"Catching Lightning in a Firewhisky Bottle

Chapter 2: Glass's

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Catch lightning in a bottle - to do the impossible
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From the moment the drunkard had regained consciousness in the snow, something had been nagging him. It shouldn't have been snowing. Right? Had he tried to obliviate his own memories again?

The wizard had shrugged mentally and rolled with it. Luckily, he was pretty sure that the light glamour was still in place. Normally when it fell away people would recognize him, fawn over him and be ridiculously worried. It didn't do that much, but changing his facial structure slightly made a big difference.

This time, he had been brought to some inn, which had looked very much like an inn that he knew – but he had pushed that thought away with another swig of his liquor.

The glamour had been inspired by the time that his friend had used that hex on him to change his face when they had been captured…

He almost automatically took yet another long swig of his own mixture of Firewhisky. A few different potions were added to it, seeing as after years of trying to forget, alcohol alone didn't work very well. Some potions supported his glamour, while others helped to make his thoughts hazy. As long as he remained calm, it would be effective.

It was very useful to keep his friendly drunkard role. The people on the streets were surprisingly accepting of him and he had liked that. He paid his bills and wasn't violent so they often appreciated the comical presence that he provided.

He wasn't ready for all the fame that he would have received. He had seen their initial reaction and fled. Yet another Dark Lord killed! Vanquisher-of-the-Dark-Lords!

He didn't want people to fawn over him and befriend him, because they wouldn't be his real friends. They wouldn't be able to replace his family. The family he hadn't been able to protect in the end. The marks on his body would always remind him of that. He just wanted to be left alone. He was alone after all. He mentally shrugged off these absent thoughts.

He would gladly be this 'Whisky' the rest of his life.

Now, ever since he was brought back to the inn by the nice owner, something had been nagging him. Things were too familiar. Especially the barmaid seemed very familiar.

Now only if he had his glasses….

Two days, the stranger had been staying at his inn already. Every morning, the man would stumbled down and put a coin on the bar to pay – way too much - for the night before stumbling back upstairs. Otherwise, Dan didn't see much of him as 'Drunk' was surprisingly quiet and isolated. The cook – being the mother hen that she was – had been oddly concerned. So she had brought him some food upstairs.

This had in turn made Dan worried as she had come back down with wide eyes.

"Did something happen, Julia?" Dan asked, quickly checking up on her. She didn't seem hurt, but her shocked expression made him guide her back to the empty kitchens.

"What's wrong Jul?" He asked softly, gently shaking the shoulders of the employer that he knew more than twenty years.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she held out her trembling hand, in which she held a small pouch. Suddenly tears spilled from her eyes and started sobbing.

Now very worried, Dan carefully took the pouch from her hands and settled her in a nearby chair. His eyes widened when he recognized the feeling, the weight and the sound it made as he shifted it in his hand.

"Money?" He asked, incredibly surprised. His surprise doubled when he looked inside.

Galleons! Even he didn't have that much!

Taking a deep breath, he quickly gave it back. He wouldn't dare take it from her. He knew her too well and she needed it. He momentarily wondered whether she had stolen it – was she so desperate now? – before he quickly pushed that thought away. She wouldn't. She was too honest. Plus, she was a bit of a coward and their new quest had been very intimidating.

"Julia, tell me what happened."

The bubbly cook took a deep breath and started talking, telling him that Whisky – short for Firewhisky, as they had unofficially been calling him, which was less offending than 'Drunk' – hadn't answered the door, so she had taken the dare to open it and peek inside.

"He was sleeping, but very badly. He was trashing and moaning and… I couldn't help go to him to wake him up. I was so stupid. I didn't think it through. You had told me that he had been tortured. The moment that I touched him-" Dan winched and studied her again, but except for looking a bit ruffled, she seemed ok.

"He –" She swallowed and shook her head to clear her thoughts. "It happened so quickly. One moment I stood and the next I was on the bed and he was on top of me, hands on my head staring down at me with terrified yet terrifying eyes."

Dan nearly stormed up the stairs, but she grasped his arm as she continued to ramble.

"His breathing was so fast and he stared into my eyes so deeply that I couldn't breathe. Then out of nowhere he started blinking and breathing even heavier, like he was having a panic attack. I couldn't help but apologize furiously. It was as if only then he realized what he was doing and jumped away from me. He nearly didn't dare to look at me again, making me feel so bad. He just kept staring at the food that had fallen to the ground – he stepped in it you see. I couldn't help but tell him it was alright, which it was! It was my own stupid mistake. So he stares at me again and walks towards me and…" She stopped rambling and paused for a moment to catch her breath.

Dan was glad as he had nearly lost track of what she had told him.

"He held it out so timidly and awkwardly that I couldn't help but accept it. He wouldn't have it back and fled towards the bathroom before I could."

"That's… nice of him." Dan managed to say, looking at the money. What an odd gesture, but Julia deserved it. Dan already knew how she would use it.

"That's not weird thing though…" The cook said hesitantly as she fumbled with the pouch. "It was as if he knew…"

"What do you mean?" Dan asked.

"You already that Sharon is very ill…" She started. "I didn't tell you that I was losing hope seeing as without that potion..." Julia looked up, tears streaming down her face. She barely managed to continue as she clenched her hand around the pouch of gold in her hand.

"He- he said that that should be enough for the potion medicine."

"How did you get here?"

Rosmerta started as the man's green startled eyes zeroed in on her. It was only a second that he seemed completely sober and strangely sharp before his eyes glazed over again. The stranger stood on his toes on top of four piled barrels, unfazed - no matter how much they dangerously swayed. How the hell did he manage to stay on top of there? The strangers hand grasped the chain of the lamp suspended from the ceiling in an attempt to find support. His other arm was hidden the upper shelf as his hand fumbled around blindly to find the firewhisky he was surely looking for.

"Need a drink." He mumbled, his speech still slightly slurred, but he sounded dangerously sober.

"Why?" Rosmerta asked lamely, still staring at the barrels and winching as the chain of the lamp let out a creak in pro

His form stilled. "Just 'cause." He growled eventually and pulled out a bottle and inspected it, oddly close to his face.

"That's not a good reason."

He paused and peered at her, watching as she raised an eyebrow, which earned her a suffering sigh.

"I can't handle these kinds of surprishes well." He muttered, more to himself than to answer her. "Fucking Fate." He slurred.

"What kind of surprises?" Rosmerta probed.

"None of ya bloody business." He rumbled warningly.

The barmaid couldn't argue with that. So she shrugged and silently watched him repeat the process a few times – he kept bringing them up to his face really close - before curiosity got the better of her again.

"Is your sight so bad?" She blurted out before she could help it.

Luckily the less-drunken man didn't seem to mind and grunted.

"Lost meh glass's."

"I know a place where you can get new ones?" She offered not-so-discreetly. "They also have some spells to correct your eyesight."

She didn't get a reply. Instead the man grunted as he pulled himself up slightly to get to a bottle that was just out of his reach. Rosmerta fidgeted as the barrels nearly fell over. Somehow, the man leaned back just in time to steady them again, new bottle in hand.

He held it up to his face again.

"It's firewhisky." Rosmerta confirmed.

He turned to her once more. Yes, she was still there and it didn't seem like she would leave him alone anytime soon. So the man sighed tiredly.

"Glass's huh?" He pondered before he gestured at the bottle. "Can I take this with me?"

A friend of Julia's was a friend of theirs.

"Sure." She agreed easily before once again glancing nervously at the pile of barrels. "Now how are you going to get down?"

The man looked down questioningly before nodding.

"Good question."

Rosmerta blinked when, just ten seconds later, the man walked out of the room – swaying and sipping on his new drink. What the hell… She stared back towards the barrels that were all back in their original place, trying to remember the acrobatic yet very-drunken looking maneuver the man had just done.

Whisky seemed to be full of surprises.

"Ya commin girl?"

"Now hold still for a moment." A dull voice muttered.

The drunk forced himself to freeze as the specialist in front of him waved his arms about. He felt his eyes tingle and immediately analyzed what the magic was doing. Interesting… It created an extra layer just outside his eye. Something like contact lenses it seemed.

"Please open them now and read the letters on the board."

Peeking one eye open, Harry had to admit that this felt a lot better than he had feared. He glanced at the board and then back down the bottle he was holding unto. He peered at it and nodded. He swayed as he pushed himself back to his feet.

"Thanks doc." He garbled as he fumbled for a coin in his pocket.

"But-" The specialist stuttered, surprised that his costumer was leaving already. The coin that the drunkard put in his hand shut him up. He turned towards the girl that had accompanied his newest costumer with questioning eyes.

Rosmerta just shrugged. "I guess he thinks that it is fine." She told him, trying to suppress her laughter as she saw the befuddled look on his face. She quickly followed her guest out of the shop, back towards the inn.

"Do you approve?" Rosmerta asked from behind.

He slowly turned around and froze.

"What?" She asked worriedly as she saw the alarmed and puzzled look on his face.

Then it disappeared just as quickly and the man shook his face. He tipped his head back as he gulped down his liquor. Rosmerta frowned and pushed the bottle down.

"What's wrong?"

"Nuthing."

For some reason, Rosmerta didn't believe him. She told him so.

"Ish Nuthing, I tell ya!"

Her eyes narrowed, but she dropped the subject nonetheless.

"Want a drink?" She offered.

"What's tha date?"

The bald man next to him startled as someone poked him. "What?"

"What's the damn date?" Whisky – as the guests now also knew him as – repeated with a suffering sigh. He took a large gulp from the strong stuff Rosmerta had let him try. It was good, but he preferred his own mix better.

The guest wrinkled his nose as a wave of liquor washed over him.

"October 29st…" He replied, pondering whether he should find a new spot. He didn't get the chance though. He yelped in surprise as his newspaper was suddenly ripped out of his hands.

"1981?!" Whisky slurred. "Ya f'cking kidding me?"

The man remained oddly silently as his eyes flashed. His eyes ran over the rest of the paper. He sprung up from his chair and stumbled to another costumer. A few bystanders present held their breath as he rudely leaned over his shoulder to check the date as well, knowing that that particular man was particular vicious towards those that wronged him.

"Get off!"

Whisky was roughly pushed back and hit the bar with a loud thud. He stayed there silently for a moment before stumbling back to his seating spot. The bald man he had robbed from his narrowed his eyes at him, as he leaned back against the counter.

"Ya alright?" The Rosmerta asked cautiously, trying to look into the man's eyes but failing as it was covered by the man's dark wild hair.

His whole frame was shaking.

"Can I have that back?" Baldy demanded after a few minutes. It was only the rumors around this place that had prevented him from stealing it back again. No-one wanted to be on Julia's bad side.

Whisky took a deep breath.

"Or do you want to know the time as well?" Baldy added sarcastically and spluttered as the paper was shoved back in his face.

"I know what time it is." The previously very drunk guest answered, surprising the other costumer.

"What?" Rosmerta blurted surprised as she watched the man turn around and stumble towards the exit of the inn.

Green eyes flashed.

"Time tah fucking sober up."

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