Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry sighs as he contemplates the flapping curtains of the veil. A strange cold wind blows from inside the archway. He takes a breath, then another. The last breath he takes is ragged before he runs the couple steps to the veil and flings himself in. This has to be it. It’s a gateway to somewhere else or it’s death. Either option will suit him just fine at this point.

Everyone he’s known and loved is gone, crumbled to age, lines dead and gone. He had watched magic die out, generation after generation, while the muggles slowly choked off the life of the planet. He isn’t able to take it anymore. He'll be dead or he won’t have to keep going mad watching it happen. Hitting the surface of the veil is like breaking through a mirror. It feels as if he’s breaking through and thousands of shards are piercing his skin. He screams but no sound can be heard. He’s able to catch a glimpse of nothingness before he blacks out.

Dusk is falling in Lod, the townsfolk mostly tucked away in their homes or in the tavern. The portal makes no sound as it opens in a darkening side street. Harry’s body is unceremoniously dropped into the mud. He groans as he lands but remains unconscious. Any of the townsfolk that pass by give the boy a wide berth. With his strange clothes, sudden appearance, and unconscious state no one wants to trifle with a presumed magic user that got into a fight. That’s just asking for trouble. One kind soul props him against the nearest building so he’s at least out of the way.

Harry jolts awake as the sun begins to rise. His body aches. Which is his first clue that he isn’t dead. Opening his eyes feels like he’s splitting the skin to do so. Once his eyes are open and focused all he can do is rub them and blink. Did he go back in time? It looks like he’s landed himself in the middle of a medieval town. The people that pass him give him wary glances while trying to seem as if they’re ignoring him entirely.

Every joint cracks as Harry attempts to stand. He’s quite thankful that it doesn’t seem like he was actually shredded by going through the veil. That would have been a bitch to recover from. Or maybe he had been out long enough to regenerate. It’s hard to say with his healing. He didn’t wake up in a pool of blood, that’s something at least. He quickly comes to the conclusion that he sorely sticks out in a jumper and robes. He surmises that that is likely the reason for so much staring. He takes stock of himself once he’s standing and steady. No large wounds, wand still in place, mokeskin pouch still tied around his neck. Small mercies and all that.

Harry’s stomach complains loudly once he’s gotten his bearings. Ok so first order of business is food… and more appropriate clothing. Sticking out as he is is likely not good for his continued undisturbed existence. After that he’ll figure out where and when he is, after that he’ll take things as they come.

His nose leads him quickly to a shop selling fresh bread and small pastries. He starts to question his time travel theory when it comes time to pay the shop owner. The local currency is nothing he’s ever seen or read about before. He’s relieved when the shopkeep accepts a galleon for his purchases. He hasn’t the foggiest whether it’s accepted because it’s gold or because it looks close enough to some form of their currency. The woman tells him he’s lucky she’s willing to accept ducats, whatever those are. He’s happy to just have something to fill his belly.

Harry lazily walks as he eats, listening to the chatter around him. He grows concerned. He recognizes none of the locations that are mentioned in the casual conversation around him and keeps hearing words and phrases he has no clue how to interpret. After he finishes his meal he ducks into a deserted alley. He transfigures his shirt and pants into something more akin to the style of the locals. His robes become a cloak and he alters his shirt and pants to look more like the styles he’s seen. He gets stared at less after his reemergence but he feels like his styling is still a bit off, nothing to help it for now unfortunately. At least the stares now feel more curious and less wary.

After some time wandering Harry finds the town’s tavern, The Honking Goose. He procures himself a mug of what he soon realizes is some form of ale and hunts out an out of the way corner. As he continues to listen and after brief conversations with the barkeep and a bored barmaid he begins to confirm that his initial assessment is likely way off the mark. He’s starting to think that he hadn’t been transported through time as much as to a different realm of existence entirely. It’s both a horrifying and nauseatingly relieving notion.

For one thing a seeming muggle is telling him he should see the library at Ban Ard, the neighboring magic academy, if he’s interested in learning about the history of the area. But the barmaid cautions him to be careful. She says that there’s talk of an endrega nest in the woods along the way. The barmaid chatters that the town had put up a notice for a witcher but one hasn’t passed through yet. Giant insect monsters and mutant monster hunters is apparently what she’s talking about. As if of course these things exist and are common knowledge. Oh and a band of Scoia’tael have been making a stink along the road going south. This is unfortunate because the townsfolk are having trouble getting to other villages with both ways out of town slightly impassable. Scoia’tael, real, tall, pointy eared elven renegades. Where has he landed and how hard had he hit his head upon landing?

Speaking of, Harry’s head is spinning. He knows he hadn’t paid much attention in history of magic but he’s pretty sure he’d remember something like this. Endrega had definitely not been covered in care of magical creatures, Hagrid would have cooed at something so venomous and brought it in to class for sure. The barmaid laughs at his cluelessness and flabbergasted expression. The girl assumes some poor rural noble’s son has gotten loose and has no real clue how the world around him works. That certainly doesn’t explain his frankly indecent clothing, only in a chemise and nothing more. But who is she to complain about a nice eyeful. She titters a goodbye as another patron motions for a drink. Harry realizes he is going to have a lot to learn about where the veil decided to drop him, and he should figure it out sooner rather than later.

~~~

A couple months pass as Harry starts to adapt to his new world. He finds he’s landed in a town called Lod, in a territory called Kaedwen. The locals have taken kindly to him. They seem to think of him as an unfortunate soul with a bit of memory loss. He’s just gone along with it to save himself from having to come up with a better solution.

In that time he’s narrowly escaped being enrolled at Ban Ard. He quickly realizes he’ll have to hide most of his power and play ignorant. He has no desire for a second magical education in a magic he’s even sure he’s capable of harnessing. He comes to realize their magic here works very differently from his, more equivalent exchange, less intent and channeling pre-existing power.

Of which this land has power weaving through it in amounts Harry has never felt before in his life. After claiming the hallows Harry’s magic had changed, became something more. Something he still doesn’t quite understand. Maybe his magic is more similar to this land’s than it had been his own by the end. Even so, he’s made a point to keep his more blatantly not of this world magic to himself. He finds this world just as hostile to things they don't understand as his last. The frankly horrific way they speak of witchers or witches slams the point home.

He decides to apprentice himself to this world’s brand of healer. He’s told he’s a natural by Brenet of Lod, the town’s medic, his mentor. If Snape had been half as encouraging and attentive with potions as Brenet was with herbs, salves, and poultices he would have gotten infinitely better marks in the man’s class.

Harry is sweeping up the shop front idly at the end of the day. There’s word a pair of witchers have rolled into town to finally take care of the endregas that had continued to thrive the last couple months. Brenet is tending a patient in the back that had been thrown from his horse. Though Harry thinks the two are more gossiping and avoiding their wives as the injury is well on its way to healed. The broken arm is almost ready to come out of the splint. But who is he to begrudge the two old friends some time to themselves.

Hearing a commotion outside the door Harry turns as the ruckus seems to draw closer. He props the broom against the counter and palms the handle of his wand. Ready to draw it from the holster if it’s bandits or the Scoia’tael deciding to get brave and sack the town. What he is not expecting is the door to be kicked in and a tall, armored man to rush in carrying what looks like an equally tall and bulkier second armored man who appears to be unconscious. The unconscious man is promptly deposited on the mostly empty till counter.

“Please, light essence, tell me you have it in stock here. I don’t care what it costs!” Startled, Harry looks from the man on the counter then back to the other. He’s shocked to be looking into bright yellow, slit-pupiled eyes with a slim ring of green in them. The man is dirty, bloodied, and harried. There are two swords strapped to his back and his fingers are twitching as if he wants to do something but isn’t able to do so. The one on the table is similarly armored and equipped. His armor and swords are of different styles.

It takes a second for Harry to shake out of his shock. He thinks a second before he replies. “Uh no, I’m sorry, we don’t have that here that I know of. If you tell me what it’s used for we might have something similar. Or if it goes by a different name maybe? I can grab the healer if you give me a second.” Harry has just turned to follow through with his statement when Brenet stalks into the shop proper. He hears the other man cursing violently behind him. Brenet’s eyes are harder than Harry has ever seen them. He’s still taken by surprise as the other man begins to speak, “We’re closed.”

The man cuts off his cursing, raising a glare to Brenet, and turns back to Harry. “It’s used for a strong poison cure. Any noonwraith remains then? Or maybe one in the area?” Brenet scowls and crosses his arms, “I said we’re closed to filthy mutants like you.” Harry gapes at his mentor. The man has always been so kind and willing to help anyone. Sometimes he has even forgone payment in lue of a favor sometime down the road.

It looks like the man is about to draw one of his swords. Harry quickly comes to a decision. “I don’t think we have any of that either… and I haven’t heard anyone complain about a what, noonwraith? But… I might be able to help anyway. Please come with me.” Brenet grabs Harry’s shoulder in a harsh grip. “You’ve too soft a heart son. These mutant freaks need no sympathy. They’re barely better than the monsters they slay.” The word freak hits Harry in a way he hasn’t felt in what has to be centuries. Used like a slur, spat at somebody like the word itself could do damage.

Harry shakes off the hand and motions for the man to pick up his companion. “The only monster I see here is a healer unwilling to help a patient in need.” Brenet’s gaze is cold as he sneers and turns back to exit into the patient area. Harry leads the other man out and along the road a short ways to the small hut he had gotten for himself at the edge of town.

The only bed in the hut is his own but Harry directs his patient to be put down there. After depositing his load the other steps back, gnashing his teeth in silent fury. Harry keeps him on the edge of his vision as he inspects the prone man. A couple minor nicks here and there, but what is troubling is the large gash along his midsection. It’s seeping pus and has green veins spider webbing the skin around it.

“Endrega venom?” Harry turns his question to the conscious one. “Yeah, fucking things were as big as griffins and the nest basically spanned the forest. Thought we got 'em all but last one tore a chunk out of em before I could get it.” His voice has an odd hiss to it, like an angry cat. Harry nods. “Now, if you could help me get him out of his armor so I can get to the wounds. My name’s Harry by the way. I’ll do what I can but I’m only an apprentice. Well, was… that ship might have sailed.” The other has already started on the straps and buckles of the armor.

There’s barely a grunt at the manhandling. “Aiden, this’s Lambert.” Harry moves to the hearth and starts some water to boil. He jumps as Aiden casts Igni, the water boils in seconds. Harry shakes his head as he begins to clean the wound. He tries what salves and potions he has on hand but Lambert’s condition continues to deteriorate. The green veins continue to spread and his breathing becomes labored.

Realizing what he will likely have to do Harry sighs and draws his wand. Aiden’s eyes flicker to the piece of wood. “Wait, you’re a druid?” Harry grimaces, “of a sort. It’s the only thing I can think of that might work.” Aiden looks between the wand, Harry, and Lambert before he nods.

Harry takes a deep breath and starts to go through his arsenal of healing spells. The wound seems to burst, sticky green liquid oozes from it. Lambert hisses and arches off the bed as venom and puss seep from the wound. Once only blood leaks from the wound Harry directs Aiden to sop up what he can with what spare linen he can find. Harry cleans and stitches the wound before cleaning the rest of him as well as he can. The green veins are gone and Lambert’s breathing settles.

Harry sits heavily in a chair at the tiny table. He wipes the sweat from his brow on his sleeve cuff. Aiden perches on the other chair. His gaze is tentative with a sharp edge, waiting for Harry to name his price for his help. “You know when the townspeople described witchers it was with fangs, horns, and claws? More monster than man. Really you lot are much less scary than all that. Quite frankly your eyes are rather fetching.” Harry cuts himself off, realizing where his tired babble has left him.

“Er, please ignore that last part if it offended you.” He risks a glance toward Aiden. The witcher has a dumbfounded look on his face. “Right well, I’m going to put a kettle on and sort out some stew. He’ll likely be asleep awhile yet but might as well have something easy to heat. There’s not much space but you’re welcome to put out a bedroll wherever.” He curses himself in his head and starts to go about exactly as he’s said.

“Fetching…” Aiden mumbles, barely audible. Harry’s cheeks turn bright red as he busies himself with his stew pot.

Chapter Text

Harry focuses on the stew to avoid looking at Aiden. The witcher comes up next to him and silently starts to peel potatoes and chop whatever is handed to him. Harry glances at him out of the corner of his eye. Aiden is grinning madly at him. His cheeks turn bright red and he huffs. “Oh shut it you.” He mutters as he tosses what meat he has left into the pot. He’s tired and more than a little frazzled. The other chuckles before tossing in the vegetables he’s prepped.

“I do have to question what a druid is doing in this tiny town, apprenticed to a healer no less.” Aiden’s gaze is inquisitive. Harry gets a cat got the canary vibe from him. Harry curses his stupid runaway mouth and saving people complex. “Not quite a druid, the way my people do magic is a little different. I haven’t really seen an equivalent here. The gents at Ban Ard keep trying to recruit me so I'm trying to keep a bit of a low profile. As for why here, why not here? I don’t know much of this country, so it seemed about as good as anywhere. After how my life has gone I'd like to heal instead of destroy.”

Harry draws into himself. Flashes of bombs, disease, death, decay, an ocean of grave markers with no names because there were too many to identify them all. No, he’s glad there are people like the witchers here to take up the task of protecting the people. He isn’t sure if he could do it again, but he also isn’t sure if he can stand by and do nothing. But with witchers here he shouldn’t have to.

Curiosity curls into Aiden as he takes in the little druid that seems to be deep in thought. What a curious creature, whose answers had raised more questions than he’d actually answered. He glances back at Lambert, now sleeping peacefully on the bed. Anger rises in him. The fucking notice had said 100 coins for a small nest. Not a fuckin massive infestation. If it had just been one or the other of them the outcome would likely not have been even as good as it was.

Aiden hissing draws Harry from his thoughts. He follows the witcher’s line of sight to the prone man on his bed. “He should make a full recovery. The wound wasn’t that bad aside from the venom.” Aiden’s teeth gnash together. “I’m going to rip the head off whoever tried to call that infestation a small nest. Going to gut whatever manner of authority this horse shit town...” Harry winces as he trails off, his fingers flexing once more as if itching to do exactly what he’s said.

Harry huffs slightly, “it wasn’t even a small nest when I got dropped here maybe half a year or so ago. Only grown since I’m afraid. I’m glad you had each other to watch your backs.” Harry tries to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. Aiden snarls and clenches his fists.“Filthy humans, spitting on us even as they beg us to save them.” Harry reaches out and gently pries Aiden’s nails from his palms. He pushes a warm bowl of stew into his hands instead. He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Humans really are such fickle things. They’ll stab you in the back even as they beg for miracles. Right up to the point they die out with nary a whimper. Forgotten like a singular cloud in the sky, not even able to answer for the destruction they left in their wake.”

Blinking, Aiden comes down from his rage to focus on what he had assumed was a young man barely into his adult years. Harry shakes his head as he comes back to the present. He bites his lip as he realizes his slip up. He busies himself with getting another bowl of stew and gesturing at the table. “Please, ignore what I just said. The only important part is that I agree with you and it isn’t fair.” He pauses and takes a seat at the table. “Now, why don’t we eat and get some rest, I’ll need to stock up on some supplies in the morning, some bandages and salves. Probably something a bit heartier to eat, you’ll likely want to get the payment you’re owed for the endrega.”

He continues to mumble to himself between bites of the stew. Harry can’t believe how much he’d already let slip. Nearly half a year here and no one had really been any wiser to what he was or where he’d come from and here he is blabbing everything within hours of meeting this witcher. He sighs into his bowl, garnering a sideways glance from Aiden.

Maybe it’s the fact he feels like he’s talking to someone that could possibly understand for the first time in a long time. Longer even than his stay here, so long he’d spent wandering and lonely. He doesn’t want to be lonely anymore but the sorcerers he’s met on this continent just… both remind him and don’t of the magic users from his home. In all the worst possible ways.

Aiden stares at Harry while the other seems to be deep in his thoughts. He’s seen this look on witchers centuries old. A heavy weariness, it usually precedes the loss of another witcher. But… sorcerers and druids don’t usually have the combat experience or world weariness he has an inkling this boy does. He can’t help but question what exactly this man is. Usually he’d be expecting someone his age to be raring to get out and prove themselves, get their ears wet, be someone. Not all but hiding in a tiny backwater town. An itch to know rises under his skin as a feral grin crosses his face.

Harry would be scared if he had been with it enough to notice. Harry blinks when his spoon hits the bottom of the bowl and he realizes he’s been out of it for the whole meal. He raises his head to see Aiden with a raised brow. “Welcome back, find anything interesting in your stargazing? Find the future in the carrots?” A laugh is startled out of Harry. He shakes his head, a small smile creeping onto his face.

He notices he’s been both a remiss healer and host when he sees Aiden lick a spot of blood that had crept down from a split in his eyebrow. “I apologize, I’ve been an absent almost healer. Let me take a look at your wounds. Aiden hisses and draws back with a disgruntled look on his face as Harry reaches for him. “Oh hush you and let me have a look.”

Aiden’s nose remains scrunched while he allows Harry to run his hand over the small cut. A quiet episkey takes care of the minor wound. “Any other injuries?” Harry asks as he summons one of the cleanest rags he can find, rinses it briefly, and wipes the blood off the other’s face. He takes the time to really look at the other man.

He’s on the lean side. Much more wiry muscle than bulk like his companion is. Bright golden eyes with the thinnest ring of green around the iris. A slim face with long black hair pulled into a half undone braid. Twin scars run through his right eyebrow, thankfully whatever beast it was seemed to have missed the eye but the scars continue down his cheek. Three more thin scars run across the bridge of his nose. Slight stubble covers his jaw. His right ear is missing the upper tip. Harry can just see the tip of another scar that disappears under the other’s chemise. A cat head medallion rests against his chest.

The witcher blinks owlishly at him. Unused to anyone besides other witchers willingly being so far into his personal space. “Mostly just bruises cept this.” Aiden hikes up one trouser leg to reveal a haphazardly splinted calf. Harry gives him a flat, unamused look.

“Oh you know just a broken leg you’ve been walking on.” He lightly swats the other in the chest. Aiden doesn’t even look ashamed, more confused at the concern. Harry pulls the leg up into his lap and gently removes the splint. “This will probably hurt when the bone snaps back into place. I’m afraid I’m out of much to numb the pain. Pretty much used it all up on your friend.”

Aiden shrugs, a little more pain now to spare a couple days of pain of walking on it while it heals on its own isn’t a big deal. Most healers caused them more pain then they had to when healing anyway. The little druid was already being more than generous. Harry mutters brackium emendo under his breath. Aiden breathes in sharply as the bone snaps back together and mends itself.

Running his hand over the mend, Harry makes sure the bone set itself properly. He nods to himself and sets the leg back down gently. He fixes Aiden with a harsh stare, just willing him to try to sluff off any other injuries. The witcher holds his hands up in surrender. “Most of the blood ain’t mine. Lambchop got the worst of it, just minor bruises now, I swear.” Harry purses his lips and flares his nostrils while waving his hand. The empty bowls in front of them clean themselves and settle back into their resting places.

“You are a mystery little druid.” Aiden murmurs as exhaustion seems to creep up on them both. Harry sways in place a little, having used more magic that night than he had in centuries. Together they push the table out of the way to make room for Aiden’s bedroll and the pallet Harry transfigures from a rug. “I’m really not, I’m just Harry.” Harry pouts slightly as Aiden looks over his armor, assessing the damage done to it with a grimace. Aiden laughs loudly at the declaration, “you are a mystery little Harry, that is an unavoidable truth.” Harry grumbles and wrinkles his nose as he spells a couple blankets clean. The blood might be gone but he still remembers it’s presence. “Careful you, you’d make a lovely cat.”

Aiden continues to chuckle as he reaches out a hand, pausing briefly, before ruffling Harry’s hair. The little druid has been free with his casual touches, Aiden figures he can get away with it too. They both settle in in relative silence before Aiden decides to retort. “I’m already a cat, and fetching as you’ve stated.” Harry just grumbles and gives him a side long look at the cat comment. Ultimately he decides it’s something he can unpack if he really wants the next day as he’s rightly exhausted. He figures it has something to do with the cat medallion. He yawns and whispers a quiet “nox”. All the lights in the home blink out and the room is cast in darkness.

~~~

The sun has risen and Harry is blinking awake before he realizes it. It feels as if he’s just closed his eyes and laid down to sleep. The exhaustion in his body has mostly subsided but a thin fog still hangs in his head. He’s still grumbling and running his hands through sleep-spiked hair when a continuous snick snick noise filters into his ears. He rubs the crust from his eyes as he blearily looks around his small home.

The man on the bed has shifted but is otherwise exactly where he left him. Which leaves his other house guest. The other witcher’s bedroll has been removed and the noise is coming from outside the hut. Harry yawns and stretches before heading outside. Aiden is behind the hut sharpening his swords. There’s a couple of cleaned and dressed rabbits sitting next to him. Harry mumbles a greeting before heading to his small vegetable patch to grab enough for the day’s meals. Two chickens trot over from their coop to blunder around his legs. “Alright, alright, gimme a mo.”

Harry sets his basket of vegetables on one of the fence posts. He yawns wide as he takes the bowl from the top of the barrel of feed against the back of the house. He doesn’t notice the noise of sharpening cease. It’s centuries of being ready for an attack at any time that allow him to dodge the first dagger, it lodges into the wood of the house behind him. The second he blasts back towards the witcher that had thrown it.

Aiden’s grin is sharp as he stares at Harry. “Those are some fast reflexes, little druid.” Harry breathes hard as his racing heart rate stutters. He scowls at Aiden. The other looks unrepentant. “Have some theories, figured I’d test one of em. Woulda felt real bad if I’d actually hit ya.”

“Well, I had a mentor whose mantra was constant vigilance. It served me well over the years.” Harry mutters. His heart rate finally comes back down to normal after a couple deep breaths. It’s far too early for this nonsense. He’d already revealed too much, the other man just seems curious now. He doesn’t want him starting to think him a threat. That would cause too many problems.

Tracking Harry with his eyes as he goes back to feeding the chickens, Aiden picks up the dagger behind him and gets up to pull the other from the side of the house. He inspects the blade as he speaks, “That’s a good mantra to live by, for someone in my line of work. Or a soldier. How many years is that that ya’ve lived by that mantra?

Leaning against the fence Harry scrubs a hand over his face. “Too many.” He shakes his head and turns back to watch the chickens peck at the feed. “More than enough.” Aiden merely humms and sets his swords aside to start sharpening the daggers. After a moment or two of silence Harry speaks up again. “I’m going to head into town to pick up some essentials. I can stay with Lambert once I'm back so you can collect your payment.”

Aiden frowns, the little druid has been nothing but kind and helpful but he isn’t sure how he feels about leaving a defenseless Lambert in his care. Even if Harry himself is safe, the townspeople are a different matter entirely. He’s not entirely sure that Harry won’t just run and leave Lambert to the villager’s mercies if it comes down to it. Seeing the indecision Harry speaks up. “I can swear an oath to see that he comes to no harm, from myself and others. It would be magically binding.”

Pausing in his sharpening, Aiden contemplates the offer. He eventually nods, a magic user should be able to protect themselves and an unconscious man just fine. “Alright little druid. You turn anyone that comes for him into a tree.”

Harry laughs sharply while tossing the chickens the last of the feed. “How about ferrets instead?”

Aiden grins at him, flashing sharp fangs. “Sounds tasty.”

They spend the next hour or so in companionable silence. The rabbits are roasted and split between the two of them. They leave the remains of last night's stew for Lambert when he wakes up. Harry dresses himself and bundles up for a trip into the markets. He bids Aiden a quick goodbye as he grabs a large wicker basket and heads out.

The atmosphere grows ever more tense the further he gets into the town proper. Harry can see the townspeople whisper to each other as he passes, averting their eyes if he looks their way. A couple people even spit in his direction. People that had been jovial and friendly with him the past couple months are now frosty and unhelpful, charging outrageous prices for goods he knows were cheaper last time he was in their shops.

Harry takes a deep breath before entering Brenet’s shop. The man is at the counter when he walks in. His arms are crossed in front of his chest and there’s a cold, harsh look in his eye. Harry wouldn’t even bother coming in if he didn’t need more bandages and herbs to make a poultice for Lambert.

“Ye ain’t welcome here monster fucker.” Brenet hisses at him. The man draws himself to his full height and takes a menacing step towards him.

Harry barely keeps his mouth from dropping open, his eyes widen at the accusation. “I… what?!” He can’t believe what he’d just heard. How is that the conclusion that had been jumped to? “I just need bandages and a couple herbs.

“Fresh out. Now get out!” The man makes as if to step around the counter towards him. Harry grinds his teeth and makes a quick decision. Clearly he is no longer welcome in this town after merely helping a man in need. He supposes it’s time to see what else the Continent has to offer.

He quickly catalogs what he’ll need to do before leaving. Honestly it won’t take much, he still has most of his camping supplies in the mokeskin pouch. From what he can tell, monsters and beasts aside, this world is more hospitable than his had become.

Apparently he’s taken too long to get lost as Brenet comes around the counter to physically shove him towards the door. Harry lets himself be pushed. He waves his hands behind the man’s back. A couple rolls of bandages fly into his hands along with the herbs he needs. He puts them in his basket while Brenet is busy pushing him out the door.

Harry can’t help but hiss at the man once he’s turned to go back into the shop. “You truly are despicable. Denying a wounded man aid and then vilifying me for doing what you wouldn’t. You should be ashamed!” The door is slammed in his face for his troubles. Harry sighs and turns down the path towards the alderman’s house. He doesn't think it safe for Aiden to be venturing out if this is the reception he’s getting for helping the men.

The alderman is an old portly gentleman that sweats profusely when Harry demands the payment due the witchers. He hems and haws over no proof of the job done and then again about Harry not being the proper person to pay. It takes far longer than Harry is comfortable with for the man to pay even the amount promised in the notice. Nevermind anything extra for what the job had actually entailed.

He’s finally on his way back to his house when he sees something coming at him. Harry dodges what turns out to be a dirt clod thrown by a group of rowdy children. The group titters as he’s still rained with a dusting of dirt that arced after the clod itself. The first attack seems to spur on not just the rest of the children but the adults as well. Shortly everything from dirt to hard bread and rotten fruit is being thrown at him. The quiet muttering from his first pass through town has turned into harsh yelling.

Dodging most of the poor throws Harry can’t believe this is how the townspeople are acting. How can they treat people that are just doing their jobs and helping them like this. Harry has a split second to decide to use magic or not as a grouping of well aimed rocks are hurled his way. He decides revealing his magic to these people would only make the situation worse. He dodges what he can but a couple lucky shots still connect to his face and shoulder

Honestly after everything this doesn’t surprise him overly much. Humans would cut off their own noses to spite their faces. He quickens his pace as he feels blood start to run from the new wound on his cheek. His house comes into view and he can barely keep himself from running. If the door throws itself open a touch before he reaches it Harry isn’t going to complain. His magic is quick as ever to react to his moods.

Aiden is sitting tensely in a chair beside the bed. He’s in full armor with his swords leaned against the chair. Harry kicks the door closed behind himself. He huffs as he takes quick strides to the table to set down his basket. He forces a smile on his face as he turns back to Aiden. “So that was an interesting shopping trip. I’m afraid I'll have to go back on what I said earlier. I picked up your payment myself as I don’t think it safe for you to be out there at the moment.”

It’s then that Harry realizes that Lambert is sitting up in bed and staring at him with a scowl on his face. “Oh how rude of me. I’m glad to see you awake. My name’s Harry, I fixed you up, you’re in my home.” Harry’s not sure how long the man might have been awake for or what Aiden might have already said so he figured he’d cover the basics.

“And what d’you want from us for payment!” Harry wasn’t expecting the harsh tone coming from the redhead.

“Lamb!” Aiden’s voice is admonishing. He approaches Harry slowly, he tilts Harry’s face to get a better look at the sluggishly bleeding wound. “What did they do to you, kitten?”

Harry tries to shoo away his hands as his cheeks burn. Lambert shifts his glare from Harry to Aiden. “You can’t expect him to help us for nothing, probably gonna keep that payment for himself!”

“Excuse you! I would never!” Anger flashes through him. He’s no stranger to people assuming the worst of him. But after how friendly Aiden has been he’d been expecting the same from Lambert. The flush doesn’t leave his face. He hadn’t been going to ask anything of them, but after recent developments he feels he has to ask.

He decides to speak directly to Aiden, preferring to ignore the prickly witcher for the moment. “I… well, I wasn't going to request payment. And I'm still not! You don’t have to agree if you don’t want to! But… the people here seem to no longer want me here.” He bites his lip, wincing as he realizes the rock had grazed it.

“I was hoping you might let me come with you when you leave?”

Chapter Text

Harry nervously flutters his hands and winces when he accidentally licks the cut on his lip again. Thinking, he quickly reaches into his basket and pulls out the pouch of coin that he’d gotten from the alderman and thrusts it into Aiden’s chest.

He sees Aiden about to open his mouth but cuts him off before he can respond. “I promise I won’t be a burden, I'm no stranger to camping. I just… I don't really know the geography here or where to go…” He trails off a second. “I’d like to not be alone again.” He winces at how awkward and needy that came out

Two voices answer at the same time. “Fucking no, can’t trust a sorcerer to not stab us in the fucking back!” Comes from Lambert as he tries to lever himself out of the bed. The injured man spits out curses as his wound clearly hinders him, he grips it and leans back against the pillows with a growl. If glares produced daggers Harry would be skewered a hundred times over.

The other answer comes from Aiden. “Alright kitten, if you’re sure. I’m sorry we’ve caused you to be run out of your home.” He grabs the coin pouch that had been shoved at him. He hisses and whips it towards Lambert as the other man’s response filters in.

The pouch bursts open on impact, scattering the coins all over Lambert, the bed, and the floor. “Ow! Fuck ya too! You don’t throw things at injured people!”

Harry can’t help but chuckle as quietly as he can as he waves a hand and the coins refill into the pouch and drop into Lambert’s lap. The redhead scowls and turns his head, refusing to look at either other occupant of the tiny hut or the coin pouch in his lap.

Both witchers' heads whip towards the door suddenly. “Wha?” Is all Harry can get out before he’s shoved behind Aiden.

“Oi! Monster fucker! Come on out!” A shout from outside the hut. Harry can’t help the incredulous look from crossing his face again.

“How is that really what they’ve jumped to?! How is being a good, kind person just entirely not an option!? I’d ask if they were all raised in a barn, but I think the answer is yes for a good portion of them…” His statement draws a snort from the area of the bed.

Grabbing his pack, Harry begins to summon the essentials from around his hut. There’s not much, but what he has he’d like to keep. Harry glances towards Lambert as the man growls and attempts to hoist himself from the bed again.

“Bastards have set a fire outside, can smell the smoke.” Lambert scowls and grunts as his feet finally make it to the floor. He immediately curses and grabs his middle when he tries to actually stand.

Aiden looks ready to take up his sword and start hacking away at whoever happens to be outside the hut. His pupils narrow and his hand clenches as if just looking for a sword to be in it.

“Aiden! Pack whatever you might have taken out and help Lambert up. I just need a mo and then I can get us out of here.” He mutters an apology when a mortar and pestle zoom past Aiden’s head.

For a second it seems like the witcher might not heed the warning and still take up arms. With a hiss the cat hooks his swords on his back. He shoulders his own pack and Lambert’s and piles the other man's armor into Lambert’s arms. He looks immensely overburdened once he pulls another set of swords onto his unoccupied shoulder before securing an arm around Lambert’s waist.

Lambert is clearly trying to to stand and pull on his own armor but is failing miserably. The man grumbles as he finally accepts Aiden’s help. The two witchers glance around nervously. Even Harry can start to smell the smoke of the growing fire. He thinks for a second before a slightly vicious grin breaks out on his face. He thinks he should still have a couple left. They’d given him a list of the ingredients but he hadn’t had a reason to try to make more since they’d passed.

He opens the pouch around his neck, turns it over, and shakes it. The two witchers both gag when a dungbomb and a pack of Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-bangs land in his hand. He quickly ties the pouch back off after setting the things on the table. “Harry?” Aiden questions.

Harry ignores him for the moment and makes sure everything he wants is secure in the rucksack he throws over his shoulder. “I just thought I'd leave these… lovely people with a parting gift.” He walks back up to the two. Lambert tries to recoil from the smell lingering on Harry’s hand. Aiden barely resists attempting himself. He can’t imagine what the little druid would want with something that smells so bad!

“I need you two to listen carefully. Once I grab ahold of the two of you I need you to grip me securely and not let go. It’s been a long time since I’ve apparated with anyone besides myself and I’d rather not leave any limbs behind so soon after fixing the both of you up. I’m going to aim to drop us on the road to Ban Ard.” He claps his hands together. “Now! A gift needs to be given!”

The smile on his face is sharp. He grabs the pranks off the table and walks to the door. Throwing it open reveals a mob of angry villagers. “Well hello to you lot!” He bellows into the mid afternoon air. He quickly leans back to avoid the pitchfork thrust into his face.

“Oi! Monster fucker! Give us the freaks and take a hike!” The local tavern owner yells into his face.

Harry can’t help his nose from wrinkling. He can hear shifting from behind him. He hopes the two witchers will stay out of sight and let him do what he’s going to do. “Now that’s just rude. I'll just be the bigger man and leave you all with a parting gift. Once upon a time I used to know a pair of twins that loved nothing more than a good joke. And I leave these in the care of you villagers, the biggest jokes I have met in quite a while.”

Grinning brightly Harry chucks the items in his hands towards the villagers. They flinch away, which works out just fine for Harry. He casts a quick stunner in the direction of the whiz-bangs. Lights start to shoot out from the box, a giant green dragon begins to take form in the sparks shooting out into the air.
The villagers at the front of the pack scream and try to scramble away, quickly running into those behind them as they try to escape from the putrid smell and the fireworks taking shape into mythical beasts.

Harry can’t help but grin as he slams the door on the chaos ensuing outside. He turns and claps his hands. “Alrighty, let’s get out of here. Shall we?”

He hooks an arm around each of the witchers. He takes a second to marvel at the sheer bulk of the two other men before taking a deep breath. He breathes out slowly and apparates the three of them once he’s sure they have a good grip on him as well. Harry thinks for a second he should have warned them how jarring this is going to be but it’s far too late when he feels the familiar hook behind his navel and the three are almost violently heaved from his hut and dumped in a pile somewhere amongst trees.

The air is crisp and quiet in the forest for all of about five seconds before Lambert is rolling away from the pile of limbs to puke a little further away. Aiden’s face looks slightly green as he groans and disentangles himself from Harry.

“Little druid, a little warning would have been nice.” Aiden says as he leans over Lambert, trying to make sure the other witcher hasn’t reopened his wound. He gets quickly shooed away as Lambert fixes a glare on Harry.

“What the hell was that?” He bellows, wiping his mouth and wincing at the taste of regurgitated stew and stomach acid.

Harry shrugs. “Apparition. Immediate relocation from one place to another. I was never one for the more intricate details of the how, I just know that it works and how to do it.” He groans as he touches a thumb to his split lip that had reopened on impact with the ground.

He flops back in the grass for a second. Both Aiden and Lambert had landed on top of him and he’s feeling a bit like a battered pancake. The grass feels cool and slick under his palms. It’s starting to hit him that he’s been run out of the only home he’s known for the last handful of months. People he’d called friends and neighbors had flipped on a sickle and decided despite the good he’d done and the months of knowing him that he’s suddenly a bad person.

But why should this surprise him? He’d said himself that people are fickle at base. Why should here be any different than where he’s come from? His chest clenches, the hut hadn’t been much, but it’d been his. He’d had chickens, he’d named them, grown attached. He’d had the occasional friendly flirt with Onett, the barmaid he’d first met at The Honking Goose. They both knew neither really meant anything by it, but it’d still been nice!

It’s the first time he’d really put down roots in a long time and ripping them up aches. Harry throws an arm over his face and wills his mind calm. Dwelling will just send him down a spiral he can’t afford himself right now. He’s been there, it’s a dark path with nothing good at the end. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Aiden he doesn’t want to be alone again. He’d just been letting the old loneliness seep from his veins, stoppering the flow can’t kill him but it sure would feel like it.

A light touch to the back of his hand makes him jolt. “Kitten, did you get injured in the fall?” Aiden can smell the sadness and pain on him. He feels terrible that helping them has brought such a poor outcome down on the kind man. He’d been so desperate to save Lambert. He had half a mind to march back and…

“No burning down the village. It’s not worth it.” Harry’s eyes almost glow in the low light under the dense trees. Aiden hisses. They deserve far worse than they got. Nearly costing Lambert his life and running off his little druid.

But he won’t go against Harry’s wishes, for now. Instead he helps the other man back on to his feet. Harry takes stock of himself and his new companions. All limbs seem to still be attached, Lambert doesn’t look to be too worse for wear and there’s no bloodstains to indicate that he’d popped a stitch.

Harry narrows his eyes at Aiden. The cat holds his hands up in surrender. “Are you and Lambert whole and alright?” He trusts Aiden to tell him if Lambert were injured, less so for himself. “I’ll turn you into a newt if you lie to me.”

Aiden can’t help but burst into laughter. Apparently the little druid’s fire is back. He ruffles Harry’s hair. “We’re fine kitten. But you didn’t answer my question. Did we hurt you in the fall? Also, didn’t you say you’d turn me into a fetching cat last time?” His grin shows off his overly sharp canines.

“Hey, where the fuck are we?” Lambert seems currently incapable of speaking at a regular volume. Ever since he woke up from being poisoned nothing’s made sense. Getting run out of another town they’d put their lives on the line for, well sure that checks out. This fucking druid and whatever his motives for helping them, not at fucking all. He’s not going to trust it and he doesn’t like how chummy Aiden’s already gotten with the kid. Probably bewitched while he was out. If Aiden’s going to allow the kid to tag along he’s going to keep a sharp eye on him. He better not slow them down or get in the way. They’ll dump him at the next possible town and that’ll be the end of it.

Harry finally takes the time to look around themselves as he takes stock of his own injuries. A split lip, small cut on his cheek, probably some minor bruising. Nothing overly serious, he’d save his reserves for making sure they make it through the rest of the day and night safely. He brushes Aiden’s hands off when the cat tries to probe at the injuries. “M’fine.” His brow furrows. “But I don’t recognize where we are. This isn’t the clearing I meant to drop us in. I knew Ban Ard has a barrier around it so people can’t just pop in but I didn’t think it went out this far.”

He continues under his breath, “I didn’t think it would affect my magic anyway.” He brushes himself down. “I don’t suppose either of you recognize where we are?” Harry digs around in his bag and pulls out his dragonskin duster. He hadn’t overly worried about needing the extra protection back in Lod but who knows what’s in the forest here. The endrega apparently were quite deadly. No reason to even potentially give away that he isn’t quite… normal.

Aiden had been in the process of sorting out everything that he’d hastily thrown together. He lifts his head from his and Lambert’s packs to sniff at the air. “Definitely still somewhere in Kaedwen, close to Ban Ard. The magic mixing with the dust from the mines is making my nose twitch.” He goes back to sorting out armor and camping supplies. Lambert starts the fight with both Aiden and his armor itself to get it all strapped to his body.

“Alright, I can get us to Ard Carraigh from here easily.” Harry nods to himself and pulls on the long duster, buttoning it closed before going into his pouch. He fishes around for a bit before his hand catches on a jeweled hilt. He sighs as he pulls the sword of Gryffindor free. Over the years he’s acquired a scabbard and sword belt for it. He doesn’t like thinking of how many times the blade had become necessary. Clipping it on brings him back to memories he’d rather forget, but he isn’t trying to be immediately pinpointed as a magic user if he has to fight.

The eyes of both witchers' eyes were drawn to the overly ornate sword Harry had attached to his hip. “Do you even know how to use that, sorcerer?” Lambert growls at him.

Harry levels a glare at the witcher. “Unfortunately, yes. Now sit still before you start popping your stitches.” Aiden snatches Lambert’s own swords back from him when the man stubbornly tries to put them on.

“I can try to transfigure a cart if I can find a fallen tree or something so that we can get going at a steady pace.” Harry looks around the clearing, trying to find anything the approximate size that he needs. If they can get Lambert relatively mobile they can get to Ard Carraigh for him to have a more comfortable and safe place to finish healing.

“No need little druid, Lambchop should be up and running in the morning. We’ll just camp here for the rest of today and overnight. I’ll find something for us to eat if you can start to set up a camp?” Aiden directs the last bit to Harry. If the little druid has camped as he’s said, that shouldn’t be too taxing of a task. Lambert will voice his opinion if something isn’t being done right anyway.

Noticing his pursed lips and suspicious look Aiden adds, “I swear, he’ll be fine to travel tomorrow.”

Harry grumbles as he starts on a fire pit. Aiden laughs as Harry makes shooing motions at him once he sees that he’s still there. “Shoo, food isn’t going to conveniently drop dead right here.'' Aiden's chuckles disappear into the trees.

Lambert waits for Aiden to be out of earshot before he starts in on the other man in the clearing. “Listen here sorcerer…”

“Harry, I did introduce myself.” Harry continues to unroll his sleeping bag next to the roaring fire, barely paying any attention to Lambert.

“Aiden calls you little druid and kitten, how can sorcerer be worse?” He snarks back, kicking his own bedroll towards Harry to lay out.

“Tone and intention make a lot of difference. Or am I not supposed to take your lovely nickname as the derogatory slur that it is?” Harry smiles at Lambert in a I’ll cut out your kidneys and make soup out of them type of way. He barely resists “accidentally” adding some dirt to Lambert’s bedroll.

“Listen here!” He starts again, not letting himself be fully sidetracked. “I don’t trust you one bit. Once we get to Ard Carraigh I want you gone, don’t care what Aiden says. You’ve clearly got him under some kinda spell. All bamboozled and shit. I won’t be fooled so easily.” He goes quiet for a second and Harry thinks the other man done with his tirade.

“Also! You’ll not be getting a single coin from any contracts we take on the way. Don’t need some shitty sorcerers help anyway.” Lambert awkwardly scuttles towards his bedroll, trying not to shift his abdomen overly much.

Harry grits his teeth, desperately wanting to put the cocky prat in his place. The two witchers are like two sides of a coin. A head, rationale and sociable. And an ass. “Whatever you say Lambchop.” He says almost offhandedly as he pulls out a large cooking pot.

Lambert sputters. Hissing laughter announces Aiden’s return to the campsite. He has a leash of rabbits draped over his shoulder. Harry stands with the pot and pulls his wand out of his wrist holster. “He’s lucky I don’t kick dogs when they’re down.” With that he swiftly turns and uses a point me spell to find the nearest body of water, quickly walking off before either of the other two can get a word in edgewise.

Grumbling, he makes his way carefully through the forest. His wand leads him to a deep but gently flowing stream. He bends down to fill the pot before his skin prickles and he reels back with a yelp. A disgusting clawed hand rises from the water, followed by the rest of the slimy horrifying creature. Harry bashes the thing with the pot when it makes a lunge for him. He lets the pot fly out of his hands as more of the slimy, skeletal, fish things rise out of the water and all at once attempt to lunge at him.

His wand is in his hand in a blink. A quick bombarda maxima explodes a couple of them outright while pushing back the rest. More and more of them continue to rise from the water. Harry contemplates for a second calling for Aiden but decides against it. He can take care of this, no need to pull Aiden from protecting Lambert. He grits his teeth and pulls the sword from his hip with his left hand.

It had taken him awhile but he’d learned how to dual wield centuries back. He still remembers the looks on enemies faces when he would pull out a sword and pull them towards him, only to be impaled on said sword.

Thinking of, he does just that. He casts an overpowered carpe rectractum. Threads of golden light connect to dozens of the drowners and pull them forward with a snap of his wrist. He swings his left arm, slicing cleanly through all of the unsuspecting fish things. He growls as more rise up to take the place of their fallen comrades.

The ground grows slick with drowner blood as Harry blasts and slices his way through wave after wave of them. At some point once it’s down to stragglers Harry hears a commotion behind himself. Another bombarda maxima absolutely splatters the last drowner before he whirls, sword and wand raised, snarl curling his lips to greet whatever has decided to sneak up behind him.

“Kitten…”

Aiden whispers as he takes in the scene and Harry’s countenance. He had known, that Harry wasn’t all he seemed, that there was likely someone who’d fought and survived under the mild mannered healer. But he hadn’t expected wild glowing eyes, bared teeth, drowner blood streaked down pale skin and enough magic crackling through the air to make his medallion almost break free from its chain vibrating.

A dark look passes over Harry’s face as he impales a not quite dead drowner that had been trying to claw its way to him. Once he’s sure it’s dead he sags and takes a deep breath. Trying to bring his heart rate back into a normal rhythm is almost too much of a chore. He silently sheaths his sword and wand before waving a hand to summon the pot from wherever it had gone flying.

When he turns back to Aiden he just looks tired. Aiden cautiously approaches, hands raised, unsure where Harry’s at mentally.

“It’s fine… I'm fine.” Harry whispers, trying to scourgify the worst of the muck off himself. He resigns himself to taking a quick dip in the river a bit upstream, he won’t feel clean until he does. He finds it hard to let the adrenaline bleed from his veins now that it's found a home there. Years had passed since the last time he’d had to really run or fight. Home had… lost a lot of its bite a while back now.

A flinch runs fully down him when a hand lands on his shoulder. His wrist twitches, a spell on his lips, before who it is filters into his head.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, little druid.” Aiden ruffles his hair and pulls the other into his side, once again wondering what kind of life a human, even one as long lived as a magic user, would have to live to end up more witcher than mortal.