that she could tell her father all about it for their paper...

But there was none of that.

She was simply observing him. Waiting for his cue - his decision, as if this was just another meeting of the D.A. and he was trying to teach her how to cast a proper shield charm. Whatever he decided, she would help him with it whole-heartedly and without reserve, he realized. Just as it had been back when they had staged their ill-conceived raid on the Department of Mysteries last year.

And Harry's gut was telling him that...

"Okay, I'll help you."

He couldn't very well ignore a problem like this if he could somehow help.

"Thank you." Erandur smiled and slumped with relief, nodding twice as he wrung his hands. "Then we must journey to the Tower of Dawn that overlooks the town. Within we will find the old Nightcaller Temple and the source of the nightmares."

Harry nodded, vaguely recalling having seen the tower in the distance, east of the city just this morning. It wouldn't take long to get there, even on foot. "Alright. But," he began asking and turned to look at Luna again. She cocked her head quizzically at him. "What about you, Luna?"

She smiled. "May I come as well?"

They turned as one to look at Erandur, who blinked at being put on the spot.

"I - of course...?"

Harry grinned and nodded, turning look at Luna again. "There you have it."


Harry let out a heavy exhale, pausing to look behind him to make sure that Luna was still there behind him.

Sure enough, ten paces behind him she was trudging on up-hill in his tracks. She had a light sheen of sweat on her face now, which ironically enough seemed to have helped with bringing her hair somewhat back under control. Sighing and telling himself that it was time for himself to keep moving, he looked up and found the elven priest's back.

Harry realized almost an hour ago that Erandur was certainly much more used to the trekking than either he or Luna were, as the elf animatedly continued talking about the history of the tower and how it had been a ruin for a long time already and how the priests within had rarely visited Dawnstar for some reason or another. It grew difficult for Harry to continue paying attention while climbing as the cold wind blowing at his face, the poor, unknowable footing beneath the treacherous snow, and the glare of the midday sun against the pristine white snow blinding him, all combined to drive him spare.

At first, Harry had thought the priest mad for walking out with so little clothing in the freezing weather, but as the sweat began to run down his back and his body continued to radiate excess heat, he began to somewhat understand why. While the tower was apparently just up ahead and had been in sight for the whole morning, he had completely underestimated how tiring it would be to walk in the snow up the mountain to reach it.

He would have to remember to dress more lightly next time.

"It is just up ahead, a little more and we'll be there!" Erandur shouted ahead, his breath coming out in large clouds as his light beige robes were patched here and there with large spots of sweat and rimmed with melted water at the hem.

"Fan... tastic," Harry replied, grimacing as his feet ached.

Maybe it was just the boots not being a perfect fit, or the soles not being very good compared to his usual sneakers, but his feet were beginning to cramp painfully. Especially in the arches of his feet. All he wanted was to sit down and just rub his feet for an hour and feel miserable. But seeing as how Luna hadn't uttered a word of complaint and that he had been the one to agree to come, he swallowed his complaints and trudged on.

The steep incline began to level out as he neared Erandur who had paused to view the tower ahead. Not noticing Harry's approach, the elf almost flinched when he noticed that Harry had caught up.

Why is he so jumpy...? he wondered as he tried to catch his breath.

Shaking his head, Harry turned around to check up on Luna again. Their eyes met and he exhaled heavily, reminding himself that it was just a little bit more to the tower.

"Harry...!"

He almost missed her shout.

But then the chill running up his spine made him forget about all of that. Running steps crashing through the snow behind him, Erandur's surprised shout, Luna's wide-eyed expression at whatever she could see behind that he could not.

Harry whirled around, his hand already reaching for his wand before conscious thought, the first spell that popped into his head being flung out from his wand like an arrow loosed from a bow.

"Stupefy!"

The staggeringly large cat went limp mid-leap and Harry barely had enough time to duck underneath its enormous body as it sailed over him. He distantly had the thought that Hagrid would have loved a cat like that, before his eyes spotted a second giant cat racing for Erandur. No, it had already once pounced on him and missed, forcing it to turn around to face the elf again just as he was struggling to get back on his feet in the time Harry had dealt with the first one.

A second spell was on Harry's lips, when suddenly fire erupted from the elf's hands and streamed out like a great lance towards the great bounding beast.

It let out a keening yowl as its fur caught on fire, snapping Harry out of his stunned state. The cat was far from done as it dived for the snow and managed to put out the worst of the furson. Even through the considerable scorching and blackened flesh, Harry could see the two long and curved teeth that dominated the beast's maw as its lips curled back in a horrific snarl.

Looking up with baleful eyes at the priest, it let out a deep growl that resonated in Harry's lungs despite the distance between them.

"I will end you!" the elf roared in return as his hand alit with dancing, orange flames that streaked out towards the cat as he matched its malice and fury.

But it jumped to the side, now wise to how painful the flames could be.

Just in time to be hit with a spell that came soaring through the air from behind Harry. "Tarantallegra."

The great cat let out a sharp yowl of confusion as suddenly all four of its legs began to dance in tune to an unheard rhythm, its eyes widening with comical confusion at its body moving by itself.

Erandur almost stumbled, blinking at the beast's sudden plight with his mouth hanging open, hesitating whether or not to renew his burning assault. Then, as if sensing another great threat, his head swiveled to the right so hard that his hood fell back.

There on top of the hill, where the tracks of the two great cats who had already attacked them led to, stood a third. Its eyes gleamed with a predatory cunning and wary intelligence as it observed its two predecessors in assault.

Realizing something was behind him, Harry whirled around with wand in hand, blinking owlishly as he realized it was only Luna running up to him and not the first great cat or a fourth enemy. They exchanged nods, before as one they stunned the still-dancing second cat, leaving only the third still warily staring at them from atop the hill.

Erandur let out a shaky laugh as he noticed that it was now down to only one more threat. "At least we know that the temple is still abandoned... Sabre cats are far too territorial and dangerous for any common bandit to have made their abode in the tower."

Harry nodded, glancing down at the nearest unconscious cat.

His eyes were drawn to those long, curved teeth stretching out from the beast's massive jaws. He distantly remembered being bitten in his second year, how that tooth had made these look puny in comparison. Of course, even having survived that, he felt no decrease in his aversion to being bitten by these teeth, however much smaller they might have been. Inhaling slowly, he turned to face the last, still-awake sabre cat that was eyeing them warily. Years of Care of Magical Creatures lessons seemed to come flooding back to him in that moment, allowing Harry to exhale and relax. All of the tension and surprised fight drained out of him, leaving him calm and poised.

These things were little more than Mrs. Figg's car compared to what Hagrid usually threw at them in class.

Harry walked forward with his wand poised at the ready, his eyes boring into the remaining cat. Challenging it to just try and see what would happen, demanding it to avert its gaze, pushing it to yield. It hesitated as he strode past Erandur, its eyes switching to him as the closest body to it. But Harry didn't waver, walking forward without losing his nerve.

The great cat made a yowling protest as its ears flattened and then it turned and ran for it.

Behind him, Erandur let out a disbelieving laugh and Harry turned around with a small grin to make sure that Luna and the priest were both fine. And aside from a few bumps and bruises on an elbow and a knee, it was nothing to worry about.

As things wound down, Harry frowned as he recalled what had happened. Glancing sideways at the priest, he wondered at the magic he had seen. It had been wandless fire... But wasn't all house-elf magic wandless? Had he forgotten that Erandur was an elf, even if he wasn't of the house variety? Erandur hadn't commented on their use of magic either. Did this mean that magic was common here after all?

Had there any point in their hiding it until now?

Feeling very confused and conflicted again, he shook his head.

"What shall we do with these two?" Erandur asked, looking down at one of the snoring cats.

"Well..." Harry hesitated as he set aside his whirling thoughts, looking at Luna to see if she had any ideas.

She was bent over the other sabre cat, tilting her head left and right as she stared at the great muzzle and the long whiskers. She surely wanted to touch the great cat to see if it would purr, but still knew better than to try as she held her hands behind her back.

"Could we just leave them...?"

Erandur looked up, surprise and shock apparent at that suggestion. His protruding brow furrow as he stared down at the cat again. "You will not kill them? Make no mistake, these are dangerous beasts and you would receive no such mercy from them were the roles reversed now."

"Neither would I," Luna said airily without preamble, confusing the priest. Then, she clarified proudly, "I have never spared pudding or pie either."

Harry blinked at the outlandish comment and shook his head. He thought that he agreed with Luna, though. "Do they often bother the townspeople?"

"Not in recent memory, no." The elf made a difficult expression again. "They know to keep away from the town guards who patrol Dawnstar and search for easier prey instead."

"Well, I think we should leave them be. We came here to do something other than dealing with overgrown cats, didn't we?"

Erandur inhaled, glancing at the unconscious beast one more time before he nodded. "Very well. I did ask for your help - far be it for me to question you now."

That concluded, they began to make for the tower again. Following the two sets of tracks the sabre cats had left behind, they made it to the courtyard of the dilapidated tower. Perhaps it had been an old fort once; it was square, squat, grey and drab. Nothing like Hogwarts, despite the weathered stone speaking of standing here for hundreds, if not thousands of years.

Harry shivered at the sight of it; the lone door in the middle of the keep leading within somehow oozing a coldness that had nothing to do with the chill of the outside air or the crisp snow crunching beneath their feet.

Erandur, either not noticing the foreboding aura or simply not caring, walked to the door without hesitation. The old wooden door, just as decrepit and weather-worn as the stone itself, creaked and groaned as he forced it to open. Thick chips of rust flaked off of the rough hinges and a stale smell blew out, making Harry grimace.

"I turned the abandoned temple into a shrine of Mara, but understandably it does not receive visitors or pilgrims very often. Come, it may not be much warmer inside but it should at least be dry and protected from the wind."

Hesitating for a moment, Harry glanced at Luna. She did not notice, intently staring over his shoulder, peering into the darkness the elf had wandered into. With a sigh and one last look at the sabre cats, he entered with Luna in tow and closed the door behind them.

It took a while, but slowly their eyes grew used to the dimness as Erandur lit a few candles with a sliver of wandless flame from his fingertip. With the sun having blared on from high and with the white snow beneath, the outside had been blinding in brightness, so the darkness actually felt somewhat soothing now, giving their eyes a rest from the glare.

Looking around, Harry noted that there wasn't much here.

Just one large and very messy room. More of a hall really, he supposed. Almost like a church, with the podium at the far end and the benches arrayed haphazardly along its length. Meanwhile, Luna walked around, picking up broken and dusty knick-knacks as she threaded through benches, her wet boots leaving a trail of half-melted snow behind her.

"Before we continue, there is something I must tell you," Erandur said as he had finished lighting up the candles in the hall. "Years ago, this temple was raided by an orc war-party seeking revenge... they were being plagued by nightmares just like the people of Dawnstar are now."

"Huh?"

"What is an orc?" Luna asked, tilting her head curiously as she stared at the elf. Harry turned to look at her, able to recognize the humour in Luna asking that question for once despite his own confusion.

"You do not know of orcs, either?" Erandur questioned, distracted from his confession and appearing slightly ill at ease. "The orsimer, or pariah folk of Malacath?" Seeing as neither showed any signs of recognizing the description, he frowned.

Noting the priest's worry, Harry answered. "I can't say I have ever heard of them... But a war-party? That sounds... pretty dangerous, to be honest."

"Yes, well... That is only half the danger I must warn you about. Knowing they could never defeat the orcs, the priests of Vaermina released what they call the Miasma, putting everyone to sleep," Erandur replied. "There should be no danger to us so long as we do not wake them. But, I thought it best to mention it now, before we set foot into the temple itself."

So they were going to be sneaking around sleeping 'orcs', whatever those were?

Blinking, Harry realized that he really ought to have asked more questions before agreeing to come here. He crossed his arms as he frowned at the priest, who was growing more aware of this rift between them.

"The miasma?" Luna asked, apparently unaware of the sudden tension and too curious to remain quiet.

Erandur nodded at her and explained further. "The Miasma was created by the priests of Vaermina for their rituals. It's a gas that places the affected in a deep sleep. Because the rituals would last for months or even years, the Miasma was designed to slow down the ageing process. It's effects will have weakened considerably, but in advancing deeper there is a risk of us getting ensnared as well if we are not careful."

She perked up at that, growing excited. "Like Hum-snoring Periwinks, who put you asleep if you lie down beneath a tree on a summer's day?"

To Harry, it sounded more like an airborne Draught of Living Death, but trust Luna to draw an immediate parallel to one of her creatures.

The elf priest blinked at the question, obviously not familiar with the creature.

"I... do not believe so."

Harry frowned. How were they going to get past the gas, if it was still lingering here? "So we'll have to air it all out somehow...?"

"That may not be wise, as it may wake those slumbering within all at once... So long as we avoid the purple gas in the air, I believe we should be safe. Though in those places where the miasma is thin enough for us to pass, I suspect those who were put to sleep by it will be more likely to be woken up as well."

"So why are we here, if the miasma is keeping all of them asleep?" Harry asked, still wary of the priest's reticence.

While he had been very open and talkative regarding the tower and the cult that had resided within, he had also been very cagey about details regarding how they were going to put a stop to the nightmares the people of Dawnstar were suffering from. Harry also couldn't help but note that the 'orcs' had also come to put an end to those bad dreams, only to get somehow ensnared by the miasma in here.

"We're here to put a stop to the townspeople's nightmares, right?"

Erandur nodded twice but did not elaborate further, eyes troubled and avoiding.

Growling, Harry asked: "Then, how many people are there here? And how long have they been sleeping?"

"...At least a hundred," the priest admitted uneasily.

Harry's brows shot up into his hair as he blinked. "A hundred people, or a hundred years?"

Erandur squirmed, looking away.

"Both."

The glasses almost fell off of Harry's face, at his sudden and startled reaction to the confession.

"Oh..." Luna whispered and he glanced at her. She was staring wide-eyed at the priest, mirroring his reaction. It wasn't often Luna was so openly bothered by something, he thought distantly.

But...

"We have got to help them," Harry declared, clenching his fists.

"That... may not be possible," Erandur said softly, almost a whisper. "Even before the long sleep, the priests would not have reacted well to your presence here, nor would the orcs, I would imagine. And, the miasma was never meant to hold anyone for so long... I fear their minds will already be lost if we wake them, so close to the Skull of Corruption and under the degenerative effects of the gas all this time."

"Skull of Corruption?" Luna asked, tilting her head quizzically, though the set of her brows betrayed her unusual focus.

"Yes... It is an artefact of Vaermina, the Daedric Prince of dreams and nightmares, whom the priests here worshipped. And it is the source of the townspeople's nightmares." Erandur explained.

"So that's why we're here? To break it?" Harry guessed and the priest nodded.

"Yes, that's right. I was granted a ritual by Mara that will allow me to destroy the staff," Erandur said a bit louder now, his confidence returning slightly. "But I will need to get down to it, first. Past the many slumbering orcs and priests..."

"And the miasma."

The priest nodded. "Yes."

Harry sighed, annoyed now.

He had agreed to help, but he really ought to have asked first exactly what helping Erandur would entail. Because right now, having walked up a mountain all morning and at the foyer of the temple of doom, or whatever-Erandur-had-called-it, was not the time and place to be worrying about these things.

"And if we remove the miasma, everyone will wake up and... I don't know, try to kill us?"

The priest nodded again. Harry hadn't been entirely serious, but seeing the response he couldn't help but sigh again.

"And if we don't remove the miasma, they'll all just... sleep here, forever?"

This time the priest hesitated. Finally, he said: "I believe so. Sometimes, those affected by the Miasma for extended periods of time, never woke up at all. Though... that may have been an effect of the Skull of Shadows."

"So, what?" Harry barked, eyes aglow with accusation. "You want us to just, kill them all to get to the staff? Or worse yet, just forget about them and leave them here forever?"

Harry sighed for the third time, almost collapsing down onto one of the benches lining the room, running a hand through his hair. What exactly had he signed up for? A long and silent minute passed, the priest uncomfortably aware of Harry's wavering trust and the difficulty of what he was asking of him.

Hermione had said he had that he had a people-saving thing and maybe he did. But until now that had been one, or two or, a handful of people. Not a hundred people. Hermione in the loo, Ginny down in the Chamber of Secrets, Fleur's little sister down in the lake, Buckbeak and... Sirius...

A chill gripped his heart in a way that had nothing to do with the cold, as he remembered Sirius slipping limply through the Veil. It was no longer a raw pain, but it ached nonetheless. That loss. That failure. That mistake.

Was he just afraid of messing up again?

"Could we brew a potion? Daddy would always have one for me, whenever I would sleepwalk after Mummy died." Luna suggested beside him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He looked at her, his mind too distracted by the current issues to bother with the usual disquiet at her upfront frankness with such confessions.

"Something like a dreamless sleep potion? Can you brew it by memory?"

Surely there were potions that could defuse the situation here. A calming draught, or a draught of peace, perhaps? He knew how to brew those. Probably. It had been a few months since he had made either and he didn't have the Half-Blood Prince's book—or any other recipe book for that matter—with him.

It hadn't seemed pertinent to bring to the party, even if he had been planning on reading it again afterward. Not that he knew where to get the ingredients for any of the potions he knew how to brew, regardless. The visit to Frida's shop, filled with the many unknown herbs and ingredients had made that clear enough.

"Oh, no, I can't." Luna, too, seemed to deflate as she realized the problems inherent with that idea as well.

Holding his wand that he hadn't bothered to put away since the sabre cats, Harry rolled it between his thumb and index finger in a nervous habit, feeling each bump and groove in the wood as he did. The thought of the spells and books he had been thinking of lately, and the wand in his hand reminded him of something.

Like a Lumos in the darkness, it seemed to light the dimness with some hope.

Maybe...

The thought felt slightly queasy, but perhaps it was the only way. He had seen it used against muggles often enough and he did know the wand motions, so recently reminded of it.

"Erandur," Harry said as he stood up and looked at the elf. "How little, or hrmn..." He frowned, trying to think of how to ask this, still weighing its rightness of it himself. Finally, he simply asked: "How much is there left of their minds, if we remove them from the miasma and wake them up?"

"Very little. Some of the senior priests might remember something of themselves, but... very few of the acolytes, or orcs for that matter, would have any memories of their lives left."

That lifted a weight off of his heart. Just a little bit.

"Hmm... Okay, here's the plan..."


Harry was so very glad that he had learned the bubble-head charm earlier this year.

It made it possible for them to venture down into the temple without being affected by the gas. Because they couldn't remove the miasma without waking up everyone, and for his plan to work, they would need to get them out one by one.

He had cast it on all of them before they entered, wary of the gas Erandur had been so fretful about. The elf had blasted fire from his hands at the far wall of the room, at a tapestry flapping unnaturally in the deathly stillness of the room to reveal a hidden passage. Immediately something had begun to flow out, just along the floor. Almost like a thick fog, it barely made it up to their knees, but it still chilled his spine to wade through it.

Walking onward, Erandur had spoken with silent reverence: "Now I can show you the source of the nightmares. Over here..."

They came to a large grated opening; a dark, rusted metal grill, like a jail cell's bars holding something back. An eerie light shone through from below, casting long shadows against the dark stone walls. They stepped closer and he realized that it was a railing, overlooking the depths below.

"Behold, the Skull of Corruption," Erandur intoned. "The source of Dawnstar's woes."

There, deep beneath them, almost as if carved and dug into the heart of the mountain they had climbed onto, was a large dark sphere that was so obviously dark magic that it made his skin crawl. There was some kind of magical seal on it, he realized. And within, he could barely make out something that could only have been the staff, topped by a horned skull. The air itself seemed to pulse with energy, lapping against his senses to put him on edge.

Swallowing nervously, he stepped back away from the edge. Even with the grating in between them, he didn't feel comfortable looking down at the Skull of Corruption.

"Okay," he said, finding his voice again. "We'll deal with it later."

Erandur turned around and nodded gravely. "It could take days..."

"Then it takes days. I can call my Patronus again, if we need to go back into town again for the night," Harry declared stubbornly.

"...You're right." The priest nodded, but still obviously troubled. "This way. The temple was built around this pit. The stairs will take us down a floor."

Nodding, Harry and Luna followed him. With the foreboding light cast by the staff below, they didn't even need a Lumos. But Luna still almost tripped in the dark stairwell as they descended, the uneven and rough stonework treacherous in their tenebrous descent.

As the floor evened out again, they could see that the way ahead was barred by another glowing barrier.

"Damn it! The priests of Vaermina must have activated the barrier when the Miasma was released," Erandur cursed, his voice echoing against the rock around them.

Something stirred on the floor. Piles of rock and debris clad in shadow seemed to take form, stirred to life by the priest of Mara's voice.

Harry blinked, taken aback as he peered and tried to make sense of the rising shapes. There were two, he realized as one of them sat up and stared back, yawning with a jaw so wide that it could have swallowed Harry's hand whole, with a pair of large tusks jutting out from the lower jaw.

Oh, and green skin.

So lost in his observation, Harry didn't realize that the orc had managed to wake up fully. Their eyes met and both blinked. Then suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped it roared, overcome by a bloodlust that made the wizard take a step back through sheer self-preservation instinct.

A large hand shot for its waist and drew a wicked-looking axe as it shot to its feet, eyes blazing with murder.

"Stupefy!" Harry cried out as he snapped out of it, the wand shooting the spell and instantly downing the raging brute in one shot. If Erandur hadn't warned him beforehand about the orcs, this could have gone a lot worse, he realized.

Luna copied his actions, stunning the second shape but a moment later.

"They... must have been awoken by my shout. I should have been more careful..." Erandur said quietly, spooked. "The Miasma must have been slowly seeping out, allowing them to awaken. We should remain as quiet as we can."

Harry nodded.

"Luna, you take the other one. We'll go back up and try it there. Mobilicorpus."

The unconscious orc began to float, as if pulled aloft by numerous small strings. And as Harry turned to walk back up the stairs, it followed obediently. Luna, Erandur, and the last knocked-out figure following.

Back by the first room, they found a spot where there was a little bit of room and set down the two unconscious bodies. At some point Erandur had lit a torch with his fiery hands, giving them a bit more light, and now they could all see that the two indeed had distinctly green skin, coarse black hair and impressive tusks sticking out of their wide lower jaws.

This was certainly no house elf. In fact, it was much more reminiscent of the trolls he had seen years ago. At least they smelled better, if only slightly.

"So... This is an orc?"

They were both very big and muscular. One was wearing what looked like furs and some pieces of rusted iron armour, while the other was fully garbed in some sort of dull, dark green armour that covered his whole body. The axe that he had tried to swing at Harry had been left behind, but he didn't feel particularly sorry about that divorce.

The priest nodded. "Indeed. This must be a warchief, judging by his impressive helmet."

Harry exhaled, nodding in understanding. Pointing his wand at the unconscious orc, he spoke: "Incarcerous."

Ropes appeared out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around the orc.

Luna frowned, brows twitching as she stared at her wand for a second. Then, she too tried: "Incarcerous."

But nothing happened.

"Oh, right." Harry blinked. It was a NEWT-level conjuration - not something Luna would be familiar with by herself. Levelling his own wand the second orc he repeated the spell, tying a loop with the tip through the air as he spoke. "Incarcerous. I'll teach it to you later, Luna."

She nodded, not at all bothered as she put her wand back behind her ear. "Alright, Harry."

"You're very accomplished mages for being so young," Erandur commented, sounding very impressed by the magic he had seen.

Harry almost flushed at the praise, suddenly very thankful for the cover of darkness, but cleared his throat to focus. "Thank you."

If Erandur really was as old as he seemed, then that was probably high praise. Of course, it did not speak much to how common witches and wizards were in Skyrim, nor of how much the elf himself truly knew. He had to wonder: did they have any schools of magic, like Hogwarts, here and how accomplished were the people there?

Maybe we could ask for help if there is one...?

He shook his head, opting to focus on the immediate issues for now, inhaling slowly as he pointed his wand at the first orc again.

"Okay, stand back... Rennervate."

The orc twitched, immediately jolting awake as if he had been shocked. Dark eyes wide, teeth gritting, the presumed-warchief growled at them as the conjured ropes strained. For a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something, but then only incoherent shouting followed.

Grimacing, Harry looked at Erandur.

The priest could only shrug helplessly. "His mind has been broken, as I suspected. He has been under the Miasma too long."

"Okay," Harry replied and raised his wand again. "Here goes nothing... Confundo."

The warchief blinked, as if stumbling over his previous rage, and then stared vacantly ahead at nothing.

"Did... did it work?" Erandur whispered, but Luna shushed at him.

"Erm..." Harry began, realizing that perhaps he should have prepared something before he cast the spell. But, forging on, he spoke. "There's been a terrible accident. You've lost your memory."

The orc blinked slowly.

"You're an orc, and your name is... uh... Tom," he said, grasping for the first name that came to mind. Ignoring the confused expression the elf was wearing, he continued: "Everything is going to be okay."

With that, Harry lowered his wand and allowed the spell to wane. The orc—Tom, hopefully, now—blinked twice, still appearing very confused and off-balance.

"How do you feel?" Luna asked, leaning closer.

"Urh...I feel..." With a voice like rumbling thunder and breaking trees, the orc looked at her. "Where am I?"

"At nightcaller temple, do you remember that name?" she continued.

"...No...?" The orc looked pained by the admission.

Luna nodded, appearing very sympathetic. "Can you remember your name?"

"It's... Tom?" The name came out funny through tusked jaws, obviously a sound he wasn't used to pronouncing.

"Harry." She turned to look at him, expression grave. "I don't think Tom is his real name."

He frowned, almost snapping at her that it was the first name that had come to mind, but then shook his head. This was working, it was fine. Instead, he turned to Erandur. "Well, what would an orc be called, then?"

The elf blinked at being put on the spot. "Oh, err... Uh, Bhor...gash?"

"Okay, then that one is Ghorbash," Harry declared flippantly, pointing at the other orc, still out cold.

Luna nodded seriously, then opined: "That is a very pretty name. I'm sure she'll be very happy with it."

Harry said nothing, not entirely sure whether that was true or even whether there were orc women. Stealing a peek at the chest of the still-unconscious orc, he decided that he probably wasn't a girl.


It was slow work and they could only bring back two at a time most trips down since Erandur didn't know any spells able to carry anyone heavier than himself.

They had to look for another way down, because of the barrier they had run into earlier, after which they began to find devotees of Vaermina. All clad in purple robes, they appeared to be just as confused and rabid as the orcs when they were brought up. They were also a much more diverse bunch; many of them were women and there were many, many more elves among them. Some with golden yellow skin, others with a healthy brown tan, and a few with the same dark grey pallor that Erandur had.

Luna seemed very excited, several times wishing that she had had a quill and parchment with her as they continued their rescue efforts. She grew even more excited when Erandur informed her that technically—though not recognized by all—orcs were a race of elves as well, naming the races as they continued: Altmer, Bosmer, Dunmer and Orsimer...

Harry had been worried that the orcs and the devotees might grow rowdy when left alone, especially with one another. But they seemed very calm—if also very confused—after the Confundus-charm was applied. For a while he was also worried that they might react negatively to seeing it used on others, realizing what had been done to them, but none of them seemed to have the presence of mind for such reactions.

Which was good, because he really did not have the stomach for any unnecessary fighting.

Not everyone had made it through the years, even with the miasma hanging in the air. The decrepit and long-dead bodies of orcs and cultists littered the gas-filled chambers as they continued to descend further down. Once there might have been a hundred people down in the temple, put together, but so far they had only managed to find thirty still alive. He tried not to think too hard about those forty-some dead below.

They had died years before he could have done anything to help them, probably years before he had even been born.

Strangely enough, the hardest part turned out to be figuring out enough names for all of them. Especially as he had begun to name them after people he knew, lacking better ideas.

Maybe he needed more friends. Something to look into once they were back.

And, he had figured that leaving Luna to her own devices after confunding the orcs might not have been his brightest idea, after she named a trio 'Pinkie Smash', 'Twilight Slash', and 'Rainbow Bash'. Though the orcs in question did seem inordinately pleased with their names.

Of course, that was only for the orcs. As it turned out, Erandur was quickly able to come up with names for any of the acolytes they brought back, often spoken with a very solemn expression. Harry hadn't asked about it, but he was beginning to have an idea as to how come the priest was so familiar with the temple.

But that would have to wait.

"It's getting late..." Harry said, stifling another yawn.

Outside, the sun had already begun to set. It would be another few hours before nightfall. But if they wanted to make it back to Dawnstar, they would have to start walking down the mountain now.

Of course, there was still the problem of what to do with all of the people they had rescued and confunded. They couldn't exactly leave them here and come back tomorrow. But taking them to town would bring its own set of problems as well, not the least of which was housing and feeding all of them.

"You're right." Erandur agreed surprisingly easily. "We will be here the whole night and risk falling asleep ourselves, Miasma or no, if we think to continue any longer."

Nodding, Harry wondered how he should broach the subject he had been worrying about. Because—

"I suppose... We will have to find someplace for them to stay for the night. Perhaps the mines... The inns and bunkhouses will all be full, I fear."

Because, he would have to use the money he had to help these people. The money he had made by selling Luna's dress. The money they needed for getting back. Her money. And even though he wanted to help these people—and Luna so far apparently agreed with him—it would still feel like betraying her, somehow.

"I will gather them together and prepare for the descent. You two may rest - you have done so much already," the priest said, turning away.

The foyer was completely packed, forcing them to continuously move deeper. Having taken one of the benches with them, they were now deep enough that the eerie light of the Skull of Corruption was visible.

Sighing and not really knowing how to broach the subject, Harry turned to face his companion. "Luna, there's something... uh..."

She turned to look at him with half-lidded eyes, appearing very tired. It had been a long day and while he had been casting most of the difficult magic, she hadn't been slacking off by any means.

"It's about when we get back to town..." Looking away, he spoke quietly, feeling even guiltier now.

Luna tilted her head, peering at him quizzically. He couldn't tell what was going through her head, as usual, so he could only sigh and come out with it.

"We... might have to use the money we got from... You know, before, if we want to find everyone a place. To sleep for the night, I mean..."

Her stare remained unchanged. She didn't even blink, her pale blue eyes simply boring through him in the darkness, glittering with the reflections of the eldritch glow on the walls.

He was starting to get a little bit nervous when she finally blinked. There was just a glimmer of something in there, for just a moment.

"Oh, that's alright Harry."

But then she smiled and turned her gaze away, staring straight ahead while kicking her feet up and down. For just a moment, he wanted to ask again, to clarify if she was really alright with it, but then Erandur was there.

"We're ready to go."

Harry nodded, peeking at Luna one more time before he adjusted his glasses and got up. "Alright."

"The town guard will not like having this many strangers coming to town," Erandur continued as they began to move out of the keep. "But I will speak on their behalf. Hopefully, that will be enough."

Outside the sun was still in the sky, but had begun its obvious dip into the west. Harry had also been a bit worried about the sabre cats, but they weren't around any longer, luckily. And so, the ragtag amnesiac caravan of orcs and purple-swathed acolytes began their trek down the mountain towards Dawnstar.


Funny story, I got stuck the moment they got to Nightcaller Temple.

See the thing about Skyrim is, that it's a very shitty place. By that, I mean the game is literally constantly trying to railroad you into being a murderhobo, which doesn't really easily work with Harry Potter of all things. Because when you think about how most of the quests in the game, the way they're solved is usually the worst possible way. I recall this one dungeon in the Rift, where some woman is mind-controlling a bunch of people—Vigilants of Stendarr, I think—and the game wants you to cut them all down and then kill her. So, I think, "Nah, I've got this." and sneak past them all so I can assassinate her and hopefully free all the Vigilants.

But nope, they all instantly die the moment she's killed. There's no way to save them.

I mean, a world where "murder everyone and take their stuff" is not just an acceptable outcome for nearly every situation, but pretty much the preferred solution, isn't exactly what I'd call a very nice place to be. Fun, for a certain definition of the word, certainly. But not nice.

So I started thinking about how the fuck exactly Harry would react to this shit and it took me a while to get a decent solution. Basically, magic! The confundus is just the right amount of whimsical fridge horror, that it works as a Harry Potter-style solution. Especially with how careless they got with the names. So I'm pretty satisfied with that, for now. Next chapter will keep it going and tie it up, so that the story can move on.