The following day started off with a groan of acceptance from Harry, the events of the day prior when compared to how all his days in this city have been thus far have started to how a bit of a theme of sorts, wake up, get dressed, go outside, violence of small to ridiculous proportions, survive, repeat. "Except now I have a day job." he says aloud to his empty hotel room as he digs through his "loot" from the night before and the unfortunate...intimidation? Mugging? Whatever that was, it hadn't gone well for the two muggles at all. "I wonder how long until their friends found them..." he mutters before going stock still, eyes widening a bit.
"I forgot to obliviate them!" he yelps, stubbing his toe a bit on the table as he turned with a jerk. "Ah, damnit!" he falls into the chair set beside the table and rubs his now sore toe in thought. "Shit, what the hell do I do about them now? Did they tell anybody what they saw? Did they actually see what I did or did the second one just assume I hacked his friend?" The idea that he might have to disappear from the area and try to find another job away from Valentino turf surged to the forefront of his mind. "Maybe they didn't notice what actually went down, I might not have to do anything at all..."
With that thought doing his freshly frazzled nerves some good, Harry quickly gets ready for his day. A quick shower, a swap of clothing and some basic grooming spells later and he is out the door and back onto the busy streets of Night City. "First things first, find some food." he thinks to himself while checking the time, with several hours before his shift begins Harry decides to do some exploring again and see what interesting foods he might be able to find.
The streets were fairly busy today, almost to the point where Harry had to weave his way people just so he didn't bump into anyone, just like in the days before most people kept to themselves, hardly sparing him a glance and it's something he is immensely grateful for. For years the title of the Boy-Who-Lived had caused him nothing but problems, from savior to sinner to savior again in a seemingly endless cycle as the people of wizarding Britain jumped between singing his praises and condemning his every decision, perceived or otherwise.
So the reprieve of the constant stares, the whispered words and the ever annoying glance at his scar almost made the constant threat of violence, the voices of those left behind and the unknown path before him bearable. "At least the violence is starting to become normal again, it's almost like I didn't just leave a war at all." he thinks with a snort at the idea that the bloodshed he has experienced for years has become as normal as breathing to him. "I almost don't want to know what will happen if it ever stops." The idea of running away from everything had come to him more than once, but the guilt of leaving his friends behind to deal with what the world seemed to deem as 'His problem' always kept him at bay, not to mention the idea of giving up fighting for good. He knows himself after all.
He'd miss it too much.
Harry stops at a small food cart that looks to be selling some kind of noodles and orders a bowl before digging in. "I think Moody did too good of a job at turning me into a fighter..." He thinks between bites, the broth having a pleasantly savory taste, if not slightly chemically in the end. He spends the rest of his meal not really thinking of much else, just enjoying the sights and sounds of the new world around him, the sheer size of everything around him almost reminding him of Hogwarts, everything feeling just slightly too tall for no reason other to look impressive, at least it would if everything wasn't soaked in dried bodily fluids and graffiti.
"I wonder what it was like when all of this was new." The mental image of a shiny metal city, all sparkly and clean entered his mind and even though the thought was a nice one to see, it didn't quite fit the vibe of Night City, something even he could tell with his limited time here thus far. "This place might not be magical like Hogwarts, but it's just as alive, if a little more insane." Harry finishes his bowl of noodles, not having really caught the name of the dish, he pays the cook with a quick compliment for the food before heading off in the general direction of what looks like a second hand electronics store or some kind of flea market to kill some more time.
Harry spends about an hour or so just browsing the rows and displays of slightly outdated tech, not really looking for anything in particular since he still barely knows what any of it even is, much less how to properly use any of it. Well, except maybe the old styles of kitchen appliances like the very space-retro thing he saw that he's at least seventy percent sure was some kind of blender. The idea of using his cooking skills to make a normal life for himself seeming kind of appealing so long as that very thing called "his life" actually allowed it. "Not likely." he huffs to himself.
As time goes by he decides to start making his way to the bar, hopefully he can just sit in a booth and relax a little bit before his shift, maybe do some reading on his agent for a while. With his decision made he quickly takes not of the route he took to get to the noodle vendor and flea market for future reference and takes off back into the bustling streets. The walk is mostly uneventful, at least until he comes upon a particular sight that gives him immediate pause.
A familiar alleyway, the entry blocked by police barriers and officers on duty, but the sight that drew his attention above all, the human carnage still publicly visible within, the barely familiar corpses of the two valentinos that had attempted to either mug or intimidate him, or both, split like so much timber and strewn about the walls and cables of the alley like some disgusting macabre holiday display meant to honor some unknown and uncaring god.
The sight alone easily brings him to visions of the war, of finding muggle homes carrying the twisted remains of a Death Eater attack and that ever present symbol in the sky. "This is my fault, I left them here unconscious." He realizes with a level of apathy one might expect from any other resident of Night City.
"Don't cry for the stupid Potter or you'll be crying all day, they would probably have killed you if given the chance." The previously absent voice of Not-Moody emerging once more, unknowing to Harry that this might be something he should consider consulting some kind of mind healer about, forgetting where he is for a moment.
"I get that, but I could have at least hidden them somewhere or woken them up before I left." Harry mumbles to himself, lucky it was low enough not to be picked up on by the people around him. "What kind of monster does this?"
"You know what kind Harry..." Not-Hermione says, sounding much like she did the day after the events of the fight in the Ministry of Magic.
"There are no Death Eaters here, there can't be." Harry retorts as he begins passing by the crime scene and back towards the bar, still responding vocally to the voices in his head as if they are actually there.
"Not every monster wears a silver mask my boy." Harry groans as Not-Dumbledore chimes in with his two knuts.
"Of course not, some of them wear half moon spectacles over twinkling eyes." Harry snarks back, still not wanting to hear from his former Headmaster and primary manipulator, even if it's all in his head.
"Just because it's in your head, doesn't mean it isn't real..." Not-Dumbledore says faintly.
"Oh, just fuck off will you!?" Harry growls out, shaking his head in hopes the voices leave him in peace, the last thing he needs is to get in trouble for rambling to ghosts during his shift and spilling something. Thankfully, it seems to do the trick, at least for now.
Coming up upon the Bar, Harry is thankful for a quick return to some form of normalcy, even if it's his shift at a job he's had for all of a couple days. He greets a couple of the patrons who welcome him with a nod as he makes his way to the back to grab an apron and get ready for work. As he is tying the strings of his apron around his back a hand clamps down upon his left shoulder, causing him to jerk away from the offending grip and lash out at whoever grabbed him with a closed fist, thankfully, or rather luckily, absent of a wand.
His blind swing misses, whom Harry quickly realizes is Pepe, by a mile, he's a wizard not a street brawler, sue him.
"Easy there kid, it's just me!" Pepe says with an amused, if slightly taken aback smirk on his face. "Good to see you in one piece kid, I'm sure you've heard but some serious shit went down not far from here last night." His demeanor becoming more serious, "I was worried you might have gotten caught in the middle until some of the local boys told us who it was that got flatlined."
Harry tilts his head a bit, "I hope it wasn't anyone you knew." Even if they were assholes, Harry knows better than most what loss can do to someone.
Thankfully, this was not the case for Pepe, "Naw, not personally anyways, just a couple regulars."
Harry nods in acceptance, thankful he didn't end up inadvertently hurting his employer. "Did they catch whoever did it? I passed by the crime scene on my way in and it was...grotesque." He inquires as he continues to get ready for his shift under the watchful eye of the golden handed man.
"Not that we have heard, but word on the street is that it's a cyberpsycho, one the police have been having a hard time tracking down." Pepe says with a small shudder. "Listen kid, we haven't known each other long at all, and far be it for me to tell you how to live your life or anything, but please be careful when you go home tonight, I don't know where you're staying but if you need a ride or anything, let me know."
As much as he'd like not to admit it, the worry that someone who might as well be a stranger at worst and currently an acquaintance at best, has Harry feeling oddly happy, "I appreciate it Pepe." he says with a thankful grin. "I don't really have a permanent place at the moment, but where I'm staying isn't far and I can stick to the main streets for most of it so I should be alright."
Pepe nods in acceptance, "Be that as it may, just say the word, wouldn't do to have my new guy go missing considering we just hired you after all." he says with a chuckle. "Oh and speaking of, the owner is in tonight so don't be surprised if you get called upstairs later to talk to her."
Harry blinks a bit owlishly, "Oh yeah? Anything I should be made aware of just in case?" he asks, wanting to make sure he doesn't do anything to endanger his job safety. 'It'd be annoying to have to go job hunting again after just being hired after all." He thinks with minimal dread.
Pepe grins a bit more sharply at this, "Just be sure to show her the proper respect as the boss and we won't have to toss your body out with the empty bottles later." he says with an attempt at intimidation, the effect being ruined by the mirth in his eyes.
Harry snorts with a lopsided grin. "Duly noted, now if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go look for something to do."
"You can start with cleaning the dishes piled up in back, we haven't been too busy just yet but we have had a few late lunch orders and plenty of drinks ordered from the tap so we need some clean glasses too." Pepe orders while jerking his thumb in the direction of the kitchen.
"I'll get right to it bossman." Harry replies giving a half hearted salute and a grin before heading to do as instructed.
Pepe's smartass remark is lost on Harry as he begins to lose himself in his slowly establishing routine at work. His night, like the one prior is filled mostly with cleaning dishes, preparing some of the easier to make foods for customers and serving drinks whenever he is needed to man the bar for his friendly golden handed superior. The thought of any wizard doing something so mundane and without the use of their magic to make life easier for themselves brings a humorless snort out of our wayward wizard.
"I wonder if this is what Madam Rosmerta felt like running the Three broomsticks every day, well minus the being ogled by horny teenage boys." Harry thinks to himself, his respect for the kind bar owner in Hogsmeade rising for he never saw her using magic during his few trips there before things started to get bad with the war. "Maybe I should open up a bar or something someday, hang up the warriors cloak and all." He ponders again, still knowing he'd probably never actually stop fighting for one reason or another, life rarely worked out like that for him after all.
"I wouldn't be surprised if I end up having to defend myself again on my way to the hotel later." He thinks as he begins scrubbing the next set of dishes a little rougher than he meant to, thought still managing to not break anything thankfully. His night progresses in much the same manner,
It is a few hours into his shift that Harry finally gets the call he was warned about. "Hey Harry, the boss wants to see you, dry your hands and head upstairs, she's waiting for you at the booth in the back!" Pepe yells from the bar. Harry, having up until now working on the 'who knows how many' stacks of dirty dishes, quickly grabs a towel and does as told, he dries his hands and tries to make himself look a bit more presentable by smoothing out his clothing some.
With a small sign of trepidation, Harry heads up the side stairs and to the booth seating area above, the lighting from downstairs being darker in comparison to the booths above, presumably to adhere to a bit more of a safety standard while walking up a flight of stairs into an area with just a basic guard rail to prevent anyone from falling to the floor below. 'I've been thinking about a lot of useless things lately...I might need a hobby.' Harry thinks to himself as he rounds the first corner of the upper floor. He stops to check around the booths for his boss's boss, he quickly catches the gaze of the only other person on the upper floor and as she spots him she is quick to wave him over.
With a nod Harry quickly, but not hurriedly, makes his way over to the booth nearest to the center of the seating area. "Thank you for coming up here on such short notice, I will try not to keep you from your duties for too long." She motions for him to have a seat with her off hand and a welcoming smile. "What's your name dear?" she asks as Harry slips into the booth seat opposite her.
"Harry Ma'am, Harry Potter." He says, offering his hand in greeting as a force of habit when meeting an elder.
She takes his hand with a firm yet gentle shake, "It's nice to meet the young man Pepe has been so impressed with so far." She says as she lets him go and returns to a relaxed but professional air. "It's also nice to see someone in this city that still has some manners."
"I can't speak for the every day person of Night City, but I like to think that if you're at least cordial with strangers, then they might at the very least return the favor." Harry replies with a small shrug and a grin.
"That's a nice sentiment, if not a little optimistic for these parts, but it is refreshing if none the less." She says returning the grin with one of her own. "My name is Guadalupe Welles, most people call me either Mama Welles or Mrs. Welles, as I'm sure you are aware I own this bar and as such it is part of my responsibility to make sure that the people working for me are the right sort."
Harry nods in understanding, "Makes sense, so if I might be so bold as to ask, what constitutes as 'the right sort'?" he asks politely.
"Well, as you can imagine and have probably witnessed we get a lot of what high society might consider as gutter trash, people down on their luck, in bed with one criminal or gang group or another, all kinds. In Night City it's pretty much the norm so we try not to judge people too harshly unless they come in here and bring the violence in with them and cause any trouble." Mrs. Welles explains, "As such we generally expect the same from our employees as well as our customers, so far from what Pepe has told me, aside from a bit of slight harassment from a few patrons, you have kept a calm and professional manner for someone who has never worked in a bar before."
Harry nods again, not bothering to deny the bit about the customers that tried to mug him, not that they know that. "I'm used to an environment where manual labor is usually accompanied by someone yelling at you for not doing a good enough job even if you are, by comparison this place has been quite lovely." Harry explains, not noticing the quickly hidden look of concern from Mrs. Welles, one promising to bring the point up again in the future.
"That's good, what's better is you haven't broken anything, stolen anything, asked for free drinks or show up late. To be honest with you young man, you're almost too good to be true for a new employee with no prior experience, but that's fine, I find that life is generally a better teacher than anything else and so long as the job is done correctly then how it's done tends to be less important." She says, followed by a stern glare to get her next point across "Just be aware, that if you break any of the rules, or if you bring conflict into my bar without good reason, you will find yourself out of a job, we are reasonable people but we aren't going to tolerate anything shady around here, understood?"
"I promise not to do anything that could possibly compromise the bar or anyone in it, but I'll be honest and say that if someone in the bar threatens my life and actually tries to follow through then I will defend myself, job e damned." Harry replies, his tone hardening at the end to make his own stance on the matter impossible to misunderstand.
Mrs. Welles keeps her glare up for a few minutes, making Harry sweat a little before she finally grins again. "Good, I'd expect nothing less, if you're in danger from a customer then I'd expect anyone to defend themselves, can't trust the police to get here in any respectable time to do anything about a disturbance so it's generally up to us to calm things down, by force if needed." She clears her throat, "That being said, we don't condone killing in the bar, if you are forced to fight a customer we prefer them to be alive at the end of it, a bar that kills their customers is bad for business. So unless you feel like you have no other choice, no killing."
"Not that I have to worry about that with you, no offence but you look like you haven't eaten a good meal in twenty years and you're not even eighteen yet." She says in an obvious joking manner.
Rather than take offence at the closer to the truth statement, Harry just snorts good naturedly. "What can I say, times are hard." he shrugs as if in a 'what can ya do?' manner.
She nods, knowing a lot of people in similar or worse states due to not having the means to better take care of themselves. "Well, now that we have the rules out of the way, I've just got some general questions for you, both for filing and for my peace of mind." she gestures to a clipboard next to her hand before dragging it over to lay flat in front of her and uncaps a pen. "So, your full name is Harry Potter, middle name?" she leads, not looking up from the clipboard.
"James." He says, relaxing back into his seat a bit.
"Pepe already told me your age so we'll skip that bit, where are you currently staying?" She asks.
"Currently I'm renting a room at a hotel not too far from here, I'm new to the area and haven't really had the chance to find something more reliable." Harry answers honestly. Knowing he doesn't know enough to bullshit his way around the fact he's pretty much homeless at the moment."
She pauses in her writing for a moment and glances up at him with a neutral expression before jotting the rest of his answer down. "Any family in the area for emergency reasons?"
"You mean like next of kin?" Harry asks for clarification, to which she nods. "No ma'am, I'm an orphan."
She pauses again but doesn't look at him, he appreciates not receiving any looks of pity from his new employer, he got them enough in his old world, he doesn't want to deal with it here. "Any prior convictions we should know about or might show up in a record search?"
"None, I've never been convicted of anything." he answers plainly before thinking 'Accused maybe, but never convicted.'
"Any drug addictions, alcohol addictions or anything else that might impair your ability to perform to the basic requirements of the job" She asks, silently dreading the possible answer for this part, nobody likes work with active addicts.
"No ma'am, I've never done any drugs aside from medically administered ones and only ever in the proper dosages and drinking has never been something I've gone out of my way to take part in." He replies, while some potions can have addictive side effects, they are usually paired with others to neutralize the effects all together and as for drinking, well, Vernon liked to drink, take that how you will.
"Good, so long as you don't start then we won't have any problems while you're working here." She says with a small sigh of relief, so far this kid seems to be perfectly acceptable to keep working for her, time might prove different but she has a good feeling about his character after hearing Pepe's report and her interaction with him thus far.
"So does that mean I can keep the job?" Harry asks, picking up on the last bit.
"I see no reason why not, you seem on the up and up, so long as you keep your nose clean and keep doing the good work you have been then I'd say welcome to the 'El Coyote Cojo' family, officially I mean. She says with a smile while reaching out for a handshakes, one he readily reciprocates with his own smile. "Now, I think I've taken up enough of your time and you still have half the night to get through, it before you get back to it I'd like it if you'd think about joining me for dinner sometime this week." She says, raising her hand to stop his response. "Nothing weird, but like I said, you look like a stiff breeze would knock you over and don't think I don't know a patch job when I see one." she says pointing out his shoulder, a few bandages still visible under the collar of his shirt. "So you're going to come over this week, we are going to have a good meal, you're going to let me look at your wound, and then I'd like to get to know how an English boy who still has the accent found his way into my bar looking for work." She finished off with a smile that is literally daring him to refuse.
Harry sits a bit gobsmacked, not expecting his interview to end with a Mrs. Weasley level threat of food, but without a way to really refuse his new boss, Harry swallows his instinct to run and simply nods. "Sure Mrs. Welles, that sounds good to me, uh I'll let you know tomorrow night?" he ends off with an awkward question as he slowly gets to his feet and steps out of the booth.
"That's fine dear, now go on, Pepe probably has something for you to do and the night is still young." She agrees and actually makes a joking shooing motion with her hands as she goes back to her paperwork.
Harry nods again and heads back downstairs, bewildered at the very unconventional interview and threat of food at the end. 'Tonight has been weird.'
'Agreed...she seems nice though.' The voice of Not-Hermione resounds in his mind.
Harry's remainder of the night is pretty much business as usual, he helps Pepe with food and drinks, he washes dishes and takes out garbage, he greets and takes care of customer orders all while ignoring the running commentary of the things going on around him inside his head by voices of the people he left behind. He tries not to dwell on it, afraid he might respond to them out loud and come off as someone mentally unstable.
'Too late for that Potter.' Not-Snape chimes in like his usual charming self.
'Oh fuck off, I'm working.' Harry thinks in response as he outs away the last of the dirty dishes in the back.
Once again he is silently shocked that just telling the voices to go away seems to be working for the most part, sure they keep coming back and sure, he keeps feeding into responding to them and SURE it's probably not doing anything positive for his mental state, but what else can he do? Not like there are any mind healers around to fix his grey matter.
Wrapping up his shift a few hours later, we see Harry saying his goodbyes with Pepe and Mrs. Welles, again promising to have dinner with her later that week, getting a smile from her and a smirk from Pepe, whom probably knows exactly what she is up to. 'Motherly instincts are powerful things kid, get ready to be all but adopted within a month, two tops.' Pepe thinks to himself with a chuckle.
As Harry heads out, he begins to ponder a bit on his situation, the need for income has been secured thanks to his now solid position at the bar, next on his list should probably be to find a more permanent living situation, hopefully he can find something affordable to someone working on a decent paycheck and tips. Following this he might need to pick up some more clothes and food, but he can do that tomorrow before work, small things to keep him held over until he has a proper place to store them.
His thoughts are brought to a halt with the sounds of yelling and gunfire coming from deep within the alleyways to his right and Harry can't help but let out a world weary sigh of frustration at it all. 'You could always ignore it Potter, it's not your problem after all, they're muggles.' The voice of Not-Draco says, tempting Harry away from the confrontation, or at least trying to.
It might have worked if literally any other voice tried it, "You know, just because it's you saying it, I'm gonna go ahead and let my saving people thing work it's bullshit magic." Harry says in spite of the mental illness telling him to leave someone innocent to die for being lesser.
It takes Harry a couple minutes to catch up to the sounds of gunfire, yelling and the occasional explosion or two before he enters a large gap between the buildings and alleyways, the sight he comes across is one he is all to familiar. On the ground, clutching a bleeding arm and looking his own death in the face is an older Latino man, his hair is dark and balding, his skin has some familiar looking tattoos depicting a possible relation to the Valentinos but what might set him apart from the rest is the almost fatherly looking ensemble and the rosary he clutches tightly in his good hand, refusing to look scared even at his own imminent demise.
Stood above him is a thing straight out of some sci-fi nightmare, for this thing could scarcely be called a human being, from head to toe the probable cyberpsycho is decked out in chrome, their legs having no obvious feet attached but in their place they come to a sharp looking point like some kind of twisted ballerina, Their arms look to have been fitted with both mantis blades and claws protruding from each finger, the entire head looks like it has been replaced by large optics of some kind, the lenses glowing an intimidating red in the dark of the alleyway, their glow adding to the intense atmosphere of the situation. their torso is covered mostly by a large leather vest with all kinds of patches and markings, the largest being no the back that reads in large print "Maelstrom" and Harry feels uncertainty begin to fill his mind. He has read about these people, their tendency to just chop themselves up and cram as much cyberware into their bodies being their trademark at this point, it's not uncommon for a member of the gang to succumb to cyberpsychosis at some point, hell it's damn near a guarantee.
The situation isn't looking good for the old man on the ground, his attacker stands poised to strike, slowly raising their mantis blades up for a downward slash and Harry is too far away to tackle them.
Only one option then...
"Depulso!" Harry yells, snapping his wand point directly at the Maelstrom ganger with a vicious jab and the reaction is instant, their body is sent harshly sprawling in the air before slamming into a wall and falling into a large garbage bin. The old man looks between where his attacker went flying and then back to where he heard someone yell something he didn't quite catch and his eyes widen when he sees a young man running towards him. "Sir, are you alright?" Harry asks as he comes skidding to a halt before the elder, quickly bringing him to his feet.
The older man can't get a word out before the sound of metal screeching pierces the air, both men look back towards the dumpster, one in trepidation and the other with determination, a flurry of blades turns the dumpster into a pile of scrap as the borged out gangoon steps from the mess of garbage and metal. "Little pig..." A vaguely female sounding but heavily synthesized voice mutters low and dangerous.
"Sir, you need to run." Harry says with more calm in his tone than he is actually feeling, his body tensing for the fight to come.
The older man finally snaps out of his stupor, "We both need to run, we can't fight this devil!" he exclaims and tries to pull Harry with him to run but he shrugs off his grip.
"I'll be fine, get out of here and call the police or something." Harry says, his tone sounding more like an order than a suggestion.
The elderly man just looks at Harry and then back to the cyberpsycho who has begun slowly stalking their way forwards to them, finger blades splayed out on either hand and mantis blades twitching, ready to strike. "This boy...he's different, is he a solo?" The older man thinks as his gaze meets his savior's once more and he hesitantly nods. "I'll get help, you just survive this young man, I can't repay you if you're dead." Harry nods and in response the old man takes off at a run faster than most would consider for his seeming age, muttering a prayer for the brave soul in a city where bravery tends to be rewarded with death.
Taking in the slow stride of his opponent, Harry figures he would stick to his usual single chance rule. "I don't suppose we could just let bygones be and you don't try to kill me?" Harry asks slightly more sarcastic than he intends.
The borg's response is to let out a howl right out of some werewolf horror flick and sprints at the wizard, both mantis blades dragging behind, scratching up sparks from the ground as she goes.
"Didn't think so, stupify!" Harry casts, his aim dead on as his spell splashes against their torso, but much to his shock the howling psycho doesn't even flinch in her pursuit, the only indication of the spell having any sort of effect being the slight dimming of their optic glow for a brief moment before returning with an unholy gleam, as if the thought of her prey fighting back angering her even more. "Shit, shit!" Harry curses as he throws himself to the side, narrowly dodging the wild swing of her arms and tucking into a quick roll, bringing him back up to his feet.
He brings his arm up to cast again but is quickly put on the back foot, the crazed woman refusing to give him a proper inch to retaliate, the next few minutes are filled with Harry desperately dodging swipes and stabs from her arms, hands and feet as she tries her hardest to impale him. "Little pig, little pig!" she repeats the words with every attack of her blades, "No house of straw to hide in, pig!" she bellows before finally catching Harry in a brutal sweeping kick to the chest, launching him off his feet and back a good ten feet away.
The air is knocked from his lungs as what feels like a small car crashes into his chest and knocks him tumbling across the ground, his grip on his wand somehow still stable. "F-fuck!" he gasps and wheezes, trying to get air back into his lungs. Before he can react, a blade slams down into his previously injured shoulder, drawing a scream from him and pinning him to the ground. The psycho is straddling his downed form, one mantis blade planted in his body with the other being raised to strike down as well. "Nowhere to go for my third little pig." she says in a crazed and excited way, like she'd be drooling at the mouth if she still had one, it too having been replaced by some kind of vocal chrome.
Harry, realizing his rapidly approaching doom pulls a drastic move and points his wand across his own downed frame, lashing out with a silent blasting curse, this causes several things to happen at once, the first is that his assailant is sent flying away from him once more, the blade in his shoulder being roughly jerked out at an angle, doing some interior damage as well as slicing the wound more open as it exits. The next thing that happens is Harry himself is sent sliding across the ground again, his back and sides getting torn up some by the ground and random junk on it before coming to a stop along the bottom of a flight of stairs leading up to what seems like a series of scaffolds.
Quickly shaking the dizziness away Harry scrambles to his feet at a bit of a wobble. "Okay Potter, stop messing around with the people trying to kill you." he berates himself as he searches for his opponent. A noise from his left alerts him to a rapidly approaching bag of garbage, with more reflex than thought Harry erects a shield that the bag crashes against and explodes, raining trash all over the place but thankfully not penetrating the shield. Quickly dropping the shield, Harry transfigured several spikes from the garbage and banishes them at the borged out psycho. Two spikes nail their target, one planting deep into their midsection and the other snapping into the joint of her left mantis blade, snapping it off her arm to clatter onto the floor.
The howl she emits at the damage is soul wrenching, high pitched and staticky in a way Harry has never heard in a yell of pain and rage. Not wanting to give his quarry an inch in their little game of death tag, Harry conjures a wall of flame at the feet of the howling murder machine, igniting it easily, the synthetic flesh bubbling and sliding off their frame like molten plastic butter. The sight is almost enough to bring his dinner out of him in a most unpleasant way but he forces the feeling down. As the flames rise her howling becomes dimmer slowly until it stops all together and Harry can no longer properly see his target.
He waits for a few moments before letting out a heavy sigh, assuming the battle won he walks over to a couple metal crates and sits down on the smaller of them to catch his bearings. "Rooky mistake Potter, you don't know if they are dead yet!" The voice of Not-Moody booms inside his skull.
"Oh come on, that spike had to have hit something vital and plus she's a burning pile of scrap, no person can survive that." Harry rebukes with a huff.
"But these muggles aren't like normal people Harry." Not-Neville responds, speaking up for as a voice of reason in a situation Harry would love to just be over.
"Ugh, why'd you have to say that..." Harry groans and true to the universally followed rules of jinxing a situation, said 'flaming pile of scrap' slowly staggers to her feet, looking like a twisted robotic demon, without any of the synthetic flesh left it truly looks more like what you'd expect any other killer machine to, well, except for the organs and mixture of real blood mixing with some kind of oily substance as it spills from their wounds and onto the still burning ground as it all cooks and bubbles away with a smell that is literally indescribable
In the blink of the eye she is upon him in a flurry of swinging red hot claws and agonized howls, Harry is left on the backfoot, receiving numerous cuts to his arms, legs, torso and face, each cut leaving a barely bleeding wound due to the heat of the metal mostly cauterizing them closed. A vicious backhand puts him a good few feet away from her, finally giving him a moment to retaliate in a moment of desperation, he screams out the first spell that comes to mind. "Wingardium leviosa!" with a swish and flick his attacker is brought fifteen feet in the air, angrily swiping at everything around her in an attempt to deal more damage, not realizing she is swaying about like a demented cat with the zoomies.
The sight is almost enough to bring Harry to a laugh, had the situation been different he would have even pointed, but the many cuts, his stab wounded shoulder and his general rising anger at both himself for his lack of seriousness during the entire fight, on top of having put himself in this situation in the first place due to his merlin be damned 'saving people thing' and the psycho for the damage she has dealt to both himself and who knows how many other people, well, Harry is feeling less than merciful at this moment.
With a shaky grip on his wand, he levels it with the still howling and madly swinging form floating in the air and with as much power as he can produce in the moment he casts the deciding blow. "Reducto maxima!" with a jolt the spells screeches across the space between them and upon impact reduces the borg to literal dust, the fire going out now lacking a source of fuel.
Harry lowers his wand with an exhausted and painful sigh, with a quick flick at the fire still on the ground he puts it out so as to not burn down a neighborhood before sheathing his wand altogether. With the battle over and no other hostiles in the area Harry finally allows himself to relax, the adrenaline leaving his body rapidly and coupled with the slowly rising level of blood loss, he crumbles to the ground in a heap.
'I wonder if that old guy managed to call for some help.' He thinks to himself as he slowly loses consciousness. The last thing he sees being a blurry figure rushing toward his downed form and some words he doesn't understand as the blissful darkness envelops him into a well earned sleep.
Harry groans stiffly as the light from an opened window shines hatefully onto his face, that dastardly ball of evil gas dragging him away from a for once restless slumber. With a slow stretch Harry slowly opens his eyes which widen as he looks at the ceiling of an unfamiliar room. He sits upright too fast drawing a groan of pain as a result. Taking stock of himself he quickly searches for his wand, thankfully it is still in his holster strapped to his arm. With a relieved sigh he then notices his lack of clothing, with the exception of his boxers, revealing the bandages wrapped around his various wounds, the heaviest of which being packed into his shoulder.
With a bit of confusion he takes stock of his room and notices several things like posters adorning the wall depicting several bands and either movies or television shows of some kind. There are shelves filled with seemingly random things and pictures he is too far away to get a good look at. On the ground there are several sets of weights and a punching bag in the corner. On the bedside table rests his glasses which he quickly puts on.
As he is about to get out of the bed and find his clothes, the door opens and two people step in, in front is the same old man he rescued the night before, also freshly bandaged and looking better than when Harry found him. Behind him, carrying a tray of food is none other than, "Mrs. Welles?" Harry asks, eyes widening a bit, wondering what's going to happen now that his new boss seems to be the 'help' that Harry sent the old man after during the fight with the cyberpsycho.
Her response is to give Harry a relieved looking smile before she sets the tray of food on the bedside table. The old man, looking interested in the development can't help but ask, "You didn't mention you knew this young man, Guadalupe?" he sends her a pointed look.
She scoffs in response, "I was more worried about stopping all the bleeding and wrapping you both up at the time, it's not everyday an old friend brings your newest employee to your home unconscious and bleeding, Sebastian." she snarks back with an unimpressed look on her face.
Meanwhile, Harry is looking back and forth between them with a slowly growing pit in his stomach, knowing there is no way in hell he is getting out of this situation without either explaining some hard to believe things or just straight up obliviating them both. 'Merlin's saggy scrote...'
"Young man, before anything else is said I need to thank you for saving me from that damned soul" The now identified Sebastian says.
Harry shrugs lightly, not wanting to aggravate his wounded shoulder any more than it has been. "It's what anyone would have done." he says, drawing a snort from Mrs. Welles and a disbelieving look from Sebastian.
"That's where you're wrong Harry, in Night City, the people who would put themselves in danger for a stranger are more rare than organic fruit." Mrs. Welles says, looking fondly at the injured teen, her already positive opinion of the boy having risen higher when hearing of what he'd done for Sebastian only a scant few hours after her interview with him.
"She's right, most people here wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, but you, you ran into a situation that had nothing to do with you and you saved my life." Sebastian says, looking Harry dead in the eyes, trying to convey his gratitude. "For that, you have my eternal gratitude and my support if you ever need it, get into contact with me and I will see it done, whatever it is." he says, drawing a look of surprise from Mrs. Welles and Harry both, one because she knows who and what Sebastian really is in the underworld of Night City and Harry because he was honestly not expecting anything from anyone with what he did, he hardly ever does.
"oh uh, well, thank you sir, uhm, If you have my pants somewhere around here I can give you my contact information?" Harry offers, earning a look of confusion from both of the adults in the room until Mrs. Welles picks up on something she hadn't noticed before and mentally chides herself. "Harry, do you use an agent?" she asks, to which Harry just nods. "You don't have a holo?" she digs, Harry's response driving more looks of shock from the pair. "I don't have any cyberware at all." he says, feeling a little embarrassed over it all and it must have shown in his expression because Mrs. Welles gives him a pat on the arm.
"There's nothing wrong with that Harry, it's just a bit of a shock is all, these days most everyone has at least the basics." She says, hoping to ease his worries.
"Wait, how do you explain throwing that borg at the wall when you found me? I figured you used some kind of combat implants or when you reduced her to dust at the end of the fight?" Sebastian questions, getting a not so silent curse from Harry and a look of bewildered shock from Mrs. Welles who looks between Harry and Sebastian in confusion, not having heard of the methods Harry used in the fight yet. "How can you do these things and claim to be totally organic?" he asks, straight up.
Harry is silent for a few moments, his mind whirling to figure out a way to bullshit his way out of just straight up ousting himself as a wizard.
'Would that be so bad?' The voice of Not-Remus asks softly in his head.
'You're going to need allies if you want to survive this new world Potter, nobody can do everything on their own, trust me on this...' The voice of Not-Snape joins in, sounding surprisingly gentle for once.
'They are right Harry, sometimes it's better to have people at your back, even if there might be a knife or two.' Not-Luna chimes in, sounding just as floaty as he remembered, but no less insightful.
The idea eats at him, his entire childhood was spent in part having the importance of keeping what he is a secret from the mundane people of the world, but, if he is the only one here, then what would the harm really be? It's not like he would be endangering anyone but himself if things go south and if worse comes to it, then he can just wipe himself from their minds and move on with his life as usual. With this in mind, Harry looks between the patiently awaiting Sebastian and Mrs. Welles, his mind coming to a final decision.
"Do you believe in magic?"
-To be continued-
Welp, that's it for this chapter! Sorry for ending on a bit of a cliffhanger but hey, at least it wasn't during the fight again! I'll be honest though, this chapter was hard to write, i think I wrote that fight scene three times and I STILL don't like it as much as I would have liked to but meh, work and health problems have kept me busy lol. I'll try to do better going forward.
See y'all in the next one!