Shikyo no Kyoufu: Maybe it's because my introduction to Final Fantasy was with the later games (FFX was actually the first RPG I played ever), but to me Eidolons/Espers/Aeons are story-wise supposed to be dangerous enemies if you face them in battle and amazing allies once you win their allegiance. I wanted to portray them this way here, too.

Um the Muse: No, I can't say that I've ever played Slay the Spire. It sounds like it could be interesting, but I sadly still have a backlog of games to play and other RL things to do, so I won't be able to get to it for a while.

Chapter 9
Party Management

The wagons pulled to a stop, and Harry hopped off the rooftop onto the ground. Dudley and Hermione were right behind him, and the catgirl sent the traders at the front of the caravan a short wave. "So this is Whinging Village?" she asked after taking a look around.

Harry let his eyes wander over the town that had been his home – if only for a very generous definition of the word – for eight years, and thirteen if he included the days before the Transition. In the center of the village where they stood was a market square with shops and a small inn. The vast majority of the buildings farther out were simple one-story affairs that would be large enough for a single family. A low wall surrounded the town to keep out wild beasts. At first glance, it looked like any other village that could be found dotted over the face of Gaia.

It was on the second and third glances that the cracks in the facade started becoming visible. Every house on a single street, he knew, were nearly perfect copies of one another. Hedges were all cut to the precisely same height; the paint on one porch had been used on the next. Even houses that initially were different right after the Transition had been changed over the years to match their neighbors, even if it involved substantial work. No effort was wasted in blending with everybody else. The effect was disorienting, disturbing even.

To hear the old-timers talk, back when it had been Little Whinging, this had still been the case. Nobody wanted to stand out. Nobody wanted to be 'different' or 'abnormal'. He could barely imagine what his life would have been like without the Crystals and magic offering him an escape from this dull existence.

"Unfortunately," he muttered.

Hermione frowned at that response. She looked around again, and as her eyes panned over the clusters of people milling about the square, her ears dipped and her tail curled around her leg. "Why is everyone looking at me?"

Both Harry and Dudley winced at that question. Sure enough, any child too young to care about propriety was staring openly at the Hunter, but even the adults continuously flicked eyes in her direction as though they were not sure what to make of her presence. Dudley let his shoulders sag. "It's because you're a Stellis."

"…I don't know what to say to that." She examined the crowd watching her, and her frown deepened. "I don't see any Osgul or Eddek, either. It's all humans. Is the entire village like this?"

A nod was Dudley's response to her question. "Back when we lived here, at least, there was a single Stellis who worked at the pub, and a couple of Kobolds. Even they faced a lot of resistance. Osgul and Eddek who wanted to live here were told outright to move along. Most people here aren't big fans of other races."

"Adventurers either," added Harry bitterly. "Monsters and freaks aren't welcome. Nothing that disrupts their perfectly ordinary lives."

Dudley reached over to clap a hand on his shoulder. "Their loss. Let's just get to the aviary and send off the foslyrite. Then we can find some mustids and head back north to Glasgow."

He sighed and shook his head. That sounded like a fine plan to him, if not for one errand he needed to run first. "I need to take my coat to a clothier while we are in town. The fight with the Conjurer ruined the sleeve, remember? If they can and will fix it by tomorrow, I'd like to have it done before we leave."

It was a minor thing overall, but it still bothered him. The long red coat was as much a symbol of his class as his rapier; anyone who saw it knew he was a Fencer. He had enough pride in his skills that he wanted that immediate recognition back.

"So we split up," Hermione said. "Dudley can guide me to the aviary. While we are doing that, you see if you can get your coat fixed. We'll meet up again here."

"I can join you at the aviary if I'm done before you. It's not a long walk."

The pair started walking down the street, and he sighed before turning in the opposite direction. There were a couple of shops he could visit, but considering the kind of people who called Whinging Village home, most of them would rather spit on him than do any work for him. There was one, however, who might do it.

He just hoped the curmudgeonly old biddy was not dead yet.

A little brass bell tinkled over the door. "Madam Presley?" he called out.

"What do you want?" shouted a creaky voice. The curtain to the back of the shop was pulled aside, and an elderly woman with heavy wrinkles and frown lines stormed out. She walked closer, and her scowl deepened. "Oh. It's you. Thought we finally saw the last of you, Potter."

"And I thought the same about all of you, but unfortunately we had a job that needs something sent off. This is the closest aviary."

"That doesn't explain what you're doing in my shop."

He rolled his eyes. "Why does anybody ever come in here? You do good work. I need something repaired."

She gave him a dismissive sniff and an impatient wave to come closer. Pulling the coat out of his enchanted pouch, he spread it out over her table. Presley blinked at the charred sleeve and looked back up at him. "I remember making this coat. You wanted something like those weirdos wear. What in heaven's name did you do to it, boy?"

"Had an encounter with a bomb that went south."

"And here you are just fine," she muttered. "That's just like weaselly little snots like you. If you're going to ruin good work like this, just get yourself killed in the process and stop causing problems for everybody else."

Harry could not hold back a snort at that. There was a reason he was willing to put up with Presley's insults: they were not personal. She treated everyone like this. It did not matter if she was talking to the mayor or an Adventurer, she was guaranteed to look down on them as though they were scum she wiped off her shoe. The fact that she was very good at her job was the only reason she was tolerated by the townspeople.

He stuck his hand in the pouch and fished out a fat golden ten dimma coin. Setting it on its edge on the table, he gave it a practiced flick to make it spin. "If I didn't damage it, how could I pay you to fix it?" he asked when her gaze fell on the spinning coin.

Irritation warred with greed on her face, but inevitably greed won out and she snatched up the coin. "Fine. I can replace the sleeve. It'll be done by the end of the week."

"I need it back no later than tomorrow."

"I have other customers waiting on their orders too, boy. I can't drop them just because you're impatient." A second coin fell onto the table, and a crooked smile appeared on her face. "But I suppose I could work late tonight and get it done faster if it will get me rid of you."

"Pleasure doing business with you, too," he lied.

With the coat in the old woman's hands, Harry left the shop and started his way back down the main street. Along the way, he let his eyes drift from store to store and compared it with his memories. Everything was exactly the way it had been when he and Dudley lived here. Not a single shop looked to have moved or even changed their window decorations in two years. It was rather eerie, in all honesty.

At the end of the street rose the aviary, a three-story building with open windows ringing the top floor. In and out of those windows flew doves and pigeons with letters or small parcels tied to their legs, as well as the occasional falcon carrying a package too heavy for the smaller birds. He let a small smile show as he remembered how much the villagers argued about whether to build the aviary when it became clear to everyone that the monsters native to Gaia meant adopting a postal service similar to what had been present on Earth was nothing more than a pleasant dream. For all that using birds to carry mail was 'backwards' and 'barbaric', when faced with the choice between birds and isolation, the final outcome was never in question.

A knot of people stood in front of the doors to the aviary, and he did not need to hear what they were saying to know it was ugly. He also knew exactly who was the cause. He cursed himself for not thinking of this ahead of time. Two Adventurers, one of whom was non-human? Of course they were going to attract attention, and in this town essentially any attention was negative.

One voice rose above the others, and Harry started running.

"Running off and joining those freaks wasn't enough for you? You have to sleep around with animals for kicks? I raised you better than this, boy!"

Harry broke through the crowd to find Dudley standing in front of Hermione with his heads clenched into fists and raised to his waist, almost as if he was afraid a fistfight was about to break out. The reason for his concern and reluctance was obvious. Fifteen feet away stood an older man, his skin hanging off him slightly as if his substantial girth had been even greater once upon a time. Not a surprise, really; there was no Grunnings in this world, nor any need for a drill salesman, and so Vernon Dursley had been forced to turn to what marketable skills he possessed beyond bullying his subordinates and schmoozing up to easily flattered superiors.

It was really no surprise he had no other options than to become a manual laborer.

What was a surprise was the bottle in Vernon's hand and the red flush to his face. Back when Harry and Dudley had been growing up, before they skipped town to make their own way in the world, he had a fondness for drink. It was the one way to remove himself from his tedious life he still had in a world without television. But never would he have allowed himself to be seen drunk in the middle of the day. It was, in Petunia's words, 'unseemly'. Had the need for basic labor dried up enough that fewer workers were needed? Or had Vernon's lip finally gotten him the boot?

Sunlight glinted off the bottle in Vernon's hand, and the man smashed it against the wall of the aviary. Harry tightened his hand around the hilt of his sword. The 'why' of Vernon's drinking was irrelevant at this moment. All that mattered was whether or not he was dumb enough to threaten Dudley and Hermione. If he took even a single step forward…

Vernon raised the broken bottle and took a stumbling step towards them.

Boots skidding to a stop on the slick cobblestone, Harry lightly pressed the tip of the rapier into the fleshy hollow of Vernon's throat. "That's far enough."

"You!"

Behind him, Dudley's armor rattled as he relaxed. "Good timing, cuz."

"I told you what was going to happen to you if I ever saw your worthless hide again, boy," Vernon said with a snarl. He tried to lunge at Harry, but the rapier digging just the tiniest fraction into his skin stopped him cold. A bead of ruby blood welled up and ran down his neck.

Harry watched his uncle's face alternate between puce and pallor as dispassionately as he could, anger and a child's fear both being forced down to be dealt with later. "I don't want to fight you, Vernon, but if you start one, I guarantee that only one of us will walk away." With where his blade was pointed, it would take a single jab to send the portly man to the ground choking to death on his own blood.

Dudley was right; his timing here was impeccable. It would have been beyond cruel to force Dudley to kill his own father, particularly when he had sufficient contempt for the man to ward away the guilt.

"Clear the road! Clear the road!" someone shouted. The crowd shuffled apart just enough for a man in scuffed armor and a green scarf around his waist to elbow his way past. The shield embroidered on the end of the scarf identified him as one of the town guard, and a newbie at that unless they had changed the color scheme since Harry and Dudley left. He took in the scene in front of him and grimaced. "What's this, then? Some outsiders causing trouble?"

Vernon's piggy little eyes narrowed, and he seized the opportunity the guard gave him. "That's right, officer. These strangers attacked me. Throw them in a cell!"

"Hardly strangers, even if you did disown me after we climbed the Spire," Dudley countered. "Morning, Piers. Mum told me you got inducted into the guard a couple weeks back. How's that treating you?"

Harry looked closer at the guard. He remembered Piers Polkiss, a rat-faced boy who had followed Dudley around like a flunky for a few years before Dudley's interest in the outside world grew too intense for the inhabitants of Whinging Village. Now that he had a reference, he could definitely see the similarities.

"It was going good until today," answered Piers. "Didn't expect you or Potter to ever show your faces around here again."

"Neither did we, honestly, but we had a package we had to send out as soon as we could. Dad spotted us coming out and thought it'd be a good idea to threaten us with that broken bottle in his hand." Vernon threw the bottle to the side in what Harry could only guess he thought was an inconspicuous manner. "Harry jumped in to defend us, and then you showed up."

"He's lying!"

Piers sighed. "You're drunk, Vernon. Go home, or I'll have to take you in and send for Petunia. Your choice. The rest of you, clear out and go back to what you were doing."

The crowd dispersed with a grumble at the show ending so soon and anticlimactically. Vernon tried to argue with the dismissal, but faced with Piers's stern scowl he relented. "Come near my house, either of you, and I won't be responsible for what happens!" he shouted at them as he stormed off.

With the threat gone, no matter how small it had been, Harry sheathed his sword. Dudley passed him to try shaking Piers's hand, but the childhood acquaintance just stared at him as though he had some kind of disease. After a few awkward moments, Dudley lowered his hand. "How long has he… been like that?"

"Like that? Bit over a year. Your mum told me he started drinking more not long after you ran off." Dudley frowned at that comment, and Piers sighed. "Look. You two grew up here, but this isn't your home anymore. We have enough problems without your kind running around making things worse."

"Our kind?" Harry echoed in disgust.

"We don't consider it home, either," Dudley told Piers. "We're just here to take care of a few things, then we'll be on our way. Harry, did you find someone to fix your coat?"

He nodded. "She'll work on it tonight."

"Then we'll be headed out tomorrow as soon as he picks his coat up."

Piers considered that for a few seconds. "Fine. Be out of here by sundown tomorrow, and I'll forget all about that cut on your dad's neck. Just don't cause any more trouble between now and then."

"Don't worry, Piers. We don't want to be here any longer than we have to, either."

Harry pushed open the door and walked into the bar the following afternoon, his freshly repaired red coat swishing about him. He only had a brief glance of Dudley's smirking mug before arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him backwards into a full chest.

"You didn't think you were going to sneak away without saying hello to me, did you Harry?"

He sighed in fake resignation and pulled away just enough that he could turn around. The smile on the blonde woman's face was infectious, and he quickly returned the embrace. "It's good to see you again too, Rita. Dudley, you could have warned me she was there."

"Yeah, I could've, but where's the fun in that?"

He stepped out of the hug. Now that her affection had been returned, Rita all but skipped to the bar, her tail twitching in the happy dance all cats and Stellis took part in. "I'm glad you two stopped by. I honestly wasn't sure we'd ever get the chance to see you again."

"You're about the only one around here who's glad," Dudley told her. "We looked for you yesterday, but you weren't here. It was some other guy passing out the drinks. We were actually afraid you had been run out of town just like us."

"Kick me out? They wouldn't dare." Rita pulled down a trio of glasses and a bottle from the top shelf and proceeded to pour a finger of whiskey into each. "These people might hate me for being a Stellis and you for following your dreams, but those nosy housewives would sooner cut off their own hands then get rid of me. I'm the best source of gossip they could ever wish for, and they know it."

They walked up to the bar so Rita could pass a glass to Harry and Dudley, but when Hermione tried reaching for the last, the older cat-woman pulled it out of her reach. "Sorry, hun, but this is for my boys, not little hanger-ons."

"Excuse me?" Hermione demanded.

Harry looked over her brown hair to find Dudley looking back, and they both quickly turned away to keep from laughing. That probably would not be appreciated. Still, there was no reason they could not try to keep this from turning bloody. "It's nothing personal, Hermione," he told her. "Rita and we just go way back."

"Way back, huh?" She looked over the clearly un-Marked woman with offended disdain. "Do I even want to know what favors you did for them once upon a time?"

"She's pretty much the only person here who doesn't hate Adventurers." Dudley's quiet words stole most of the wind out of her sails. "As Harry and I grew up, we wanted more and more to leave this place. There's a whole world outside these walls, but nobody here, not even the other kids our own age, wanted to see it. Anyone we brought it up to just told us to stay here where it's 'safe' and 'normal'."

Rita cleared her throat. "And somebody would tell Vernon about those talks later. Dudley would get scolded, and Harry would get beaten."

Hermione whipped her head around to look at Harry, and he hastily shook his head. "It wasn't that bad."

"Where did Dudley take you when you were hurt bad enough you needed someone to patch you up? Oh, right, he brought you to me. I can guarantee you that it was that bad." Rita shook her head. "Anyway, it didn't take a genius to realize they were meant for bigger things than this place. I was the one who helped them prepare to climb the Spire and gain their Marks, and then I made sure they had supplies when they snuck away in the night. Vernon and Petunia were in a right state for the next few days. It's a good thing you left when you did because otherwise I think he might have actually tried to kill you, Harry."

"Didn't you hear, Rita?" Dudley swallowed the rest of his whiskey and set the glass back on the bar. "He threatened to do that just yesterday. It's one of several reasons we're headed out soon. We were just waiting for Harry's coat to be fixed and to see you."

"Aww, you do love me," Rita purred. "It'll probably be for the best, though. I don't know what kind of enemies you two have made, but there was somebody in the square today asking about you. The sooner you leave, the bigger a head start you'll have on him."

"Asking about us?" Harry asked.

"Mm-hmm. Blond boy, lots of bling and arrogance. He reminded me of a spellsinger, actually," she added softly, almost as though she were talking to herself.

The three Adventurers looked at one another in confusion. Spellsinger? Harry had known Rita since she moved into town perhaps a year after the Transition, but this was the first time he had ever heard that word before. From the others' expressions, they were as lost as he was. "I don't think you've ever told us about the spellsingers before, Rita."

A blush lit up her face. "I don't suppose you boys would be willing to forget I said that, would you?" When they shook their heads, she sighed and grabbed the empty glasses to clean. "It doesn't really matter here, I guess. Back on our world, where we lived before the Transition threw us and humans and all the other races together, there was a group of us who had special powers. Unlike the majority of Stellis, we had the gift of magic in our voices. With a verse, we could make the impossible possible."

"I've never heard of a 'spellsinger' before," Hermione challenged.

"Of course you wouldn't have, girl. We kept to ourselves. We had an entire society completely separate from the rest of you." Her shoulders slumped. "Not that it really matters now, I suppose. The Transition took away but the simplest of my powers, and after spending a year on this world looking for any of the others, I'm pretty sure they are just as powerless as I am."

"We're sorry we brought it up," Harry said, reaching over to cover her hand with his own. Rita was his and Dudley's oldest friend – other than each other, of course – and now that he knew he regretted pursuing it. He did not want to see her in pain at what she had lost.

Rita gave him a watery smile and pulled her hand away to start drying the glasses. "Anyway. I don't know if humans had any magic before you were pulled to this place, but regardless that's what he reminds me of for some reason. You want to be careful."

"That just makes me more curious about why he's asking about us," Dudley said. He rubbed his chin in thought, and then his face brightened. "Do you think you can get him to come here?"

"…Dudley, that is the opposite of what I meant when I told you to be careful."

"No, no, hear me out. If he's looking for us, that means he doesn't know we know he's looking. He won't expect us to be ready for him if he wants to try something nasty." Dudley looked over at Rita. "You still have that busboy working for you, right? Send him over to whoever's looking for us. Have him say you're willing to sell him the information or something. Send him up to our room upstairs, and we'll be waiting. If he's an enemy, we'll have the element of surprise, and if he's friendly, then we have a nice private chat about why he's following us. It's perfect!"

"Perfect isn't the word I'd use, but it's not terrible, I guess. I'm curious why he wants you so bad, too." She dries her hands off as she thinks, and then she nods. "Okay. I'll send Paul out to find him. You three head upstairs. Quickly!"

The trio of Adventurers hurried upstairs, and Dudley closed the door before raising his axe to his shoulder. Harry's blade was out, Hermione had an arrow nocked. Now it was a matter of patience.

Minutes ticked by one after another, and Harry began to wonder if this plan was about to work at all. Finally, after a solid ten minutes waiting, something happened. It was not the door being thrown open and a crazed killer rushing in, however.

It was a knock on the door.

They traded looks again. Knocking obviously did not guarantee that the man following them was friendly, but it was a point in favor of that interpretation. The knocking came again, and a voice asked, "Anyone inside?"

Harry gave Dudley a nodded and whispered, "Let him in."

His cousin turned the knob and opened the door. "Thank you," a cultured voice said as its owner walked through the door. Harry found himself staring in surprise. He recognized that floppy yellow hat and the blue cape draped around the man's shoulders. It was the man who had hired sixty Adventurers to explore the manor, the same manor where he and Dudley had met Hermione.

The man's eyes scanned the room until they found Harry, and he gave a nod and thumped his dandy cane against the floor. "We did not get a chance to talk after you finished the raid, you and I. I had hoped to speak with you the day after, but you had already left for parts unknown. I've had a devil of a time keeping up with you," the man said with a frown.

This guy had been following them since they left Scunth? Harry blinked in surprise. It had been a week since then. That was dedication if nothing else. "I'm sorry? Or, I would be if I weren't wondering just what you're doing following us in the first place."

"Before I tell you, I want to know that you are who you say you are. You said your name was Harry Potter, yes?" Harry nodded. "Son of James and Lily Potter?"

How…? "Why do you know their names? Why are you following us?"

The man pulled his hat off and slicked back his pale blond hair before offering his hand. "That day at the manor wasn't the first time I've heard of you. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I would appreciate your assistance on a… let's call it a profitable venture."

Ha ha! Who could have predicted this twist?! Actually several of you did, but I don't care because I'm looking forward to what happens from here on out. It's time to get to the meat of the story.

Silently Watches out.