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Harry Potter In The Witcher [22]
🕑 Added 2025-06-05 13:00:32 +0000 UTC"And what reason is that, dh'oine?" she asked, her voice almost a rhetorical sigh, though a flicker of undeniable curiosity now warred with the annoyance in her silver eyes.
"One day, you will know," Harry said, his smile softening, taking on a strangely enigmatic quality. "One day, I will give you a choice, Lady Eithné. A choice between two very difficult options, neither of which, I suspect, you will particularly like. After that day comes, after you have made your choice, if you truly, honestly never wish to see me again… then I shall grant you that wish, as a reward for your choosing."
Eithné frowned deeply at his words. What he had just said sounded both incredibly ominous and like it would inevitably cause her a great deal of trouble and heartache. She hated it when he spoke in riddles like this.
"I see," was all she said in response, her silver eyes betraying none of the unease she felt.
"Now then," Harry said, his smile returning to its usual cheerful, slightly irritating brightness, "let us move back to happier, less cryptic topics, shall we? How's your lovely daughter doing? What was her name again… Marley, was it?"
"Morenn," Eithné corrected him immediately, her voice taking on an icy, dangerous edge.
It had recently, and most disturbingly, come to her attention that her beloved daughter, Morenn, had developed something of an… affection, a girlish crush, for this infuriating, unpredictable dh'oine.
Such a thing bothered her greatly, and the absolute last thing she wanted was for him to take any sort of mutual, or even passing, interest in her child.
"Morenn, right! Of course," Harry said, seemingly oblivious to her frosty tone. "My apologies. How's she doing then?"
"She is fine," Eithné said, her voice clipped, clearly trying to shut down this particular topic of conversation as quickly as possible. Harry looked up at her, and thankfully, seemed to take the rather unsubtle hint.
"Alright then," he said, a knowing glint in his eye. "Well, it seems we're just about out of this delicious tea, so I guess I can probably leave a little earlier today than I usually do." He stood up, stretching languidly.
Eithné let out a small, almost inaudible sigh of relief at the man seemingly, finally, preparing to leave. She truly didn't know what she had done in her long life for the ancient spirits of the forest to have cursed her with his recurring, disruptive presence.
"Good," she told him, her voice firm. "Please, do not return." She knew, with a certainty that made her heart sink, that he would not listen to her plea, but she only had fading hope left at this point.
Harry just smiled at her, that same infuriating, enigmatic smile. "See you in a few years, My Lady," he told her, and then, with a soft pop, he was gone.
Eithné just frowned in deep annoyance, then, with another sigh, turned her thoughts back to the more pressing, and considerably less confusing, problem of how to deal with the recent, increasingly bold attacks from the humans of Verden.
….
Year 1216
Harry's POV:
Harry, in his massive, coal-black dragon form, watched with a distinct lack of interest as these supposed "witchers" danced and darted around his colossal form.
They were clearly making some kind of clumsy, coordinated effort to distract him while one or the other tried to find an opening, a vulnerability, to take him out.
Harry, on the other hand, just continued to sit there, his enormous head resting on his forelegs, watching them with a single, uninterested, half-lidded emerald eye.
These particular witchers, he noted with a flicker of disdain, were most obviously not from the noble School of the Wolf, like Geralt.
No, these ones, with their flashy, overly acrobatic movements and their slightly shifty eyes, were almost certainly from the much-maligned School of the Cat, if his observations were to be believed.
They were also, he had quickly concluded, very, very stupid. The fact that they had willingly taken a contract out on him a dragon of his unprecedented size and power and then had the sheer audacity to wake him up in the middle of his much-needed winter hibernation, said quite a lot about their distinct lack of intelligence and common sense.
Harry had already, quite calmly, decided that he was going to cook them both alive, nice and slow, and then perhaps deposit their charred, crispy remains somewhere highly public, just as a clear, unambiguous message to make sure no one else tried this kind of foolishness again anytime soon.
"Vicar! Go around him! Get to his flank!" one of them yelled at his partner, his voice tight with exertion. "I'll keep him distracted from the front!"
"Alright, Eskel! Just don't get yourself cooked!" the one now identified as Vicar responded back, his own voice strained. "He seems pretty docile right now, but that could change at any bloody moment!"
Harry pretended to focus his attention on the man Eskel, apparently who was currently jumping around erratically in front of him, waving his sword about like a particularly clumsy and idiotic dancer, all while the other one, Vicar, attempted to creep up silently behind him. A classic, and rather predictable, pincer maneuver.
He didn't even need to turn his massive head or use his magically enhanced senses to know exactly where Vicar was.
With a sudden, almost leisurely flick of his huge, spiked tail, he swung it quickly and smashed it into the unfortunate witcher who was trying to sneak up on his blind side.
Even with their famously enhanced senses and reflexes, his tail was simply too big, too fast, and covered too much ground for the man to realistically dodge.
Vicar was quickly, and rather messily, killed as he was slammed with the full, bone-shattering force of Harry's tail up against the hard, unyielding stone wall of the cave. There was a sickening, wet crunch, and then silence.
"Vicar!" the remaining witcher, Eskel, yelled, his voice filled with anguish and rage as he looked at the crumpled, lifeless form of his now-dead companion. He then turned back to Harry, his eyes blazing with a furious, vengeful glare.
