"I'm not going to bop you, Harry." Hermione shakes her head, her lips turning up into a barely there smile. She's exhausted, if she's been honest, holed away where no one can see her and look at her face, question her about the why and whats of her duel. Once the dust has settled on the matter she supposes she can step foot out again, but for now she's more than happy to step up and take her mantle as the Marchioness, to be the figurehead that the Seelie want her to be.
Her own clothing is a little better, a set of leather clothes with armour, a corset around her. Her servants - and she had servants! - wanted her in dresses more often than not but she just wasn't comfortable. She couldn't do it.
Breathing out, she looks over at Harry and feels her expression drop, her eyes lifting high and low, her heart on her sleeve before she swallowed back her emotion.
"Looks don't matter. You'll always know me and I'll always know you." He
moves a little closer and opens his arms, if she'll allow him, he'll give
her a hug. "Probably because I'll be the twit that can never fix his own
glasses. Monocle? Either way."
Harry knows he could've worked and earned property or servants or been
booned their equivalent, but has pointedly avoided such things to the point
of giving away several of his boons. Perhaps that wasn't wise, but it was
his choice.
"I don't mean your face, Harry, I mean you. So much has happened that I feel like we're both different people - that we've spent so long apart that I'm scared we're going to lose each other. We're on different sides of a war I barely understand and we keep all these secrets from each other when we never used to. I feel like I'm going insane!" Hermione breathes out, her eyes moving up and down before she swallows.
She feels small - and, really, she looks it. She was never meant to be a ruler or a Marquis, she was never meant to be in charge of armies. She just wanted to go to school and be the best she could be.
"I don't know what to do any more, Harry. I keep making mistakes and hurting everyone I love." That isn't her - she's Hermione Granger. She's always supposed to have the answers.
After lowering his arms, he's quiet for a time; intentionally making the effort to think through what he wants to say before speaking. It's another new habit he's learned and that might undercut his message. "I know what you meant and what I said still stands. If I met you a thousand years from now, I'd still know you. You are good, kind, and you care so much."
"I didn't tell you everything I knew, because much of it was told to me in confidence and I chose not to risk betraying my sources. I was warned the King and Queen could torture you and make you reveal names, and then they and I would all be hunted." With a wry expression that could barely be called a smile he continued.
"We're both going to make mistakes, we're going to hurt people. Those we love will suffer and die. Or worse. But what else can we do but keep fighting? The war must be stalled until a third road can be made."
The change in him is so dramatic, so sharply done because of how far apart they've been, that Hermione finds herself on the edge, feeling like if she makes a wrong move she's going to trip and stumble somehow, like she might end up doing something that suffocates her. She hasn't been this afraid around Harry before, not since their time as teenagers when she was scared for him, of his own foolhardy bravery, and she isn't sure what to do.
"That's not fair, Harry. I've been tortured before. I didn't tell the truth then, did I?" The mark on her arm where the mudblood scar once was might be gone, thanks to Ben Hawkins, but the horror of it still remained. What echoes in her words is the hurt, the lack of trust she thinks Harry has in her, no matter what his assurances are. It feels like they're on polar opposite sides of things and there's no way to get back on his side.
"I know that. I'm doing what I can, Harry, but it's not like I'm completely neutral anymore. How can I be, being who I am? The Marchioness of the White Citadel can't just shrug her shoulders and say 'oh, no, maybe we shouldn't'. We all have to agree but - I want to help my people, the Seelie, just as much as you want to help yours."
"No, you didn't, but they wouldn't have felt the need to torture you. Isn't that better?" As he'd said before, it was mostly for all those in the Covenant, but partly for her, too. As he tries to find the words to explain his thoughts, he realizes that she's afraid of him. He can't taste it on the air like some of his friends, but he can see it in her body language and it makes him step back, just far enough away from her that there's a shimmer of eye-shine reflecting. Has he really fallen so far?
"The Unseelie aren't my people, Hermione. Morla press-ganged me into service, and I know that when the time comes, she'll use this treason and others against me. Reul'll bake me in the court kitchens and I'll be a messy meal in the throne room." He frowns and scrubs at his face. That's not what he wanted to say.
"You can be neutral because you must, but you cannot be idle. Fight, Hermione, please."
"I didn't want to be here, to fight in this war, but it's the most necessary thing I've ever done. We're not just fighting for Seelie, or Unseelie, but everyone. All people, all worlds, and ... and this world, it's so beautiful, and terrible, and awesome in the best sense." There's a tremor to his voice that betrays his deep, heartfelt love of the Drabwurld and her people. He's grown-up, into a different man than the boy she knew, but he still cares and will turn that emotion into a rallying battle cry.
She isn't afraid of him, not really. It's now who he is or what he is - she's afraid for him, afraid for what all these changes mean for the both of them. What happens if they succeed and they get to go home? What happens when all of this is over, if it'll ever be over? What will they do if they don't get to go home and they're stuck together in this endless cycle for the rest of their lives, however long they are?
"I am fighting, Harry. I've been fighting every single day since the moment I got here, and you can't tell me that I have to when I already have been. I've almost died more times in the last year than I have the entire time you and I were together at home. It's terrifying, but I'm fighting as hard as I can. And I'm scared, because what if it's not enough? It was always enough before and now..."
Her face drops as she turns away, tears gathering in her eyes and, quickly, moving to roll down her cheeks. She's quick to lift her hands, to brush them away, and she breathes out, trying to compose herself. She hasn't cried about the war, not really, more her friends, but it's suddenly all so overwhelming.
Harry had long ago come to terms with the fact that he will not be going
back to Earth or Britain. He wants for his friends to have the chance to
see their homes and loved ones again, but it's not his fate.
"It might not be enough, but what else can we do but try? I know
you, 'Mione, I keep saying so. I know that if there's a chance we can win,
you'll fight and won't stop." He wants to move to comfort her, but he
doesn't think she'll accept it and so he keeps his distance. "I ...I saw
Ridere and Reul fight. I saw the whole scale of this war and it did things.
Gave me a new perspective."
"The Monarchs, they give us toys and titles, little patches of land for Us
to protect from Them, and it works. It keeps us fighting each other, going
in circles and leaving our shards and worlds for them to gobble up. The
only way to win this war is to change the rules it's being fought on."
"I know what to do, but I don't know how to do it and that's where I
need you."
"I'm not going to give up. There's a reason I was always called insufferable, you know, and it's only half because I liked to know as much as I could." Hermione breathes out, scrubbing at her eyes with her sleeve before she winces. She realises, now, that the mark on her face matches Harry's eye and she breathes out, wondering if that was half of the purpose of Alyosha's choice to cut her there.
She swallows, looking at him again, tilting her head and feeling something come over her. She breathes out before she offers Harry a weak smile.
"I told Ridire, you know. I told him that if the choice came down to you or this war, down to you or him, I'd choose you. He knows that I'm not entirely loyal to him. But Lancelot talked to Solais for me, at the audience. She means to destroy the sigil, Harry. I know it doesn't undo what I did, but - she didn't lie to me. She just didn't tell me the entire truth either."
It's not enough and she knows it.
"I'll do whatever I can and I won't make the same mistake again. I'm sorry, Harry, for everything that happened, for all that I did. I'm so sorry."
Harry lets out a shaky breath and looks so relieved to see her smile that
despite the scarring and other changes, he's almost the same boy she knew.
"I know you're sorry. I can't imagine that you wouldn't be and I'm so sorry
too, for having put you in that position. I'll ask and beg your forgiveness
for as long as you'll let me." And yet... "And you still believe her? Live
up to your word and don't believe her, don't let her use you up and leave
you crying like this. I'm sure she'll stick to the letter of the agreement
and destroy the sigil after every last Unseelie and their family is dead.
She put forth the order to kill everyone at Caer Scima. Every man, woman,
child, babe in arms, and she won't stop."
"Morla would do the same, I don't doubt, but that's what it boils down to,
isn't it? When the slavers take your children, does it matter which court
owns them?"
"I didn't say I believe that she'll do it soon - she didn't tell me the whole truth. But she probably will get rid of it once it's useless to her. I just have to try and do what I can to make sure that she never has the chance to use it again. I'll do what I can, Harry - it's not like she and I are best friends. Lancelot's my best friend, John's my best friend, Korra and Mako and - you, Harry. You're my best friend, better than that."
She steps closer, reaching out to find his hand, linking her fingers through his and squeezing gently, wanting to move closer and let herself have comfort.
"I'm not going anywhere, Harry. I'm going to fight at your side."
Harry makes a little noise as she takes his hand and then turns towards her
so he can embrace and hold her close. He's missed her so much and while
this isn't perfect, nothing is. He'll take what he can get.
It's the tail end of July, and with the heat, he's in short sleeves,
Hermione ought to be able to feel strange new callouses and odd, smooth,
scaled patches.
Her arms wrap around him and hold him tight, squeezing him before she presses her face against his neck. It's not the same as it was, a year and more ago, but it's enough. She has her best friend and, really, that's enough, isn't it? Even with the strange feeling under her palms, the knowledge that he's not exactly the same man any more.
"So," she leans into him, trying to fight back her tears and her relief - that and the sting of her face, ever present even now. "You're an owl."
Harry stifles a laugh as he hoots into her hair. "Only part-time. I'm a
prat the rest."
After one last squeeze, he pulls back just far enough that conversation is
easier. Harry moves to tuck her hair behind her ear and after that, he's
still going to hold her hand or find some other way to keep in contact.
Either he's still distraught and craves comfort or he's gotten used to
closer physical boundaries.
"I've the day off tomorrow. Personal study instead of lecture, so I can
stay up and talk."
"You're a prat all the time, no matter what shape you take."
Hermione leans into the touch all the same, breathing out a little. She feels worlds better, now, like all the weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She faced Alyosha, she claimed back what little honour she had left, she had Harry back with her... Everything felt better, now, as if she could breath again. Reaching out, she squeezes his hand again before she smiles, her eyes flickering over him.
"Maybe you can tell me about this magic you've been learning? And I can show you my animal form."
"Not only have I learned magic, but I have learned the true magic of hair
braiding." His own hair isn't particularly fancy, but there's a couple of
beads woven in and he keeps it tied back with a leather thong into a simple
queue.
If they find a place to sit and she lets him, he'll do her hair up really
rather well. Linn has a lot of hair, and he's had a lot of practice at this
point because it's either braid her hair back, or it gets everywhere when
they try to sleep.
"Every spell has a cost and it's better to overpay than under. Often you
pay in blood or sacrifice, and if you're doing that, a rune or a ritual
will make what you're doing go further."
"I can see that. You look like you're turning into a true professional." Hermione smiles softly, tugging him forward and taking him through towards the lounge. The chairs and sofa from the tent, the World Cup, are laid out there, and it's much cleaner now - thanks to Mako.
When they're seated she still doesn't let go, squeezing his fingers around hers. Now that they're together, now that he's here and they can talk, she doesn't really want to let go. If he wants to do her hair she'll let him; it's grown back now.
"I learned a few runes from a man called the Outsider. I'm not really interested in the idea of using blood, but I can scrape them into things to enchant them."
"It was either learn or get buried under Linn's mane." There's also some
cultural significance to the way his is done up and he'll be careful not to
do the same to hers. It might cause a few awkward questions in the South or
among the Seelie in general. "We'll need a comb, though, and I brought you
a couple of charms for luck."
"And I know him. Odd fellow. Taught him to do a patronus while his fish
watched. They're lovely too, but a bit too much like the sharper-toothed
sort of Veela." Pretty, but probably pretty interested in eating him, too.
"Mine's in my bag, one moment - accio brush." And it comes flying into her hand before she hums, leaning back and offering it to Harry. She trusts him, almost blindly, and she's glad to ignore the worries she has to bask in his friendship for as long as she can. If that means she lets him tug and pull at the bush that she calls her own hair - well, she'll have to manage.
"Some charms?" That catches her interest and she turns again, brightening. "I saw his dogs, though I didn't get a chance to meet his fish. How do you show people here how to use our magic, Harry?"
"It doesn't work with everyone, but all shardbearers can do magic. Have you
noticed that having a wand helps for most of our magic from home, but we
don't need it for things we learn here?" Harry settles down behind her,
brushing out her hair with what appears to be a great deal of actual
practice. Along with new braiding skills, it seems he and Linn have been
testing the limits of what does and doesn't work with their magic.
Reaching into a pocket he pulls out two small carved bone beads and a
blue-green glass bead and shows them to her to get her approval before he
starts part and braid her hair. Wandwork makes for dextrous hands, he while
he's not going to win awards at it, Harry can do a neat enough plait. "The
fish might've looked like women. Or fish. I made them a charmed bubbler."
"So it would be like wandless magic for us, if we taught them?" Hermione sounds particularly enthused, even as she doesn't turn so Harry can keep a good hold on her hair. "That would make my life about a thousand times easier - especially if I can teach Dorian to help me with potions. I've shown him a few things but you and I both know that you need magic to finish a lot of the ones that are useful here."
She takes the beads easily enough, turning them over in her hands before she hums. "No, no women. Just him and his dogs. And what're the beads for?" She lifts them higher, letting the light flicker over them. "They're very pretty."
"A bit like, I think. I've found that when working with Linn, I can usually
provide the push of power, but she's far better at control." There's less
of a cost to his sort of magic, so it makes sense to use it over the native
kind. "And it helps if they've got a feel for using their shard. It's not
the same feeling, but there's something to it."
"They just look good, really. Although the bone ones should, if you need
it, make you run as fast as a deer. That's what they're from." It almost
sounds as if he made them himself.
"So she's a little bit like some kind of... Not a tool, because she's a person, but a means of using it like a wand? A conduit, maybe, for the raw power we have, just like what we use our wands for." She nods her head, thinking about it. The hands in her hair are comforting and she lets herself have a moment of thought. "I know how to use my shard to make myself a little stronger, but I haven't been practising much - I learned from Lancelot and we've both been a bit busy."
Leaning back a little, she makes a noise, squeezing the bone one.
"Did you make them, Harry? Do you think you could show me how, if you did - and could we enchant the other ones, the ones that aren't bone?" Always eager to learn, always wanting to have as much as her service as she can.
"She's a Revenant. I say she's a person, so do you, but everything we've found and read says she's a weapon." He pauses, adjusting how he's holding the brush and her hair. Harry isn't good at talking about these sorts of things, and his voice is soft when he speaks, "I can't let that happen to her."
"I did make them." Grateful for the topic change, he continues on. "But they need to be bone, and bone from the animal whose traits you want to use."
"It's not that simple, then, is it. She has feelings, she has thoughts, she has dreams, surely? Just because people say she's something doesn't mean she is. She's your friend, Harry, and that's what's important." Her own voice is soft and careful and she hums as she rolls the beads in her hand.
"Show me? I can work with bone, and animals. It's easier to hunt when I'm in my other form - it doesn't feel as terrible, tracking down animals. It's almost instinct, really."
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Her own clothing is a little better, a set of leather clothes with armour, a corset around her. Her servants - and she had servants! - wanted her in dresses more often than not but she just wasn't comfortable. She couldn't do it.
Breathing out, she looks over at Harry and feels her expression drop, her eyes lifting high and low, her heart on her sleeve before she swallowed back her emotion.
"Harry... I barely recognise you anymore."
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"Looks don't matter. You'll always know me and I'll always know you." He moves a little closer and opens his arms, if she'll allow him, he'll give her a hug. "Probably because I'll be the twit that can never fix his own glasses. Monocle? Either way."
Harry knows he could've worked and earned property or servants or been booned their equivalent, but has pointedly avoided such things to the point of giving away several of his boons. Perhaps that wasn't wise, but it was his choice.
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She feels small - and, really, she looks it. She was never meant to be a ruler or a Marquis, she was never meant to be in charge of armies. She just wanted to go to school and be the best she could be.
"I don't know what to do any more, Harry. I keep making mistakes and hurting everyone I love." That isn't her - she's Hermione Granger. She's always supposed to have the answers.
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"I didn't tell you everything I knew, because much of it was told to me in confidence and I chose not to risk betraying my sources. I was warned the King and Queen could torture you and make you reveal names, and then they and I would all be hunted." With a wry expression that could barely be called a smile he continued.
"We're both going to make mistakes, we're going to hurt people. Those we love will suffer and die. Or worse. But what else can we do but keep fighting? The war must be stalled until a third road can be made."
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"That's not fair, Harry. I've been tortured before. I didn't tell the truth then, did I?" The mark on her arm where the mudblood scar once was might be gone, thanks to Ben Hawkins, but the horror of it still remained. What echoes in her words is the hurt, the lack of trust she thinks Harry has in her, no matter what his assurances are. It feels like they're on polar opposite sides of things and there's no way to get back on his side.
"I know that. I'm doing what I can, Harry, but it's not like I'm completely neutral anymore. How can I be, being who I am? The Marchioness of the White Citadel can't just shrug her shoulders and say 'oh, no, maybe we shouldn't'. We all have to agree but - I want to help my people, the Seelie, just as much as you want to help yours."
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"The Unseelie aren't my people, Hermione. Morla press-ganged me into service, and I know that when the time comes, she'll use this treason and others against me. Reul'll bake me in the court kitchens and I'll be a messy meal in the throne room." He frowns and scrubs at his face. That's not what he wanted to say.
"You can be neutral because you must, but you cannot be idle. Fight, Hermione, please."
"I didn't want to be here, to fight in this war, but it's the most necessary thing I've ever done. We're not just fighting for Seelie, or Unseelie, but everyone. All people, all worlds, and ... and this world, it's so beautiful, and terrible, and awesome in the best sense." There's a tremor to his voice that betrays his deep, heartfelt love of the Drabwurld and her people. He's grown-up, into a different man than the boy she knew, but he still cares and will turn that emotion into a rallying battle cry.
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"I am fighting, Harry. I've been fighting every single day since the moment I got here, and you can't tell me that I have to when I already have been. I've almost died more times in the last year than I have the entire time you and I were together at home. It's terrifying, but I'm fighting as hard as I can. And I'm scared, because what if it's not enough? It was always enough before and now..."
Her face drops as she turns away, tears gathering in her eyes and, quickly, moving to roll down her cheeks. She's quick to lift her hands, to brush them away, and she breathes out, trying to compose herself. She hasn't cried about the war, not really, more her friends, but it's suddenly all so overwhelming.
"I don't know what to do."
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Harry had long ago come to terms with the fact that he will not be going back to Earth or Britain. He wants for his friends to have the chance to see their homes and loved ones again, but it's not his fate.
"It might not be enough, but what else can we do but try? I know you, 'Mione, I keep saying so. I know that if there's a chance we can win, you'll fight and won't stop." He wants to move to comfort her, but he doesn't think she'll accept it and so he keeps his distance. "I ...I saw Ridere and Reul fight. I saw the whole scale of this war and it did things. Gave me a new perspective."
"The Monarchs, they give us toys and titles, little patches of land for Us to protect from Them, and it works. It keeps us fighting each other, going in circles and leaving our shards and worlds for them to gobble up. The only way to win this war is to change the rules it's being fought on."
"I know what to do, but I don't know how to do it and that's where I need you."
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She swallows, looking at him again, tilting her head and feeling something come over her. She breathes out before she offers Harry a weak smile.
"I told Ridire, you know. I told him that if the choice came down to you or this war, down to you or him, I'd choose you. He knows that I'm not entirely loyal to him. But Lancelot talked to Solais for me, at the audience. She means to destroy the sigil, Harry. I know it doesn't undo what I did, but - she didn't lie to me. She just didn't tell me the entire truth either."
It's not enough and she knows it.
"I'll do whatever I can and I won't make the same mistake again. I'm sorry, Harry, for everything that happened, for all that I did. I'm so sorry."
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Harry lets out a shaky breath and looks so relieved to see her smile that despite the scarring and other changes, he's almost the same boy she knew.
"I know you're sorry. I can't imagine that you wouldn't be and I'm so sorry too, for having put you in that position. I'll ask and beg your forgiveness for as long as you'll let me." And yet... "And you still believe her? Live up to your word and don't believe her, don't let her use you up and leave you crying like this. I'm sure she'll stick to the letter of the agreement and destroy the sigil after every last Unseelie and their family is dead. She put forth the order to kill everyone at Caer Scima. Every man, woman, child, babe in arms, and she won't stop."
"Morla would do the same, I don't doubt, but that's what it boils down to, isn't it? When the slavers take your children, does it matter which court owns them?"
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She steps closer, reaching out to find his hand, linking her fingers through his and squeezing gently, wanting to move closer and let herself have comfort.
"I'm not going anywhere, Harry. I'm going to fight at your side."
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Harry makes a little noise as she takes his hand and then turns towards her so he can embrace and hold her close. He's missed her so much and while this isn't perfect, nothing is. He'll take what he can get.
It's the tail end of July, and with the heat, he's in short sleeves, Hermione ought to be able to feel strange new callouses and odd, smooth, scaled patches.
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"So," she leans into him, trying to fight back her tears and her relief - that and the sting of her face, ever present even now. "You're an owl."
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Harry stifles a laugh as he hoots into her hair. "Only part-time. I'm a prat the rest."
After one last squeeze, he pulls back just far enough that conversation is easier. Harry moves to tuck her hair behind her ear and after that, he's still going to hold her hand or find some other way to keep in contact. Either he's still distraught and craves comfort or he's gotten used to closer physical boundaries.
"I've the day off tomorrow. Personal study instead of lecture, so I can stay up and talk."
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Hermione leans into the touch all the same, breathing out a little. She feels worlds better, now, like all the weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She faced Alyosha, she claimed back what little honour she had left, she had Harry back with her... Everything felt better, now, as if she could breath again. Reaching out, she squeezes his hand again before she smiles, her eyes flickering over him.
"Maybe you can tell me about this magic you've been learning? And I can show you my animal form."
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"Not only have I learned magic, but I have learned the true magic of hair braiding." His own hair isn't particularly fancy, but there's a couple of beads woven in and he keeps it tied back with a leather thong into a simple queue.
If they find a place to sit and she lets him, he'll do her hair up really rather well. Linn has a lot of hair, and he's had a lot of practice at this point because it's either braid her hair back, or it gets everywhere when they try to sleep.
"Every spell has a cost and it's better to overpay than under. Often you pay in blood or sacrifice, and if you're doing that, a rune or a ritual will make what you're doing go further."
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When they're seated she still doesn't let go, squeezing his fingers around hers. Now that they're together, now that he's here and they can talk, she doesn't really want to let go. If he wants to do her hair she'll let him; it's grown back now.
"I learned a few runes from a man called the Outsider. I'm not really interested in the idea of using blood, but I can scrape them into things to enchant them."
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"It was either learn or get buried under Linn's mane." There's also some cultural significance to the way his is done up and he'll be careful not to do the same to hers. It might cause a few awkward questions in the South or among the Seelie in general. "We'll need a comb, though, and I brought you a couple of charms for luck."
"And I know him. Odd fellow. Taught him to do a patronus while his fish watched. They're lovely too, but a bit too much like the sharper-toothed sort of Veela." Pretty, but probably pretty interested in eating him, too.
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"Some charms?" That catches her interest and she turns again, brightening. "I saw his dogs, though I didn't get a chance to meet his fish. How do you show people here how to use our magic, Harry?"
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"It doesn't work with everyone, but all shardbearers can do magic. Have you noticed that having a wand helps for most of our magic from home, but we don't need it for things we learn here?" Harry settles down behind her, brushing out her hair with what appears to be a great deal of actual practice. Along with new braiding skills, it seems he and Linn have been testing the limits of what does and doesn't work with their magic.
Reaching into a pocket he pulls out two small carved bone beads and a blue-green glass bead and shows them to her to get her approval before he starts part and braid her hair. Wandwork makes for dextrous hands, he while he's not going to win awards at it, Harry can do a neat enough plait. "The fish might've looked like women. Or fish. I made them a charmed bubbler."
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She takes the beads easily enough, turning them over in her hands before she hums. "No, no women. Just him and his dogs. And what're the beads for?" She lifts them higher, letting the light flicker over them. "They're very pretty."
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"A bit like, I think. I've found that when working with Linn, I can usually provide the push of power, but she's far better at control." There's less of a cost to his sort of magic, so it makes sense to use it over the native kind. "And it helps if they've got a feel for using their shard. It's not the same feeling, but there's something to it."
"They just look good, really. Although the bone ones should, if you need it, make you run as fast as a deer. That's what they're from." It almost sounds as if he made them himself.
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Leaning back a little, she makes a noise, squeezing the bone one.
"Did you make them, Harry? Do you think you could show me how, if you did - and could we enchant the other ones, the ones that aren't bone?" Always eager to learn, always wanting to have as much as her service as she can.
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"I did make them." Grateful for the topic change, he continues on. "But they need to be bone, and bone from the animal whose traits you want to use."
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"Show me? I can work with bone, and animals. It's easier to hunt when I'm in my other form - it doesn't feel as terrible, tracking down animals. It's almost instinct, really."
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