Come morning, Harry awoke rested and with a bit more hope for the day to come. When he eventually convinced himself to leave the comfortable, warm confines of his borrowed bed and wiggled back into his trousers and boots after a whole-body cleansing charm, he happened upon a rather unusual sight. Tom had indeed found his way to the cushioned love seat at some point in the night. However, instead of guarding over Harry like a nocturnal sentinel, he was slumped down with his head cranked back over the back of the seat and his mouth slightly gaped in his sleep.

He was totally dead to the world.

Harry bit down on his lips as laughter threatened to bubble up within him. When he was sure that he wouldn't noisily snort and awake the slumbering king, Harry carefully lifted the man with a simple bit of wandless magic, pulled off his boots with the flick of his wrist, and floated him over to the still-warm bed. It was the least he could do for the comfort the man had given him the night before, as well as once again putting him out so that he could take advantage of his lavish quarters.

As soon as he was set down, Tom rolled over and pulled a pillow to his chest and buried his face into its downy softness.

Harry left the quarters with a small, involuntary smile playing on his lips and was greeted by the bustle of the crew. They seemed a bit livelier than normal that morning, and it wasn't until he heard the cry of the gulls above that he realized why. The occasional bird at sea was normal as far as he could tell, but several gulls at once? That meant that they were nearing land of some sort. They had left the Capital Port nearly six days ago, and it seemed they were about to finally reach their destination. Harry walked up to the prow of the ship, and though he didn't see any land on the horizon, he did spot another ship in the distance heading in their direction. It was coming from the exact direction that they were pointed towards.

Harry was grateful that it seemed that this endless voyage was reaching its half-way point and there was now an end in sight. It felt like no time was passing with each day they spent at sea, like he'd been out there months, and not barely a week. Not to mention, being in such close proximity to Tom was messing with his head. With every little interaction, the king currently sleeping in his quarters felt further and further from the monstrous, broken wizard he'd killed in his own world, and more like someone he wished to know more about.

Every conversation or shared moment left him conflicted and dazed. Which he couldn't afford at a time like this, when every moment hung in the balance between life and death.

"Land ho!"

Harry snapped out of his swirling thoughts and squinted at the horizon before him. He didn't see anything at first, but the longer he stared, the fuzzier the horizon became. Slowly, like it was rising out of the sea itself, the faintest markings of land in the distance began to materialize.

At the rate they were moving, they likely had about another hour until they reached the docks. Tom had said the night before that his time on the island would be brief and that they would be on the next ship back to Nandera. He could only hope that whatever Tom's business with the Cardinal was, it would wrap itself up quickly and neatly. The sooner he was land-bound and free to move on his own, the better for everyone.

He went to find Lucas in order to prepare breakfast with him for the last time. The kid was good at maintaining an air of levity around Harry, but he'd caught a few morose gazes sent his way as they grew closer to the island. The boy had certainly grown fond of him in the short time they had spent together, and he had to admit that the feeling was mutual. Harry was tempted to ask the boy to go with him, to start a life with him as an adorable little brother figure in some obscure Nanderian village. But just as Harry knew his heart belonged to his child, he knew that Lucas' heart belonged to the sea.

The boy was born for adventure and excitement and no less would fulfill him.

They had just finished serving breakfast to those who could spare a moment, when they heard the shouted announcement of them reaching the docks and heard the thunderous churning of gears as the anchor was lowered. Harry set his ladle down next to the pot and grabbed Lucas' wrist before quickly pulling him back into the kitchen and casted a silent muffliato around them. He stuck his hand deep into his magically expanded pocket and rooted around for a while until he found what he was looking for and pulled it out.

The gold galleon gleamed in his fingers as he grabbed Lucas' hand and dropped it into his palm. Lucas blinked in confusion, and Harry piped up before he could question him.

"I want you to have this. I enchanted this coin to be what is called a 'portkey.' If you hold it in your hand and say the word 'Padfoot' it will activate the magic in this coin and transport you directly to me, no matter how far away you are. It will only work for you, so don't try to give it to someone else. It only has one use, so only use it when you absolutely have to, and if you activate it, don't let go until it's done or you could end up anywhere." Harry quickly informed as they heard the crew outside running about to help ease and tether the ship to the docks.

"What? But . . . why?" Lucas asked, at a loss for anything else to say. He held onto the coin tightly, as if afraid to drop or lose it.

"Because, you're my friend, and if you're ever in danger, I need to know that you'll have a way out. Now, you should also know that it can transport up to three other people, but they must all be touching your skin and you must be the one to activate it. Please Lucas, if you need me, come to me." Harry said emphatically, wrapping his hands around the boy's closed fist. He couldn't join Lucas' life at sea, and he couldn't drag the boy away from what he loved, but he could ensure that he would have a backup plan in any situation.

"Thank you, Harry." Lucas threw himself into Harry's arms and he immediately returned the embrace. Their goodbye lasted for only another minute or so before Tom came to collect him.

The man was dressed far more like a vagrant than a king in his scuffed but sturdy dark attire and sweeping black cloak. When they met the small party of guards out on the deck, he found that they had also abandoned their decorated uniforms with all its flashy metals and gleaming buttons for inconspicuous clothing. They still had their swords strapped to their sides, but it was common for most folk to carry some sort of weapon. Back in the capital, Harry had even witnessed a few teens and children with little daggers or clubs on their hips. Harry would have been more aghast, if he hadn't also been given a potentially lethal instrument at the age of eleven.

As they approached, Harry felt the disdainful looks from some of the guards boring into him, but he did his best to ignore it. Tom had promised the get him back to Nandera, so as much as they didn't trust or like him, he would be sticking around until then. Harry didn't pose a threat to their king, but they didn't know that. He would have to watch his back around them.

"Ready?" Tom asked shortly, hand resting automatically on the hilt jutting from his hip as his dark eyes scanned the docks below.

"Yes sir. The streets are too crowded for a carriage to take us through the city, and horses would draw too much attention, so we'll travel on foot through the city. Then, at the base of the mountain we've arranged transport to take us up to the Pirate King's fortress." Captain Grant answered with the professional grit of a man used to plotting and navigating dangerous situations. The older man's eyes slipped from his king for a moment to eye Harry distrustfully, before slinking back and warily speaking up once more.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but wouldn't it be best for the criminal to stay behind until we return? I would not dare to question your reasoning for letting him remain in your company thus far, but surely you don't intend to allow him to be privy to a classified meeting he shouldn't even know about?" Harry didn't particularly like the captain, but the man had a point. They had known each other for less than a week, Tom had no reason to trust Harry with information that could potentially hurt his kingdom, and Harry had nothing to gain by listening in on their private meeting.

Harry started to nod in agreement when the man beside him spoke.

"He is only here because my personal guard thought to take it upon themselves to arrest a suspect on hearsay alone and bring him aboard on this mission without regard to the 'classified' nature of our voyage. I can personally vouch for his character, so I couldn't see an old friend falsely arrested. I am trying to rectify the situation by getting him back safely as soon as possible and I will not leave him unprotected in a place rampant with crime." Tom spoke with conviction and an unshakable authority that seemed so far from the nervous man who had tentatively approached him over the course of the voyage.

"Besides, if this ends in our favor, then I'm sure the public will know of this meeting before we reach Nandera anyway. There is nothing damning that he could reveal if he comes with us." Tom exasperatedly stated, pulling the hood of his cloak up over his head and walking past his guards to the long plank leading down to the docks. Harry followed after Tom and decided to keep his thoughts to himself on the matter. If Tom truly didn't care about what he heard, then he would stay close to his ride back. The last thing he needed was to end up stranded on an island full of pirates and vagabonds.

It had been a whole week since he'd been on stable ground that didn't buck and tilt under his feet. Stepping onto the firm cobblestone was almost jarring. He hadn't even realized how much the ship truly swayed in the waters and how used to it he'd grown, until he was on land and his legs didn't have to automatically brace and bend in anticipation of the waves.

But any thoughts about his slightly unsteady legs were capsized by the array of colors, smells, and noises that engulfed them as soon as they stepped off the docks and into the bustling streets. The rich burnt orange of terracotta buildings two, maybe three stories high, lined the wide cobbled street in brilliant hues like fall leaves. Strung between the building's overhead were thick ropes strung with brightly painted lanterns that would undoubtedly cast the streets in dazzling rainbows come sunset when they were lit.

It was wonderful. Though the architecture didn't come close to some of the grand gothic molding and construction of the buildings he saw in the capital, they were well-made and sturdy. But none of that was what truly blew him away. No, it was the people.

In Nandera, he'd only ever seen humans. He'd heard that some non-humans resided in the kingdom, but in the short time he'd been there, he hadn't spotted any. Here though, here he was surrounded by all sorts of folk. Hulking muscular men with dark blue skin, green sclera, and tusks protruding from their heavy bottom jaws. A woman with gleaming silver and pink scales, long silver claws, and thick white hair that seemed to shift and flutter with something moving underneath.

Men and women and beings of unidentifiable composition with wings, tails, fangs, fur, and slick mucous sheens roamed the streets with familiarity and ease. Some were just passing through; some were stationed with a cart or stall to sell their wares, stock, or services. They passed creatures in cages, rowdy street games ringing with laughter and indignation, and foods of questionable origin. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the majority of what was being sold here was highly illegal.

If the island wasn't already known for being particularly dangerous and populated by outlaws, this would certainly serve as a black-market. As it stood, it was just a 'market.' Harry was fascinated by the diverse supernatural population, but he wasn't a naïve kid discovering Diagon Alley for the first time. He pulled up his own cloak hood, walked in Tom's shadow, and only let his eyes wander to satiate his curiosity, not his feet.

Many of the smells were a little overwhelming for his particularly sensitive nose, but the moment his stomach started to flip, he'd breathe through his mouth and pull the side of his hood over the lower half of his face to shield against the smell. The last thing he needed was to be sick all over the middle of the street because his fluctuating hormones turned the sweet scents of baked goods into a sickly horror show in his nose.

Thankfully, the city didn't seem to be nearly as huge as the capital, so it took less than an hour to reach the edge of the city where a wall of thick humid jungle and rolling mountains stood just beyond the city limits. The only thing to pierce the vegetation, was a winding cobblestone road leading up into the mountains.

"I was told there'd be no more than six." Harry turned his head slightly to watch a man riding an open-top carriage pull on the reins to slow the horses as he approached.

"My apologies, I met an old friend along the way and he's accompanying me today." Tom answered politely, though his gaze was hard as he eyed down the other man. Either the other didn't know he was speaking to a king, or he simply didn't care as he rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. His bitter disgruntlement as he gestured for them to load into the back of his cart reminded Harry of Filch and his avid disdain for everyone besides his cat.

As they climbed up into the plain wooden carriage, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever truly stop seeing the phantoms of his previous life in the faces of strangers. Perhaps it was his punishment for abandoning his world, or for never really being the hero that they needed, but Harry would admit to himself that he was a selfish, shrewd creature that would shed its own skin to evade danger. Even if his departure to another world meant that his own fell into chaos and hellscape, he would still leave it behind for the safety of his child.

Harry placed a hand on his lower abdomen as he sat on the hard wooden bench next to Tom, secure in the knowledge that the action was hidden by the folds of his cloak. He swept his thumb up and down the flesh in a soothing manner, though he didn't know who it was more for—himself or his little one. Harry blinked in surprise as he touched his lower belly, he hadn't had a chance to really look at it in the time he was on the ship, since he didn't want to risk anyone else catching onto something, but the small bump he'd barely noticed before had grown.

The flesh was firm under the touch of softness that a week of good eating had gifted his under-fed body. And now, what before could have been taken for the small natural curve of abdominal muscles below his navel, was a slightly more prominent swell. As if he'd eaten a very large meal. Logically, Harry knew his body would slowly change over the coming months to accommodate for the miracle growing inside of him, but it was utterly bizarre to feel the changes on his body so quickly.

Though, I suppose I'm now, what . . . about fourteen weeks? From what little he'd managed to read before he was hunted down in his own world, the baby was just under four inches long and in about two weeks he might begin to feel movement. What the hell has my life become? He thought with an odd wash of amusement and self-deprecation.

Blinking back into focus from his wandering thoughts, Harry took in the lush jungle creeping up on both sides of the road as the cart took them up the mountain. A few of the guards were talking in low tones amongst themselves, but Tom seemed keenly focused on their surroundings as the city got further and further behind them.

For the first time, he became curious about why the King would come all the way out here in secret to meet with the one ruling over a land of outlaws. Was this a friendly meeting between two political leaders? Or was it for sly deals under the table? Or maybe even an assassination of a problematic enemy of the kingdom? Harry really hoped it was the first option. He's had enough warfare and danger to last several lifetimes.

Though, he doubted Tom would bring him along if he thought it was going to be treacherous for him. Despite the short time they'd known each other in this world, Harry had already formed the opinion that this Tom seemed to be a good person that wouldn't unnecessarily endanger someone's life. He might be a bit biased though. . .

Harry glanced at the straight-backed man beside him and chewed the inside of his lip.

The jungle split before them, revealing a tall wall of dark grey stone topped with jagged metal spikes on top to prevent anything from climbing over. The man driving the carriage barked for them to get off, and the moment the last man jumped down, the man jerked the reins to the left to guide the horses back around and ride back down the road. Harry supposed this was only a one-way trip, and they would probably be walking back to the city afterwards. At least it's downhill.

Harry sighed and stayed only a few steps behind Tom as they walked up to the large wooden gates. He kept his eyes on their surroundings, fighting the warmth of his cloak that wanted to coax him into relaxing into the fresh afternoon air. A line of tension cut along his spine as the large doors groaned open and revealed two men with swords on their hips. No words were exchanged as they eyed their group and stepped aside to let them in.

Despite the rather unwelcoming exterior, beyond the wall was like a jungle oasis. Soft carpets of verdant grass dotted with bright little sprays of wild flowers and the occasional vibrant lizard skittering through the vegetation. A man-made pond lined with stones with fish swimming in their depths. Carefully cultivated landscaping, framing an expansive mansion of pale stone that spread out before them. One of the men remained at the gate, while the other led them into the mansion with the short jerk of his head for them to follow.

Harry kept his guard up as they walked, unsure of what to expect but ready for anything.

The man leading them stopped before a set of double doors and stepped through without holding it open for them.

"Sir, your guests have arrived." The man's accent was thick and unfamiliar, his words too short for Harry to try to place it. They entered the room as the man gave a shallow bow and left. The room was large and as lavishly decorated as one would expect from a Malfoy's sitting room, but with a more exotic, comfortable feel to it. A man was sat behind a large dark wooden desk with his feet propped up on the corner, which soon dropped as he stood with a grin.

"Welcome, King Thomas!" He proclaimed jubilantly, with his arms spread wide in greeting as he rounded the desk to meet Tom halfway.

The man was a bit older, likely somewhere in his forties or fifties if the silver strands threaded through his long black hair were anything to go by, though there was a charming youth to his face and demeanor. His eyes gleamed like obsidian, his skin a warm olive tone, and his smile a cunning curl of teeth and gums. Donned in a confusing mix of expensive silks and richly died linens, dripping with jewelry from his fingers, ears, and throat, and shoulder-length hair half tied back with a leather cord, the man cut a strange and intriguing figure as he took Tom's hand in a fierce clasp.

"Cardinal, thank you for opening your home to us. Your hospitality is immeasurable." Tom replied with practiced ease, meeting the other man's comfortable forwardness with a professional, regal distance. The Cardinal was still smiling as he withdrew his hand and scanned the protective wall of guards at Tom's back, though his gaze paused on Harry when they found him.

"Oh? Forgive my memory, but I believe you said you would only be bringing five men with you for a minimal security detail." There was an underlying challenge in the Cardinal's words, letting Harry know that the man didn't appreciate the deviation from what they'd planned.

"My apologies, I didn't have the time to warn you, but I assure you he isn't one of my guards. He's an old friend I encountered on my journey and he has been my guest and companion since then." It was the same vague explanation that Tom had given the carriage driver, but unlike him, the Cardinal's suspicions didn't seem so easily assuaged.

"Perhaps he is your guest, but he isn't m-" The Cardinal began with a sharper tone that had Harry shifting his hand to his pocket for his wand unconsciously. However, he was interrupted before he could finish by someone Harry hadn't even noticed was in the room with them.

"It seems that your years up here in the mountains have made you paranoid, dear." Harry's attention whipped to the corner of the room where a woman stood from a plush armchair, making herself known as she approached the tense group. She was tall—very tall, at least 6'5—with smooth, robust dark skin that seemed to glow in the afternoon light, with beautiful features, short-cropped black hair, and a frame that looked both elegant and strong like a dancer. What stole everyone's focus as she approached though, was the extended point of her ears and the flash of long white fangs when she spoke in a deep honied melody.

Swathed in flowing lilac fabric, embroidered with dizzying runic and floral patterns with blue-silver thread, she strode up to them on bare feet and rested a long-fingered hand on the Cardinal's shoulder. Tom went stiff at his side and he could practically taste the tension pouring out of the guards behind them. The woman turned her entrancing gaze on Harry and smiled amicably.

"I apologize on behalf of my husband, as he has not been a very good host to our guests so far. If you don't mind, I'd like to give you a tour of our home while they discuss business." Such a pleasant way to say that her husband wanted Harry to get the hell out. Not that he really wanted to hear what they had to discuss. He was curious, but not that curious.

"Of course." Harry answered just as Tom opened his mouth to protest. Tom and his guards were very wary of the woman, but Harry could handle himself and it was better than being dragged back outside by the Cardinal's armed lackeys. The woman smiled and motioned for Harry to follow her back out of the room and he went without another word. Side by side, they began to slowly meander the halls of the sprawling estate.

"I answer to the name Amode. What name do you go by?" She had a slightly odd way of speaking, but he could understand her well enough.

"Harry." He didn't bother giving his last name as she hadn't given hers and he doubted that she really cared. She was just doing this to get him out of the room so that the others could speak in private.

"By will of the Mother, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Harry." Her head dipped with the strange greeting and Harry gave a nod of his own in reflex. "King Thomas mentioned you were an old friend?" She inquired with a tilt of her head. Harry kept his expression blank to her inquiry, not wishing to give anything away to the stranger.

"We happened to run into each other as he was departing Nandera and he invited me along so we could catch up." Harry lied easily, not wanting to give Amode the impression that he and Tom were too close, while also not leading her to believe that they were practically strangers. It was already hard enough to explain why the King had invited an old acquaintance on a secret mission in the first place. Also, he knew that she had meant to find out more about their relationship and how they'd met, but that was even harder to explain away, so he just acted like he'd misinterpreted her question.

"Did he tell you what this mission was about?" Amode asked as they walked through what looked like a library, her hand reaching out to trail the spines as she went.

"No, but he did mention that after this meeting, it would become public knowledge." He answered honestly, his tone conveying his passive curiosity but nothing more. Amode hummed in reply.

"That is correct, I predict that by the time you return to your kingdom, everyone will be aware of what took place today. Which is why I, unlike my husband, have no problem telling you that they are drafting up and signing a treaty as we speak." Harry looked at the woman in surprise. A treaty? Harry didn't know enough about either nation to know what they could possibly gain from an alliance.

"Forgive me, I come from a fairly remote location and I have little interest in politics, so I don't really understand what that means for them." Harry admitted, though he didn't feel at all embarrassed about his ignorance. Maybe he would if he'd lived in this world for more than two weeks, but even in his own world, he hardly knew the Minister's name if they weren't actively trying to defame him. Amode didn't seem too bothered or suspicious of his lack of knowledge.

"While our island nation is small and has little to offer in terms of resources, we have one of the busiest ports in the world, we've amassed an impressive wealth for our size, and, most importantly, we are located only a few hours off the southern shores of Nandera. We don't have much in the way of a military, so if another country attacked us, they could very easily take control of our island and launch an attack on Nandera easily from our shores. Nandera's naval fleet is probably the largest and most advanced sailing the sea, but our island is a blind spot due to our location." Amode explained, they had begun to wander through an impressive garden, but all of his attention was on the towering woman next to him.

"So Nandera offers its protection against foreign attacks, and protects its weak point." Harry assumed, starting to see why the mission had to be a secret in the first place. If word got out, another country with their eye on the Island of the Damned could have rushed in and taken over the island first.

"Yes, and they will be opening up trade with us. Nandera is a vast kingdom, and while near the southern and northern borders the deserts and mountains make them unsuitable for farming, the majority of Nandera's territory is sprawling fertile land perfect for crops and cattle. Nandera is rich with resources and produce, and being able to have access to that will do wonders for our people. But those are the only reasons the public will know of." She finished with an amused glean in her eye, as if they shared a private joke.

"And the other reasons?" Harry prompted, unsure if he would actually receive and answer, but to his surprise, he did.

"I do not know how secluded you have been from the relations of other countries, but tensions between Nandera and the Fae Empire are nearly at their tipping point. As I said before, Nandera is flush with farming lands and natural resources, and the Fae Empire, though it has absorbed most kingdoms around the world into the folds of its control, is centralized in a very small territory that is entirely mountainous and its cities are overcrowded with such limited space to build, that they've begun building on top of themselves. I believe that because our ships are all over the sea and unlike Nandera, we are allowed to trade in their ports, King Thomas wishes for us to keep an eye on the Fae Empire's activities and feed him information on them.

"The Fae Empire wants Nandera's lands, but due to an accordance signed over a century ago, they cannot forcefully take over the lands unprovoked. However, despite the Fae having a fraction of the population that Nandera has, if a war were to break out, the Fae would win without a doubt. The Faes have the most advanced magic out of all of the races, with a blessed weapon, one of us could level a city, while even the most powerful human could barely knock down a house." Suddenly, Harry understood why Tom and the guards had been so wary of the woman the moment they'd seen her.

Harry couldn't stop his eyes from flicking to Amode's fangs, and then to her elongated ears. In his own world, Faes were no more than a long-dead tale that blurred the line between myth and legend. He had no frame of reference he could compare the woman beside him to. His involuntary scrutiny of her didn't go unnoticed.

"If you truly have no involvement in politics, I am not surprised you've never encountered my kind before, Nandera is the human kingdom and hardly any non-humans would choose to live there. Especially Fae." Amode chuckled softly under her breath.

"If things are as strained between the Fae and Nandera as you say, why would you be willing to spy on your own people for us?"

"Because they are not 'my people.' My people are here on this island. The Fae have always been devout in their religious beliefs. We are a naturally calm and peaceful race. However, magic sings through our blood and even the weakest Fae is magically stronger than most species out there, and all that power poisoned the minds of our leaders. Nearly a century ago, the Fae nation began to spread its influence and absorbing smaller countries and kingdoms into its control. My parents emigrated soon after, still being avid believers in the old, pious ways they'd been raised with, they couldn't live in a nation that soaked its sacred lands in blood all in the name of the Goddess. I was not born there, and I hold no loyalty for the Empire." Her tone was as calm as before, but there was an undertow of conviction in her words.

"Power, at the cost of one's humanity, is an insidious thing that in the end will devour all those who try to obtain it." Harry spoke with a hollowness that sung deep in his bones. Amode scrutinized him with her dark gaze, something unreadable, but not entirely negative weaving through her silent thoughts. She paused in her steps for a moment, as if contemplating, and Harry stopped and turned halfway around to wait for her to reach her conclusion.

"You don't know much of current affairs, but you do not seem ignorant of the world. I do not doubt that life has shown you the plain face of its cruelty. If you would indulge me for a little longer, I would like to show you something far more significant than our gardens." Amode offered with a slight hesitance shadowing her features.

"As long as we have time, I would love to see it." Harry kept his voice calm and his expression open, curious as to what she would show him. Amode smiled softly and swept her hand out to direct his attention to a thinner path leading off from the garden and into the trees. Harry knew that they must still be within the wall surrounding the estate, but he wondered just how far the wall stretched into the jungle beyond as they began following the path and were encompassed by the humid green haze of the jungle. The shade from the sun was nice, and after only a few moments of walking, his skin and clothes felt damp with the moisture clogging the air.

That path wasn't as long as he was expecting. They only walked for a few minutes before they came upon a stone structure that was cloaked in dripping moss and vines. Harry might have believed that it was actually made of thick green plant life, if he couldn't see some of the pale stone peeking out from underneath. They walked up the few stone steps before Amode stopped him with the raise of her hand.

"If you don't mind, it'd be best if you took off your shoes and left them here. It is Fae custom not to wear them into sacred spaces. Nor do we bring weapons, but I see that you don't seem to be carrying any." She informed, before reaching into the folds of her dress and withdrawing a sharp-looking dagger with unfamiliar runes carved into the hilt and etched into the center of the blade. Before Harry could react as he was toeing off his boots, she set the ornate looking weapon into a wide stone bowl beside the entrance, and walked in ahead of him.

Harry didn't consider his wand to be strictly a weapon—not that he would leave it even if he did—and he didn't carry any other weapons because he had his magic, so he soon followed her inside. The interior was a marvel of colorful tiles cut and fitted together to turn the walls, floors, and ceilings into beautiful murals of divine figures, enormous beasts of mythical stature, and figures with white robes and long ears playing out different scenes. Distantly, Harry wondered if there was magic from his own world that could have made the murals move with limited sentience like their paintings.

The room was lit by four square openings in the ceiling that let the blinding rays of afternoon light beam down, hit the glassy tiles, and shoot off colorful geometric shapes to reflect throughout the room. The unkempt tendrils of overgrown creeping plants spilled over the edges of the sky lights, but despite the holes in the ceiling, the interior and floors were remarkably clean. Harry wanted to stay and take in the sheer beauty of the room, but Amode walked right through without much of a glance and to the other end where a short corridor led into what looked like a larger, more brightly lit room.

The next room held no murals; however, it was somehow far more beautiful than the other chamber. Half of the floor was a smooth cream-colored stone that had been polished to glossiness, while the other half sank into a shallow pool of crystalline water only about a foot deep. The skylights above reflected off the water and decorated the walls and ceiling in dazzling silver streamers that swayed and danced. The surface of the water was littered with freshly bloomed flowers of all sizes and colors that floated around with no discernable direction.

At the other end of the room, stood a statue of white stone. Carved into an eternal pose, was that same figure that stood at the gates of the capital of Nandera. A beautiful woman with stone eyes that poured adoration and love gazed down the waters before her from her nearly twelve-foot height, the flow of her robes and veil looked genuinely soft with how they had been masterfully carved. Unlike the statue in the city, both of her hands were cupped together and held out to them, while a thin stream of clear water poured from between her fingers from some unseen channel in the stonework and trickled down into the pool below.

The Mother. The goddess who everyone seemed to pray too. Harry had heard of no other deities, and had heard no alternative names for her. Her name was in the peoples' greetings, their prayers, even their curses.

"I do not share the values of the other Faes, but that doesn't mean I have abandoned my beliefs or culture. The Great Mother gave life to all. She gave us the water we drink, the air we breathe, the blood in our veins, and the very magic that we take for granted each and every day. She brought us into the world, and she will be there to guide us to our next life when it is over." Amode spoke with a serene devotion that only came from a lifetime of worship. Her eyes finally left the statue to look at Harry and she smiled gently.

"I am the only one on the grounds that prays here, but I am glad to share it with anyone with an open mind." Amode walked toward the water and stepped down into it with practiced ease, uncaring of the hem of her dress trailing through the water and darkening as the water seeped into it. She turned back and waved for Harry to come forward. "Come now, her waters are cool and refreshing. We are supposed to drink her offering before we leave to bring good fortune to our lives." She explained as Harry warily approached.

He was certainly curious about the whole proceedings, and he couldn't deny that a cool drink after a day of walking and traveling under the baking sun would be wonderful. It had been almost winter up in the capital, but on the island, it seemed that cool relief would only come at night. She offered her hand to help him step in, even though it wasn't very deep and he probably could have managed on his own, he took it with an appreciative smile and stepped into the pool. He'd shed his cloak and left it on the floor next to the entrance before stepping in so it wouldn't get wet, but the bottom half of his trousers immediately soaked through with blissfully cold water.

Amode let go of his hand once he was in and turned to approach the statue, but froze in her tracks. Harry blinked and looked to see why she'd stopped, when he realized what had changed, his lips parted in surprise. The previously clear stream of water that had been falling from her stone hands had clouded and turned a snowy white that fell into the pool and slowly spread a hazy pluming fog through the water. Something he didn't catch fell breathlessly from Amode's lips before her head eyes reluctantly tore away to meet Harry's own wide eyes.

"Harry, she has given us a sacred gift. She is offering us blessing and protection, we must drink now, before it is gone." Amode urged as she took ahold of his wrist and gently pulled him forward through the water towards the statue. She released him once they were stood before the depiction of the goddess. She held her hands up in front of her chest and cupped them as if she was receiving something, before closing her eyes and speaking a series of words in a language he didn't know under her breath in what he assumed were a prayer.

As soon as she was done praying, she opened her eyes and moved her hand under the stream to catch the falling liquid. The liquid was opaque and appeared slightly thicker than the water before, almost like . . . milk? Maybe, the whole situation was bizarre enough as it was, he wouldn't put it passed the strange world around him. Once her hands were overflowing with the liquid, she brought it to her lips and drank. The moment she did, Harry felt a pulse of magic radiate out from her and light glowed from just below her skin for a moment before fading away. She turned to him next and her eyes were shining with unshed tears but her smile was radiant.

"Quickly, now. Drink." She urged excitedly.

Harry tried not to think about the ridiculousness of the situation as he repeated her actions and cupped his hands together under the stream and felt cold liquid pouring into his hands. His skin was tingling where it touched the substance but he wasn't sure if it was just from the cold or something else. Either way, Harry was confident in his control over the vast sea of magic roaring within him that if the liquid showed any signs of reacting badly or harming him and his child, he would vanish it in an instant. So, once it started to spill over the edges of his cupped hands, he didn't think too much about it before bringing it to his lips and letting it flood his parched mouth.

It didn't taste like milk.

He tasted the whisper of flowers, the rich juice of dark berries, the wet flat of a stone, the earthy loam of the forest floor, the cool kiss of rain, the spice of dried herbs. It was an ever shifting, indescribable taste, like he'd placed the entire earth inside his mouth and was tasting it all at once. He swallowed heavily and took another mouthful until his hands were empty and dry. Light and warmth poured from his every pore and he was reminded of the moment he'd passed through the mysterious gate into another world, but far more intense.

The light pulled back from his limbs, but instead of fading like it had for Amode, it pulled into his center. No, not his center, a little lower. Harry panicked for a moment as light shown through the fabric over his lower abdomen, but with only a thought his magic touched his child and he could feel it's pulse strong and healthy echoing through his magic. Whatever was going on was not harming his child, but his worries soon shifted when he lifted his gaze and found that Amode had fallen to her knees in the pool and her nose nearly kissed the water as she stumbled over frantic prayers.

Harry hardly noticed the frigid water that seeped into his trousers as he sank to his own knees and touched her shoulder worriedly.

"Amode? Are you hurt, what happened?" He fretted as he gently tried to pull her up from nearly drowning herself and surprisingly, she cut off mid-prayer and lifted her head slowly to look at him. Now, there really were tears streaming down her smooth cheeks. Her eyes lingered on his lower belly just as the light finally faded, before meeting his gaze with something profound and indescribable in her eyes.

"You've been blessed. The Great Mother has granted you the gift of creation. She has marked you as a Disciple." He didn't understand what she was saying, but the way she spoke gave him the impression that what she was saying was significant on a monumental scale.

"I-I don't understand. 'Disciple?'" Harry shook his head in confusion.

"Men who have been blessed with the impossible gift of creation are marked as her disciples, her chosen children who carry her blessing and protection. In Fae culture, they are the highest beings under the Goddess herself and when one comes into the world, they are sacred beings of utmost authority." Her gaze once more flitted to where his shirt had grown wet with the splash of water when he dropped to his knees and was clinging to the subtle swell. More tears slipped from her eyes. "You are carrying life within you, which means you have been blessed by the goddess."

Harry shook his head in disbelief, overwhelmed by just how emotional the Fae woman was as she knelt before what she assumed was some sort of 'disciple.'

"No that's-I'm not a 'disciple' I-I've been like this for a while, I wasn't given the baby by the goddess." Harry tried to protest, he just wanted a quiet life, away from the dramatics and the 'miracles.'

"No, no, you do not understand. I did not mean that she had given you the child just now, it is a gift you are born with, the ability to bear a child. You are a disciple simply by having this ability." She reasoned and Harry realized that there was probably no way of convincing her otherwise, besides confessing that he was from another world and that the child was produced through an extenuating series of events that seemed to have very little rhyme or reason. Instead of arguing about the logistics of how the child was made, he should probably focus on deescalating the situation and keeping her from telling the world of the life he bore.

"But-But I'm not the only one, right? You said this happens to other men, so the phenomenon isn't completely unheard of." Harry concluded, actually feeling a little relieved to discover that he wasn't completely alone. He hadn't known how to ask anyone if this was a possibility in this world without drawing suspicion to himself, so perhaps he would be able to birth and raise his child normally and not completely hide away until they were born.

"Yes, but only with Fae. Disciples have only ever been Fae men. It's a large part of the reason that the Fae race consider themselves to be a superior species with divine rights to rule over all other beings. Many past Disciples had disrupted the royal line and were placed in the seat of Emperor as soon as they successfully produced an heir. The last Disciple was discovered almost fifty years ago but had died in childbirth, so he hadn't been able to take the throne. But you're human! If news spread of a human Disciple, it would shake the very foundation of the Fae Empire." It seemed that Amode's thoughts were going a mile a minute as she processed aloud.

"You cannot tell a single soul of this." Harry warned, magic and authority oozed from his words and the woman shivered slightly under the weight of his will.

"I won't, I promise. To betray or harm a Disciple would be the ultimate and gravest sin." She vowed with conviction steeling her every word. Harry felt the binding seal of an oath settle between them and knew that she wouldn't be able to tell someone even if she wanted to. Her eyes then turned soft and watery again as her head ducked. "By the Mother! I can't fathom how blessed I am to have met a Disciple in my lifetime." She spoke with utter reverence, whispering little prayers under her breath as she talked to herself.

Harry contained a cringe as the situation seemed to fully dawn in his mind. He was glad to know that his situation wasn't completely foreign to this world, but unfortunately it came with a plethora of complications and led him back to the conclusion that he would have to bring his child into the world privately. Perhaps most of the Fae would react similarly to Amode and practically kiss the ground he walked on, but it sounded like the fact that he wasn't Fae would seriously provoke those in power that wanted to uphold their Fae-superiority propaganda.

Harry suddenly felt like he was once again in the midst of pureblood-rhetoric as the distasteful child of a 'mudblood.' they also couldn't handle the idea that a half-blood was more powerful than them, so much so that they forgot that Voldemort was in fact a half-blood.

It would be best that the Fae never discovered his existence. He could handle a Dark Lord or two, but an entire empire? No way. Especially considering Amode had said that Fae were far stronger that magical humans and more advanced. Harry was also much stronger than most magical humans he'd seen so far, but he had no idea how he'd match up against a Fae.

Amode seemed to finally compose herself and wiped her face with the backs of her hands before standing up and offering Harry both of her hands to help him up. He wasn't anywhere near the stage where he would need such careful care standing up, but he appreciated the gesture and took both hands so as not to be rude. When he was standing, she gently barred an arm around his back and held onto his elbow as if worried he would slip and fall at any moment as they walked back towards the edge of the pool. The sheer care and overprotectiveness had embarrassed heat rising to his cheeks but he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything.

As soon as they were out of the water, Harry cast a silent, wandless drying charm on both of them and Amode startled with a sharp gasp.

"How did you-"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He interrupted hastily as he slipped out of her slackened grasp and moved towards the corridor to retrieve his cloak and throw it back over his shoulders to feel the relief of its cooling charms as the heat pressed back in with his dry clothes. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Amode was following, and noticed from over her shoulder as she approached, that the stream falling from the statue's hands was once again clear, as was the water of the pool.

As they left the temple and began walking back to the estate, Amode hovered around Harry with equal parts reverent devotion, and well-meaning worry. If Harry so much as stumbled on an uneven patch of ground, she was there in a blink to catch his arm and brace him in a gentle, yet strong grip. It was an utterly unfamiliar and unfathomable situation he found himself in. Since before he'd discovered his pregnancy, since ever really, he'd never had someone fret over him so relentlessly.

Harry might have been totally overwhelmed by it, if Amode hadn't filled the silence on the walk back with telling Harry everything she knew about the Disciples. The more she shared, the more he realized just how significant these figures were to her culture and religion. It also made him even more certain in his decision to never let the Fae discover what he was—or, what they'd claim him to be at least, since he was still pretty skeptical that he was truly one of these 'blessed beings' that Amode seemed to think he was. He'd had enough blind loyalty and danger come his way from titles such as 'chosen one' and whatnot, he refused to throw himself head first into another mess like that again. Especially without protection.

He would be no one's figure head or propaganda tool. He wouldn't be fighting any wars. He would be a parent and no more, no less.

By the time they reached the house again, Amode had fully reined in her emotions and no longer hovered at his elbow like an overprotective parent. When they reached the room that they had left Tom and the Cardinal in, she touched his shoulder to stop him before he went in.

"I know that you don't want the other Fae to uncover what you are, and I think it's best for your safety if they don't. But you should keep in mind that the Fae Empire will go to any length to obtain Nandera for themselves. If Nandera doesn't give them a reason to declare war, they will come and fabricate one themselves. You said that you don't care for politics, but you're also friends with King Thomas. What I'm saying is . . . be careful.

"As talented as the King has been thus far at keeping the Empire off his back, something will happen eventually and the sparks of war will catch. He knows it too, otherwise he wouldn't be here. If and when that happens, if you need protection, I will always gladly open my home to you, Harry. The Mother has chosen you for a reason and whatever it is, I trust it." Harry could feel the honesty and determination dripping from each word and he knew deep down that she would do absolutely anything to help him. He hadn't felt that level of loyalty in a long time and to be honest, he didn't know how to feel about it. So, he just nodded and thanked her, not wanting to offend her by his own uncertainty.

"May the Mother bless your path and flood your world with light." She intoned as she took Harry's hands for a moment, squeezing them gently, before releasing them and stepping away so that they could reenter the room without looking as though something had happened on their little tour of the property.

Tom turned as soon as the door opened and a knot of tension in his frame loosened when he saw Harry, as if he'd been waiting avidly for the moment when he was in his line of sight once more. It seemed that they had returned just on time, as two separate scrolls of paper were just being rolled up, one going to the Cardinal and the other to Tom. The men firmly shook hands and said their goodbyes. Harry could still sense a thrumming tension in some of the guards as they left, though it seemed by Tom's expression that everything had gone perfectly well, so he concluded that they were just tense around the Fae woman who had come to see them off.

Harry was still dazedly trying to process what had taken place not even twenty minutes ago, so he wasn't really paying attention as they left. It wasn't until the gates had closed and locked behind them and they were beginning the walk back down the mountain that he realized he'd trailed behind the group while lost in thought. He quickened his pace a bit in order to catch up to Tom, but now that he was paying attention, he caught the words being traded on the near-silent stream of whispers between three guards that had also fell back a bit from Tom.

". . .-deal was never supposed to go through!"

"-out of hand."

"-dealt with before- . . ."

Harry had barely a moment to process the words before the three guards all reached into their cloaks and withdrew strange glowing weapons. Harry stumbled forward a step as the air around their heads melted, their hair shifted to unnatural shades and their ears lengthened. Fae.

Oh god.

With incredible speed, they advanced and a fearful cry ripped from his throat but it was too late. The Fae men cut down the two unsuspecting guards as their backs were turned and magic arched from their weapons in a kaleidoscope spray. Time moved at a crawl as Tom whirled around when his guards slumped to the ground. Harry didn't know what to do, panic burning through his mind like battery acid as the Fae readied to strike down the unguarded King.

Tom flung his arm up to draw on his magic to guard himself, the cobblestone between him and the traitorous guards splitting apart as a wall of dirt and stone began to slide up from the earth to shield him, but Harry could feel that the pull was too slow and he wouldn't make it in time before the burning blade cleaved him in half.

Harry's lungs filled with fire and his mind crackled with lightning. And in the space between one moment and the next, Harry wicked out of existence, and then burst into the space next to Tom, grabbed his arm in a vice-grip, and disapparated with a crack that split the air. The edge of the sword had been mere centimeters from the King's unprotected collarbone when they evacuated the space.

The Faes left behind roared in fury and began to frantically search for the missing King. They would end this before the bastard King ever reached his kingdom. They would mount his head on a pike and present it to their Emperor. Thomas Riddle would not leave the Island of the Damned alive, and his infuriating little companion would whet their tongues with his young blood.