A/N: Enjoy the chapter everyone.
Harry sighed as a light seeped into his consciousness, waking him from the deepest sleep he had experienced since his imprisonment. His flitted open and he was treated to an optical delicacy beyond what he had ever experienced.
Sunlight in huge quantities seeped over the horizon, like a great golden river flowing serenely towards him, coating the trees and valleys in light and beckoning him to exult in the day. He rose and stretched is a very feline manner, sighing at the beautiful sight which lay before him.
The he blinked.
Then he looked at the sunlight and the trees and mountains and sunlight.
Then he blinked again.
He could see them. See them. His vision was back. He gave a small whoop and recoiled, not having made such a loud noise since his first week in Azkaban, when he screamed perpetually. In a quieter fashion he celebrated his returned vision, standing for nearly half in hour just drinking in that golden river of light. In a way, it helped heal him. Not all of the bodily needs of a human are, after all, tangible things and the deprivation of this natural beauty for such an extended period had harmed Harry's spirit.
After several more minutes Harry rose and began to plan his day. He would first attend to getting food, then figure out where he was. He rose and headed off down the game trail he found yesterday, taking in the sounds of the forest. Birds chirped, foxes scurried, and the breeze swayed the branches way above him.
After nearly half an hour of walking, he reached the spot where his tree had been, and frowned. The indentation of where the tree had fallen was there, but no other visible sign of its existence revealed itself to him. He walked around the spot, feeling where the massive tree had pressed down into the leaves, crushing them. He found a solitary mushroom on the ground, and picked it up. He turned it over in his fingers and, finding nothing wrong with it, ate it quickly due to his hunger. He looked around for more, but was unsuccessful in his search.
As he straightened up, he felt no pain, but saw colors flash in front of his eyes and slumped to the ground, unconscious.
.--..--..--..--..--.
When Harry woke, he found that he reached full consciousness before opening his eyes, and decided to wait. A rustling next to him alerted him of a presence and it spoke:
"You aren't fooling anyone lad, just get up." Harry opened his eyes, curious now. He thought he hadn't moved, but this man had seen straight through his deception. He glanced up and saw his companion.
It was an old man, a very old man. His back was hunched and his white beard nearly caught in the sandals he wore, but his dark eyes shone with a ferocity which prevented Harry from initially seeing what distinguished this old man from other old men. He was not a man.
Certainly he had the qualities of an old man: his hair was snowy and wild, his skin withered and wrinkled, but there was a vigor about him, an aura of energy which seemed to hint at an age far younger. Harry felt as if the man were wearing a costume, a flimsy covering which did little to conceal his sheer vivacity.
The man was still watching him intently, so Harry found it most prudent to follow his instructions. He rose to his feet and faced whatever creature had found him here. The thing was surprisingly short, only about five feet, three inches, but that did little to diminish the presence he exuded. He spoke:
"Now lad, tell me your name, and no lies now."
Harry had the sneaking suspicion that this being would be able to detect any lie he pit forth, and eventually settled on the truth. "Harry Potter, sir."
"Well, Harry Potter, it seems I've got the right man then. Haven't I?"
"I suppose so, sir."
"Now Harry Potter, what if I told you that you weren't a wizard, and that that fact would ultimately save your life? Not now, you see, but in a few years, when things pan out. Would you think me some sort of muggle supremacist? Or perhaps a wizard bent on destroying my own people? Neither answer would truly fill the void occupied by your query, for neither is true. Think back for me, when Hagrid confronted you those years ago on a shack in the middle of a roiling sea. Think back for me, and tell me what you felt when he told you that you were a wizard."
Harry, despite the odd nature of this being, saw no harm in answering truthfully: "I felt disbelief. I could not believe without proof that magic existed. Skeptical I guess."
"Good, you have some restraint then. I challenge you to use that same restraint in believing what I'm about to tell you."
He drew himself up in a more regal manner "I, Maeryn, High Shadowmage of the southern sorcerers, am proud to greet Harry Potter, budding Mindmage of the southern sorcerers."
He concluded with not a little pomp, as if this proclamation were supposed to be of great importance to Harry.
"Errm. I'm sorry, I'm not quite certain what you mean…"
"What I mean boy? I mean that forget your lack of wizarding status, you aren't even human."