Chapter 23
Time for my first proper fight scene in this story.
This chapter was edited by Gladiusx and R.Yorkshireman.
Potter Manor,
A loud pop heralded their arrival for all to hear, causing Harry to instantly brandish his sword, ready for a fight. Yet a quick glance told him there were no foes waiting, and he found himself easing his stance. Chiara was also calm, which meant her sharp nose detected no foes nearby.
The rebuke for the risk died on his tongue at the sight of Dobby wobbling weakly before collapsing to his knees. "Dobby! Are you alright?"
"Dobby is fine, Master Harry," the elf croaked out. "Just tired."
"You did well, Dobby. Return to the Cauldron and regain your strength." Harry waited for the elf to pop away before Hedwig flew off into the sky, and he looked through her eyes.
The soft curtain of moonlight made finding the trolls simple. The foolish creatures had simply returned to their old campsite and separated into groups. According to the books he had read, trolls were nocturnal creatures and were usually led by the strongest and most brutish-looking of them. Harry took this time to scout their numbers, confirming nine of them spread over the grounds.
Five of them were rebuilding the large bonfire destroyed by the Aurors, three were pulling down a tree, and the last two stood stupidly in front of the manor. None of them gave him the impression of being particularly brutish, and Harry continued searching for their apparent leader. Finally, he found him lazily lounging by a large humpbacked, horned creature with tentacle-like appendages, shouting guttural insults at the five trolls rebuilding the campsite. Harry did not know what the creature was, but it did not look particularly pleased to be with the trolls as every time it tried to stand, the troll leader smacked its head.
The young wizard slipped his mind away from Hedwig and contemplated his options, idly running his free hand through Chiara's silky fur. Trolls came in different varieties, but they all shared common attributes. Immense physical strength, tall stature, highly aggressive, incurably dumb and most importantly, increased healing. He knew Swamp Trolls had the highest healing ability, capable of even regenerating limbs, while Mountain Trolls were the biggest and strongest of them with the most magic resistance. Judging by the size and skin colour, these trolls were clearly of the Mountain variety, which would make sense considering they were in the middle of the Berwyn Ranges of Wales.
Taking a deep breath, Harry weighed his options. The trolls were on his land, slowly destroying his ancestral home. He could wait for the morning and call on the Aurors then.
As revolting as it was, he forced himself to consider the option. Was that the sort of lord he wanted to be? He remembered his father, Eddard Stark, and how during his rule, a naked maiden could walk from the Wall to the Neck unmolested. He allowed the memory to harden his resolve, and cleared his mind.
No, he was not going to call the Aurors. This was his land, his to defend, and the trolls had to perish by his hand.
The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword.
"What's the plan, Harry?" Chiara's voice echoed in his mind, tearing him away from his musings.
"Those at the entrance go first," Harry motioned at the two trolls, who seemed to be arguing about whether to ransack the tool shed or the guest house. They were far enough not to be noticed by them, but just in case, Harry had hidden behind a large oak when they arrived.
"I will follow your lead."
The Potter heir grinned at the werewolf and readjusted his weapons. He was tempted to put on the invisibility cloak, but it would be too cumbersome to use with his fighting style. With the silver sword in his right hand and wand in his left, he silently approached the two trolls, his wand almost vibrating with excitement and sending him a comforting warmth compared to the cold sword. Harry signalled for Chiara to approach from the other side and stopped close enough to strike in a heartbeat, yet the smell was starting to get to him. Hedwig maintained vigil on the rest of the clan and Harry trusted that she would warn him if something happened.
The time for planning was over. These creatures were worse than wildlings, so dialogue was never an option for Harry. Besides, examples needed to be made, and the dumb brutes were perfect.
Both trolls were massive, lumbering grey-skinned creatures, nearly twelve feet tall and looked surprisingly similar, yet did not seem armed or dressed. Probably siblings if he had to guess, but Harry could not tell what their sex was due to their dangling bellies, nor did he care. Waiting until one of the trolls moved alone to the tool shed while the other looked on stupidly, Harry charged. He waved his wand on the ground around the troll with a muttered Muffliato before slashing his sword at the lumbering beast's calf.
The roar of agony would have been heard from a mile away if not for the spell he learned from Narcissa, and Harry grinned as he continued to the other troll, who had stiffened in confusion. Trusting the basilisk venom to do its work, he felt his wand vibrating–
"Harry, watch out!"
He was completely unbalanced and could not react to the warning, barely able to glance behind him with wide eyes. Harry knew the slash wasn't deep, no matter how sharp his sword or how strong his small body could be. He never expected to be capable of slicing off the leg of a creature that could give a giant of Westeros a run for its money. Yet, he was so confident in the basilisk venom neutralising it that he did not even fathom the troll could shrug it off as he stared in shock at the angry troll's fist, inches from turning his face into a pulp.
Only for Chiara to crash into its side with a growl, unbalancing the troll and biting the offending hand, viciously thrashing her head sideways even as the beast roared in agony. Harry awoke from his stupor as the troll lifted the wolf off the ground and winded its other arm for a punch. He spun around and leapt, this time, his sword primed for a stab instead of a slash. The troll was so focused on Chiara that it did not notice him jumping as high as he could, barely reaching its abdomen, and stabbing with all his might.
Chiara let go of the mangled arm of the troll as it gasped and fell backwards on the ground, causing the world to shake. Harry pulled the blade from the corpse, now noticing the necrotic effects of the basilisk venom, yet a glance at the troll's calf showed no such effects.
"Harry, the other one."
Quickly, he turned to find the other troll had also turned at the sound of its brother falling. Its tiny eyes widened, and its slobbering mouth twisted into a snarl. It roared with fury and tumbled forward, grabbing a rotted plank from the shed as a weapon. Harry knew no magic that could pierce a troll's hide, so he aimed at the plank.
"Expelliarmus, Wingardium Leviosa."
The plank was ripped from the troll's hands, causing it to stumble, while the levitation charm held it above its head. A hint of nostalgia hit Harry at the familiar sight, but he gathered himself and jabbed his wand downwards. The plank smashed onto the troll's head, shattering to splinters and dazing the beast. Not waiting for the troll to recover its wits, Harry and Chiara charged forward; the werewolf bit one of the troll's legs and pulled it backwards, causing it to trip and flail its arms uselessly. The Potter heir wasted no time slashing his sword at the beast's other leg, hamstringing it and causing it to squeal in pain and lose its footing. Harry frowned as the troll fell, noticing the wound bleeding the troll's normal purplish blood yet showed no necrotic effects.
Chiara let go of the troll's other leg and retreated, "Don't just stand around and kill it already, Harry!"
Chuckling at his companion, Harry cast an overpowered Lumos at the troll, his wand screaming with joy at the amount of magic he poured into it. The troll covered its eyes with both hands before he stabbed its side with the sword. The effect was instantaneous as the wound blackened when the venom took hold, and Harry finally understood how the sword worked. It was the tip that had pierced the venom sack back in the Chamber, not the edge.
Still, this had been the first time since his merger that he had truly been in a life-and-death situation. It felt…exhilarating. His heart thundered like a war drum, and his blood was aflame, singing with joy. He stared in wonder at the warm wand in his hand, and chuckled as his connection with it had gotten even stronger.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Chiara's question caused him to flinch as he realised he had been grinning widely.
"Yeah, thanks for the warning earlier. You saved my life." Harry pulled Gryffindor from the troll's convulsing body and watched impassively before grabbing the hilt with both hands and striking down at its neck, cutting the head off. There was no honour in letting your foe suffer needlessly.
"Just what do you have in that sword? It's goblin-wrought silver, right?"
"Aye, basilisk venom, but it seems only on the tip rather than the rest of the blade."
The werewolf blinked her bright silver eyes before shaking her head in a very human way. "You will have to tell me more about this later. It's a shame that the venom ruined the corpse, trolls are a treasure of potion ingredients, especially fresh. At least the head is intact."
Harry smiled at Chiara before a nudge from Hedwig had him look through her eyes. The three trolls pulling the tree had managed to take it down and were cutting it to pieces with bits of sharp rocks. The troll leader oversaw them, occasionally throwing mud at one of the trolls with a grating laugh. The beast it was sitting on was still trying to escape futilely, and Harry was beginning to feel pity for it, especially with the way its tentacled nose twitched from the smell.
Of the five trolls who were building the bonfire, two of them were grunting incomprehensively over the shards of tinder, while the other three had moved deeper into the woods, close to the mountain leading into the Wildland. Hedwig had flown after the three trolls, and Harry noticed all of them were armed, probably hunters. He bid Hedwig continue trailing them before marching back to the campsite, Chiara joining him.
"What's the next step, Harry?"
He explained what he found to the werewolf as they approached the campsite. "Our options are limited. I am confident in fighting two or even three trolls at the same time, especially after getting a measure of their capabilities. But four of them is a stretch, especially if you add that strange beast. I don't shy away from a fight, but I'm not suicidal."
They stopped about a hundred feet from the campsite, making sure they were downwind from the trolls, causing his nose to twitch. The beasts might not have good vision, but he was not sure about their sense of smell. Harry knew trolls had a taste for human flesh, but hopefully, Chiara's presence would hide his smell to an extent.
The werewolf watched intently at the trolls before her gaze fell on the strange-looking beast. "That's a graphorn. Some trolls are capable of taming them, but this one does not appear to have been broken in yet."
"What can you tell me about it?"
"They are usually docile but can be very aggressive when provoked, at which point they emit an orange glow and go berserk. They have a nasty bite and a very magic-resistant hide that is also very tough, nearly as tough as a dragon's. They are also an endangered species that is protected by both the ministry and the ICW."
Harry hummed as he considered his options. The night was still young, and rushing into battle was unnecessary. He had promised Tom to be back before dawn, which was at least three hours away.
"Let's find a hidden spot and wait. Eventually, they will have to realise they're missing two of their own, creating an opportunity."
Chiara nodded, and they separated to find a hiding spot. The werewolf laid down next to a large rock, her silver fur blending in as she stared at the trolls. Harry climbed a tree and balanced himself on a branch near the camp before putting on his invisibility cloak. Then, he waited… for three minutes before Chiara's bored voice sounded in his head.
"So, now would be as good a time as any. Despite our bond, we barely know each other, Harry."
'That's true. Might as well chat. Tell me a bit about yourself, Chiara.' Harry replied in his mind, glad the communication went both ways.
From there, they both spoke about their pasts, present, and hopes for the future. Harry learned that Chiara's biggest ambition was to cure Lycanthropy, but she also longed to become a healer. An apprenticeship with a St Mungo's healer was incredibly difficult to achieve, especially as a werewolf. Because of her Lycanthropy, Chiara had not been able to find a decent job despite having nine OWLs and NEWTs with decent grades – taking COMC and Muggle Studies for her electives. Not even her pureblood status helped her, as her father was a foreigner, while her mother's family died in the war. The increasingly strict laws against werewolves had taken their toll on her, and the older girl had been on her own since both of her parents were killed scarcely a week before Voldemort's downfall.
Barely nine when orphaned, none wanted to take in a werewolf. All of that was before the invention of the Wolfsbane potion, and Chiara would have been living on the streets if not for the kindness of Old Tom, a family friend. Chiara was glad for Tom's help, yet she would rather not overstay her welcome, especially with the recent additions to the already stringent anti-werewolf laws making things risky for the owner of the Leaky Cauldron. Not to mention the ministry regulating the ingredients necessary for the Wolfsbane potion, making them much more expensive and harder to get.
The only bright spot in the tale was Albus Dumbledore allowing Chiara to attend Hogwarts, even making sure she received a steady supply of Wolfsbane paid out of his own pocket. Harry felt for the girl, even gritting his teeth in anger as he realised a certain toady ministry official was responsible for Chiara's misfortune, but a greedy part of him also felt ecstatic.
The girl's bleak prospects would make her easy to recruit, and Harry would not let a Potions mistress and aspiring healer slip from his grasp, especially with the trust of the warg bond. He could help himself and the girl in a single move, thus satisfying his desire to help; that urge to aid people around him was not to be ignored, for good deeds would always be rewarded, no matter how late the rewards come.
They continued to chat for nearly an hour, learning much about each other, until Harry noticed a commotion from the campsite. The brutish leader seemed to be shouting something at the trolls, who had finally managed to light the bonfire and were now staring at it in wonder. The troll tongue was a series of angry grunts accompanied by disgusting spits and growls. It took a while for Harry to figure out the leader was telling the duo to call for the dead trolls, judging by its angry gestures in the direction of the manor. Looking at the three trolls cutting the tree, they seemed to be taking a break, with one of them defecating where it stood, the smell getting even worse, and the graphorn seemed to agree, judging from its increased struggle.
It was as good a chance to act as any.
Sneaking down from the tree was simple, as his cloak hid him well, but the sword was a bit cumbersome to carry, especially with how heavy it was. Harry followed the two trolls, pocketing his cloak along the way. Like the rest of the beasts, the two trolls had massive guts that dangled down their waists but those two also seemed to have tufts of filthy matted hair while every other troll he saw was bald.
Chiara prowled through the tall grass as she circled back to the troll corpses by the tool shed, waiting for the beasts to arrive. The trolls were calling out with their grunting tongue but seemed to get angry when they received no reply, but soon they arrived at the spot where Harry had killed the other trolls.
The trolls halted at the sight of their dead brethren, scratching their tiny heads dumbly.
Harry was already dashing forward, wand aimed at a nearby rock.
A quiet Spongify allowed him to use the now bouncy rock to leap to a head level with the closest troll. He twisted his body and spun the silver blade in hand, leveraging his momentum, and the troll's head separated from its body. What went up had to come down, and the ground was rapidly approaching. Harry tumbled down in a roll while Chiara pounced at the other foe's back.
Quickly getting back on his feet, Harry approached the angry troll, who was trying to get the werewolf off its back. Dodging a flailing limb, he lunged forward, burying Gryffindor into the beast's exposed side.
Ambushing dumb brutes turned out to be far easier than he expected, especially with the assistance of a magical blade imbued with basilisk venom. Harry wondered bemusedly how he would have handled this problem as he beheaded the second troll to relieve it from its agony, his mind conjuring different tactics of how to handle such foes. The more he thought about it, the more excited he got and the less enthused he was to kill his foes with Gryffindor, instead relishing the idea of getting up close and personal and defeating them with his strength.
"Quite a brutal fellow, aren't you, Harry? You never once hesitated before attacking or beheading the trolls."
"Hesitation is the death of advantage. Were you not the one to tell me to gather myself earlier?" Harry waved his wand at the sword with Scourgify cleaning it from blood.
"That is no mindset for a twelve-year-old to have." The werewolf shook her head before fixing him with an inscrutable gaze. "When will you tell me the rest of your story… Jon Snow?"
Harry froze at the mention of his other name. Shoulders tense, he slowly turned to his companion, finding only curiosity and understanding in her gaze. A sigh rolled off his tongue, it seemed like the bond ran deeper than he thought. It wasn't like he was hiding the truth; he thought it was not anyone else's bloody business, and doubted anyone would believe him anyway.
Loud, angry roaring suddenly came from the campsite, and exactly at the same moment, Hedwig nudged his mind for attention. Looking quickly through the owl's eyes, he found the three hunting trolls had run afoul of a herd of eagle-headed steeds. Harry was unsure if they were Griffins or Hippogriffs, but they were massive, and they were pissed.
A glance at the dead chick - or fowl? - on the ground told him what happened, and even as he watched, one of the trolls was gored to death by three of the flying beasts' talons. The other two turned tail and ran, showing that despite their low intelligence, trolls still knew when to run from a doomed fight.
Harry bid Hedwig return to him as he cut the connection.
"What happened?"
"I'll tell you on the way, let's go."
Sprinting back to the campsite, Harry filled Chiara in as they peeked from behind a tree at the amusing scene in front of them. The graphorn had shit on its face and was shining orange, brimming with menacing power as it bucked madly at the troll boss trying to beat it into obedience. The earlier defecating troll was holding its feces in confusion, and Harry quickly realised what happened. For some reason, the troll thought it would be a good idea to throw shit at the bad-tempered beast. The other two trolls had fashioned themselves two crude clubs and all of their attention was on the rampaging graphorn.
It seemed like the old gods had decided to smile upon him tonight.
"Let's go, Chiara." Harry waved his wand at the raging bonfire, conveniently close to two trolls staring dumbly at their leader, and muttered Ventus and Flipendo. A gust of wind fanned the flames so hot the trolls flinched before the knockback jinx hit the bonfire, sending the burning logs into the two trolls.
Pitiful squeals of pain echoed through the night; it seemed that no matter how tough their skin was, fire was always excruciating, red-hot flames even more so.
Dashing forward at the unscathed troll that turned at the commotion, Harry noticed Chiara charge at one of the burning trolls and rammed her hard head into its knees, causing it to stumble. Not wasting time, Harry dodged the clumsy strike from his foe's club and cast Incendio at the lump of shit still in the troll's hand, causing it to explode in its face. The troll's pained yelp was cut short when Harry used Spongify on the club to bounce on it before stabbing the beast in the throat.
Quickly, Harry managed to use the falling troll as a springboard and hastened towards Chiara, who was struggling against the two trolls.
The graphorn was nowhere in sight, and a glance at the boss only made Harry grimace; the brutish leader was fumbling for its club to join the fight. Harry gritted his teeth; this only meant he had to fight faster.
The last two trolls were distracted by Chiara still, allowing Harry to pounce forward, slamming the silver sword with all his weight into the unsuspecting back of one of the stinky beasts. The troll crumbled on the ground as the werewolf was just kicked away by the second troll like an overgrown puppy.
The thundering footsteps behind made Harry desperate, forcing him to spin around, wand in hand.
"Engorgio!" It was the first spell that came to his mind, aimed at a rock just before the chieftain, and his wand obliged with his desire. Instead of moving his leg forward unimpeded, the enormous troll was met with a human-sized obstacle, stumbling forward.
Thanking the gods, and his wand, Harry spun as the world shook with a loud thud and turned to aid the werewolf. The troll was trying to kill Chiara with its club, and she was desperately dodging as if they were playing a lethal version of Whac-A-Mole.
A feral grin bloomed on Harry's lips; all this danger made him drunk with joy, and the excitement he had felt all night from the fighting seemed to be reaching a breaking point. Feeling an indescribable heat in his chest, and with the troll getting closer to striking Chiara by the second, Harry howled.
The piercing sound cleaved through the night, lingering through the chilly air and causing everyone to halt. Without hesitation, Harry cast Expelliarmus, causing the troll's club to blast out of its hands, the spell so powerful that he didn't have a chance to levitate it. Instead, he charged at the troll as it recovered, Chiara biting its leg, causing it to stumble to one knee, just at the perfect angle for Harry to slash with Gryffindor and sever its head from its body.
"Behind!"
He did not need Chiara's warning to realise the troll boss had stood up, and Harry scrambled away from the incoming club strike, rolling away in the nick of time. The club didn't stop until it smashed into the engorged belly of the dead troll, causing it to sink deeply with a sickening squelch.
Without a thought, Harry jumped on the club and ran up its length to the troll's arm, jumping over a panicked punch and casting Incendio at the troll's face. The beast's screams of pain quickly turned into gurgles when Harry sliced at its neck, but the cut was not deep enough to decapitate its thick neck. Scowling at his weakness, Harry sliced twice more, dodging the beast's thrashing, until the burning head fell to the ground and the boy followed it but landed gracefully.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
He breathed heavily as he tightly gripped his sword and wand, blood surging with excitement. Unsure if it was battlelust or more foes lingered nearby, Harry heaved for breath, exhaustion finally taking its toll. Even with his inhuman stamina, a fight like this had him tired, especially after being awake for nearly a full day and half the night. His gaze wandered through the surroundings, looking for more enemies, but only finding the burning logs, their ruddy flame making the surrounding darkness dance ominously.
"Stay on your paws, Chiara. I have a feeling we're not out of the woods yet."
The words barely left his tongue when Hedwig nudged his mind, causing him to turn just as the snowy owl landed on his shoulder. A tall, shadowy figure stumbled clumsily through the bushes from the forest. The stench and the round figure were a dead giveaway.
Forcing his legs to stop trembling from the earlier exhaustion, Harry mustered every ounce of strength and flung Gryffindor point-first just as the troll burst out from the tree line. A sickening squelch made the beast halt as the silvery blade sank hilt deep into its fat belly. The troll made two uneasy steps, as if not realising it was wounded, before collapsing on the ground head first, impaling itself deeper on the blade.
With some struggle, Harry managed to levitate the sword through the layers of flesh and bring it back to him. Just as he managed to cast enough cleaning charms to remove all the grisly sludge, loud screeches and powerful wings heralded even more arrivals. Harry Potter turned his gaze upward as a dozen massive shapes circled briefly before landing atop the final troll's carcass.
They were beautiful creatures with the feathered body of a horse yet with powerful talons at the front. They came in a myriad of colours, from the darkest grey to the brightest gold, yet their most obvious feature was their eagle-like heads and the massive wings sprouting from their shoulders. All of them were the size of the largest of destriers, except for the one in the lead in its silver and gold feathers, which looked more lion than horse. That beast was half the size of a mammoth!
Their enormous, sharp beaks looked like they could shatter bone and tear away muscles with a single peck. The massive winged beast smashed its talons at the dead troll, pulverising its corpse, and screeched loudly into the sky, the sound almost akin to a lion's roar. It then stared at him coldly with a pair of amber eyes, which glowed with almost human cunning.
"Hippogriffs! Be careful of the one in the lead. That's a Griffin. They are incredibly rare outside the Aegean but known to exist in Wales."
Harry knew he did not have the energy for another massive fight, especially against flying creatures of legend that were far more intelligent than the lumbering brutes he just killed. Maybe if he had his broom and was fully rested, he would contemplate the idea, for his blood still sang for battle, and his magic roiled in excitement. Only, his young and small body could not keep up with the rest.
Shaking his head, Harry wondered if Dobby would be capable of teleporting them out, but even if he could, the moment he called for him, the beasts would most likely attack.
"What do you suggest?"
"Griffins and Hippogriffs share similar temperament. When faced with one in the wild, you should bow your head to it and hope it bows back, which means they acknowledge you. Do not break eye contact, though, or else they will sense weakness and attack."
"… Bow?" Harry growled, his voice as cold as a blizzard from the North. He glared at the Griffin in front of him. "Me? Bow in subservience to trespassers on my land?!"
The wind picked up, and the flames danced higher as his magic, nay his soul, rebelled at such a notion.
The hippogriffs shuffled uneasily, but their leader didn't seem impressed. The Griffin certainly understood what he said, and he clenched his teeth as the beast distractedly eviscerated the troll corpse with its talons and glared back at him. "I know you understand me, bird. Uninvited guests are not welcome here," Harry waved his hand at the dead trolls, specifically at the rotting form of the ones stabbed with Gryffindor. "A fight would be perilous, but all I need is a single stab, and you will be dead. You won't be getting any subservience from me."
The Griffin cocked its head and then looked cautiously at the sword in his hands; the hilt might have been cleaned, but the bloody blade still reeked of the necrotic flesh of the troll. Then, it glanced at the corpse under it and flinched away from it, finally understanding that it had been close to poisoning itself from the venom-ridden blood.
Harry's heart was beating like a furious war drum. He was weakened and tired; normally, he would de-escalate such a situation, no matter how galling or unjust. Yet, his blood was boiling, his soul was singing, he felt fire in his belly and ice in his veins. It was foolish of him to risk his life and Chiara's well-being over pride.
Yet, a single thought persisted stubbornly, whether borne from his daunting life at the Wall or the many trials overcome by Harry. He would not bow!
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Griffin screeched loudly before lowering its head slightly to him. Understanding the olive branch for what it was, Harry lowered his head like peers of equal standing, not subservience.
Once courtesies were paid, the massive beast screeched again, this time at its herd. They all flapped their powerful wings mightily, causing hurricane-like winds to fill the clearing and snuff out all the flames. Harry was unsure if that was a peace offering or a show of force, but he didn't care; avoiding a forest fire was in his best interests.
With one last flap, the winged creatures left the ground and flew away from his lands, heading back to the mountain. The Griffin halted for a moment, craning his mighty neck to eye him curiously from a distance before scoffing as it flew away. Harry could barely release a sigh of relief before dropping to his knees, his sword falling from his hands, but his wand sending waves of warmth to him in comfort. He could almost imagine a phoenix trilling in his mind.
A slap to the head and a bark from Hedwig reminded him of his owl still perched on his shoulder, the poor bird was frozen in terror during the whole encounter yet refused to fly away to safety. Chiara shuffled closer as well, bumping her head with his other shoulder.
"You are the most reckless wizard I've ever met. Most prideful as well. Did you even think what those feather heads would have done to us if your bluff had failed?"
"That's the thing, Chiara. I wasn't bluffing." Harry stood as he chuckled at the werewolf's wide eyes. "Sometimes, a man must make a stand and refuse to bow down against overwhelming odds. For if your knees bend once, they would struggle to stand straight ever again."
"…Wise words. Is that something you learned in that land of snow, Jon Snow?"
"How much do you know exactly?"
"Not as much as I'd like to pretend. Just your name, constant war in a long winter and a very tall structure made of ice." The werewolf shrugged before turning to the dead trolls. Half of them were rotting from the venom's effects, but several corpses were intact, particularly the boss troll. "It would be a shame to have all those ingredients go to waste. Troll ingredients are best used fresh. What do you plan to do with them?"
"I might claim the big one's heart or liver for a ritual I have in mind, but I'm undecided." Harry shrugged as he faced Chiara. "Now that you mention it, I do find myself with plenty of potion ingredients and an expansive demesne."
"Oh? And what would you like to do about it?" The werewolf's tone was amused, and she had an expectant look in her silver eyes that caused Harry to grin.
"Chiara Lobosca. I have a proposition for you…"
Keep in mind the fact that 4'11" Harry Potter just went to town against ten trolls with just an owl and an overly large magical wolf on his side, before staring down a Griffin and its herd (or is it flock?)
Silver is incredibly heavy compared to other metals of the same shape and size. Goblin-wrought Silver has no extra benefits aside from imbibing magic and repelling dust. Essentially, a glorified antique you hang on the wall. Even the sharpness bit is merely good craftsmanship, so not as sharp as Valyrian Steel. Lugging that hunk of metal all over the place cost a toll on a man's stamina, let alone a little kid, not matter how magical that stamina is.
Harry gets his first taste of combat, and you will notice he acts more of the Warrior archetype instead of the Mage. As a second year, he does not know enough magic to properly combat magic-resistant creatures like trolls. His enhanced physique was put to the test here, but hopefully that would be something for him to improve upon with his ability to use magic outside school.
Finally, the wand. The phoenix represents rebirth, so Harry now has a much deeper connection with his wand than normal, especially with the phoenix tears running through his system.
This chapter was edited by Gladiusx and R.Yorkshireman.
Potter Manor,
A loud pop heralded their arrival for all to hear, causing Harry to instantly brandish his sword, ready for a fight. Yet a quick glance told him there were no foes waiting, and he found himself easing his stance. Chiara was also calm, which meant her sharp nose detected no foes nearby.
The rebuke for the risk died on his tongue at the sight of Dobby wobbling weakly before collapsing to his knees. "Dobby! Are you alright?"
"Dobby is fine, Master Harry," the elf croaked out. "Just tired."
"You did well, Dobby. Return to the Cauldron and regain your strength." Harry waited for the elf to pop away before Hedwig flew off into the sky, and he looked through her eyes.
The soft curtain of moonlight made finding the trolls simple. The foolish creatures had simply returned to their old campsite and separated into groups. According to the books he had read, trolls were nocturnal creatures and were usually led by the strongest and most brutish-looking of them. Harry took this time to scout their numbers, confirming nine of them spread over the grounds.
Five of them were rebuilding the large bonfire destroyed by the Aurors, three were pulling down a tree, and the last two stood stupidly in front of the manor. None of them gave him the impression of being particularly brutish, and Harry continued searching for their apparent leader. Finally, he found him lazily lounging by a large humpbacked, horned creature with tentacle-like appendages, shouting guttural insults at the five trolls rebuilding the campsite. Harry did not know what the creature was, but it did not look particularly pleased to be with the trolls as every time it tried to stand, the troll leader smacked its head.
The young wizard slipped his mind away from Hedwig and contemplated his options, idly running his free hand through Chiara's silky fur. Trolls came in different varieties, but they all shared common attributes. Immense physical strength, tall stature, highly aggressive, incurably dumb and most importantly, increased healing. He knew Swamp Trolls had the highest healing ability, capable of even regenerating limbs, while Mountain Trolls were the biggest and strongest of them with the most magic resistance. Judging by the size and skin colour, these trolls were clearly of the Mountain variety, which would make sense considering they were in the middle of the Berwyn Ranges of Wales.
Taking a deep breath, Harry weighed his options. The trolls were on his land, slowly destroying his ancestral home. He could wait for the morning and call on the Aurors then.
As revolting as it was, he forced himself to consider the option. Was that the sort of lord he wanted to be? He remembered his father, Eddard Stark, and how during his rule, a naked maiden could walk from the Wall to the Neck unmolested. He allowed the memory to harden his resolve, and cleared his mind.
No, he was not going to call the Aurors. This was his land, his to defend, and the trolls had to perish by his hand.
The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword.
"What's the plan, Harry?" Chiara's voice echoed in his mind, tearing him away from his musings.
"Those at the entrance go first," Harry motioned at the two trolls, who seemed to be arguing about whether to ransack the tool shed or the guest house. They were far enough not to be noticed by them, but just in case, Harry had hidden behind a large oak when they arrived.
"I will follow your lead."
The Potter heir grinned at the werewolf and readjusted his weapons. He was tempted to put on the invisibility cloak, but it would be too cumbersome to use with his fighting style. With the silver sword in his right hand and wand in his left, he silently approached the two trolls, his wand almost vibrating with excitement and sending him a comforting warmth compared to the cold sword. Harry signalled for Chiara to approach from the other side and stopped close enough to strike in a heartbeat, yet the smell was starting to get to him. Hedwig maintained vigil on the rest of the clan and Harry trusted that she would warn him if something happened.
The time for planning was over. These creatures were worse than wildlings, so dialogue was never an option for Harry. Besides, examples needed to be made, and the dumb brutes were perfect.
Both trolls were massive, lumbering grey-skinned creatures, nearly twelve feet tall and looked surprisingly similar, yet did not seem armed or dressed. Probably siblings if he had to guess, but Harry could not tell what their sex was due to their dangling bellies, nor did he care. Waiting until one of the trolls moved alone to the tool shed while the other looked on stupidly, Harry charged. He waved his wand on the ground around the troll with a muttered Muffliato before slashing his sword at the lumbering beast's calf.
The roar of agony would have been heard from a mile away if not for the spell he learned from Narcissa, and Harry grinned as he continued to the other troll, who had stiffened in confusion. Trusting the basilisk venom to do its work, he felt his wand vibrating–
"Harry, watch out!"
He was completely unbalanced and could not react to the warning, barely able to glance behind him with wide eyes. Harry knew the slash wasn't deep, no matter how sharp his sword or how strong his small body could be. He never expected to be capable of slicing off the leg of a creature that could give a giant of Westeros a run for its money. Yet, he was so confident in the basilisk venom neutralising it that he did not even fathom the troll could shrug it off as he stared in shock at the angry troll's fist, inches from turning his face into a pulp.
Only for Chiara to crash into its side with a growl, unbalancing the troll and biting the offending hand, viciously thrashing her head sideways even as the beast roared in agony. Harry awoke from his stupor as the troll lifted the wolf off the ground and winded its other arm for a punch. He spun around and leapt, this time, his sword primed for a stab instead of a slash. The troll was so focused on Chiara that it did not notice him jumping as high as he could, barely reaching its abdomen, and stabbing with all his might.
Chiara let go of the mangled arm of the troll as it gasped and fell backwards on the ground, causing the world to shake. Harry pulled the blade from the corpse, now noticing the necrotic effects of the basilisk venom, yet a glance at the troll's calf showed no such effects.
"Harry, the other one."
Quickly, he turned to find the other troll had also turned at the sound of its brother falling. Its tiny eyes widened, and its slobbering mouth twisted into a snarl. It roared with fury and tumbled forward, grabbing a rotted plank from the shed as a weapon. Harry knew no magic that could pierce a troll's hide, so he aimed at the plank.
"Expelliarmus, Wingardium Leviosa."
The plank was ripped from the troll's hands, causing it to stumble, while the levitation charm held it above its head. A hint of nostalgia hit Harry at the familiar sight, but he gathered himself and jabbed his wand downwards. The plank smashed onto the troll's head, shattering to splinters and dazing the beast. Not waiting for the troll to recover its wits, Harry and Chiara charged forward; the werewolf bit one of the troll's legs and pulled it backwards, causing it to trip and flail its arms uselessly. The Potter heir wasted no time slashing his sword at the beast's other leg, hamstringing it and causing it to squeal in pain and lose its footing. Harry frowned as the troll fell, noticing the wound bleeding the troll's normal purplish blood yet showed no necrotic effects.
Chiara let go of the troll's other leg and retreated, "Don't just stand around and kill it already, Harry!"
Chuckling at his companion, Harry cast an overpowered Lumos at the troll, his wand screaming with joy at the amount of magic he poured into it. The troll covered its eyes with both hands before he stabbed its side with the sword. The effect was instantaneous as the wound blackened when the venom took hold, and Harry finally understood how the sword worked. It was the tip that had pierced the venom sack back in the Chamber, not the edge.
Still, this had been the first time since his merger that he had truly been in a life-and-death situation. It felt…exhilarating. His heart thundered like a war drum, and his blood was aflame, singing with joy. He stared in wonder at the warm wand in his hand, and chuckled as his connection with it had gotten even stronger.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Chiara's question caused him to flinch as he realised he had been grinning widely.
"Yeah, thanks for the warning earlier. You saved my life." Harry pulled Gryffindor from the troll's convulsing body and watched impassively before grabbing the hilt with both hands and striking down at its neck, cutting the head off. There was no honour in letting your foe suffer needlessly.
"Just what do you have in that sword? It's goblin-wrought silver, right?"
"Aye, basilisk venom, but it seems only on the tip rather than the rest of the blade."
The werewolf blinked her bright silver eyes before shaking her head in a very human way. "You will have to tell me more about this later. It's a shame that the venom ruined the corpse, trolls are a treasure of potion ingredients, especially fresh. At least the head is intact."
Harry smiled at Chiara before a nudge from Hedwig had him look through her eyes. The three trolls pulling the tree had managed to take it down and were cutting it to pieces with bits of sharp rocks. The troll leader oversaw them, occasionally throwing mud at one of the trolls with a grating laugh. The beast it was sitting on was still trying to escape futilely, and Harry was beginning to feel pity for it, especially with the way its tentacled nose twitched from the smell.
Of the five trolls who were building the bonfire, two of them were grunting incomprehensively over the shards of tinder, while the other three had moved deeper into the woods, close to the mountain leading into the Wildland. Hedwig had flown after the three trolls, and Harry noticed all of them were armed, probably hunters. He bid Hedwig continue trailing them before marching back to the campsite, Chiara joining him.
"What's the next step, Harry?"
He explained what he found to the werewolf as they approached the campsite. "Our options are limited. I am confident in fighting two or even three trolls at the same time, especially after getting a measure of their capabilities. But four of them is a stretch, especially if you add that strange beast. I don't shy away from a fight, but I'm not suicidal."
They stopped about a hundred feet from the campsite, making sure they were downwind from the trolls, causing his nose to twitch. The beasts might not have good vision, but he was not sure about their sense of smell. Harry knew trolls had a taste for human flesh, but hopefully, Chiara's presence would hide his smell to an extent.
The werewolf watched intently at the trolls before her gaze fell on the strange-looking beast. "That's a graphorn. Some trolls are capable of taming them, but this one does not appear to have been broken in yet."
"What can you tell me about it?"
"They are usually docile but can be very aggressive when provoked, at which point they emit an orange glow and go berserk. They have a nasty bite and a very magic-resistant hide that is also very tough, nearly as tough as a dragon's. They are also an endangered species that is protected by both the ministry and the ICW."
Harry hummed as he considered his options. The night was still young, and rushing into battle was unnecessary. He had promised Tom to be back before dawn, which was at least three hours away.
"Let's find a hidden spot and wait. Eventually, they will have to realise they're missing two of their own, creating an opportunity."
Chiara nodded, and they separated to find a hiding spot. The werewolf laid down next to a large rock, her silver fur blending in as she stared at the trolls. Harry climbed a tree and balanced himself on a branch near the camp before putting on his invisibility cloak. Then, he waited… for three minutes before Chiara's bored voice sounded in his head.
"So, now would be as good a time as any. Despite our bond, we barely know each other, Harry."
'That's true. Might as well chat. Tell me a bit about yourself, Chiara.' Harry replied in his mind, glad the communication went both ways.
From there, they both spoke about their pasts, present, and hopes for the future. Harry learned that Chiara's biggest ambition was to cure Lycanthropy, but she also longed to become a healer. An apprenticeship with a St Mungo's healer was incredibly difficult to achieve, especially as a werewolf. Because of her Lycanthropy, Chiara had not been able to find a decent job despite having nine OWLs and NEWTs with decent grades – taking COMC and Muggle Studies for her electives. Not even her pureblood status helped her, as her father was a foreigner, while her mother's family died in the war. The increasingly strict laws against werewolves had taken their toll on her, and the older girl had been on her own since both of her parents were killed scarcely a week before Voldemort's downfall.
Barely nine when orphaned, none wanted to take in a werewolf. All of that was before the invention of the Wolfsbane potion, and Chiara would have been living on the streets if not for the kindness of Old Tom, a family friend. Chiara was glad for Tom's help, yet she would rather not overstay her welcome, especially with the recent additions to the already stringent anti-werewolf laws making things risky for the owner of the Leaky Cauldron. Not to mention the ministry regulating the ingredients necessary for the Wolfsbane potion, making them much more expensive and harder to get.
The only bright spot in the tale was Albus Dumbledore allowing Chiara to attend Hogwarts, even making sure she received a steady supply of Wolfsbane paid out of his own pocket. Harry felt for the girl, even gritting his teeth in anger as he realised a certain toady ministry official was responsible for Chiara's misfortune, but a greedy part of him also felt ecstatic.
The girl's bleak prospects would make her easy to recruit, and Harry would not let a Potions mistress and aspiring healer slip from his grasp, especially with the trust of the warg bond. He could help himself and the girl in a single move, thus satisfying his desire to help; that urge to aid people around him was not to be ignored, for good deeds would always be rewarded, no matter how late the rewards come.
They continued to chat for nearly an hour, learning much about each other, until Harry noticed a commotion from the campsite. The brutish leader seemed to be shouting something at the trolls, who had finally managed to light the bonfire and were now staring at it in wonder. The troll tongue was a series of angry grunts accompanied by disgusting spits and growls. It took a while for Harry to figure out the leader was telling the duo to call for the dead trolls, judging by its angry gestures in the direction of the manor. Looking at the three trolls cutting the tree, they seemed to be taking a break, with one of them defecating where it stood, the smell getting even worse, and the graphorn seemed to agree, judging from its increased struggle.
It was as good a chance to act as any.
Sneaking down from the tree was simple, as his cloak hid him well, but the sword was a bit cumbersome to carry, especially with how heavy it was. Harry followed the two trolls, pocketing his cloak along the way. Like the rest of the beasts, the two trolls had massive guts that dangled down their waists but those two also seemed to have tufts of filthy matted hair while every other troll he saw was bald.
Chiara prowled through the tall grass as she circled back to the troll corpses by the tool shed, waiting for the beasts to arrive. The trolls were calling out with their grunting tongue but seemed to get angry when they received no reply, but soon they arrived at the spot where Harry had killed the other trolls.
The trolls halted at the sight of their dead brethren, scratching their tiny heads dumbly.
Harry was already dashing forward, wand aimed at a nearby rock.
A quiet Spongify allowed him to use the now bouncy rock to leap to a head level with the closest troll. He twisted his body and spun the silver blade in hand, leveraging his momentum, and the troll's head separated from its body. What went up had to come down, and the ground was rapidly approaching. Harry tumbled down in a roll while Chiara pounced at the other foe's back.
Quickly getting back on his feet, Harry approached the angry troll, who was trying to get the werewolf off its back. Dodging a flailing limb, he lunged forward, burying Gryffindor into the beast's exposed side.
Ambushing dumb brutes turned out to be far easier than he expected, especially with the assistance of a magical blade imbued with basilisk venom. Harry wondered bemusedly how he would have handled this problem as he beheaded the second troll to relieve it from its agony, his mind conjuring different tactics of how to handle such foes. The more he thought about it, the more excited he got and the less enthused he was to kill his foes with Gryffindor, instead relishing the idea of getting up close and personal and defeating them with his strength.
"Quite a brutal fellow, aren't you, Harry? You never once hesitated before attacking or beheading the trolls."
"Hesitation is the death of advantage. Were you not the one to tell me to gather myself earlier?" Harry waved his wand at the sword with Scourgify cleaning it from blood.
"That is no mindset for a twelve-year-old to have." The werewolf shook her head before fixing him with an inscrutable gaze. "When will you tell me the rest of your story… Jon Snow?"
Harry froze at the mention of his other name. Shoulders tense, he slowly turned to his companion, finding only curiosity and understanding in her gaze. A sigh rolled off his tongue, it seemed like the bond ran deeper than he thought. It wasn't like he was hiding the truth; he thought it was not anyone else's bloody business, and doubted anyone would believe him anyway.
Loud, angry roaring suddenly came from the campsite, and exactly at the same moment, Hedwig nudged his mind for attention. Looking quickly through the owl's eyes, he found the three hunting trolls had run afoul of a herd of eagle-headed steeds. Harry was unsure if they were Griffins or Hippogriffs, but they were massive, and they were pissed.
A glance at the dead chick - or fowl? - on the ground told him what happened, and even as he watched, one of the trolls was gored to death by three of the flying beasts' talons. The other two turned tail and ran, showing that despite their low intelligence, trolls still knew when to run from a doomed fight.
Harry bid Hedwig return to him as he cut the connection.
"What happened?"
"I'll tell you on the way, let's go."
Sprinting back to the campsite, Harry filled Chiara in as they peeked from behind a tree at the amusing scene in front of them. The graphorn had shit on its face and was shining orange, brimming with menacing power as it bucked madly at the troll boss trying to beat it into obedience. The earlier defecating troll was holding its feces in confusion, and Harry quickly realised what happened. For some reason, the troll thought it would be a good idea to throw shit at the bad-tempered beast. The other two trolls had fashioned themselves two crude clubs and all of their attention was on the rampaging graphorn.
It seemed like the old gods had decided to smile upon him tonight.
"Let's go, Chiara." Harry waved his wand at the raging bonfire, conveniently close to two trolls staring dumbly at their leader, and muttered Ventus and Flipendo. A gust of wind fanned the flames so hot the trolls flinched before the knockback jinx hit the bonfire, sending the burning logs into the two trolls.
Pitiful squeals of pain echoed through the night; it seemed that no matter how tough their skin was, fire was always excruciating, red-hot flames even more so.
Dashing forward at the unscathed troll that turned at the commotion, Harry noticed Chiara charge at one of the burning trolls and rammed her hard head into its knees, causing it to stumble. Not wasting time, Harry dodged the clumsy strike from his foe's club and cast Incendio at the lump of shit still in the troll's hand, causing it to explode in its face. The troll's pained yelp was cut short when Harry used Spongify on the club to bounce on it before stabbing the beast in the throat.
Quickly, Harry managed to use the falling troll as a springboard and hastened towards Chiara, who was struggling against the two trolls.
The graphorn was nowhere in sight, and a glance at the boss only made Harry grimace; the brutish leader was fumbling for its club to join the fight. Harry gritted his teeth; this only meant he had to fight faster.
The last two trolls were distracted by Chiara still, allowing Harry to pounce forward, slamming the silver sword with all his weight into the unsuspecting back of one of the stinky beasts. The troll crumbled on the ground as the werewolf was just kicked away by the second troll like an overgrown puppy.
The thundering footsteps behind made Harry desperate, forcing him to spin around, wand in hand.
"Engorgio!" It was the first spell that came to his mind, aimed at a rock just before the chieftain, and his wand obliged with his desire. Instead of moving his leg forward unimpeded, the enormous troll was met with a human-sized obstacle, stumbling forward.
Thanking the gods, and his wand, Harry spun as the world shook with a loud thud and turned to aid the werewolf. The troll was trying to kill Chiara with its club, and she was desperately dodging as if they were playing a lethal version of Whac-A-Mole.
A feral grin bloomed on Harry's lips; all this danger made him drunk with joy, and the excitement he had felt all night from the fighting seemed to be reaching a breaking point. Feeling an indescribable heat in his chest, and with the troll getting closer to striking Chiara by the second, Harry howled.
The piercing sound cleaved through the night, lingering through the chilly air and causing everyone to halt. Without hesitation, Harry cast Expelliarmus, causing the troll's club to blast out of its hands, the spell so powerful that he didn't have a chance to levitate it. Instead, he charged at the troll as it recovered, Chiara biting its leg, causing it to stumble to one knee, just at the perfect angle for Harry to slash with Gryffindor and sever its head from its body.
"Behind!"
He did not need Chiara's warning to realise the troll boss had stood up, and Harry scrambled away from the incoming club strike, rolling away in the nick of time. The club didn't stop until it smashed into the engorged belly of the dead troll, causing it to sink deeply with a sickening squelch.
Without a thought, Harry jumped on the club and ran up its length to the troll's arm, jumping over a panicked punch and casting Incendio at the troll's face. The beast's screams of pain quickly turned into gurgles when Harry sliced at its neck, but the cut was not deep enough to decapitate its thick neck. Scowling at his weakness, Harry sliced twice more, dodging the beast's thrashing, until the burning head fell to the ground and the boy followed it but landed gracefully.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
He breathed heavily as he tightly gripped his sword and wand, blood surging with excitement. Unsure if it was battlelust or more foes lingered nearby, Harry heaved for breath, exhaustion finally taking its toll. Even with his inhuman stamina, a fight like this had him tired, especially after being awake for nearly a full day and half the night. His gaze wandered through the surroundings, looking for more enemies, but only finding the burning logs, their ruddy flame making the surrounding darkness dance ominously.
"Stay on your paws, Chiara. I have a feeling we're not out of the woods yet."
The words barely left his tongue when Hedwig nudged his mind, causing him to turn just as the snowy owl landed on his shoulder. A tall, shadowy figure stumbled clumsily through the bushes from the forest. The stench and the round figure were a dead giveaway.
Forcing his legs to stop trembling from the earlier exhaustion, Harry mustered every ounce of strength and flung Gryffindor point-first just as the troll burst out from the tree line. A sickening squelch made the beast halt as the silvery blade sank hilt deep into its fat belly. The troll made two uneasy steps, as if not realising it was wounded, before collapsing on the ground head first, impaling itself deeper on the blade.
With some struggle, Harry managed to levitate the sword through the layers of flesh and bring it back to him. Just as he managed to cast enough cleaning charms to remove all the grisly sludge, loud screeches and powerful wings heralded even more arrivals. Harry Potter turned his gaze upward as a dozen massive shapes circled briefly before landing atop the final troll's carcass.
They were beautiful creatures with the feathered body of a horse yet with powerful talons at the front. They came in a myriad of colours, from the darkest grey to the brightest gold, yet their most obvious feature was their eagle-like heads and the massive wings sprouting from their shoulders. All of them were the size of the largest of destriers, except for the one in the lead in its silver and gold feathers, which looked more lion than horse. That beast was half the size of a mammoth!
Their enormous, sharp beaks looked like they could shatter bone and tear away muscles with a single peck. The massive winged beast smashed its talons at the dead troll, pulverising its corpse, and screeched loudly into the sky, the sound almost akin to a lion's roar. It then stared at him coldly with a pair of amber eyes, which glowed with almost human cunning.
"Hippogriffs! Be careful of the one in the lead. That's a Griffin. They are incredibly rare outside the Aegean but known to exist in Wales."
Harry knew he did not have the energy for another massive fight, especially against flying creatures of legend that were far more intelligent than the lumbering brutes he just killed. Maybe if he had his broom and was fully rested, he would contemplate the idea, for his blood still sang for battle, and his magic roiled in excitement. Only, his young and small body could not keep up with the rest.
Shaking his head, Harry wondered if Dobby would be capable of teleporting them out, but even if he could, the moment he called for him, the beasts would most likely attack.
"What do you suggest?"
"Griffins and Hippogriffs share similar temperament. When faced with one in the wild, you should bow your head to it and hope it bows back, which means they acknowledge you. Do not break eye contact, though, or else they will sense weakness and attack."
"… Bow?" Harry growled, his voice as cold as a blizzard from the North. He glared at the Griffin in front of him. "Me? Bow in subservience to trespassers on my land?!"
The wind picked up, and the flames danced higher as his magic, nay his soul, rebelled at such a notion.
The hippogriffs shuffled uneasily, but their leader didn't seem impressed. The Griffin certainly understood what he said, and he clenched his teeth as the beast distractedly eviscerated the troll corpse with its talons and glared back at him. "I know you understand me, bird. Uninvited guests are not welcome here," Harry waved his hand at the dead trolls, specifically at the rotting form of the ones stabbed with Gryffindor. "A fight would be perilous, but all I need is a single stab, and you will be dead. You won't be getting any subservience from me."
The Griffin cocked its head and then looked cautiously at the sword in his hands; the hilt might have been cleaned, but the bloody blade still reeked of the necrotic flesh of the troll. Then, it glanced at the corpse under it and flinched away from it, finally understanding that it had been close to poisoning itself from the venom-ridden blood.
Harry's heart was beating like a furious war drum. He was weakened and tired; normally, he would de-escalate such a situation, no matter how galling or unjust. Yet, his blood was boiling, his soul was singing, he felt fire in his belly and ice in his veins. It was foolish of him to risk his life and Chiara's well-being over pride.
Yet, a single thought persisted stubbornly, whether borne from his daunting life at the Wall or the many trials overcome by Harry. He would not bow!
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Griffin screeched loudly before lowering its head slightly to him. Understanding the olive branch for what it was, Harry lowered his head like peers of equal standing, not subservience.
Once courtesies were paid, the massive beast screeched again, this time at its herd. They all flapped their powerful wings mightily, causing hurricane-like winds to fill the clearing and snuff out all the flames. Harry was unsure if that was a peace offering or a show of force, but he didn't care; avoiding a forest fire was in his best interests.
With one last flap, the winged creatures left the ground and flew away from his lands, heading back to the mountain. The Griffin halted for a moment, craning his mighty neck to eye him curiously from a distance before scoffing as it flew away. Harry could barely release a sigh of relief before dropping to his knees, his sword falling from his hands, but his wand sending waves of warmth to him in comfort. He could almost imagine a phoenix trilling in his mind.
A slap to the head and a bark from Hedwig reminded him of his owl still perched on his shoulder, the poor bird was frozen in terror during the whole encounter yet refused to fly away to safety. Chiara shuffled closer as well, bumping her head with his other shoulder.
"You are the most reckless wizard I've ever met. Most prideful as well. Did you even think what those feather heads would have done to us if your bluff had failed?"
"That's the thing, Chiara. I wasn't bluffing." Harry stood as he chuckled at the werewolf's wide eyes. "Sometimes, a man must make a stand and refuse to bow down against overwhelming odds. For if your knees bend once, they would struggle to stand straight ever again."
"…Wise words. Is that something you learned in that land of snow, Jon Snow?"
"How much do you know exactly?"
"Not as much as I'd like to pretend. Just your name, constant war in a long winter and a very tall structure made of ice." The werewolf shrugged before turning to the dead trolls. Half of them were rotting from the venom's effects, but several corpses were intact, particularly the boss troll. "It would be a shame to have all those ingredients go to waste. Troll ingredients are best used fresh. What do you plan to do with them?"
"I might claim the big one's heart or liver for a ritual I have in mind, but I'm undecided." Harry shrugged as he faced Chiara. "Now that you mention it, I do find myself with plenty of potion ingredients and an expansive demesne."
"Oh? And what would you like to do about it?" The werewolf's tone was amused, and she had an expectant look in her silver eyes that caused Harry to grin.
"Chiara Lobosca. I have a proposition for you…"
Keep in mind the fact that 4'11" Harry Potter just went to town against ten trolls with just an owl and an overly large magical wolf on his side, before staring down a Griffin and its herd (or is it flock?)
Silver is incredibly heavy compared to other metals of the same shape and size. Goblin-wrought Silver has no extra benefits aside from imbibing magic and repelling dust. Essentially, a glorified antique you hang on the wall. Even the sharpness bit is merely good craftsmanship, so not as sharp as Valyrian Steel. Lugging that hunk of metal all over the place cost a toll on a man's stamina, let alone a little kid, not matter how magical that stamina is.
Harry gets his first taste of combat, and you will notice he acts more of the Warrior archetype instead of the Mage. As a second year, he does not know enough magic to properly combat magic-resistant creatures like trolls. His enhanced physique was put to the test here, but hopefully that would be something for him to improve upon with his ability to use magic outside school.
Finally, the wand. The phoenix represents rebirth, so Harry now has a much deeper connection with his wand than normal, especially with the phoenix tears running through his system.
