Dreaming

"We'll go talk with the headmaster tomorrow about your situation here. But more importantly, I think it is high time we went shopping."

Louise found herself in a softly lit room. She felt herself currently reclining in a plush leather chair next to a wooden desk. There was a strong scent of books and paper, from the rows of shelves that lined every wall, all filled to the brim with old tomes, documents and devices she found both familiar and some she couldn't hope to the function of. With the soft glow, the finely carpeted floor and the air of knowledge saturating the entire locale, it was the embodiment of a homely study room she was familiar with from her own home, but a few things were nagging at her.

No matter how she tried, she could not decipher the book titles, yet it did not faze her the slightest. She had a suspicion in the back of her head that she was supposed to be elsewhere, however the man kneeling in the middle of the room quickly drew her attention and she lost any grip on the thought as her priorities rearranged themselves. The man was clad in long black robes and had long platinum blond hair that reached below his shoulders. He had a name, that was certain that she knew but at the same time she couldn't actively recall it. She recognized him only as a valuable pawn and she had been waiting for this man patiently, but she could not recall why precisely.

"Lucius Malfoy," she drawled slowly, the name springing from the bowels of her mind to her lips in a coarse voice that was not her own.

The man lifted his head as he was addressed, but he never left his place from the floor and he didn't speak. Louise found his behavior fitting, impeccable even, as she hadn't asked him to speak. Regardless, she held not an ounce of respect for the man in front of her, and she was idly hoping he would finally screw up one of these days as she found him despicable. A parasite that had infested and feed upon the very system it relied upon for protection against the wild chaotic nature it so abhorred. It fought order with law in a contradiction of values. With the faux power of the established system collapsing under its own weight from added burden of his own machinations, this leech of a man had then once upon a time turned to him in hope of a new venue to continue its depravable way of life, but it had sorely underestimated her.

Now he was caught in her web, never to get out, and she would use him up till nothing remained of the proud man. It wasn't something she'd make a habit of; there were a lot of trash like him among her cohorts, but this one was special. He'd had the arrogance to think himself above the Dark Lord and also failed her on a very personal matter. This vermin before her didn't know it, but his fate had been sealed three years ago, when he'd cost her her diary. The only reason he was still alive was that he was still so very useful and usefulness was always in short supply around these parts.

"What news do you bring from the ministry?" Louise did not pay any attention to the fact that she was not even speaking her own language.

"My lord, Albus Dumbledore has resigned as headmaster, because of a matter regarding Harry Potter. He has seemingly completely disappeared." The man seemed visibly nervous now as anger filled her. Nothing more than a pursing of her lips, which might show slight displeasure, but this man knew well how to read her temperament. And she was displeased. This was wholly unpredictable and not a boon for her cause. She had to find him.

"What do you mean, he has disappeared?" she growled at him for his vagueness. "Disappeared where?"

"I do not know all the details, but apparently he just disappeared from his home. No sign of a struggle and he'd left most of his belongings. If he left, he did so with only the clothes on his back and his wand."

"Thank you, Lucius. Leave me." Lucius was quick to bow his head in an apparent apology for not being more informative as he slithered out, but she paid him no attention any more as her inner gears began considering this new information.

It couldn't be a coincidence. It had to be a ploy from the old coot, Dumbledore. Unless Harry had managed to flee Britain while eluding both Dumbledore and the ministry, then it was likely that Dumbledore had orchestrated this. Why? To expose her? The wizarding world still didn't believe that she was back from the dead. Perhaps Dumbledore and Harry had somehow learned of her secret and now went underground to hunt for them? It was a worrying thought.

Perhaps they had found one already. She would have to check up on them to ensure their safety. A stray thought stopped her.

What was her secret? She was honestly curious now.

What?

Her thought process came to a stuttering halt at the strange inward question. She obviously knew her own secret. Then her confusion turned to a mix of horror and unbridled fury at the realization of what was happening and in the span of three seconds she found something, deep in her mind, a presence that did not belong.

Louise idly noted that the presence was herself, before she was violently ripped from the mind of whomever she had been sharing it with. She would have screamed at the sensation, but she had neither mouth or tongue anymore.

When she regained her bearings, the room was gone. She stood in an endless blue void with silvery smoke. She felt angry, confused and scared at the same time, but she only recognized half of those feelings as her own. Her mind felt fractured as she physically felt her ego slowly reasserting itself. In front of her stood the being of the mind whom she'd unwillingly intruded upon. He was a pale man with almost serpentine features and cold eyes that bore into her own.

She became afraid and she feared this man right now more than anything she'd ever feared.

He spoke loud and commanding, in that same language as he'd always spoken, but she could no longer understand it.

"Qui êtes-vous?" She stammered in fright, as she back pedaled away from the deformed man before her.

The man stopped in surprise at the question for a moment before he graced her with a smile.

"Lord Voldemort," he answered her curtly before he continued in her own language. "Maintenant, va-t'en!"

With but a dismissive hand gesture, she blew away as if made of smoke.

Then she woke up in her bed. In an almost deceptively calm manner, her groggy mind slowly and insistently asserted that she was in very real danger. Her thought processes sped up. She began glancing wildly around in the darkness, still half-thinking that she was still in her weird dream.

Then reality and logic slowly kicked in, despite the lingering effects of the dream, and she calmed herself as she decided it must have been just a strange dream, despite how vivid it was. She could still recall most of the details.

She'd not just been in the head of another person. She had for the short duration been that person and that was what was so scary. She instinctively knew that such a person would kill her without a second thought. Perhaps he even did kill her in her dream, which then woke her up.

She couldn't see how it couldn't have been a dream. Nothing else made sense. How or why would she even be able to possess someone without knowing it. And why the connection to Harry Potter again? She'd likely never know, and she didn't want anyone to know she'd started having dreams fixated on her familiar.

Taking a peek to check if he was awake didn't tell her much. He lay still in his plushy bed of hay. In the darkness of the room it was hard to make out any details. He could be either awake or asleep for all she knew. She wasn't about to wake him up over having a strange dream.

To honor their new deal, she'd have to get another bed in here or something. Though unless the school could provide one, then it would be a lot of trouble and it was already a bit cramped in space.

She reckoned that the dream might have been caused by stress from all the changes around her. If so, it would pass soon enough. Having calmed down, she easily slept till morning.

"So how are we doing this?" Harry asked.

It was early morning on his third day here and they were soon to report to the dinner hall for breakfast. That is, Louise was.

"I do want some proper food this morning," he reminded her.

"Yeah yeah, I know," Louise said unconcerned. "I've planned for this. While I eat in the hall, you can go down to the kitchen. I've written a note for you so they'll make you something to eat. But eat quickly; we'll be going talking to the headmaster directly after, so we won't have to wait till after classes, which is when we'll travel into town."

"Thanks, but can't I just eat in the hall with you?" Harry answered.

"The tables in the hall are reserved for nobles, so it'll make a big fuss if you eat in there," she replied.

Harry understood. Basically, it was the same as eating at a table not reserved for you back at Hogwarts. There weren't really any rules against it, but a gryffindor would not seat himself at the slytherin table and not expect trouble or worse yet, if a student sat at the teachers' table. Either way, it would cause trouble.

"If you're unsure of where to go, just grab the first servant you find and make them show you the way," she said. "Actually, if there's anything you need done or has questions about, just ask them."

He was reminded of the little house elves, who loved their lives as slaves to wizard families. Would nobles treat their servants any different here? Would attempts to help them make him look like Hermione when she went on and on about her SPEW idea?

"It's their job," Louise remarked dryly. "They can't help you if you don't ask."

"What? I didn't say anything," Harry said, surprised. Louise just gave him a critical look.

"You didn't. It was written all over your face."

"Let's just go already." Harry rolled his eyes. He'd keep his thoughts to himself for now.

The Tristain Academy of Magic was an odd school, in Harry's opinion. There was five outer towers connected by walls. If you looked from the sky, you would see the towers forming a pentagram, which represented magic. Each of the towers each represented a facet of magic, an element. These were Wind, Water, Earth, Fire and Void. Each tower taught classes in their respective element, but as there apparently were no void mages on the school, the void tower was instead used to house the student body.

In the middle of the enormous pentagram was an even bigger tower, which were connected to all the towers, but void, by arch bridges made of stone just like the rest of the academy. This tower housed the teachers and their equivalent of a great hall, where the students usually dined. Next to it, placed on the side almost as an afterthought, were the servant quarters. To get to the dining hall, they would have to exit the void tower at its base and cross the court to the central tower.

They were only half their way out of the void tower before Harry spotted a familiar sight. The maid Siesta was just a bit further down the corridor. He was supposed to talk with her but he had totally forgotten about her. He figured he might as well do it now.

"I guess, I'll see you after breakfast," Harry said over his shoulder as he broke off and went to the maid in question.

Louise said nothing, but gave him a questioning look as she noticed the maid before she went on. No doubt his choice of servant had been noted.

"Hey, Siesta, wasn't it?" Harry called out.

The maid in question turned around, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Ah, good morning, Master Potter," she said.

"Just Harry is fine. You wanted to ask me something?"

"Yes, Harry, but not me actually. I was asked to bring you to the kitchen at your earliest convenience. The head chef would like to talk with you."

"Oh, that's good. I was just on my way trying to find the kitchen. So what does he want to talk with me about?" Harry asked. He was intrigued as she lead him down the route towards the kitchen.

"Erm, you'll hear when you get there. You're quite the talk among the serfs. A commoner like us, summoned by a noble. As he holds seniority, Mr. Marteau, the head chef, looks after us young servants. So I guess he has something important to talk with you about," she explained.

Before long they reached the kitchen by a side door in the main tower.

It was a large kitchen with plenty of room, although it was offset a bit by the large number of apron wearing staff currently on station, which made it a bit crammed. Breakfast had just been prepared and served, so there was a small break before clean up and preparation of lunch could begin. The atmosphere was relaxed with much animated chatter between the workers. Much was undoubtedly gossip being passed around. This small talk morphed to quiet whispers as Harry entered with Siesta following up.

Farther into the room at a large iron stove, stood an towering man with a complex expression, as he sized Harry up. Harry met his stare with narrowed eyes before the man seemingly remembered why Harry was here and beckoned Harry over. Paying no heed to all the eyes on his, Harry ventured through the mass of workers.

"Introductions are in order, I believe, as we haven't met yet. I am Marteau, the head chef," The chef with a physique like a woodsman spoke out.

"Harry James Potter, sir," Harry said, as they shook hands.

"Yes, I have quite some interesting things about you, Mr. Potter." The chef inclined his head in an obvious gesture. That he seemed to know something was obvious, but the exact meaning was lost on Harry.

"I'll cut to the chase, as I'm sure you have other things to be doing," he continued. "You are a noble and yet you lie about it, claiming to be a simple peasant."

Beside him, Siesta gasped in surprise and he heard a handful of other mutterings of shock, although most in the room didn't react, but kept looking on curiously.

"I've already been over that once already," Harry sighed dramatically. "It was just a rumor started by some random girl."

"Was that all you-," Harry began, but was interrupted.

"You really think that girl and those other nobles were the only ones to see how you handled that upstart blonde?" Marteau said with a smirk. "If you want the truth from a noble home, ask the household. They see and hear more than one would suspect."

Harry hadn't seen that coming.

"So, it's true?" The chef asked, less for putting any doubts to rest than for hearing Harry admit to it.

"Not really," Harry said nonchalantly. "I can use magic, but I'm not a noble."

Marteau narrowed his eyes. "So you lost your nobility? Are you a disgraced noble?"

If found guilty of a heinous crime or otherwise getting out on the deep end as a noble, one of the myriad of punishments were to disgrace them and take away their nobility. Such individuals could be dangerous individuals. Of course, Harry didn't know that, but he could recognize the obvious accusation.

He growled back in annoyance. "No, I'm a half-blood. My father was a pureblood and my mother came from a normal family."

"Ahh, so an illegitimate child," Marteau's features softened slightly. Harry almost groaned in exasperation.

"I am not a bastard child or the product of some guy's affair!" Harry said. "What do you even want from me?"

"Nothing, all I want to know is why you lied. The nobleborn whom are taught here and the teaching staff are well above my reach, but you are another case. I cannot trust a dishonest man with the welfare of my colleagues, but I am not so cold as to not give you a chance to explain yourself."

Harry didn't want to know what he had in mind when he remarked Harry was within reach, but he'd rather not find out.

From a nobleman's viewpoint, the chef was overstepping his bounds. He had no right to be judging Harry outside of his own self-entitlement as the most senior among the kitchen staff. If left alone, he'd likely build upon those feelings till he felt he could represent the staff before the headmaster and he'd keep actively looking out for the interest of his colleagues. In time, those noble-born might not be quite so much out of reach of his own brand of justice. A man with some pull among the lower staff might keep some nobles honest.

And Harry was all for that part and would wish him the best of luck despite being caught on the wrong end of a twenty questions game, but that's where things turned sour as Marteau had for some misguided reason decided to hold aforementioned meeting well withing earshot of the majority of the household staff. Any chance of keeping his wizardly ways hidden was now wishful thinking. While he had known it'd be discovered sooner or later, he'd at least hoped for his secret to last a week. No such luck for Harry Potter.

"First, I kept it secret because we hide our magic where I come from," Harry started, and instantly gained everyone's rapt attention. "And then, since everyone assumed I was a commoner, I didn't feel like correcting them, because I wasn't planning on staying around, but that's changed recently so now I'm likely stuck here at least for a while."

"They aren't holding you against your will, are they?" a maid worriedly asked and a few other girls gasped dramatically. Harry gave them a reassuring smile.

"Not really," he said. "I just don't know how to actually get home from here. It was just a matter of time before someone would figure it out or I would have to come out and say it, though I thought I could keep it hidden a bit longer from everybody."

The head chef gave Harry a long critical look, before it bleed away into a big grin. Then he outright began laughing for no apparent reason. The rest of the room looked on in silence as the large man burned out the last of the sudden nonmagical laughing spell that had befallen him.

"Alright, a mage tricking the nobles into thinking he's a simple commoner. It's a good one. Haven't heard the likes of that," he said in a jovial manner.

"I'll keep your secret, Harry. You can trust in that." As if to accentuate his point, he felt a massive slap on Harry's back was appropriate. Harry could only endure the chef's mannerism.

"Thanks," Harry said, as he distanced himself marginally from the large man. "Not that it matters anymore, but exactly how would you be able to hold my secret, when this many now know?"

Harry gestured to the amassed audience. Most had long since stopped any pretense of doing anything else than listening in on their not so hidden conversation.

For his part, Marteau was only stumped for a moment, before a carefree smile slid into place.

"Don't worry, I know 'em all, and I trust them. Else I wouldn't have held such a conversation in front of them in the first place," he said.

"Now do you want some food or what? You must be hungry with how those nobles treat people like us. Be sure to come back for every meal you'd like."

Harry gladly accepted the offering.

After eating, Harry went out in search of Louise. On his way out the door, Siesta followed him outside, stopping him with a worried look on her face.

"Mr. Potter, I am sorry about all this. I would have warned you if I knew, honest," she said frantically.

While it was nice and all, Harry found that her quick declaration of support made him a bit uncomfortable, but she seemed sincere.

"Don't worry about it, Siesta."

It seemed to calm her down immensely.

"And certainly I won't tell anyone of your secret, Mr. Potter," she said.

"Thanks, but I don't it's worth worrying about anymore." Harry gave her a smile mostly out of thinking of the whole scene earlier before he walked out of the annex that housed the kitchen onto the grassy fields. Surely, it was ridiculous.

He made his way towards the great hall to find Louise, but noticed Siesta still standing around at the door.

"Oh, and one last thing. Call me Harry next time we meet. I hate titles," he called out as he rounded the corner and went out of sight.

Finding Louise proved to be easier than expected. She was standing by the stairs leading up to the great hall entrance, tapping her foot impatiently while pointedly ignoring everyone around her, not that anyone was paying specific attention to her.

"About time, what held you up?"

Harry gave her a brief explanation of the earlier happenings as they went towards the headmaster's office.

"Well, that's a real shame for you, I guess," Louise said.

"You don't really care do you?" Harry asked.

Giving him a sidelong look, she answered.

"Of course, I do. Just not in the way you think."

"And which way is that," Harry felt obliged to ask.

"I never cared for you hiding your magical ability. I found the whole thing stupid really. If you're finally being revealed as a mage, then it reflects greatly upon me as your summoner. And given your unique background it is not even heretical that you're a familiar and a mage," she said the last part enthusiastically, but then frowned and added, "probably... maybe... I think."

"It's not as if I did anything wrong in the summoning," she said uncertainly.

Harry rolled his eyes and bobbed her lightly on the head.

"Stop thinking about it."

"Hey, don't do that," she objected.

"You were thinking unnecessary things," Harry said bluntly.

"I was not," she mumbled sourly to the side.

Harry grinned, which Louise promptly tried to ignore with a stoic look, which only widened his smile as she was horrible at it. Louise wasn't so bad when she was just acting like a normal school girl. She was just burdened with a pair of noble shoes a few sizes too big.

"Stop grinning like an idiot. We're there," she said. "I won't have you be disrespectful before the headmaster."

They had arrived at a common wooden door somewhere in the upper echelons of the main tower building. Somehow, Harry had expected more.

"Sure, no problem," Harry said. He motioned towards door. "Shall we?"

With a harrumph of displeasure, she entered the headmasters office with Harry in tow. It wasn't a grandiose office. Much of the wall-space was used for a small library in itself along with a sizable amount of documents with what Harry guess to be academy documents. A small desk was arranged next to the door. Behind it sat a bespectacled woman in a dark dress uniform that meshed well with her vibrant forest-green hair. She looked up with an easy smile on her lips.

"Ten points to Halkegenia," Harry thought inwardly. Dumbledore did not have a good looking secretary with an outgoing personality in his office. Or even any teachers who fit the category.

Further inwards, behind a slightly larger and more refined desk, sat a grayhaired old man, whom at once looked both ancient while still exuding an aura of health. His long silver hair flowed together with his beard, only serving to make him look older. It was his eyes that spoke of both experience, knowledge and will and despite all the similarities that were at first glance with a certain other headmaster, Harry only saw the differences. Instead of the playful tingle that always seemed to hide in the corner of Dumbledore's eyes as his most notable feature, this man looked downright resolute, serious and calculating. He wore a simple gray robe that appeared as if it had aged right along with him. His office was almost kept empty, except for books, unlike Dumbledore who kept a million tiny magical apparatuses.

He was currently staring intently at a small white mouse he held cupped in his hand.

Any further study of the room and its inhabitants was cut short by the secretary.

"Ah, Louise, what a wonderful surprise to have you visit. Is there anything I can help you with?" The woman held the same warm smile.

"It's a pleasure, Mrs. Longueville. We're actually here to speak with the headmaster about my familiar." Louise was all smiles and hearts in return.

"You brought your familiar?" she asked in a rhetorical fashion as she turned her smiley to Harry. "I am Matilda Longueville. It is nice to meet you, Mr. Louise's familiar."

Despite the odd wording, Harry couldn't sense a hint of either sarcasm or venom in her voice.

"I'm Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you too," Harry answered back, feeling awkward. Something stamped his foot and Harry added, "Miss Longueville."

Harry put a hand on Louise's shoulder a gave a small squeeze and Louise managed the ridiculous feat of glaring at him through a mask of pure smiles.

"So how's life at the academy, Harry? I hope you've settled in well," she asked, rather than commenting on the little byplay between the two visitors.

"Now, now, miss Longueville. You can flirt on your own time, I believe these young'uns had business with me," the headmaster broke in jovially before Harry could even contemplate answering. The secretary gave her boss a disapproving glare as he carefully sat the mouse down on the desk.

Harry frowned involuntarily. Whatever he had seen in the headmaster was now unreadable. He had completely turned his personality around, but that wasn't what worried Harry. The feeling was exactly how he usually recognized Dumbledore. He held the same little spark of mischief. Harry didn't know whether that was good or bad, but it worried him.

Deciding to file that away for later thought, he trod on, ignoring the disrespect he'd shown towards Longueville. There was no place to sit, so he just stood a few paces away.

"That's right, headmaster," Harry said. "I've been summoned here, but I'd like get back home again."

"Oh," the headmaster said. "You may call me Osmond. This is most serious and peculiar. It is unheard of for a mage to summon a human, much less one such like yourself."

"What do you mean, one such as myself?" Harry asked.

"That's exactly what I was getting to. You're actually a mage, aren't you, Harry?" Osmond said factually and Harry had to resist the urge to groan.

"No need to answer that. I have eyes and ears all over the castle, young one. And your little spat with our young student, Kirche, did not go unnoticed either," he said as he absentmindedly stroked the mouse's back. Harry just shrugged. None of it mattered anymore.

"Eh, what kind of spat, Headmaster?" Louise broke in.

Osmond seemed pleased at her question.

"It seems that when you left after having upturned half the field, young Harry and Kirche had a falling out and saw no other solution than to duel to settle their differences. I'll have to remind you it is against school regulations for a duel between nobles. Alas, Harry is not a noble, so I will let it slide this one time."

Louise had eyes wide as teacups, but instead just looked questioningly at Harry, who found it hard to meet her stare.

"It was nothing. I'll tell you later," Harry said defensively.

"It had better not have been for nothing, boy, when I'm letting you off scot free," the headmaster said seriously and Harry jumped in fright at the sudden outburst. Being satisfied with Harry's reaction, he got the gleam in his eye again as he continued with a melancholic tone. "I might have misheard, but I seem to remember something about Mr. Potter doing it to defend Miss Vaillière's honor. It was very touching."

Harry grimaced. Such blatant lies. He'd been outright attacked and merely defended himself against the rabid woman. The old man was bonkers.

Next to him, Louise seemed to have shrunk into her own world, as she was now blushing madly as she stared at some point behind Harry. He inwardly cursed her naiveté. It seemed she would blindly trust just about anyone but him at face value.

The old man locked gazes with Harry and Harry stared back with an unamused expression. Then he winked and nudged his head in Louise's direction and smiled cheekily. That was the moment that it became clear to Harry that this this academy, the staff, the nobles, the teachers and most certainly the headmaster were absolutely crazy.

Harry took care to avoid holding the secretary with the rest of the lot as she seemed fairly normal. The one normal thing in a sea of madness. That was something at least.

"Alright, back to the topic at hand. You have morning lessons soon, so I'll be brief," Osmond broke in somewhat seriously this time. "While reverse summoning is completely unheard of, we will aid you in your quest to return you to your rightful home. I'll put professor Colbert on it for now. I believe you've met already."

"Yes sir," they acknowledged. "Thank you, sir."

"Quite alright. And Mr. Potter, I do apologize for this unfortunate outcome and I hope you'll bear with it here until a more permanent solution is found," he said. "I do believe that is all."

"Was that all?" He glanced questionably at his assistant, who looked like a deer caught in the headlight.

"Uhm, how would I know?" she said slowly.

"What am I paying you for, woman?" he said in slight disapproval. "If you cannot even do such simple tasks, you might find yourself out on the street without a job, unless you have... other job skills."

He said the last part with slow deliberation and Longueville turned beet red. Then she threw a book at him, hitting him squarely in the face.

"Don't even joke about such things in front of the students, you disgusting old leech!" she huffed angrily. "I should report you for sexual harassment."

Then she took a calming breath before she smiled back at Harry and Louise.

"I think you can leave. It was nice to see you two," Longueville said as if nothing strange had happened the last few minutes. Harry and Louise could only nod in return, dumbstruck.

Then Old Osmond picked himself up from behind his desk where he'd fallen.

"Ah, yes, do run along now, kids. Also, if you were to ask me, then I would wait till the day of void that's coming up, to go shopping rather than on a school night. It is the perfect day for leisurely activities," he called after them. Harry and Louise quickly left with no comment.

"Alas, young ones are so busy these days."

Louise and Harry didn't know how he knew that, but at this point they didn't care much for it besides making sure to avoid it in the future. Harry wished Hermione was with him then. She could probably have taught him a privacy charm or two.

"So how do you think he knew all that?" Louise asked him once they had reached the relative safety of the halls.

"Animal familiars are very smart, right? I think, it was his mouse somehow. But I don't think that's all of it." Harry said. "Is he always this crazy?"

"Yeah, mostly. But he's also very brilliant, I've heard," she answered.

That's when Harry noticed that the inane display of the headmaster had completely drowned out his first impression of the man and Harry grimaced. The headmaster was a real piece of work and Harry had almost been completely tricked by his theatrics. Somewhere, doubt grew in his mind. Was this how Dumbledore did things too?

"Anyways, this void day," Harry began. She'd previously mentioned what and when void day was. "We already have this thing planned for that day, so I figure we'll just carry on regardless, right?"

"Right," Louise nodded.

The rest of the day went by quickly. Louise was oddly thoughtful throughout the classes and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't too. As soon as the last class session ended, they quickly went to the stables and headed out on a horse towards Tristania, the capitol of Tristain.

Once there, they quickly found a blacksmith, but Louise stopped him as she would not purchase weapons from a common tools-smith. The exact distinction was lost on Harry, but apparently nobles only bought weapons from weapon dealers for their retainers if at all possible. Harry was to own a sword. He'd been trying to reconcile himself with that fact, but Louise had been rather persistent. When he had asked why it had to be a sword, she had gone into a lecture on the finer details of weapon ownership.

"It's a declaration of your status, if not as a retainer of worth, then as one favored by a noble. A sword is a weapon of the elite; it cannot chop wood nor harvest the field. It is made for war and war only, so the person who wields a sword is a man of fortune and plenty. And obviously the equipment of the servants reflects upon the master. After all, you judge nobles on how they treat those below them."

Harry hadn't known of that previously, coming from a 'post-sword' world, but it made a lot of sense so he had shut up. But it was the line about judging nobles that really intrigued him. Louise seemed fairly dead set on the romanticized points of feudalism. Harry did not know a lot about kings and queens, and despite the Queen of his own country being held in great esteem by most Brits, Harry was mostly apathetic that which did not come into conflict with his day to day life.

However he knew of the contrast between the romantic ideals of feudalism and the cynical realism. That which made the difference between a despot and a king like those often portrayed in fairy tales. Harry had never taken the time to ponder such questions about what made a good noble, as they were meaningless till now and the people who thought otherwise had been pretentious bigots. Louise was the opposite of that, and Harry honestly hadn't expected to meet one.

She was covering his expenses and generally looking out for him out of some feeling of responsibility, even when denied status as the superior. An elitist that demanded more of herself for his sake out of a feeling of obligation despite whatever he might think.

Harry set it aside for now, but he would have to address his opinion on nobles eventually and if he rejected their entire system, then he could not keep accepting their handouts outside of what he felt was deserved for his unfortunate summoning.

Soon they entered a shop which dealt only in weapons.

It was a simple shop, looking no more prestigious than the tools smith she had snubbed earlier, but the distinction of a weapons only shop versus a mixed one was apparently the deciding factor.

Louise glanced around, looking decidedly lost despite trying for the look of an experienced buyer. The shop owner seemed to pick up on this as he grinned widely at his fortune of a noble-born buyer.

"Can I be of service, Miss? Just ask and I shall comply to the best of my ability," he said as he suckered up to Louise.

"I am looking for a sword for my retainer," Louise said simply. She thought for a moment, before grinning. "Only the best will do."

Before the salesperson could jump in joy, Harry decided to cut in.

"A normal modest sword will do, actually."

Obviously this earned a question from Louise.

"And why exactly is that? I already explained that a sword represents status." She crossed her arms, looking entirely nonplussed.

"We don't actually need to splurge on it, as I still can do magic and I don't know the first thing about how to use a sword," Harry said. At Harry's casual revelation, the shop keeper's eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets.

"I don't expect you to actually use the sword," Louise said fully focused on him. "That would require some sort of emergency and then you would use magic."

"So there's really no point in having a sword at all," Harry argued. Louise shook her head, smiling.

"Of all your qualities, your modesty surely stands out the most."

Then she turned to the shop keeper.

"Find me a modest sword of good quality for my meek friend," she said and the shop keeper obliged. Harry ignored the jab. He didn't want an overly expensive sword as he felt bad about the whys of her giving it to him. Though the next fifteen minutes made him take it back as she went through a dozen swords before finally settling on one completely at random.

The shop keeper had immediately praised her 'unique sense for great quality and general wisdom' for her pick which Louise lapped up in its entirety.

Harry saw nothing that stood out from the other swords at all. It was a simple short sword with a two upturned prongs for a guard and was described as 'good for stabbing'.

"So why that one," he asked, pointing towards the chosen sword.

"It looked prettier," was the simple answer. "Any objections?"

Harry had none. Any sword would do at this point.

He reached out for it, and his first impression was that it was heavier than it looked, but he had hardly lifted it off the table before he felt his scar and the back of his left hand flare up painfully and he dropped the sword with a yelp of surprise mostly. The brief lighting of the almost forgotten runes was not lost on him.

However it was when he saw Louise looking at him in confusion with a hand on her brow that he grew worried.

"Did you feel that?" he asked tentatively and received a nod.

"I felt something hurt on my forehead," she answered. The shop keeper was silent but seemed just as confused.

Slowly, Harry reached out and wrapped his hand around the handle of the sword and with it, the pain returned. He was ready for it this time, so it was bearable. Louise made a small yelp this time, but made no comment otherwise.

Instantly, the blade felt lighter and he felt proficient in its use. Standing back to give himself some room, he made a few of what he now knew to be expert test swings and could easily determine that the blade was both in fine condition and well-balanced. He placed it gently down on the shop keeper's table, as the shop keeper clapped for him.

"If you allow, I think you are indeed very modest, sir. That was excellent showmanship from a man with claims of no knowledge of swords."

Harry made him get another sword before trying it all again, this time with the same strange phenomenon occurring. He stared at the runic scripture on his back of his hand. From what he'd seen here, he'd need a sword to test this new strange thing out.

"Alright, we'll take the first sword," Harry said. "Okay, Louise?"

"What's happening, Harry?" she asked instead.

"I don't know, but I intend to find out. So we're buying a sword," he said with finality, ignoring the gushes of praise from the shop keeper.

"It's be 100 new gold," the shop keeper said, warily eyeing Harry as if his mastery of swords might entail knowledge of their real worth. "It is a nice sword of fine quality so the price is a bit steep within reason, of course."

Harry didn't buy it for a second, but he had no honest idea of what the actual price would be. He somehow felt that Harry's presence meant he dared not go higher.

"So, Louise, what would a hundred new gold be worth?" he asked her.

"Well, you can buy lots of stuff for it, such as a few horses or cattle or a cart. Why?" she asked in confusion.

"Ah, I was thinking we were getting scammed," he said.

"For a hundred new gold, those are things I'd rather buy," Harry said meaningfully.

"Oh, you think, so?" Louise said.

Meanwhile the shop keeper blanched.

"Yeah, let's go," Harry went to leave.

"But what about the sword?" Louise said, but she followed.

"Wait!" The shop keeper called out. "The price was 50 new gold. I must have made a mistake."

"Ahh, I thought so," Harry said.

Without any more fuss, they bought the sword with a scabbard, before moving on, thinking they'd made a great bargain. That the price for the short sword was barely 5 new gold on a good day need not be mentioned further. They hurriedly made a few other purchases in other shops along with a few vanity items for Louise before they headed home with a great sense of accomplishment. By the time that they got home, it had already gotten late, but it was well worth it. The next few days would be busy for the twosome.

A/N: Another chapter for the chapter god. Thank you for reading. Feel free to send me a message or post a review about what you thought of my story; both are very welcome.

This chapter highlights my friend, RTNKnight, who set my final deadline, which I almost crossed.

Any great mistakes will as always be destroyed with impunity at my earliest convenience. Meanwhile, I find this offering to be acceptable till then. Alas, it should have been out months ago. I felt I paced it a bit quicker than usual at the end, but as I hit the 5k word mark with no shop in sight I hurried it along a bit.

And the first thing about Louise's dream is about as heavyhanded as I can be about a lot of things. What did Louise say? It was french for "Who are you?". Voldemort, being an overly sassy villain, knows french, and responded with his name before telling her to disappear. Also lots of small conflicts with canon is expected and what not. Feel free to point them out, so I can try to patch them or suspend your disbelief.