I'm glad you guys liked this story so far, and a few of my other story ideas. But progress is slow, and I'm probably going to hold off on any Genshin Impact story at least until after I've finished the Inazuma storyline, which I've only just started. This story is going slow too. Honestly, the next story to be published may very well be my long-awaited Harry/Raynare fic, Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus. I've finished 14 chapters so far, and while I want to finish more before it gets published as a standalone story, it's getting there.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy...
ZIREAEL UI DEWIN
CHAPTER 2:
TWO'S COMPANY, THREE'S A CROWD
It was on the way back to some shithole known as Crow's Perch that Harry explained his story to Ciri, the Bloody Baron (who seemed too jovial and nice for someone with such a name, seeming like a more profane and smaller Hagrid than the freaky Slytherin ghost he was used to, though Harry kept his guard up regardless) keeping a slight distance to give them some privacy. Harry had packed one of his broomsticks in his Expanded Trunk long before that Nyarlathotep-wannabe, and so was using that in lieu of a horse, at least for the most part. Once he got close enough to Crow's Perch, he would dismount. While this area of Velen wasn't being swarmed by witch-hunters from the Church of the Eternal Flame, encountering one of them or someone sympathetic to them wasn't out of the question. He was amused at the Baron calling them 'whoresons, all'.
He only retold his life story in brief, enough to give Ciri the background to how he ended up on this world. In the three years since Voldemort's defeat, Harry had become increasingly frustrated with how little things had changed. Magical Britain had gone back to the status quo (more like a stasis quo, as Hermione would put it) of the Blood Purists avoiding Azkaban or the Kiss, and hampering any attempts to improve Magical Britain.
What was worse was that Draco Malfoy, that ungrateful, overly-bleached fuck, had decided to repay Harry for saving his life by summoning what had to be Nyarlathotep-Lite, and having him vanish Harry. True, Diet Nyarlathotep did so by bringing him to another world with Harry's emergency supply stash and Expanded Trunk, and Draco was due to meet a sticky end, along with his parents, but Harry couldn't give a damn. He was stranded in another world, one where mages were more public…but where they were also being hunted, at least on the other side of the war.
After he had finished, Ciri frowned. "I've never heard of this man who brought you here to this world."
"But you believe my story?" Harry asked.
"As much as I can believe the story of someone who is a complete stranger," Ciri said. "Honestly, I'm seeing some spooky parallels between your life and mine. Born with a prophecy hanging over our heads, having a warlock come after us…then again, Vilgefortz didn't simply want me dead."
The way she said it made Harry grimace. "He wanted…you?"
"That's the most tactful way of putting it, yes," Ciri said. "And he was far from the only one. Still, thanks for helping us out."
"…Look, I probably messed things up by destroying that thing's nest…"
"You did, but Basilisks are belligerent at the best of times, it may have attacked the Baron and I regardless," Ciri said. The rebuke had little heat in it, especially as she qualified it. "But ruining the nest of a monster is never a good idea, one of the many things I learned at Kaer Morhen."
"Kaer Morhen? Is that like Hogwarts?"
Ciri snorted. "Not really. It's not a school dedicated to teaching magic users, though its students do learn a form of magic known as Signs. I…I've never managed to learn much magic, despite being what is known as a Source. My only real magical ability is an ability to move between worlds. You saw part of that ability when I prevented the Basilisk from making off with the Baron."
The Baron, who had slowed his horse down, was peering at Ciri. "Kaer Morhen…so you weren't just telling tall tales, Ciri. You were trained as a Witcher."
There was a strange respect in the man's voice when he said that, and Harry frowned. "Witcher? You mean, witch hunter?"
"Monster hunter, actually, though Witchers have been known to go after rogue mages before," the Baron said. "You must've been living under a rock not to have heard of them. Kaer Morhen is one of the more famous places where they taught them, some fortress in the arse-end of nowhere, much like my own seat is. She hasn't got the eyes of a Witcher, but I heard they lost the secret to their mutations ages ago."
Ciri nodded. "Witchers are monster-hunting mercenaries, specially trained and educated, and many have gone through, as the Baron told you, a series of mutations known as the Trial of Grasses to enhance their abilities. Those do not have a high success rate, and…well, the nearest thing I have to a father, Geralt of Rivia, was the only one who survived his particular Trial."
"Your father is Geralt of Rivia?" the Baron asked. "I thought Witchers were as sterile as Sorceresses!"
"I said he was the nearest thing I have to a father, not that he actually conceived me," Ciri said pointedly.
"All right, I get it. Gods, to think your adoptive father is the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken…I heard about his involvement with that mess with Foltest, to say nothing of what the Lodge did."
"That reminds me, have you heard tales of Geralt lately? Or failing that, Vesemir, the Old Wolf? Yennefer of Vengerberg? Triss Merigold? Lambert? Eskel? Dandelion? Zoltan?"
"Hmm, only rumours, really," the Baron said. "I heard that Geralt and Vesemir are on the roads, doing what Witchers do. Not sure about Yennefer of Vengerberg, though. I did hear that that fop Dandelion is in Novigrad, and rumour has it that Merigold's there too, hunted by Radovid's witch-burners. Can't swear to that, though."
"Then it may be that my next destination is in Novigrad," Ciri mused. "If Triss is there, she might be my best hope."
"You're leaving, then?" the Baron asked.
"Unfortunately, I have to. As I said, the Wild Hunt pursues me, and they will slaughter anyone in their way, and anyone who tries to harbour me. Your men would be lambs to the slaughter, Baron."
"…If anyone else had said that, I'd laugh at them," the Baron said, peering at Ciri. "But the fear in your eyes, woman…for someone so fearless, that's telling."
"And what is the Wild Hunt?" Harry asked.
"An elite force of Aen Elle raiders, Elves from another world who pillage and enslave people from many worlds," Ciri said. "Its leader, Eredin, is yet another person who covets my powers. They appear as wraiths normally in this world, but they've stepped up their pursuit of me lately."
Harry nodded, before a thought occurred to him. "…If they were dead, would you be able to take me home without any real hassle?"
Ciri blinked. "Hmm…I…in theory, I should be able to. Why?"
"Then I'll stick with you for now. Besides, if these bastards catch up with you, it might help to have someone else to fight with you. Otherwise, I have literally no idea how the hell I'm going to get home, and I'd rather not sit around waiting for a rescue."
Ciri shot him a frown, before she said, "It'll be dangerous. There's a very real risk of you dying if you're with me. I don't want that on my conscience."
"I can handle myself, just as much as you clearly can. Plus, I'm not from around here, and I need help learning what I need to."
Eventually, Ciri nodded. "We'll talk about that when the time comes. We're coming up to Crow's Perch now…"
Ciri had to admit, she felt ill at ease about bringing Harry with her. Leaving aside the fact that he was a stranger and a mage, and her only notion that he was a good person was his actions during the Basilisk attack, there was also the problem of dragging him into her mess. And while he was competent enough in combat, he clearly didn't know enough about this world, given what he claimed a Basilisk was really like on Earth.
But that was the thing. If he was right, she was his best chance of getting back home, and she couldn't turn down a plea for help, especially if he wanted to help her. Hell, he did so, even acknowledging that she could hold her own. He didn't have some stubborn, pig-headed chivalry that reeked of condescension at best. He just wanted to help.
The Baron was eager to help them out. He'd even given Harry a change of clothes to better blend into this world, as well as supplies. He'd even offered a horse for Harry, but Harry hadn't ridden one before. The closest he came to that, according to him, was something called a 'Thestral', and as Ciri needed to ride as fast as she could for Novigrad, and hope that the Wild Hunt didn't find her, she didn't want to deal with an amateur rider trying to catch up.
He did offer a couple of solutions. He could put himself into his Expanded Trunk, shrink it from the inside, and have her carry it in her saddlebags, or he could use his broomstick, coupled with a Disillusionment Charm, and follow from the air, more or less invisible, to all intents and purposes. She opted for the latter, in case someone intercepted her on the road. While she could handle herself, there was truth in the saying 'safety in numbers'. Having someone else fighting would help mitigate the chances of her using her abilities inadvertently.
The Baron also gave them a border pass apiece. With the war ongoing, it would make things easier for them to get where they needed to be, though he warned them against going to Novigrad and Oxenfurt, given that the Church of the Eternal Flame had plenty of witch-hunters roving those cities. Unfortunately, Novigrad seemed to be their best bet.
As they prepared to leave, the Bloody Baron approached them. "Look, I've got one favour to ask both of you. My wife and daughter…they left me not that long ago. Under…well, bad circumstances. I get the feeling they may have been heading to Oxenfurt or Novigrad, so…if you happen to meet either Anna or Tamara…please tell them I miss them, to come home." He looked away. "Not that I could blame either of them if they told you to fuck off."
Ciri nodded. "We'll keep that in mind. And Baron? Thank you, for everything, for healing me, for taking in Gretka, and…"
"None of that," the rotund man said. "You saved me from that damned monster, both of you. And you've warned me about the Wild Hunt and what to do, Ciri. That's a damn sight better than what most people would do, myself included. I'm not a good man, not by a long shot, but I honour my debts…"
Harry had to keep a careful eye on Ciri as she rode away from Crow's Perch, flying while Disillusioned. Even as the skies grew dark and she rode on, crossing the Pontar, showing her border pass, he followed. She rode a somewhat circuitous route, possibly to try and throw the Wild Hunt off her scent. It was long past sunset when they finally made it to the outskirts of Novigrad, and even then, she continued onto another inn, a little way away from the city. He landed in the darkness just near the inn, and met her near a signpost.
He looked at the sign hanging above the entrance. "What kind of name is 'Cunny of the Goose', anyway?"
Ciri shrugged. "I've no idea, but I've heard they do a good cooked goose here. Now, let me do the talking. And if some arse tries to grope me, I'll break his hand. We don't need you exposing yourself as a mage this close to Novigrad, and those glasses will already attract comment."
"Fine then," Harry said, a little sullenly, following her into the inn. Said inn was bustling with life and activity. While he had noted many stomach-churning smells back at Crow's Perch, there weren't quite as many here.
Thankfully, their arrival hadn't attracted much comment. A few people looked up from their meals and drinks, but there was not the brief but telling silence that usually accompanied new arrivals in the movies, particularly Westerns. Ciri approached the innkeep confidently. "Do you have two rooms available? Preferably next to each other?"
"I only have one room with two beds," the innkeep said.
Ciri nodded. "That'll do, thank you. Can we have a couple of meals?"
"Certainly. Actually, that room was already paid for, along with the meals, by one of the patrons. That's him in the corner, playing Gwent over there."
Harry followed the innkeep's finger, to see a table surrounded by a small crowd. The two occupants were obscured by said crowd. "WHAT?!" screamed a man. "You cheating whoreson!"
A vaguely familiar, cheerful voice came from the opposite side of the table. "There are plenty of things I bend the rules for, but I never cheat at Gwent. Whereas you, unfortunately, are the pot calling the kettle black, given all the cards you had up your sleeve. Now, kindly sod off, as I have business with these two."
The crowd looked at Ciri and Harry, and soon dispersed, though not before showing glares at Harry, Ciri…and the man sitting at the table. A man that Harry was soon showing a glare of his own, in anger. After all, he recognised the bastard who sent him to this world.
Ironically, the man himself was difficult to recognise, at least normally. He was the very definition of non-descript, a stocky man with a pleasantly ugly face, marred with a thin layer of stubble, his hair closely cropped, his expression cheerful. The kind of face that would blend into a crowd as butcher, baker, candlestick maker, tinker, tailor, soldier, spy, hell, even a noble or a prince or a king in the right clothes.
But Harry knew this much: this man wasn't a man, not truly.
"Ah, just a moment," the 'man' said cheerfully. "Let's set the mood." And with that, he clapped his hands twice. A drone filled the air, lowering in pitch, and everyone around them slowed to a halt. "There. Not as flashy as Dio Brando, but it gets the job done."
Harry, at that moment, saw red, his anger surging forth. He remembered his rant from earlier this morning, and so, he carried out his promise. He charged forward and hit the 'man' on the jaw. "YOU BASTARD NYARLATHOTEP WANNABE!" he screamed.
The 'man' rocked back, before he turned to look at Harry, amused and, if Harry didn't misinterpret the glance, actually a little sympathetic. "Okay, that's your freebie, Harry Potter. Not because I deserve it, but because you deserve a chance to get it out of your system." He clasped Harry's fist in his hand, and pushed it away, firmly, while peering at him with eyes that seemed to glow demonically briefly. "But that's the only one you'll get. Beating me in a fist fight is even more futile than beating me in a battle of wits."
"You took me away from my home, my loved ones, and you don't expect me to try and beat the shit out of you?!"
"Of course not! That's why I gave you the freebie," the 'man' said jovially. "And it was a pretty good one for a scrawny wizard. I've had big burly men hit me with far weaker punches. But you have to remember, I was merely fulfilling a contract by bringing you to this world, and you did not have the power to stop me. There is nothing binding you to this world, only the admittedly tiresome difficulties of transdimensional travel. And as it happens, you have met one of the few people able and willing to help, her current…issues aside."
The 'man's dark eyes flicked over to Ciri, who flinched. "And who are you? Harry didn't give your name, just naming you after…well, Nyarlathotep, from the Cthulhu Mythos from Earth."
"Ah yes, I made old Howard Lovecraft piss his pants. Honestly, Stephen King was more fun to be with," the 'man' chortled. "But allow me to introduce myself. I am Gaunter O'Dimm, a merchant of sorts. And I know exactly who you are, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. Still, come, sit with me. We have a few things to discuss, the three of us…"
CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:
So, Harry and Ciri have joined forces…and Gaunter O'Dimm is revealed to be the one who dumped Harry in the world of The Witcher. Oh dear.
No numbered annotations this time.
