WIZARD AND TIEFLING

CHAPTER 2:

KARLACH

Karlach Cliffgate was, admittedly, putting on something of a brave front. Those bastards in the Circus Arcanum may not have hurt her that much, but the humiliation, having an enchanted shock collar on her neck, and basically living in a gilded cage (not literally, but she was kept prisoner, even if in a cushy room in a magical caravan) was still not a fun experience. Probably better than whatever Zariel had in store for her had Gortash succeeded in trading her to that damned Archdevil.

True, she was still going to be on something of a leash, what with being watched over by Harry Potter. But as long as he was a decent chap and wasn't going to treat her like a monster or an animal, well, she'd tolerate a bit of that. And his expression was promising, wary, but potentially willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

The way Croaker told his story, Harry was a big damned hero, along with many of his friends. Beating this Voldemort guy was no mean feat: apparently the guy was like a Lich or something. But Croaker warned her that Harry wasn't fond of his fame, especially as it started the night he was orphaned, at an age where he couldn't really remember his parents.

Karlach grew up listening to tales of heroes from her parents, as well as bards in taverns. Of the Companions of the Hall, especially Drizzt Do'urden and Cattie-Brie, or of Jaheira and Minsc, and their clashes with the Cult of Bhaal. Ever since she was a kid, she wished to become like her heroes, though after her parents died, she knew she would have to concentrate on getting regular coin. A shame it led her to Enver Gortash, but the guy seemed decent at the time.

Yet here she was, not in the presence of one of her heroes, but the next best thing. She'd envy him, but Croaker did point out that Harry lost many of those he cared about to Voldemort and his forces, and he'd become embittered by later events. And she did get that, kind of. She knew a few veterans, soldiers, guardsmen, adventurers and the like, and they warned about the dangers involved in so-called glorious pursuits.

They were currently seated in Croaker's office (after Karlach had a quick shower and a change of clothes), with Harry sitting next to her. Earlier, he'd been shooting her glances that were wary and curious. And, she was sure, checking her out, despite himself. She didn't mind polite interest, or at least interest that didn't cross the line, anyway.

However, he was currently reading a transcript of that interrogation she did while under the influence of Veritaserum. It was a gentle interrogation, but an interrogation all the same. Though at least she didn't have to deal with the Aurors. She saw the way some of them looked at her. Half of them were repulsed, and a few leered.

Once he was done, Harry looked to Croaker. On Croaker's nod, Harry then turned to Karlach. "If this is true…I'm sorry you went through all that shit."

"If? I'd be offended, but, well…even back home, Tieflings were treated with suspicion," Karlach said with a shrug. "Not by everyone, but…I was told by Saul that the racist pricks call magic-users who weren't born to other magic-users 'Mudbloods'. Well, us Tieflings are called Foulbloods, amongst other charming things."

"Well, it's more that one of my old mentors kept screaming at me about 'Constant Vigilance'," Harry said.

Croaker chuckled. "Ah, old Alastor…though don't ever get to his level of paranoia, Harry. Mad-Eye Moody was a good Auror, but he got a bit too trigger-happy at times. It's a wonder he didn't become more so after Barty Crouch Junior kidnapped him."

Karlach sensed a story there, especially given the way Harry scowled at the reminder. She understood the sentiment of 'Constant Vigilance', though. She had to wonder, if she had paid attention more, could she have discerned Gortash's true intentions sooner? Then again, the bastard had oodles of charisma and charm. Karlach may have been inexperienced in some of the darker ways of the world, but Gortash fooled a lot of people, not just her.

That Harry felt for her, as much as he could given his caution towards her, was heartening. "Yeah, well, I could have done with that myself before Gortash decided to sell me to Zariel," Karlach remarked. "From what I gathered, they intended to replace my heart with something called an Infernal Engine. Given that an Archdevil was involved, that's probably a Very Fucking Bad Thing, though as she wanted a soldier for the Blood Wars, I'd probably be expected to survive the process. Dunno the details, and I don't care. Honestly, being locked up in a gilded cage (well, caravan) in the Circus Arcanum was probably better than being stuck in Avernus or one of the other Hells. Still not happy with that shit, but…I'm free now. Better than what would have happened if I was Zariel's little test subject or conscript, anyway."

It was sad that she actually meant that. She couldn't call her treatment in the Circus Arcanum good, she was still a prisoner, with an enchanted shock collar around her neck, and she was gawked at and insulted by attendees who came to stare at the captured Devil. But she endured it, coped with it, until the Aurors and Unspeakables got her out. It was Croaker who found her and freed her, thankfully. And while she was confined to barracks for now, it was still a damn sight better than what she went through.

Harry was shaking his head. "And he employed you for a few years, you actually liked him. Bloody hell, what an arse."

"No argument from me, soldier," Karlach said casually, though she noticed the grimace when she called him that. She'd probably cut back on that. "If I ever got back to Toril, to Baldur's Gate, I'd chop the bastard up into mince, and over a long time. I'm no Bhaalspawn, but I thought long and hard about what I'd do to him while I was caged."

"Bhaalspawn?"

Croaker cleared his throat. "Offspring, so to speak, of the God of Murder, Bhaal, people tainted with his essence. And Bhaal is one of a triumvirate of deities known as the Dead Three, including Bane, the God of Tyranny, and Myrkul, the God of Death, or one of them, anyway. One of the few times the Unspeakables were investigating Toril was during the rise of one such Bhaalspawn, Sarevok."

"Charming," Harry remarked succinctly.

"Hey, some of my favourite tales are of Sarevok getting his arse handed to him," Karlach said. "Hells, he got beaten by another Bhaalspawn, one who was resisting the urge to be a murderhobo. I'd love to tell you some tales some time, Harry. I mean, if you'd have me at your home…"

Harry was a little surprised at Karlach saying such a thing. Given all she went through, assuming her interrogation was true (Veritaserum could be worked around by telling half-truths and lies of omission, hence why it wasn't accepted in a court of law), he reckoned she would have been unwilling to trust anyone ever again. Her own employer betrayed her, and the Circus Arcanum kept her a virtual prisoner.

His expression must've shown that, because she shrugged, her expression becoming solemn. "Look, it ain't like I have much choice anyway. As far as I know, the Unspeakables are my only chance of getting back home. I'm not in that much of a hurry. My parents are dead, my employer stabbed me in the back, and I only have a few friends I want to see. But I miss Baldur's Gate, I miss the Sword Coast, and I don't want to keep hiding myself like I have to on this world lest I get hunted down like a fucking animal. I don't wanna experience what Drizzt Do'urden must've felt before people looked past him being a Drow and saw that he was a hero and a decent bloke. Besides, while I'm not exactly a scholarly type, I'm no fool either. Judging every person, human, Tiefling or not, by the acts of a few is stupid. More than a few in the Circus Arcanum treated me well enough, as did people in Baldur's Gate, prior to Gortash selling me. I'm willing to give you a chance, Harry, but a chance is all I'm giving out to any one person now, and I'm sure, given my looks and your experiences, the feeling is mutual if you do agree. Saul reckoned you'd appreciate the honesty there. Besides, I don't intend to loaf off your charity. If there's any mercenary work or stuff like that in this world, I'd be fine with doing it."

Harry was struck by the quiet plea. She at least admitted she wanted to go home, to her home. He couldn't imagine what it was like. The Dursleys' house was never home, Potter Manor felt too much like a hollow shell of its old self to be a home (even with Andromeda and the kids there), the Burrow was more the Weasleys' home than his own, 12 Grimmauld Place was a dank, dark shithole, and Hogwarts…there were too many unhappy memories associated with that place, even though there were as many happy ones as well. The closest he came to this was the year he spent on the run from Voldemort and his forces, hunting down the Horcruxes according to a plan Harry only had a vague idea of.

Yet Karlach was literal worlds away from home. That she remained sane and decent after everything was a minor miracle if this was all true. And while he may not have known what it was like to be taken away from everything he knew and loved, he knew (thanks to the cupboard under the stairs) what it was like to be caged, what it was like to be gawked at (thanks to his fame and infamy), and what it was like to be detested for one's blood.

So, she was right. She was going to get a chance. Just one. The likes of Draco Malfoy and others got more chances than Karlach did, it'd be hypocritical of him to not to offer this chance. And in any case, if she was a genuinely decent person in spite of appearances, then he would offer his hospitality anyway.

"…Okay, Karlach. For now, my home is your home, and…" That was about as far as he got before the muscular woman stood up, and gathered him into a crushing embrace.

"Thank you, thank you!" Karlach yelped, before she realised what she was doing, and released him from the hug. "Fuck, sorry 'bout that, Harry. Sometimes, I don't know my own strength. You okay, soldier?"

"Yeah…but I'm no soldier."

On seeing his irritated look, she said, apologetically, "Sorry, it's…what did my parents call it? A term of endearment. Dad used to be in the military. Dad, Mum and I used to call each other 'Potato' as a term of endearment for family." Then, her expression fell at the reminder of her parents, before she shook her head. "Never mind. So, still willing to have me over?"

"My ribs are still intact, so yes," Harry snarked, causing the Tiefling to chuckle.

"Before you do, here's the ring I promised you, Karlach," Croaker said, sliding over a box with the item in question. "It'll disguise you as a human with similar features to yours. The skin colour will be different, your ears and eyes will look human, and you won't have horns or a tail in appearance, but they'll still be present, so mind where your tail is in public places. Magic and magical creatures are still hidden from the Muggles, and I doubt you'd be able to go anywhere without that ring, well, unless you decide to visit one of those science fiction and fantasy conventions."

Harry chuckled at the thought. Karlach would probably win a cosplay competition. "If you say so, Saul, but thanks," Karlach said.

"Also, keep in mind, most wizards and witches won't be as open-minded. I'll brief Luna and Hermione, but telling Andromeda and her children is up to you, Harry. And Karlach, should you have need to go to Gringotts, the Goblins have means of detecting such things. They'll know the ring comes from us, so let them know you have permission from me, and only show them your true form in private."

"Yeah, yeah. Still can't get over Goblins in this world being bankers, but still…" She opened the box, slid on the ring, and transformed. It was clearly Karlach, but without the horns or tail, her ears human, her skin tanned but otherwise normal. Her eyes were now hazel. He had to admit, her beauty was still striking, though oddly enough, he missed the prior look, as a Tiefling.

She looked at her hands, and remarked, "Hells, that's weird. So…if you're okay with all this, Harry, could you take me to your home?"

"Sure…"

The Potter Manor was one of only two properties the Potters had left, the other being Godric's Hollow, a more obscure one. The official name was Potters' Rest, but Harry thought the name in bad taste given that he was the last Potter to date, so he just thought of it as Potter Manor. A large-ish estate in Wiltshire, not far from the village of Aldbourne. At the time the Doctor Who production team were filming The Daemons, his father was a toddler(1).

Harry and Karlach were using a temporary Floo connection to the Department of Mysteries. He would have been amused at the sight of Karlach (suitcase full of clothes and other items in hand) skidding to a halt and hitting the wall opposite the fireplace if he hadn't just tumbled out himself and barely got out of her way. "Ugh, Hells, first Apparition, now this fireplace bollocks. Is all magical transport on Earth as uncomfortable as this?"

"Aside from broomsticks and flying carpets, yes, pretty much. Just remember, Karlach, we've got two young and impressionable children here, so cut out the swearing while they're around."

"Gotcha. Don't worry, I know how to mind my tongue around kids. But Harry? Seriously, thank you," Karlach said, shooting him a smile. "I'm grateful, I really am. Thanks for having me here at your home."

Harry nodded. Her earnest smile was a wonder to behold. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't regret it.

He didn't know it yet, but he wouldn't…

CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:

So, here you have it. Harry, after some discussion, has agreed to host Karlach.

1. The Daemons was filmed in Aldbourne in April-May 1971, doubling as the village of Devil's End. Given Karlach's own Devil-like features, I couldn't resist. This means that this story is set in 2015, with events in the Potterverse shifted up a decade, and Harry and Karlach are both about 25 years old.