Lord of Bones

A/N: Yeesh, I couldn’t figure out how to end this snippet. Fleur joins according to Cypher’s suggestion a few pages back, but I just couldn’t think of what happened in the interim between Harry’s return to his world and Fleur’s admittance into the party. If anyone wants to write a suitable scene between those two parts to finish off the sippet, or if they have ant ideas, post away.

Carried by the ocean breeze, the sea-salt smell of Port Circe drew different reactions from the band. Harry discreetly watched the comings and goings of the seamen around him with a keen eye, while Ron glared at the sea and muttered something about Water’s no place for a dwarf. Hermione, the most sheltered of the group, looked around with undisguised curiosity while Tonks flitted from store to store, examing the rows of weapons, armor and minor magical items. Daphne stretched athletically, easing out the kinks in her muscles and drawing more than her fair share of leers.

Harry looked inside the coinpurse and closed it with a sigh, tucking the bag into one of his cloak’s many pockets. The daggerspell mage pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. Well, on the bright side we have enough for repairs, two days’ stay at a cheap inn and a map, but-

We’re out of funds? Again? cut in Tonks incredulously. How in all the Nine Hells are we out of funds again?!

A triad of glares (and a furious blush on one) was her answer. The feylike woman had the good grace to blush… before frowning again. But we still had a decent enough haul from the lair, even with that … .tiny little really insignificant accident. What happened to all the loot?

Well, there were the smithing fees, the sewing fees, spell components, buying new spellbooks, enchanting our equipment…  Harry ticked them off with his fingers.

… Oh.

Well, look on the bright side, grumbled Ron; port town like this, there’s bound to be work. Protecting ships, settling border disputes with lizardfolk… 

Stumble our way through another swamp? Charming. hissed Daphne as she wrapped her cloak around herself to keep away the cold.

You’ve got better ideas, fiendling? snapped the dwarf. The cleric smiled condescendingly in return. Of course I do, but I’m afraid they might just make that hairy little head of yours explode into a bloody mess.

Ron huffed but said nothing. Daphne smiled at the women of the group. Well then, shall we? A little skin here, a whisper there… and these poor fools will spill everything they know. She ‘accidentally’ spread open her cloak and arched her back sensously

Hermione turned crimson with embarrasment — both at the innuendo and at the looks she was getting from several sailors, but Tonks chuckled. I prefer the grab them by their balls and make them talk routine, personally.

That works, too. The fiendblooded priestess turned to Harry. Mind if I borrow a dagger? Some people tend to get a bit grabby when they’re drunk, and I’d rather not waste a spell when a sharp point gets the message across just as well.

The rogue gave her a flat stare, receiving a pout in return.

Adventurers, are you? a new voice cut in, silencing the banter. The party turned around quickly, hands going to weapon hilts and spell components.

A tall man clad in sea-green robes stood not five feet from the party; the stern cast to his weather-beaten features de-emphasized by his raised eyebrow and wryly amused face. A cutlass hung from his hip, and the amulet hanging from his neck identified him as a priest of Valkur. I was going to intimidate you a little, chuckled the sea-cleric, but the way you lot move tells me you’re no amateurs trying to make a quick gold.

So nice of you to notice, muttered Hermione under her breath, not appreciating the sudden start.

The priest spread his arms out in a show of peace. Please, forgive my rudeness, but in these times…  He sighed. I couldn’t help but overhear; you’re looking for work, am I correct?

Harry nodded cautiously. I didn’t know the Valkurite church sponsored adventurers.

We seldom do, agreed the priest, but, in this case, exceptions have been made. What’s going on here… . The gray-haired man looked weary, as though a great weight had fallen over his shoulders. I do believe the Town Elders are capable of explaining what’s happening here.

Now that you’ve mentioned it, Tonks murmured; the place seems a bit… quiet, I guess. Moody, even. Ports tend to be noisy places, even on the worst days.

Yes, suffice it to say that this is a relatively new development… please, if you would follow me? I will lead you to the Town Hall.

 

Romilda wrinkled her nose in distaste at the building before her. THIS is the town hall?

Gilderoy ‘The Magnificent’ Lockhart shared her disgust… actually, the (slightly!) older wizard’s disgust far exceeded the young priestess of Sune’s distaste, but he did a much better job of hiding it. This IS a relatively small trading and fishing town, I suppose… given the choice of building a lavish mayoral manor or a grand town hall, I know which one I’D choose.

The priestess sighed. A fair point… I suppose I can endure for now, so long as we make it clear to these elders that we’d prefer surroundings more appropriate to our station. She sneered briefly. Would you remind me to wipe my feet as we leave, just in case I forget?

Still sitting aside his enormous, pure white barded warhorse, Cormac snorted, absently buffing his gleaming chestplate. I could care less what kind of rathole these peasants live in, so long as they have gold to pay me with, and people to kill.

A sultry voice spoke up mockingly from behind the trio. My, aren’t we just the picture of altruism?

The group turned in place (with a bit of effort on McLaggen’s part, being mounted on horseback) to find another party of adventurers standing behind them, the speaker apparently the darkly-clothed and shapely woman with the slender tail protruding from slightly above her firm rear. Accompanying them was a sober-looking Valkurite.

Cormac grinned, drawing his flaming greatsword and holding it high, roaring. Demon!

Daphne blinked at the very large fiery slab of razor-sharp metal, then side-stepped to behind the leader of her party. No, not a demon, but my great grandmother was one. She cocked her head. Maybe it was my great, great grandmother. Mother was never very specific.

Hesitating, the warrior turned to the brains of the group. Kill her?

Lockhart leered. Well… there’s no way to be certain of her true nature without thorough… examination. If she were to volunteer for some… tests… maybe we could spare her life.

The demon-blooded priestess scowled over Harry’s shoulder and flipped him off. Fuck off and die, arsehole.

Flushing, Gilderoy turned to his own party’s holy warrior. You’re the one with the goddesses’’ ear, what do you think, Romilda?

The priestess was staring in disgusted fascination at the stunted, red-haired… individual… standing before her. By the goddess, is that a dwarf? I’ve never seen one up close before… it’s even more grotesque than I had imagined.

Ron scowled. Oi! I’ll have you know I bathed just the other day!

Harry coughed, correcting him. The other day, last week.

The dwarf waved him off. I wash when the need arises, it’s not my fault the need doesn’t arise more often!

The fastidiously clean trio staggered back as one, horrified beyond belief… Romilda even shrieked.

Gilderoy fished around in a pouch for his spell components. We must immolate him now, before he infects us all!

Tonks raised a hand, smirking. I agree with the prat! I’m sick of getting a whiff every time the wind changes!

Daphne concurred, raising her own hand. I agree also! Burning, then burial in a deep hole!

Hey! Ron sniffed his armor self-consciously. I can hardly smell a thing, you whiners!

By this point, a weathered old man stepped out of the town hall, drawn by the noise. Here now, what’s all this racket?

Both groups paused, before turning to the elderly man, Gilderoy speaking up first as he stepped forward. The town guards told us there were troubles the town needed assistance with, and that the town elders would be able to explain more.

Harry stepped forward for his own group, ignoring the way Gilderoy shuffled away in distaste. We heard the same news, from the innkeeper.

The old man stroked his beard, studying the two groups. Yes, we could use the assistance of experienced adventurers… is this all of you?

Harry nodded, while Gilderoy shook his head, sending his glorious golden locks swaying artfully.

Cormac snorted. No, our last member was looking for an inn that would look after her brat sister for a while. We can fill her in later.

The elder blinked. An adventurer’s life is hardly the place for a child… but it is not my place to judge; I’m sure she has her reasons. Come, I will summon the other elders, and we can discuss our village’s woes in greater detail.

 

Daphne hissed in displeasure as she stepped through the doorway; the faint tingle of magic sending a mild jolt through her. The priest looked at her thoughtfully.

Ah yes, you have extraplanar blood in you.

The tail gave me away, did it? snapped the cleric, discreetly huddling against Harry’s cloak.

Demure, too, said the priest blandly. He raised a hand and muttered a word, dispelling the vaguely unpleasant sensation. This building was a wizard’s home-away-from-home before this port was built. I understand he was a somewhat paranoid fellow, what with all the wards and traps he set up. Our wizards managed to disable most of them, but there are a few minor ones that slipped through the cracks.

Could you hurry it up back there? snapped Cormac angrily; We’d rather not have to spend more time than absolutely necessary with the riff-raff!

With some exceptions, of course, Gilderoy muttered, leering at Daphne. The demonblooded priestess scowled back.

Impatience and discourtesy shame your god, Tormite, muttered the Valkurite priest chidingly as he stepped forward to open the heavy door that lead to the Assembly Hall. The Elder nodded thankfully at the priest, leaning on his staff as he limped to his seat. There were already two others there, a matronly woman in brown robes and a stately-looking man with iron-gray hair and robes. The priest stood behind the Elders’ seats, his hands clasped behind his back, while the three Elders carefully inspected the two different adventuring groups.

Finally, the oldest of the assembled leaders spoke. First of all, we will not hold any grudge against you should you decide not to take up this particular endeavour. In fact, we-

Stop your babbling and get to the point, old man! What do you want us to kill? demanded Cormac, slamming his mailed fist on the table.

The elder’s eyebrow rose. To the point, I see. Very well, for the past month or so, there have been … incidents where ships have been attacked and their crews brutally savaged. At first, we suspected the nearby lizardfolk, but both of us have lived in peace since this town was built and the lizardmen have been complaining that they’ve been attacked too. The attacks take place about roughly three hundred feet offshore, stretching to as much as two miles away; far too deep for the lizardfolk anyway. Trade has dropped drastically, and our people are suffering. Would you be willing to look into things? he asked, looking at Gilderoy imploringly.

The wizard laughed arrogantly. Just be sure there’s a reward waiting! he called out as he left with his companions, grinning smugly at the looks on Harry’s company and slamming the door shut.

Silvanus’ breath, I’ve never wanted to slap someone so much! huffed the matronly elder indignantly, as the oldest of them turned to Harry. Now, I believe we can speak freely, young man.

Then… then what was all that about? Hermione asked incredulously, only to be taken aback when the elder chuckled.

I may be old, young lady, but I’m neither blind nor stupid. Anyone with a working pair of eyes can tell you’re far more seasoned than those shiny oafs that just lumbered out the door… but jests can wait. Would you be willing to hear the whole story?

Go ahead, nodded Harry.

The elders unfurled a map. The attacks occur here, near this isle, and increase in frequency up to this cove, here, growing in viciousness and brutality. What remains we’ve found… .well, we’ve ruled out sea-serpents, krakens and black dragons. We do have a surviving witness though; Captain Crouch, could you come in?

A tall, scarred man staggered in, leaning on a carved walking stick. Even Ron looked a bit put off by the jagged scars and just-healed tears on the man’s face, and the tell-tale winces whenever the man moved. The sea captain staggered into a seat, and gave them an appraising look.

I suppose ye lot want t’know about what happened to me crew, aye? Without waiting for a confirmation, the scarred man launched into his tale. It was about two weeks ago, I think. Me first mate had just gone to bed, and I was finishing a log entry, when I heard this hellish scraping noise. I thought it was just the rats, but then…  he shuddered. Then I heard the screams. I grabbed me cutlass and ran to deck, and there were these… fish-men tearing apart me men. Ugly bastards too, like walking sharks. Poor Walker, he was only thirteen and they…  He broke off with a grimace. I managed to cut down three of them, but there was one — a big ‘un with this sharktooth necklace — and he just pointed at me and muttered some sort of gibberish. There was this ungodly pain, and the next thing I know, I wake up in the local Valkurite temple.

Fish-men? muttered Hermione thoughtfully; Like walking sharks… sahuagin?

The elders look startled. Sahuagin? Here? We haven’t had sahuagin problems here for almost seventy years!

Harry looked thoughtful. Eventually, they’re going to start up raiding parties and start leading attacks on the surface. They’ve only been here a short while though, so we might be able to deal with them now…  we will need some provisions though, if we want to deal with them as fast as possible.

We have a few minor magic items that we used to trade with the aquatic elves, interjected the Valkurite priest. Perhaps they can be of help.

 

Why exactly are you helping us? I thought lizardfolk generally kept away from human settlements. The question was not malicious, just curious.

Slaan’s clan shaman say that better to make peace with warmbloods, not fight. Warmbloods in turn good to Slaan’s clan. As to why Slaan help you… their lizardfolk boatman’s slittled eyes hardened. Shark-men come, kill good warriors of Slaan’s clan and crush hatchling eggs too. Clan cannot hurt shark-men, so we help those who can.

Hermione’s words of condolence were muffled by the sound of someone throwing up. Heads turned to see a green-looking Ron groan in discomfort.

Seasick?

Water is no place for a dwarf! The statement was punctuated by a particularly impressive heave over the side of the boat.

Really? asked Tonks, the very picture of wide-eyed innocence. Is it because it’s so big and deep, because it’s so wet, because it’s so cl-

I know what you do when Harry goes to take a bath.

I’ll be good! she squeaked, ignoring the pair of interested glances sent her way.

Stop. The command cut through all conversation as everyone turned to the party’s unofficial leader. Harry, who’d been on the lookout, was staring at the waters in disgust. He dipped an ungloved hand into the water and then pulled it out, showing red droplets dripping from his fingers.

Blood? Daphne muttered, scanning the waters.

As the boat drew closer to the apparent source of the blood, it was becoming disturbingly obvious what had happened to the other adventuring party. Broken planks, magic-scorched wood and deep toothmarks on the wood were all very telltale signs of a savage assault.

Look, there’s something there!

A silver-haired…something was barely visible in the distance; hanging on precariously to a piece of driftwood. As they drew closer, Hermione reached out with her staff and gently angled the debris closer to them, before Harry and Ron caught hold of the body and carefully lifted her into the boat.

The survivor was a very beautiful, full-figured young woman wearing a silver chainshirt and leather breeches. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, and there was dried blood on her temple.

Definitely upper planar, muttered Daphne; they always give my skin a tingling sensation. Must be all that time they spend being holier-than-thou. Still, at Harry’s look, the priestess sighed and pressed a palm between the silver-blonde woman’s breasts, muttering a few words under her breath. Instantaneously, the woman’s wounds sealed themselves shut, and her breathing even out. Very little water in her lungs… she must’ve grabbed hold of something as fast as she could, the cleric murmured.

A mailed arm, holding on to a plank, floated past the fishing boat. Hermione reached out to grab it and pull the possible survivor into the small craft; not hearing Harry’s warning as she did so. The young wizardess shrieked in horror when she pulled the arm away, only to realize it was attached to a body — one torn and savaged horribly — before Harry and Tonks pulled her away.

Daphne placed a palm on the body’s savaged face, before murmuring a a series of soft phrases. A horrid groan left the corpse’s mouth as the speak with dead spell took effect. She nodded at Harry, who started his questioning. What happened here?

The corpse remained silent, though it seemed that its ruined mouth turned into a sneer.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. In Velsharoon’s name, I command you to answer me!

Bound by the Necromancer’s name, the corpse finally spoke. Sahuagin… attack… 

Where did they come from?

North… near… isle… 

That is very near! Slaan can take you there quickly! said the lizardman enthusiastically.

Were there any survivors?

Do not… .know… 

The limits of the spell reached, the corpse fell silent. Harry had only just turned around when their silver-haired passenger raised herself woozily. Wha… what ‘as ‘appened? Where am I?

Tonks helped her sit up. Relax, we found you here with your ship. Apparently, the sahuagin-

Sahuagin? Y — yes, I remem… . her eyes widened in sudden horror. GABRIELLE! THEY TOOK GABRIELLE!

Harry gently approached the woman, hands up placatingly. It’s alright… .it’ll be alright… .can you remember anything? What’s your name?

The woman took a few deep breaths, even as her eyes searched frantically. I… I am Fleur Delacour… .I was with Cormac and ze company… .ze sahuagin, zey came too fast… .and… .and zey took Gabrielle! I must find her, please! She iz my baby sister! she wept, her last words a hoarse scream.

Harry exchanged looks with his friends. We’re hunting the sahuagin too; we’ll bring her back safely. We’ll send you back with Slaan-

No, please! pleaded the blue-eyed blonde. She iz my sister! Let me come with you! I must get her back!

The company exchanged uneasy looks as their passenger looked at them desperately. I didn’t prepare any water breathing spells, said Hermione embarrassedly, looking at the party’s cleric. Daphne shook her head, shrugging helplessly.

Harry sighed. Well then, she can take my ring and-

She can take my ring, said Ron unexpectedly, interrupting the protests on the rest of the party’s lips.

Eh?

Face it, I’m a dwarf; water’s no place for a vertically-challenged individual-

Don’t you mean, short? snickered Tonks.

-vertically-challenged individual wearing ninety pounds of plate armour. As much as I’d like to crack a few fishmen skulls, getting down there is not something I’d enjoy. He removed the ring and handed it over to a grateful Fleur.

Harry looked at his oldest partner probingly. Are you sure about this?

Ron shrugged. Beats taking another bath, that’s for sure.

 

The vast complex of the sahuagin was actually a ruin; a former temple of the elven deity Deep Sashelas. Once, the undoubtedly beautiful building echoed with praises and songs to the Dophin Prince and his Queen, but that time had passed. Now the beautiful architecture and elegant sculptures were shattered and ruined, desecrated in an ancient battle between Deep Sashelas and Panzuriel, before the evil power was driven away.

The sahuagin were merely the ruined place’s newest occupants.

At least, that was the impression Harry had on cursory examination of the place; what with the shedded scales and withered tentacles. He hid behind a nearby pillar, wrapped his cloak around himself as a pair of sahuagin strode past him. He nodded to Hermione, who then raised her hand and whispered a few soft words.

One devil-shark suddenly collapsed in slumber, while its startled partner whirled around, jagged blade ready — and completely oblivious to the rapier that punctured its heart from the back. A dying gurgle, and the sahuagin collapsed. The sleeping fishman was quickly dispatched with a dagger to the throat. A quick presdigitation cleaned up the blood after Harry dragged the bodies behind an out-of-the-way pillar. Leaving the bodies there, the party quickly strode past the empty halls, hiding in the shadows and using invisibility spells to keep hidden and following the dim cacophony of sound.

They must be celebrating something, murmured Daphne.

Which means they’ll be here in full force, groaned Harry.

His suspicions were proven when they made it to the Great Hall of the Temple, where the mingled sounds of screams and shrieks were indistinct from the ecstatic snarls and jubilant shouts in the alien language of the devil-sharks.

Gabrielle! Fleur gasped at the prone figure bound to the altar at the far end of the room. She tensed, ready to run towards her sibling, before Harry’s hand clamped over her mouth and waist.

If you run, we’ll have this entire place turning on us! We need to make sure no-one notices! he whispered urgently. Fleur glared at him… and sagged. You… you are right… it’s just… she is… 

Harry grinned at her cockily. I said I’d get her back, didn’t I?

Fleur gave him a half-smile, before Hermione’s gasp cut through the brief moment of light humour. The wizardess looked pale as she stared at the great white portal just behind the bound girl. That portal’s radiating planar magic! It’s a gate to one of the Lower Planes!

Probably Baator. The sahuagin worship Sekolah, after all, agreed Daphne.

But it’s still inert! Which means that Gabrielle’s there for…  Hermione’s face drained of colour as Fleur’s eyes widened in horror.

Harry frowned. But that doesn’t make sense. Sekolah’s embroiled in a three-way conflict with Levistus and Set; he’s not going to expend divine power to manifest an avatar.

Unless he sends an aspect instead, Daphne concluded. She gave him a curious look. Baatorian politics aren’t the purview of most primes. How’d you know?

Harry gave her a half-smile. My parents brought me to Sigil a few times… but that’s not the concern at the moment. We’d better hurry.

Still wreathed in shadows and magic, the party made their way to the statues behind the altar. Harry turned to the group’s priestess. Daphne, can you do something about the altar?

The priestess looked at it thoughtfully. I could alter some of the runes, and divert it to another plane instead. It has to be one of the Lower Planes though.

Harry nodded and turned to Hermione. Can you put up an illusion over this place? Let them think that Gabrielle’s still there?

Hermione smiled and raised her hands, weaving the magic as she softly uttered the words that would bind it. She finished the incantation with a jab at the altar; a subtle ripple the only sign that the spell had taken hold — just as the high priest of the sahuagin strode up the steps leading to the dais. Harry and Fleur silently snuck behind him, Daphne covering them. They quickly untied the knots binding Gabrielle to the stone surface, just as her eyes fluttered open. Fleur silenced her wide-eyed sister with a finger to the lips, before Harry scooped the girl up and dashed back behind the pillars.

Daphne, in the meantime, had finished re-inscribing several of the ominous runes on each side of the altar, before scrabbling back. Let’s go! she hissed.

The high priest turned and smiled down at the bound girl, before placing a webbed claw on the girl’s chest. He raised a saw-toothed dagger and brought it down through his palm and the girl’s chest.

The illusion crumpled, leaving the assembled sharkmen staring at the altar in shock, even as the gate began to glow. A wave of revolting, nauseating green force blasted over the assembled devotees, before inverting itself and coalescing into a towering form. The stench of death and brine filled the room, causing even Harry and his companions to turn around and stare at the form materializing before the gate.

Daphne, which plane did you divert the gate to?

I’m not sure, she admitted. I altered only a small part of the runes; we didn’t have time for the others!

Hermione just gulped. I might have an idea…  she whimpered, staring at the new arrival.

Towering a full twenty feet over the assembled sahuagin was a scaled torso supported by a pair of strong, agile reptilian legs. Where arms should have been were vast scaled tentacles dripping acidic slime, while a thrashing tail forked into a pair of tentacles balanced the creature’s unnatural frame. The malevolent creature’s two heads fluctuated between the countenances of demonic mandrill faces and leering baboon skull, but most horrifying of all were the jaundiced eyes glaring out of the creature’s eyesockets — they were completely insane.

Demogorgon, one of the oldest and mightiest of the Abyssal Princes, one of the few tanar’ri lords mighty enough to be a true deity, had come.

The aspect’s maddened gaze swept across the hall; those few unlucky enough to meet the tanar’ri’s eyes collapsed immediately as their minds shattered into madness. Comprehension flashed in the demon’s eyes almost instantaneously.

SAHUAGIN…  the demon prince’s eyes blazed with long-nursed hatred. THRICE-CURSED SPAWN OF SEKOLAH! YOU DARE SUMMON DEMOGORGON?! YOU DARE BIND US ONCE MORE?!

The sahuagin simply stood there, riveted by pure terror.

YOUR SCREAMS SHALL BE A TESTAMENT TO THE IMPOTENCE OF YOUR SNIVELLING GOD! The demon leapt from the dais and slammed down on the center of the room, breaking the sahuagin ranks as they fled. A sweep of the tentacle-arms withered several fleeing sahuagin into desiccated husks as the archfiend tore into his ancient enemy’s servants with horrific savagery; the dual fanged mouths twisted into horrific grins of rage.

Harry shook himself free of the horrifyingly riveting sight. We’ve got to go! Move it!

The party fled down the corridor, away from the howling archfiend’s fury and from the screams of the sahuagin. A returning patrol of sahuagin almost intercepted them, only to be obliterated by a swirling column of black flame. Still carrying Gabrielle, Harry skirted the edge of the vile flames, narrowly avoiding a gory end. By the time they’d reached the entrance, the temple was beginning to collapse in itself, with only Demogorgon’s silhouetted form visible amongst the ruins; the petrified priest still staring at the primordial fiend in horror.

Behind them the portal was still glowing.

Harry grit his teeth, then handed the girl over to her relieved sister. Get back to the boat! he cried out, turning back to the ruins.

Where are you going?! screamed Hermione over the falling ruins. Daphne’s eyes just widened in shock.

You can’t, Harry! You’ll never make it!

Harry gave them a wry smile over his shoulder and mouthed out Go!, before dashing back into the ruins, leaving his stunned companions behind. He made his way past the falling rubble and fleeing sahuagin, and kept to the shadows as he ran past the murderous fiend, then tackled the still-standing high priest into the portal.

They landed on an altar in a swamplike marsh, breaking the priest’s paralysis. The vicious humanoid lashed out with a glowing claw, cutting deep into Harry’s armor and flesh, before the adventurer slammed the pommel of his dagger into the sharkman’s jaw. The dazed cleric managed to croak out a few harsh syllables and grabbed Harry’s free wrist, sending painful jolts of profane energy into him.

Harry’s grip loosened as he struggled not to cry out. The sahuagin kicked him away, then lunged forward, claws outstretched and snarling, only to stumble in sudden weakness when the adventurer pointed a forefinger at it and muttered a few arcane words. A ghostly ray of blue energy sapped the sahuagin’s strength, staggering it in a moment of weakness.

The devil-shark fumbled for its holy symbol, croaking the words for a spell of restoration, just as Harry wrapped his cloak around himself and vanished. The monstrous priest howled in surprised fury; hurling a sickly burst of gray-black power where the spellcasting rogue once stood.

Harry took a deep breath and struggled to steady himself; the spell had opened several moderate wounds across his body. His father’s cloak was powerful enough to shield him from all but the most powerful divinations, which was something he was thankful for – a little time to breathe and plan was exactly what he needed.

He raised his right palm upwards and whispered the incantation of the spell he needed, then grabbed his blade and moved as fast as he could.

There was the dull sound of something slicing flesh, and a brief metallic smell. The priest stared blankly at the metal tip piercing its chest, glowing with reddish-black brilliance, and finally slumped over.

Harry stood up shakily, still weak from the blood loss even as some of the wounds closed themselves. He pulled out the blade, still slick with blood, and walked back to the altar, pressing the bloodied edges to the stone.

Almost instantly, the portal began to invert.

Glad that’s over with, he muttered, taking a step forward…

…only to jump out of the way just as a massive fist crashed down where he once stood. A grotesque, demonic ape leered at him, and then charged again. The rogue cursed and dodged, only to be struck down by a huge fist that slammed into his chest, breaking some of his ribs.

Harry collapsed, gritting his teeth as he glared up at the demonic ape impotently. The bar-lgura grinned sadistically down at its new prey, dripping foam and bile through its tusks. One great hand drew back…

…and the demon screamed.

A small bright-eyed blonde in a white shift skipped up merrily behind the tanar’ri simian, giggling angelically as her touch withered and rotted away flesh and bone. The demon howled and screamed in agony, flailing about with hands and feet as skin and flesh, bone and tendon, painfully decayed within seconds.

Through a haze of pain, Harry saw the little girl bend down to look at him with that terrifyingly angelic smile. Silly, silly mortal, to walk into our domain! Does it hurt, silly, silly mortal?

Harry kept silent, trying to mentally match up the girl to anything he’d learned about.

The waif smiled. But the mortal brought us a gift, yes? And such a nice one it is too! Giggling, the girl crooked a finger at the sahuagin’s corpse, summoning a screaming spectral figure into being.

Petty vengeance is better than no vengeance at all, silly, silly mortal. We repay a gift with a gift! Almost immediately, the girl simply pointed at the dwindling portal and held it in place, then telekinetically levitated Harry’s body upwards, then sent him hurling through the vortex.

Silly, silly mortals! They’re just so entertaining at times, don’t you agree? she asked the sahuagin spirit, letting the portal close behind her.

The monstrous shark-humanoid could only scream as the girl’s bright blue eyes flashed yellow.

Lord of Bones

Alright, I’m writing this based on the assumption that Harry, Ron and co. are reacting as though they’ve been living in the other world for so long that they’ve become accustomed to it. Core similiarities are there (i.e. Harry’s parents passed away, etc), but otherwise they’ve grown and adapted. Here’s they’re protecting a travelling caravan.)

The first things the goblin horde noticed when they surrounded the caravan were the two men — or rather, one man and one dwarf — standing in front of it. The taller one was a lithe and wiry black-haired male human wearing leather armor and a black-green cloak smiling confidently, the shorter a redheaded and freckled dwarf in dented and battered platemail with a very surly look on his face.

Behind them were the caravan’s owners, and the curious-looking multicolor-haired half-fae whose klutziness had inadverdently tipped off the marauding humanoids to the caravan’s location.

All right, spoke the dwarf in an angry growl, which of you noisy little pillocks thought it would be funny to attack during dinner?

Dinner? spoke one of the voices behind them in confusion. It’s midnight! Dinner was hours ago!

You mean that piddling stew you clods served up was dinner? I thought it was the appetizer!

Ron, said the human in a long-suffering tone, please tell me you didn’t break into the pantry again.

The dwarf grumbled something under his breath, before the warleader of the Horde finally decided to get their attention.

You! Give goldses or we’s be munchin’ on yer bonsies tonight!

Big words for a goblin, drawled the human.

Hah! Little human thinks he’s strong! Grobblak, go teach puny man meaning of pain!

A huge goblin, armored to the teeth and carrying an enormous axe, trudged out out the warband. It bared dirty fangs and charged at the cloaked man, drawing up its huge axe to end it in one blow.

The half-fae squeaked in dismay.

Then the man blurred and disappeared, just before the axe fell where he was standing and imbedded itself in the forest floor. The brute stared in consternation, scratching its head while trying to tug its weapon out of the ground before a fine silver short sword wedged itself between its shoulders.

The goblins stared at the dead body in shock, before a smaller pair rushed out screaming and lunged at Ron, succeeding in landing a punch on the short warrior. The redhead blinked, stared at the clenched fist and then touching where the punch connected.

Almost afraid, he reached in and drew out an obliterated sandwich.

Very, very slowly, he looked back at the now-nervous goblins and snarled.

No-one suckerpunches a dwarf’s snack and gets away with it! he roared, cocking a mailed fist back.

Now there were two bodies — and an unconscious one halfway through the ground — for the goblins to stare at.

Hey, Ron? grinned his dark-haired companion.

What, Harry?

Whoever gets the most goblins pays for the week’s dinners.

Ron’s eyes lit up. Done! he roared, drawing out a pair of gigantic frozen hams and rushing headfirst into the horde’s ranks, cackling madly as he did so. The caravaners stared in shock as both man and dwarf devastated the warband, occasionally with screaming goblins being tossed up in the air and a few actually being dragged back into the fray by their attackers.

When the dust settled, the warband had been disbanded, and Ron the dwarf was using the still conscious warchief as a bench.

At the next town… 

The half-fae looked depressed as the caravan departed without her. It wasn’t her fault that she’d tripped at the wrong time! She whimpered pathetically; what use was an acrobat who blundered at the wrong time?

Harry looked at the depressed woman and bit his lip, apparently coming to a decision. Excuse me, Tonks?

The pink-haired woman looked up.

Would you like to join our little band? We could always use the company…  he said sheepishly.

Her eyes widened. Re-really?

The dwarf, who’d looked uneasy at the prospect of an upset woman, grumbled Well, as long as she earns her keep.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! cheered the fae exultantly, leaping on the other rogue and hugging him hard, squealing happily. Harry, for his part, gulped slightly; considering that he could feel every part of the woman’s curves through the soft leather she wore.

His trepidation was not helped when the acrobat overbalanced and sent them both crashing down, inadverdently shoving her face between her perky chest.

The dwarf just covered his face with the palm of his hand and grumbled.

Lord of Bones

I regret nothing!

It was soft.

That was the first impression Harry had when he finally opened his eyes. The goosefeather mattress underneath him, complete with accompanying pillow, were a welcome change from the weeks of sleeping on the ground no matter how much he’d grown used to it.

The second thing he’d noticed was that a goosefeather mattress was not where he’d distinctly remembered collapsing on after being hurled back to the Prime Material Plane by a tanar’ri prince’s avatar. A lifetime of training and healthy anticipation of the unexpected almost had him somersaulting off the bed to grab the blade leaning against the wall, until a feminine hand touched his shoulder.

Finally up, are we? asked a familiar, amused-sounding voice, tinged with relief.

Harry blinked. Daphne?

Another hand scuffed his other shoulder. Hey! I’m here too, prat! Tonks pouted, her hair a bright pink.

Harry made to retort, then shut his mouth as he took in what they were wearing, or the lack thereof. With the sheets sliding all the way to her waist, Daphne’s long, dark hair was swept behind her neck, barely obscuring the priestesses’ firm, volouptous, pink-nippled breasts. Harry tore his gaze away from the fiendblooded’s chest, down her trim stomach, only to see everything below her shapely hips obscured the sheet. Tonks’ lean, lithe body pressed against his from his left, her perky breasts and their hard nipples brushing against his side. The fey acrobat’s hand lazily traced patterns on his chest, causing him to inhale sharply as her hand dipped lower.

The rogue snapped himself out of ogling his companions’ features. What are you doing?

He was privately pleased that he’d managed to keep the hitch out of his voice, although Tonks’ snigger didn’t really help matters. Daphne simply cocked an eyebrow. We’re sharing body heat, of course, she stated matter-of-factly.

Harry nodded warily. I… see… .

Tonks snorted. Screw being subtle! she snapped, grabbing Harry’s face.

Wha--MMMPH?! The Potter scion’s arm instinctly wrapped around the acrobatic rogue’s torso as she deepened the kiss; his free hand reaching lower to grab the woman’s firm, shapely arse. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, moaning appreciatively when his own met hers.

Both were breathing harshly when they finally broke the kiss; Tonks’ face smug while Harry’s a mix between shock and appreciation.

Besides, said Daphne calmly, if you’re going to pull off fool-arse heroics like, oh, I don’t know, leaping into an Abyssal portal by yourself, then it’s obvious that we’re going to have to be a bit more… direct in our approach. By this point, the dark cleric’s lips were almost caressing Harry’s ear; her tail coiling around his upper thigh.

Harry swallowed.

Then the door opened. The innkeeper sent this for us. He said it’s — EEEP!

Holding a tray of roasted fowl, piping hot mushroom-and-ham soup and freshly-baked bread, Hermione stood in the doorway, her eyes wide open and face pink as she took in the sight on the bed. Behind her, the two silver-haired half-celestials were just as stunned, even as they gave Harry’s bare chest an appreciative look.

Don’t just stand there; get in here and doff those clothes if you want to join in, Daphne said archly.

Hermione’s face went from pink to red. The wizardess stepped into the room, then hesitated before placing the tray on the nearby table. I… I’ve… new spells… I need to prepare my spells! she squeaked out, blushing furiously as she fled.

Tonks snickered. I give her three days.

A week, tops, was the retort.

Grinning, the younger of the two women standing in the doorway advanced on the bed, her fingers going to the buckles that held her leather armor in place before her sister’s fingers clasped the back of her armor and pulled her back. But sister, zey offered!

Fleur rolled her eyes. Now iz not ze time, Gabrielle, she replied in accented Common. Turning away and ushering her sister out, the shapely bard turned and smiled uncertainly at Harry. Master Harry, might I speak with you after you… recuperate?

Harry nodded dazedly.

The bard gave him a brilliant smile and a last appreciative look before closing the door behind her.

 

Master here is the replacement for Mister.

Lord of Bones

Miss Hermione Granger was rather vexed.

An up-till-recently student at Master Fudge’s Academy of Sorcery, the young wizardess now found herself at what was commonly known to the elite as the rabble’s waterhole, where the books said adventures usually started. An adventure, after all, was what she sorely needed.

Her tutors had said that she’d needed experience, after all. While she’d personally thought that a wizard’s life was all about books, she could see where they were coming from — perhaps adventures were ways to show that a learned young wizard had fully assimilated his or her studies? She did wonder, though, whether beasts and monsters would really cower at the sight of a practitioner of the Art.

Well, that was what Instructor Dawlish had said, and he would know better, wouldn’t he?

That thought firmly in mind, Miss Granger went back to contemplating the drink the books said was ‘ale’. It had a rather curious taste. Is this what the books call ‘local fare’? she mused, taking another sip of the strong drink.

The rest of the tavern, however, leered at the shapely, robed brunette sitting at the table, who was obviously unused to the decor. Under normal circumstances, they would’ve tried wooing (and ultimately bedding, though most skipped the first part) the woman, but the last time anyone had tried anything on a strange woman in robes, she’d turned out to be a priestess of Nerull.

They were still looking for the rest of him.

Oblivious to the patrons’ thoughts, Miss Granger was quickly growing frustrated with the lack of adventure coming her way. It was perhaps time for her to seek out adventure instead, and that flyer offering a reward for troll tusks might just be what she needed. Wrapping her cloak around her classroom robe, she stepped out of the tavern and into adventure.

Tonks stared, fascinated by the sheer amount of food her dwarf companion was putting away. How is that even possible? she asked, awe mingling with revulsion as the dwarf greedily guzzled down a plate of stew, holding it with one hand while supporting a roast leg of lamb with the other.

You know wha’ they say, lass; ye can take the food from the dwarf, but ye can’t take the dwarf from the food! belched the redhead, guzzling down his fifth tankard of ale. Although, he added, the goat could’ve done with a few more minutes of roasting, and the soup platter was a little tasteless.

The half-fae shook her head incredulously and turned to look at the dark-haired leader of their little band, who had a somewhat disgruntled look on his face. What’s wrong, Harry?

Without a word, the disgruntled rogue dropped eight gold pieces on the table. That’s all that left of our funds, five of which are going to pay for this meal.

What the… what happened to all our gold?!

Take a guess, said the arcane trickster dryly.

Ron chuckled nervously. A dwarf’s gotta eat.

Tonks gave the short warrior a dirty look before turning back to the money. What’ll three gold get us?

Two rooms for the night, I think, Harry replied.

The otherworldy acrobat smiled teasingly. Well, that’s not so bad, is it? she purred. The dwarf can take one room, and I’m sure I wouldn’t mind bunking with you for the night, she continued huskily, stretching out to draw attention to the lithe, flexible figure beneath the tight leather armor.

The rogue-mage swallowed slightly. He was really starting to think that all those times Tonks’d walked in on him bathing weren’t exactly accidents. I think we’d better find a way to fill out pockets first, he said nervously.

Tonks pouted. Foiled again.

Hey, we could-

No Ron, you’re not going to perform again. Harry said wearily.

The plate-wearing warrior scoffed. Bah, these city softies don’t know how to appreciate a proper dwarven bash!

Harry sighed. The last time you — hello, what’s this? he held up a loose sheet of paper that had just swept in through an open window. 50 gold pieces for each set of troll tusks delivered to the mayor, and an extra 300 for the tusk of their leader, Rotfang.

Twin grins stretched out over the features of his two companions. Their money problems had just been solved.

 

Miss Granger was not having a good day.

Instructor Dawlish had said that all lesser beasts and monsters instinctively cowered away from practitioners of the Art. The huge grey-skinned brute behind her was obviously unaware of such common courtesy, judging from the way it was swiping at her.

The troll, on the other hand, was rather enjoying the chase — it had been quite some time since it had taken a female humanoid, and those it had ravaged usually tasted the best. It was distracted from its thoughts about dealing with the inexprienced wizard by the spray of magical bolts that seared into its back, drawing an anguished scream.

The monster whirled around, as did Miss Granger.

A small mountain of armor and muscle wielding a ham-shaped mace charged out, charging into the fray and delivering a powerful blow to the troll’s right kneecap sending it howling to its knees, before a slender young acrobat gracefully flipped out of a nearby tree to send a pair of throwing daggers into its eyes.

The troll shrieked in rage, already feeling its innate regeneration kicking in.

Miss Granger, for her part, stared in awe as her pursuer crumbled to its knees. She staggered back to her feet, just as a lithe, wiry-looking man around her age darted along the monster’s side, his sword slicing through folds of vulnerable flesh, before he hamstrung the creature’s legs.

The blinded monster howled and thrashed angrily as it collapsed, silently promising to make the puny little creatures watch as it defiled their females before killing them. A strange hissing noise, however, caught its attention.

Miss Granger, standing nearby, watched with wide eyes as the roguish young man aimed his palm between the monster’s eyes. Sickly green miasma gathered there, before what looked like a hissing arrow of acid lashed out between the troll’s eyes — the only thing capable of overcoming a troll’s regeneration. She was so enthralled by the sight of the magic — with most offensive forms of magic strictly frowned upon at the Academy, this was new to her — that she almost failed to notice the monster’s claws flail about in its death-throes.

Harry, Ron and Tonks looked up at the sound of the mortified shriek, only to see a brown-haired young woman’s entire front robe get ripped off, baring soft breasts, a flat stomach and irreputable evidence that the woman was fastidious about her personal hygeine. The mortified sorceress squeaked and attempted to draw the ragged remains of her cloak around her, before a blushing Harry gallantly covered her with his own.

 

Harry lazily juggled the party’s now full coin-purse as they walked out of the Town Hall, passing by a sweating plump wizard wearing a strange lime-green hat being shouted at by the leonine Deputy Mayor. They’d sent the wizardess back to her parents’ manor, where the relieved couple had fussed over their daughter.

With a nostalgic smile, he remembered his father, who’d taught him most of his tricks, and his mother’s warm encouragement as he started on his path of blending his father’s skills with her magic.

A light cough caught his attention.

The wizardess from earlier (this time in a new, impractical-looking robe) was standing behind them, blushing and fidgeting. Erm… excuse me, but… you se… I was looking for adventure and… may I please join you?

anonymus_31

Since no one has continued the RPG Potter series, I will do so.
For those unfamiliar with the Forgotten Realms pantheons, Sharess is sort of a cross between Aphrodite and Bast as far as I can tell. Also, I am aware that the ending is weak.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the major characters, but I do own the thugs. In fact, I still have the character sheet that I kept erasing.

The drow priestess cursed as she saw the motley assortment of figures arrayed against her. Luck was with her this night, however, as it was a new moon they had not yet spotted her. Word of her approach had preceded her yet again, and the goodly races were yet again arrayed to stop her. She fingered the tiger claws hanging from her belt, prepared to put them to use if need be. At the last town she’d visited she’d been able to convince the welcoming committee to let her pass without resorting to violence. She was fairly certain it would not work with this group. Dwarves were ever so resistant to her charms.

She crept forward, trying to stay out of sight. Unfortunately, there was precious little cover along the road. As she approached the camp she took stock of her opponents. When she’d first spied this encampment, the towering human had seemed the most severe threat. As she neared the thugs, she soon realized that the most dangerous of the six was an especially small dwarf that her keen ears discovered to be named Oskar. Next on her threat list was a metallic dwarf-goat-centaur-thing. She also took note of a small, ruddy skinned elf that moved with a wiry, predatory grace on patrol of the perimeter at the side of a second dwarf. She had to remind herself not to forget about the elf praying by the fire, but she figured he could wait until later, if it came to blows.

She had just drawn even with the impromptu watchpost when the patrolling dwarf caught sight of her. Halt! he bellowed. The drow, an exiled noble daughter of house Greengrass, forty-second house of Ched Nasad, attempted to flee. Abandoning any pretense at stealth and instead trusting in her goddess, she took off at a dead run towards the town, trusting that the presence of such a group indicated that the town itself was not officially opposed to her presence. For good measure, she dropped a globe of darkness on the campfire.

Before she made it ten paces she heard the dwarf who had spoken earlier cry, She’s heading for the town! Stop her! She made it three more paces before the towering human emerged from the globe of darkness, torch held aloft in one hand, bastard sword in the other, followed closely by the shiny centaur-thing, hammer and axe held high. She felt an arrow ping off of her full plate, and figured the elf in leathers had joined the fray. She attemped to create another globe of darkness, but at the very instant she called upon her innate powers a crossbow bolt hit her armored back square between the shoulders, doing no damage but still knocking her off balance and ruining her concentration.

By the time she had regained her footing, the human was on her and there was nothing for it but for her to fight. She whirled around, tiger claws on both hands. She caught the human off guard, disemboweling him with a single blow from her right hand. Her left struck at the centaur thing, but the claws pinged off of the thing’s oddly metallic pelt. She barely dodged the swing from the thing’s hammer, but its axe bounced painfully off her right pauldron. As she went for another attack she noticed that the other four were closing in quickly. Her right claw pinged off of the beast’s flank, but her left found slight purchase in the silvery thing’s chest and cut a trio of shallow furrows down the front of its dwarf-like torso. She hazarded a glance at the approaching enemies and noticed the dwarf named Oskar had drawn a morningstar that was oozing a green liquid that was very obviously acid.

That was all she had time to see as her world exploded in a shower of stars. The metal dwarf-beast had connected with a mighty swing of his hammer, and the only thing that had saved her was that her helmet had gone flying from her head when the hammer hit it. She immediately retaliated, going for his throat with both claws. Her right claw managed to slice the monter’s throat — albiet superficially — the damage cause by her left hand, however, was anything but superficial as she ripped the entire front half of his throat out.

She’d just barely had enough time to set herself to face the small dwarf when she caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of her eye as a massive battleaxe buried itself in the side of the runt dwarf’s head. Before she had a chance to blink a black haired human male of medium height and slight build appeared out of nowhere stabbing the remaining dwarf in the heart, while at the same time the two elves were consumed by an exploding fireball.

Check them for coins, the black haired human said as a slight human female with bushy brown hair dressed in the robes of a wizard came into view, alongside a second human female with a distinct oddness about her — perhaps it was the teal hair. The drow turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Clomping towards her was the tallest dwarf she’d ever seen, his height within an inch of her own five feet. The height made him seem rather gangly and awkward. There was nothing awkward, however, about the way he handled the battleaxe he held in his left hand, a near twin of the one buried within the skull of the dead dwarf at her feet.

His prodigiously hairy brow lifted at sight of her and his mouth dropped open behind his massive red beard. Aww, it’s just a ruddy dark elf! he spat, causing the two human females to snap to attention, obviously waiting for some signal to attack, be it her own aggression or a command from the black haired male.

I mean no harm, the drow female said in lightly accented common.

Like Hells ye don’! the dwarf retorted. Yer a stinkin’ drow. Ye a’ways mean harm to someone!

I mean no harm, she repeated, more firmly this time.

Ron, stand down, the black haired human said in a soft voice. She’s telling the truth.

Oh, alright, Ron replied, turning to face the human male, I still don’t trust her.

The red haired dwarf turned back to face the drow. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, was all he said before he stumped off.

The human male approached. My name’s Harry, he said, holding out his right hand.

My name is Daphne. Daphne Greengrass, she replied looking inquisitively at the proffered hand, wondering about it’s purpose. After a moment Harry let it fall.

That’s an interesting holy symbol you have there, the wizard remarked in near flawless Drow. I wasn’t aware that Sharess was worshipped among the drow.

She isn’t. My religion is my own business, Daphne replied to the female in common. If you don’t mind, I’ve got a killer headache and would like to heal it before I pass out. Without waiting for an answer, she set about diagnosing her head injury and casting the necessary spells to heal it.

Harry took notice of this. You know, we could use a good healer — shut up Ron, the dwarf had begun to open his mouth to respond to the suggestion. You look like you could use some help as well. Protection from small minded imbeciles and the like. How about we travel together?

Daphne considered this for a moment. I would like that.