Home For the Holidays: A Magic, as Opposed to Magic Omake
Obviously this story, dear reader, is a little silly thing, since 'twould be nonsensical to drag four firsties away from their parents into another universe...
For those not up to speed with the modern slang:
"Omake" apparently is a corruption of the Japanese term for 'extra'. So here's a wee seasonal extra: Imagine that Ra'jirra somehow not only got to take Harry home for the Tamrielic version of Christmas, but all his friends as well...
Right, let's get on with it:
Eighty percent of the child population stared around the tower chamber in confusion and surprise. The other twenty percent was Harry Potter, who'd been here before.
Hermione's eyes were drawn to the bookshelves almost immediately. Ron's gravitated to one of the more muscular paintings, then started looking for something to eat. Draco studied a pair of sinister-looking black crystals flanking a set of black robes bearing the symbol of a skull and skeletal arms the colour of dried blood.
"Mannimarco's," Harry said behind the blonde, "Nearly died dealing to the bugger."
Salissa squirmed out of Harry's jumper and went straight for a small bowl of fruit on the council table, just missing Ron's outstretched hand. Oh look! She hissed in delight, new fruits!
"What are those anyway?" Neville's botanical instincts were curbed by a hungry Arabian winged serpent. They're mine, she hissed a little petulantly, and delicious!
It is quite possible that she moaned in ecstacy as she made that last declaration.
"Never seen them before," Harry frowned at the oddly silvery-brown fruit. "Dad might know."
"Where is he though?" Hermione asked, looking up from a shelf of particularly tired works as if expecting the Arch-Mage to throw off a disillusionment charm.
"Upstairs probably," Harry shrugged, "changing into his work clothes."
As if to prove him right one of the oddly glowing pads on the floor disgorged a pillar of light that condensed into the Khajiit in question.
Eighty percent of the chamber's children stared at the Arch-Mage in surprise, very much like they had when Harry had led them into the Shrieking Shack in the first place and shown them their first mer.
It had to be said that, even with sixty-odd years silvering his muzzle, Ra'jirra in his work clothes was still impressive. The metallic boots he wore had three oddly pointed toes, the helmet sported two horns that almost met in a perfect circle. Beneath it, a cuirass, mostly of the same style, looking almost like reptile scales. His greaves and gauntlets, however, were plain brown leather. Hanging off a shoulder was a small pack, while an unstrung bow and several arrows were peering out of a quiver he was holding in his right hand. The other rested on the hilt of some sort of brass-coloured club with a spherical head, hanging from a sling on his left hip.
Naturally the children from Earth were not expecting the Arch-Mage of the Imperial Mage's Guild to look anything like that.
"Right then, you must be Hermione," his feline gaze fell on the only girl in the group, "you'd be Malfoy – Longbottom – Weasley. Now, we need to go through the Imperial City to get to the stables. It's quicker to go on horseback, but it'll still take most of the day to get to Faregyl. Stay close to me and watch your gear – there's pickpockets. Also I can tell you a bit about our fair city so you'll want to stay close, right?"
Hermione's eyes lit up at the thought of learning something new, while the boys looked a little overawed. Harry just looked like he wanted to go home soonest.
"It's Evening Star, obviously," Ra'jirra went on, "but from what I know you'll find here a bit more temperate. Unless you'd rather pop north to Bruma..."
No thank you! Salissa hissed in outrage from around a second queer fruit.
"She said no," Harry translated for his father as he picked up the little snake from the table.
"Well tell her to lay off the alocasia fruit," Ra'jirra grunted, then looked askance at the trunks the children had brought along. "I'll scare up some porters."
Draco frowned thoughtfully, then pulled out his wand. "Diminutuus," he intoned, jinking his wand forward, across, down, then pulling it back; his own trunk immediately shrank to the size of a packet of playing cards.
"Draco! We're not supposed to use magic outside of school!" Hermione burst out automatically.
"You're in a school," Ra'jirra grinned at her, "and besides, I suspect that whatever your Ministry uses to detect magic wouldn't work here. Impressive little spell too."
Three rounds of diminutuus later, and only Neville's trunk remained. The boy's patience ran out, and he threw away his wand and jabbed his finger at it. "Diminutuus!" he yelled in frustration.
Everyone was a surprised when Neville's chest shrank. "Wandless magic," he whispered, staring at his hand as though expecting it to take on a life of its own, "I just did wandless magic!"
"Sounds like Saturalia came early for you," Ra'jirra shrugged, "we call it business as usual. Pick up your stick and we'll be going. You don't keep my wife's dinner waiting."
A bit later in the Imperial City Arboretum:
"Don't," Ra'jirra warned Neville.
The old Kahjiit's patience was getting a little frayed, not because of Neville's understandable desire to collect cuttings of every plant and fungus in sight – territorial gardeners notwithstanding – but because of Hermione. She, as Harry had observed in his letters home, wanted to know everything and wanted to know it yesterday.
"Miss Granger," he interrupted her with (officially) only the slightest peevishness, "can we do a swap?"
The sudden silence came as a blessed relief to his old ears, even sheltered as they were under Ayleid metal. Hermione just stared at him with total incomprehension.
"It works like this," he explained, "I've got a few niggles about your world I'd like to sort out too. So here's what: You ask me a question, I answer it, then I ask you a question and you answer it. One at a time. Deal?"
Harry and Ron were trying not to laugh. Neville just looked sympathetic, while Draco just smirked. One of the mudblood's more annoying traits was that she was obsessed with knowing everything, and to hell with the consequences – or the sensibilities of those she interrogated.
"Oh, all right," she huffed with appropriately childish irritation.
"Righto, now, age before beauty so here's mine..."
Hermione found herself a bit flustered trying to explain the status of the monarchy in Britain, and Ra'jirra's occasional interjection of "Didn't quite get that bit" wasn't helping.
Behind them Neville and Harry were speaking quietly.
"I still can't believe I did wandless magic though," Neville marvelled, "Uncle Algy would probably die of shock if he saw it."
"Huh?" Harry was skeptical. "You've done it before."
"Yes, but that was... well, your sort of spells. Fireballs and things. Not... our sort!"
"Well don't get too excited," Harry shrugged, "one thing I've learned is that wands have their uses. Especially with the more complicated spells. I've never seen magic that can really turn someone's hair red on one side and gold on the other."
Up ahead of them Draco's ears burned suddenly.
Their little procession had entered the Arboretum through a massive gate in the outer wall of the Imperial City, then turned left onto the great Rotunda of the Nine, before turning left again onto a path that curved gently right toward another wall and its gate. Ra'jirra stopped and waited until he had all five children's attention.
"We're entering the Temple District," he said sternly, "where Emperor Martin made his great sacrifice and Mehrunes Dagon was driven back into Oblivion. So you'll be respectful. You'll stay close to me. And you'll keep your purses where thieves can't swipe them. And finally," his face looked like he'd bitten into a rotten lemon, "don't feed the crazies or mess with any offerings you find. Got all that?"
Five young heads all nodded.
"Good. We'll be going down the main avenue here, around the Temple of the One, then out the far side into Talos Plaza. It's pretty crowded at the best of times, so remember: stay close."
The six closed on the gate, which was half open. Two city guards approached the gate as well. "We're your relief," one said to the closer guardsman, who made it clear that standing for hours in full armour in a heaving crowd was not his idea of fun.
"Anything happen?" the new watch asked.
"Nah, just the usual crazies crying the end's nigh, or that Tiber Septim's coming back, and scuttlebutt reckons some jerk was trying to flog holy relics of the Emperor's robe again..."
The rest of the conversation was lost as Ra'jirra led them up the steps and through the gate. The only reason they continued through was the press of people.
Before them, great sturdy stone buildings rose two and even three stories into the air above the increasingly dense crowd. Streets darted off either side, hugging the wall, but the main thoroughfare was a mass of people and the odd cart. The pavements were mostly obscured by foot traffic and hawkers crying various gimcracks and foodstuffs, bards doing things to ballads, and more guardsmen attempting to keep the peace.
The main road itself continued to bend rightward, towards a singular domed building with an immense statue of a dragon seemingly thrust through the roof. Its base was obscured by the crowd.
"Stay close," Ra'jirra warned again, and joined the crowd.
The walk was not pleasant. Since the hawkers, ranters, and buskers all hugged the walls, everyone wanted to walk on the edge of the road away from them. For some reason, nobody seemed to want to walk on the road proper, which was cobblestone surrounding carved slabs.
"Are those plaques?" Hermione asked, "they remind me of –"
"They are," Ra'jirra interrupted, "Memorials to the fallen." His face became bleak. "A lot of good men, women and children lost their lives when Dagon came to play."
"They opened gates right inside the city," Harry jumped in, "about the time that Emperor Martin was going to be crowned. So Zul gro-Radish –"
"Radagash," his father corrected.
"Yeah – he escorted the Emperor all the way from the tower to the Temple of the One, killing hundreds of daedra along the way, and then there was a huge flash of flame and Dagon himself appeared, a hundred feet high! So Zul takes up this big claymore from a fallen dremora, and stabs it in his foot, and old Dagon yells like buggery and..."
Ra'jirra just chuckled and rolled his eyes as Harry excitedly told – at speed – a compilation of tales about the end of the Oblivion crisis, spiced with his own additions. Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes as Harry lovingly described at least four times as many axe-strokes as what must have really happened.
"Nice story," a voice rumbled with amusement, "wish it'd been like that."
Harry stopped dead, his mouth hanging open. Behind him, a heavyset Orisimer in a subdued black and gold outfit grinned good-naturedly. Beside him, a similar creature, but noticably feminine even with her hair done in a set of tight knots, just punched her husband lightly on the shoulder.
"Don't torment the boy, Zul," she informed him, then went for his father. "Hail hail Trumpet–"
"A joyous Saturalia to you both Lord and Lady Bravil!" Ra'jirra cried out, then before she could continue, "children, this fellow is Zul gro-Radagash himself, Count of Bravil, Champion of Cyrodiil, Hero of Kvatch and a swag of other titles. And his wife, Mazoga, Countess of Bravil, Knight of the White Stallion, and general nightmare to anyone thick enough to try banditry between Pell's Gate and Leyawiin. Milord and Lady, my son, Associate and budding bard –"
Harry turned beet red.
"Harry Potter, and his friends: Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom. They're spending Saturalia with us at Faregyl."
Both Draco and Neville bowed formally to the Count and Countess; Harry followed suit while still glowing red. Ron looked a little baffled at first then bowed rather sloppily, while Hermione also stared like a deer caught in headlights before attempting a clumsy curtsey.
"No need for that," Zul chuckled, "all goin' the same way. We're off home today. Hit the stables, get our gear, off we go. Join us."