ŌTEILAÍ
CHAPTER 2:
MEDEA AND HARRY
He had probably overwhelmed her with this. And yet, Harry couldn't help himself. While he couldn't say that Medea of Colchis was an idol or role model of his by any means, his mentor and the closest thing he had to a mother or grandmother figure (especially after Molly swallowed what Dumbledore and James Potter claimed) had taught him much about the truth of her life.
He recognised her from the memories Circe had shown him. True, most of Circe's memories were of Medea as a somewhat bubbly and airheaded young girl and teenager, with only a few being of her as an adult…after her relationship with Jason ended. And honestly, Harry had to say, Jason was a fucking idiot.
The woman standing before him had an ageless quality to her. She could have been anywhere from her late twenties to her middle age, an elegant mature beauty, clad in purple and black robes. Blue hair verging on lavender framed melancholy features, her eyes a darker blue. Oddly enough, she had pointed ears akin to a Tolkien Elf, albeit smaller than her aunt, who had much longer ears. Her voice was an effortless sultry purr, confidant and regal.
Eventually, Medea fought down her surprise, and gave him what seemed like a genuine smile. "So, my aunt is still alive in this day and age, over three millennia since our time. It is rare that she took on students, even in my time. You must be gifted indeed."
"Actually, I kind of ended up on Aeaea Island after escaping from prison," Harry said. "I was in a bad way, and she nursed me back to health. Honestly, I think she taught me partly because she was bored. Her power is diminished these days, though it'd still be more than enough to kick my arse."
Medea, despite herself, actually giggled softly. "That actually makes too much sense. But a prison escapee? If she deigned to train you, you were either framed, or else your crime was a minor one. Otherwise, she would have turned you into a pig."
Before Harry could reply, he felt a vibration in his coat pocket. "Hold that thought, please. I need to take this. You're good for now, in terms of magic reserves? And would that Servant be able to track us?"
After a moment, Medea waved her hand around. "He can't now. And yes, thank you, I should be good for another few hours."
Harry nodded, and took out the Communications Mirror, activating it, showing the frazzled features of 'Don't Call Me Nymphadora' Lupin, nee Tonks. "Harry?"
"Dora," Harry said. "Is he back safe and sound?"
"Yes, but he's exhausted. Remus just took him off to his bedroom after he told us something of what happened, about some lady called 'Caster' being nice to him and keeping him safe until you got there."
"Yes. And Dora? Caster is someone my mentor knew." He gestured for Medea to come over. "Dora, meet Medea of Colchis. Medea of Colchis, this is Nymphadora Lupin, formerly Nymphadora Tonks."
"Don't call me Nymphadora!" the Metamorphmagus snapped, her hair cycling through colours and styles. "But still, bloody hell, Harry, you don't do things by halves! Waver Velvet told us all kinds of horror stories about the Holy Grail War he went through, and yet, here you are. Was she summoned by that bastard Galliasta?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "They weren't very compatible. Then again, given that I heard he had a harem of Homunculi, he probably couldn't get a woman normally. Medea, in your opinion, how misogynistic was Atrum Galliasta?"
The woman in question pursed her blue lips. "Fairly so. Unfortunately, he was not that much different from the societal norms of my era. But you're probably right, that may be why he has a harem of Homunculi." She tittered.
"And is he dead?" Dora asked.
Harry nodded. "Medea did most of it. I kneecapped him, though."
"…Good. I shouldn't be saying that, as a former Auror, and a current Enforcer. But that bastard kidnapped my boy, and from what I heard, thought nothing of melting down his kidnap victims to make magic crystals."
"And the galling thing is, when I showed him I could create an even larger crystal from the ambient mana in that appalling room, he punched me in the face," Medea said, rubbing her cheek. "Not before using a Command Seal to prevent me from using my Noble Phantasm on him, though. Sadly, he didn't word it well enough to prevent me from doing so to myself."
"…Seriously? Okay, as much as you scare me thanks to your story, even after what Circe told us, I can understand why you turned on him. And thanks for helping Teddy," Dora said. "So, what next, Harry?"
"I dunno," Harry said. "For now, I'll stay in Fuyuki for a bit, enough to ensure Medea gets situated. I owe her that much for keeping Teddy safe, and besides, Circe would want me to help her out. After that, I'll play it by ear."
"…Just be careful, Harry. Don't get caught up in the Holy Grail War."
"It's probably a touch late for that, Dora. We'll talk later. Good night."
After Nymphadora hung up after her own farewell, Harry pocketed the Communications Mirror. "Sorry about that, Medea. She's been a good friend of mine for a while, one of those who stood by me. Basically like the older sister I never had."
"I am hardly offended," Medea said. "Not only did you help me get revenge on my late and unlamented former Master, not that I needed the help, though I'm grateful all the same, but you helped me escape from what was probably Lancer. You also gave me a stay of execution, so to speak, by replenishing my magical reserves. My reputation may not be the best in this era, but I am not without a sense of gratitude. Allowing you to speak with those you care about, and the boy's mother to boot, is the very least I can do in exchange. That you are my aunt's student also helps matters. Honestly, it's refreshing to have someone look at me with something other than lust, contempt, or hatred."
"…Look, I don't like what you nearly did with Theseus," Harry admitted. "But a lot of what you did elsewhere in terms of nasty shit, you were either brainwashed by Aphrodite, or suffering from the aftermath of that. Jason was a dick who traded you in for the younger model, even though he had to have known that you were under Aphrodite's spell when…" He trailed off, not wanting to bring up Medea's fratricide of her brother Absyrtus.
"…Absyrtus, yes," Medea said, summoning a zig-zagging dagger to her hand, and peering at it with a melancholy air, before dismissing it with a sad sigh. "Jason and many of the other Argonauts did look askance at me after that moment. But…you accept me in spite of that?"
"…Circe explained to me a lot about your life. True, she's not without her own faults, to say the least, but she helped me truly understand how much the Olympians and Jason screwed you over. Besides, you helped out Heracles afterwards," Harry said. "And unlike some versions of your stories, your children with Jason were murdered by the Corinthians, not by you. Honestly, on balance, I think you need a lot of hugs."
"…And what is your story, Harry Evans?" Medea asked with a frown. "You know a lot about me, but I know little about you, only that you are a wizard, from Britain, and that you seem to have some notoriety even amongst the Magi, given Galliasta's words."
Harry's first instinct was to refuse her vehemently. His past was a painful subject to him, especially when he learned that so much he thought he knew was a complete lie, and those who should have helped him turned their backs on him. He didn't like discussing it with even his last remaining friends and loved ones, let alone relative strangers. He'd even gained a sardonic nickname, 'Scarred Emerald', in Clock Tower, a parody of Touko Aozaki's 'Scarred Red', and while he wouldn't kill everyone who called him that like Aozaki did, it still pissed him off something fierce.
But…on reflection, he had more than a few reasons not to refuse. The first was that she did save Teddy, keeping him safe until Harry could retrieve him. Like it or not, Servants were, on the whole, a superhuman existence, and if she didn't cooperate, he wasn't sure he could have defeated her, let alone retrieve Teddy. Casters may be considered one of the weakest classes of Servant, but if they had time to establish a territory, they could end up being nigh-invincible, and even outside of one, they could be troublesome, to say the least. Waver had told horror stories about the Caster of the previous Holy Grail War, who was Gilles de Rais.
The second was that Medea was someone he had personally come to respect and feel sympathy for. The respect was due to Circe, albeit a little grudgingly, calling her her best student, at least in terms of learning magic of all kinds. Indeed, the only witch of her era he held in greater esteem in terms of skill was Circe herself.
As for the sympathy, until he met Circe, he'd heard about her legend before in passing. He felt sorry for her being dumped by Jason, but killing her brother, and then her children, soured him to her. Yet Circe explained the true story. Glauce was not exactly an innocent victim in that, secretly inciting a mob of Corinthians to kill the children of Medea. Medea's fratricide was done under the influence of Aphrodite, out of obsessive love for Jason. And most of her former comrades on the Argo turned their backs on Medea, not knowing or caring that she was effectively brainwashed.
True, she did some bad things later in life entirely of her own volition, damaged by years of distrust and malice. Her attempted poisoning of Theseus was a case in point, though that hero was not without faults, to say the least. Yet the betrayals in his own life had led him down a path many in his old circle of 'friends' would consider dark, and it wasn't like his own hands were clean either.
Eventually, he shrugged, going back to the Expanded Trunk, and pulling out another potion for replenishing mana. "You'd better have another, just in case. I'll try and abridge it for you, but even so…it's a long story."
As she accepted the vial, Medea said, "I gathered as much, even before I asked…"
Medea was beginning to wish she hadn't asked. Not because of the length of the story, but because of the details involved. True, she knew many heroes on the Argo, such as Peleus, Heracles, Atalanta, the Dioscuri…oh, and Jason, as he technically counted, if only by dint of the myth around him. More than a few hadn't had the best of childhoods, to say the least.
The story started when some upstart warlock called Voldemort went around killing other wizards and witches because he was obsessed with purity of blood. Never mind that he was a Halfblood, or that having a long and illustrious magical heritage only strengthened magic when one was a Magus. No, the hypocrite basically went around killing people who didn't fit his appalling paradigm, or disagreed with him.
However, in targeting the Potters, Voldemort came a cropper. Harry's mother, Lily, sacrificed herself to save Harry, who was protected by a primal kind of blood magic ritual. Medea had to admit to being impressed, even if it left Harry alone in the world.
And at the non-existent mercy of his relatives. Medea found it unbelievable that his bedroom for ten years of his life was a boot cupboard under the stairs. In this modern era, that was unthinkable for a relatively civilised country, yet it happened.
However, at the age of eleven, Harry learned of his heritage, of his magic, of his being 'the Boy Who Lived'. He went to Hogwarts, a school for wizards and witches, and had adventures. Unfortunately, Voldemort still lived, albeit as an insubstantial wraith. At the end of Harry's fourth year, Voldemort, with the help of a man who betrayed Harry's parents, regained his body.
A tense year followed, and then, Harry fell for a trap set by Voldemort, entering the Department of Mysteries. His godfather died trying to save Harry. Harry pursued his murderer, only to encounter Voldemort.
And then, a lie had been exposed.
James Potter, supposedly dead, came back to fight Voldemort, accompanied by a boy who looked almost identical to Harry, whom James called Hadrian.
After the fallout settled, Harry was taken aside by James and Dumbledore, who explained it. How the Potters who had died were Homunculus decoys provided by the Musik family. Harry himself was a decoy for his 'original', Hadrian, created from James and Lily's zygotes. Lily herself truly died, but because she couldn't see Harry as anything but another son, though Harry later learned that she had been dosed up on Amortentia, and dying while protecting Harry was also meant as a spiteful gesture towards the man who effectively raped her. Medea could appreciate that kind of spite.
Still, Harry, despite the seemingly kind and gentle words, began to see holes in the story. Why, for example, was Sirius left in Azkaban while James Potter, who knew the truth, was in hiding in the US? Sirius was innocent, after all, and James Potter had to have known that. From there, the whole story began to unravel, as did the masks they were wearing.
Harry was little more than a decoy. As far as James and Dumbledore were concerned, he wasn't the real Boy Who Lived. He was just a handy distraction for Voldemort. And to James in particular, he was a doll, a toy, a faulty, rebellious machine that was not performing its function. Even Dumbledore, as callous as he had been, hadn't gone that far, treating Harry as a human being.
Harry had snapped then and there. He disowned James Potter as his father loudly. A true father would not have abandoned his child to the Dursleys. As far as he was concerned, James was a coward who left one good friend in prison, and another wallow in abject poverty.
That did not end well.
James had grabbed Harry, and used a spell to burn his face, before knocking him out. By the time Harry woke up, he was in Azkaban, telling Harry something that, at the time, Harry thought a lie. That Harry had a fragment of Voldemort's soul in his scar (the lightning bolt one, not the burn scars adorning part of his face), something called a Horcrux. James had told the Order that the Horcrux had taken Harry over, and Harry would be left to rot in Azkaban for now, until he could be subjected to the Kiss.
Unfortunately for James, he hadn't learned from Sirius' escape. Then again, given that Animagi were relatively rare without undergoing a lengthy and tedious ritual, perhaps that arrogance was warranted. Yet Harry, in desperation, managed to do so through sheer willpower, becoming a falcon that flew away from Azkaban.
Some time later, a weary Harry, still in falcon form, ended up in the Mediterranean. And then, he ended up on Aeaea Island, the abode of Circe. Circe knew it was an Animagus immediately, but after a quick touch of mind-reading (not to mention being amused by her, the Falcon Witch, accidentally drawing a falcon Animagus to her), not only allowed Harry to stay, but took him on as her student. Some years later, Harry left her tutelage, and reconnected with the few friends he could trust. Some had joined the Magus Association, so he eventually did so too, becoming a mercenary.
Medea was struck by the story of his life. Assuming he was telling the truth, and she reckoned he was, he had gone through more than his own fair share of betrayals, of being manipulated and lied to. The situations were different, as were how they dealt with them, but they were more alike than she cared to consider before.
Drinking from the vial, just in case, she said, "You have my condolences for what you went through. And I don't think any lesser of you for being a Homunculus. Homunculi run the gamut from being non-sentient to being indistinguishable from people, and thus being actual people, and you're most definitely in the latter category. I could heal your burn scar if you wish…?"
"No," Harry said firmly. "Circe offered the same thing, but…it's a reminder. Of what James Potter did to me, to my life. Hadrian may have stolen my life, so many of my friends…but James…he thought I was his puppet, his obedient slave. My life was never mine to possess, as far as he was concerned. If he is Frankenstein, then I am the monster he created. And one day…I will take his dignity, his reputation, and his life, not necessarily in that order. But thank you, Medea. You and I know, though, that some scars never heal."
She nodded in agreement. And yet, a notion that had been idly percolating in her mind began to come to the fore. An audacious notion that she wasn't sure would work, and yet…it wasn't like she had many options.
Eventually, working up the courage to speak, she stepped forward, placing the vial on a table. "Harry Evans…this is not something I would ask lightly. After all, you have no stake in my quest for the Holy Grail. But…you're a fellow student of my aunt. That already commands some respect from me, as does your story. And your profession as a mercenary means that your services are for hire, if I need to appeal to that side of you. I have no money, but I am a master at creating Mystic Codes, for either your own personal use, or to sell to make up for your hiring fee."
He looked to her, trying to discern her motive. Or maybe he knew already, and wanted her to come out and say it. So she barrelled on. "You are at liberty to refuse, I can find someone else, I am sure. But…I wish for you to become my Master, and help me win the Holy Grail War…"
CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:
So, Medea and Harry have swapped stories, and Medea has made a request of Harry. But will he accept it?
Given that, in the Nasuverse version of events, Medea's children were murdered by the Corinthians, I decided to say that happened before Medea's murder of Glauce, and that Glauce herself did so, covertly, to spite Medea. It's to make Medea seem less spiteful herself in killing Glauce.
No numbered annotations this time.