NOVEL NEXT Chapter 9: Don't Panic Ch9: Totally Normal
Chapter Synopsis: The townsfolk are pretty sure Sirius shouldn't have been left alone with the moneybox. Sirius is sick of squeezing onto the Firebolt, thankfully he's confident he can build one for himself. And who thought it was a good idea to leave Dobby to his own devices? That was never going to end well.
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Last Time: ..."I hope I've not overstepped any boundaries by setting up my stall in your town square." Harry asked.
The elderly lord smiled warmly. "Not at all, my young friend. The people will be most pleased with your arrival. I, too, am interested in what you have to offer. Most importantly, we are in need of any food you might have to trade. The winter has been harsh, and our larders are barely holding on. Even as the season comes to an end, we face difficult times before the first harvest."
...As they began to haggle over prices for the foods Harry was more than willing to be generous and cut his prices deeper than the lord expected. He could tell from a quick scan of surface thoughts, that Lord Corman was relieved at Harry's generosity and that he was digging into the last of his own coffers just to purchase this much for his people.
...Lord Corman was astonished at the freshness of the foods, and had his men immediately pack it away to store in the larders, in the hope they could stretch it for a few moons or more. Harry surreptitiously cast long lasting preservation charms on the meats and vegetables to give them a bit more of a boost, hoping it would be enough.
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Chapter 9: Totally Normal
Shannon made her way to the town square at a clipped pace, keen to get there before the gossip spread through the rest of the town. Apparently, a merchant wagon had braved the snow drifts and mud tracks to trade in their small town.
Shannon absolutely refused to miss out on this rare chance to go shopping.
Gorm, her rather less-enthusiastic husband, trailed behind, probably hoping to get out of spending their coin. Fat chance. They were out of just about everything perishable, and had been reliant exclusively on the good lord for nearly a year now. To be fair, that's exactly what good upstanding smallfolk like herself paid taxes for, but it would still be nice to get something other than rations.
Reaching the square, she noted they were not the first customers, but there wasn't yet a line, so she'd take her wins where she got them.
The stall itself stood in front of a large wagon and was quite generously stacked with both food and other goods. This was pleasing, as she'd heard Lord Corman had already acquired much of the food.
She honestly didn't recognise a few of these foods. The apple sized orange looking fruit was apparently called an 'orange', how very original. Beside the oranges were sacks filled with a hard white substance that was allegedly edible and long lasting. Thankfully, it wasn't 'lice', as she'd first heard and been appalled by, but rather, something apparently called 'rice'. She'd taken a whole sack of that just to try. It was an easy choice after learning that a whole sack cost less than a single stew at the tavern.
Honestly, she wasn't entirely sure this merchant knew how money worked. This was further reinforced by his curious examination of the various coins she produced for him.
At this point, Gorm did his usual thing and started asking questions. Shannon knew he was a good man, but he was always a bit suspicious of foreigners. "Ah, so you're from the far south then are you?" Gorm queried, while testing an apple for firmness.
"More east, or west, or something," Sirius, the kind but somewhat hapless merchant, replied vaguely.
"That's..." Gorm pondered how to handle that entirely unhelpful response. "That's... uh..." spotting a clue in the form of the bark the man had told them was 'cinnamon', Gorm challenged the man.
"But Cinnamon only grows in tropical lands. My Nan once got some from a trader all the way from the Summer Islands." Gorm knew he had the man on this point. He was a southerner for-sure.
"It's winter cinnamon" Sirius replied, completely unbothered but what must surely be a blatant lie. Responding to the deadpan look Gorm gave him, he simply added "no really... I'm serious" then chuckled for some reason.
"uh, huh" Gorm was highly sceptical, but decided to drop it. Instead poking the now suspicious bark.
Shannon rolled her eyes, Gorm was such a stubborn ass. Who cares if it was this mythical 'cinnamon' spice his Nan had once bought, or some completely inedible bark from a tree just outside the gates. She always thought Gorm got too much of his intelligence from his Nan's side of the family. Or was it too little? Honestly, buying tree bark from merchants thinking it's a valuable foreign spice.
He was missing the bigger picture here. The alleged 'cinnamon' was being sold as one lot, inside a beautifully carved wooden box with what looked like silver inlay. The box was vastly more valuable than the unidentifiable bark, and further confirmed the man was, in the nicest possible way, a terrible merchant. "We'll take it" Shannon declared, shutting up her over-zealous husband, and likely preventing a rant.
Sirius smiled at that, taking the three HalfGroat coins graciously, and pushing the stunning box towards her. He even dug out a recipe book that apparently had some good suggestions for use of cinnamon. Shannon didn't have the heart to tell the simple man that she couldn't read. She'd just sell the book later.
This was an excellent day she decided, as she pulled her grumbling conspiracy theorist of a spouse away to let other townsfolk access the stall. Quite a line had formed behind them while they made their purchases. Looking back, she saw the kind but hapless man was now inundated with people and money. Though vastly less money than he should have been taking.
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Having cleared out a suitable amount of merchandise, Sirius packed up the stall and rested in the chair he'd transfigured under the cover of a notice me not charm. That was fun, and definitely felt rewarding. These people had clearly not seen a merchant for what sounded like nearly two years by standard time on Earth. Winters here were ridiculously long.
Of course, with the sheer volume of goods stored in their trunks and pouches, they'd have no trouble being just as generous in other towns. Harry would probably ask him to bump up the prices a bit, but Sirius felt that could be done when Summer was finally in-place and the proper regional economies resumed. Until then he'd play the hapless merchant with far too much merchandise and not an ounce of money sense. Lots of smallfolk would doubtless be getting an unexpected relief as the trio passed through the various towns spread out from here to Winterfell.
Of course, those other towns would require travel, and Sirius was sick of squeezing onto Harry's firebolt just to pick up speed. With that thought, Sirius let out a satisfied sigh, and hopped up from the chair, vanishing it in the process. There was time to spare, and Sirius suddenly had the inspiration to spend his afternoon cobbling together a new broom.
Sure it would be a bit rough, but he was pretty sure he'd be able to get it to fly. He'd just need to find the local carpenter to gather materials. Harry would likely be up in the Castle Keep dealing with the local overlord and his brainy people or something for quite a while. So there was no reason he couldn't get this done with a little hustle, and a whole lot of magic.
Sirius left the now empty cart where it was and strode off confidently further into the town. Before remembering the carpenter was by the gates they'd entered through, and confidently turned around, striding off in the opposite direction.
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"Uh, Gorm, what's that trader fella up to?" Alik queried his friend as they stood atop the town wall taking in an afternoon ale and shooting the breeze. Alik was looking sceptically at the well-dressed but mud-covered man, who was running up and down outside the walls yelling "up, up" with a stick between his legs. Actually, looking closer, it looked more like a crudely built broom.
"Best not to ask Alik" Gorm concluded, after watching these antics for a bit. "I reckon the fellow's not all-there in the head."
Alik looked at Gorm with raised eyebrow, seeking some clarification on that point. Gorm continued, "look at the facts Alik. He and his partners trekked through the worst weather, over tracks that are more mud than anything now the snow's melting. Apparently without even a horse to take some of the load. And after all that, he cleared out his entire wagon of goods in just one town, and sold it all for well below what we would have happily paid"
Alik contemplated that, taking a gulp of Ale. "Well you're not far wrong. They're not the brightest lot, and this one..." they watched as Sirius jumped out of the lower branches of a tree, still holding a long stick between his legs, "I don't rightly know what's wrong with him... but at least they're a nice bunch. Definitely nicer than any of the usual southern traders we get around here, and I'll definitely not complain about lower prices."
Mulling this over, Gorm couldn't help but agree "You're right at that, They're the nicest merchants I think I've ever met. Maybe we can stay in their good books with a little gift. Encourage them to come back through here in future. The man's clearly interested in brooms. Let's have Warran whip together a nicer one, and gift it to them for their troubles."
Alik watched the man fall face first into the mud, his broom snapping in the process. "Sure, why not. And maybe we'll get Shannon to give him lessons in how to use a broom properly", he chuckled, finishing off his Ale.
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While Harry was schmoosing with the lord and Sirius was off somewhere, having simply mumbled that he was "seriously sick of having just one broom", Dobby was quietly observing the people of this small wooden town. House elves, by nature, were skilled at remaining unobtrusive and unseen, and Dobby was no exception.
As he wandered through the winding streets in his younger merchant disguise, he couldn't help but notice the disarray that seemed to be everywhere. Dirt and debris littered the ground, and many of the buildings further back from the main street were in dire need of repair. The townspeople were clearly doing the best they could to maintain their homes, but resources were scarce.
Dobby's innate desire for cleanliness and order compelled him to take action.
Conscious of remaining as subtle as possible, Dobby began to discreetly clean and mend the town. Armed with a combination of his natural house elf magic and spells he had learned from Harry, he embarked on his new self-assigned mission of cleaning this medieval world.
Starting with the dirt paths, Dobby carefully vanished the debris and smoothed the ground, making sure the townspeople would have an easier time traversing their streets. He expertly avoided drawing attention to himself, always staying just out of sight of the curious gazes of passers-by. For any villagers he couldn't avoid, it was easy enough to hit them with a mild confundus charm to ignore their surroundings for a short time while he cleaned.
Next, Dobby focused on the buildings, drawing on the knowledge of magical construction & building repairs he learned when he and Harry restored Grimauld place after the war. He clandestinely mended broken shutters, patched leaky roofs, fixed doors and reinforced sagging structures. He even took the time to clean and polish the few windows he found, spelling the cloudy glass clear as he went, allowing more light to stream into the dimly lit interiors.
Dobby was particularly pleased with the small healing house he stumbled upon behind the village square, which had so many things to fix he almost hyperventilated at the sight. He was literally vibrating with excitement at the task, and dove in, almost in a trance, as he set to mending what he could.
Dobby did admit to himself later that he might not have been quite as subtle as he originally intended. But he was very quiet, and had carefully hidden himself under disillusionment before he entered, so he was sure no one would notice. Even Harry probably wouldn't miss the materials and potions Dobby had borrowed when he was mending some of the more stubborn issues.
Looking over his work for the day, Dobby felt a sense of satisfaction in knowing he had made a small difference in the lives of these people. Dobby was also satisfied that he'd had a chance to really exercise his magic for the first time in a long while. All house elves knew nothing good ever came from refusing the natural urge to clean and mend. If he could expect to find more opportunities like this on their adventure, then Dobby would be a happy elf indeed.
Happy with his work, Dobby decided to join Sirius where he knew he was holed up in the local tavern. Probably seeking information and local gossip. With Harry at the Lord's Keep and Sirius at the tavern, they would soon have a wealth of knowledge and more towns to visit. Towns that would probably be just as dirty as this one he thought with glee.
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Town Healer Alyn was having the strangest day. She was a simple woman, happy in her small part of the world, and strange things rarely happened to her, so this made for quite the change.
It started well with those merchants bringing some desperately needed fresh food to the square, much to the surprise of her fellow townsfolk. They had all carefully rationed what remained of the town's food up to this point, and knew they'd need to lean on Lord Corman to last the remaining few moons before the Harvest. Now however she could see them having satisfied stomachs for the foreseeable future. It left her in a great mood.
Alyn's mood was slightly dampened as she failed to notice a few changes in the town healing hall and convalescent house. Specifically she failed to notice the door, when she walked straight into it, expecting only the temporary cloth hanging over the entrance to the small building, as the door had broken long ago.
Alyn rubbed her head, trying to comprehend who installed the door, and grumbling that a little warning would have been nice. In her now slightly miffed state, she brushed quickly over her rounds, noting that Dancy seemed to be doing much better today, only to do a double take. Alyn was quite sure Dancy only had one leg yesterday. She was too wary to ask, as it might look a bit strange to mistake the volume of appendages on a patient, and maybe it was someone else who'd been missing their leg.
Feeling that it'd be best to retire to the tavern for lunch, and to contemplate her apparent lack of grasp on appendage counting, she ran across her brother Hagen coming out of the Forge.
Hagen seemed to have a gleam in his eye as he carted some two dozen shining halberds and a few breastplates towards the castle keep. Calling for him, Hagen quickly explained that he must have been in some sort of a working daze this afternoon. He was sure he'd only started on the repair of one halberd. But upon exiting the strange fuzzy daze and realising it was time to clock off, he'd found all the Halberds repaired and sparkling like new, Along with the armour, and even some of the pieces in his scrap pile that he was pretty sure were rusted right through with big holes. It seemed he was finally getting the hang of this blacksmithing thing.
This, of course, drew a rather sceptical look from Alyn as she watched her brother bound off towards the keep. Knowing her brother was, at best, a very 'enthusiastic' blacksmith, and usually well into his cups by the afternoon.
Alyn wondered whether she'd been through a similar experience and had accidentally returned Dancy's missing leg whilst in some sort of a haze. She looked at her hands wondering if they'd worked magic or some kind of blessing without her knowing.
Shaking off that silly thought Alyn resolved to have a serious conversation with her younger brothers about those new hallucinogenic mushrooms they'd found. With food as short as it was, you never knew what people put in the stews to pad them out, but she was sure she's warned them to stay away from those mushrooms. Well this was definitely the last time she let either of her brothers cook.
As she entered the tavern for possibly a larger drink than originally intended, she passed the strangest man, wearing a large amulet and more hats than could possibly be necessary. She also thought it unnecessary to have socks darned to one's jacket. Alyn decided maybe she needed to see a healer herself and turned back to the healing house in deep contemplation of her sanity.
The evening continued to grow stranger for Alyn as she retraced her steps along the surprisingly neat road to the healing house. It seemed as though every time she turned around, something had been repaired, cleaned, or improved in some way. She was starting to feel as though she was losing her grip on reality.
She also wondered if maybe all her fellow townsfolk were just too dumb to notice. Seriously, how did Eggon not notice his cat seemed to have regrown its tail? To be fair, when she told him that cat tails didn't just grow back, he did point out he had reasonable evidence to the contrary.
Determined to get to the bottom of the situation, Alyn decided to make a list of all the odd things she'd noticed throughout the day. At first, she thought it would be a short list, but as she recalled each event, she couldn't help but feel as though the list was growing far too long to be a mere coincidence.
As she sat in the healing house, trying to scribble down her list, she noticed that even the quill she was using seemed to be in better condition. The ink flowed smoothly and the nib was perfectly sharpened. Had she done that herself and simply forgotten about it? She couldn't be sure.
Growing increasingly perplexed by their strange good fortune, Alyn decided to take a walk around town to clear her head. As she strolled through the streets, she noticed that the changes weren't limited to just the small area around the healing house and tavern. The entire town seemed to have undergone a subtle transformation. Buildings had been repaired, streets were cleaner, and even the animals seemed better off.
Was it possible that some sort of magic was at work here? Alyn had heard tales of Children of the Forest that could bring good fortune to worshipers of the Old Gods on a whim, but she'd never believed in such things before. Could it be that one of these creatures had taken a liking to their little town?
Alyn decided to spend more time by the Weirwood tree in coming days, just in-case she should be thanking it for this sudden bout of good fortune.
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Having left Lord Corman's little town behind and back on the road, or track, or mud trail if they were being generous, Sirius had the chance to share his utter failure at broom construction with Harry.
It did clear up the confusion Harry had over the unusual gift of a beautifully built, but completely unexplained broom that the townspeople had presented to Sirius upon their departure.
Harry had originally chalked it up to a local custom and wasn't going to offend them by asking. Initially thinking that Dobby might appreciate the mundane cleaning implement.
Though now knowing the full story, it did occur to Harry that Sirius had clearly been spotted by the villagers in his attempts to make a flying broom. He'd have to remind Sirius they were trying to be subtle and not disclose their magic. At least the broom hadn't actually worked.
Harry was fairly certain they'd managed not to give away any hints of magic in their travels south of the wall so far, and he was happy this broom escapade hadn't blown their cover. The villagers probably just thought Sirius was a bit strange ... not that they were too far off the mark with that one.
Sirius spent their first evening back in the tent working on the broom he had been gifted. Somewhat confident that the better build would make the necessary difference.
He also had a few runic books and quidditch manuals scattered around as he carved. Harry even gifted him a few Hippogriff feathers to lay inside the handle. Requiring the somewhat delicate process of splitting the broom handle down the middle, then perfectly merging the wood back together with magic, leaving no seam in the process.
The feathers should give more stability in the air, but both the charms and the runic work would need to be right for it to fly in the first place.
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Harry chuckled as he strode along beside Sirius, who was proudly, and somewhat stubbornly sitting atop his newly operating broom.
Of course, the thing only flew four feet off the ground, and had a maximum speed just faster than a light jog, but Sirius was inordinately proud.
That being said, Sirius was still a bit put out that he would still have to squeeze onto the firebolt if they wanted to achieve any sort of real speed, and to fly over the harder terrain. Nonetheless, when they weren't on the firebolt, he refused to walk for the next few days, just to prove how successful he'd been in his endeavour.
Harry agreed to help improve the broom over time. Though he felt he'd need to find some focusing materials, and find a way to refine the raw magic of this world to get it to work at any sort of height or speed beyond its current limitations.
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The trio continued their progress through a number of similar small towns over the next few weeks. Slowly making their way towards Winterfell. All the while, gaining a sense of satisfaction in the simple task of selling their spare foods to people who so desperately needed it.
A few towns had Lords overseeing them, though most seemed to be in the domain of smaller Masterly houses or Yeomen, Vassals to the lords, as was standard in most feudal systems Harry was familiar with. He thought some might be landed Knightly houses, but there seemed to be no knights in this region from what he'd heard in the taverns.
They had become quite adept at setting up their market cart to push into the villages, and hawking their goods in whatever passed as a main square. Not that they tried very hard to haggle. Harry was sure many of the villagers thought they were a bit dim actually, with how they often 'accidentally' managed to haggle the villagers down to lower prices.
In many of these towns they were greeted with relief and gratitude by the minor lord or yeoman that ruled over the township. Some might not even be called towns they were so worn down, but their gratitude was a balm for the soul, and the smiles they received were most welcome.
The only minor problem came in the fact that the local lords were clearly so pleased with the merchant trio, that they insisted on gifting them with horses when they left. It seemed their ruse of claiming to have lost their horses to various misadventures along the way caused far greater concern than they had initially expected.
To the down-to-earth Northerners, a man without a horse was almost an affront to their hospitality. The local lords all seemed dutifully horrified at their lack of "four-legged preambulatory locomotion", as Harry took to calling it.
This had originally caused a brief bout of consternation for the trio when Lord Corman presented them with a set of three small horses as they left the first village, alongside the broom that the townsfolk had insisted on gifting to Sirius. The horses certainly weren't best of breed, just humble working horses that had seen their best days already, but it was a nice gesture from the grateful lord.
Having travelled far enough from the village to stop out of sight of any prying eyes, the trio had set about scratching their collective heads, trying to figure out what to do with the horses. Their tent, while roomy, wasn't set up to host animals, and they couldn't very well carry the horses with them on the broom.
Though Sirius did confirm a broom could handle a pig suspended from several ropes. This, he said, was an experiment he and Harry's dad undertook one summer that got them both grounded and very nearly in trouble with the Ministry for breaching the Statute of Secrecy. Apparently disillusioning themselves and the broom hadn't carried through to the pig tied to the broom, and caused much confusion in the local village near Potter Manor.
It was Dobby who eventually proposed the simple solution of sending the horse back to the Thenn village via portkey, so the elves could care for them along with the other animals in the farm trunk.
Happy with the solution, Harry waved his hand over the saddle, turning it into a temporary portkey and sent it on its way. Chuckling slightly as he imagined the reactions of the poor Thenn villagers when a slightly traumatised horse arrived out of thin air in front of their village hall. Harry had grown to enjoy the rollercoaster-like effect of a portkey, but he wasn't sure their three new horses would feel the same. Oh well, it was only a one-way journey and they would surely enjoy the farm trunk once they arrived.
Regardless of the somewhat inconvenient four-legged way of showing gratitude these Northerners had, Harry was happy they were able to help so many of the fine folk they encountered on their journey. Knowing as they did, that the winters and summer here lasted for many years. Selling a bit of fresh food and some steel tools was no hassle for them and there was plenty more where that came from. Harry made a note to return next winter, no matter how many years passed, to help these people last through the worst of the cold.
Or better yet, he should look into introducing proper glass making, and help them build glass houses for use in this weather. He noted these thoughts down in a small journal of ideas and learnings he'd started to keep on his travels.
Harry's library of local maps and books was also growing steadily, one small collection at a time. He was surprised at how inconsistent their mapping was, with some maps marking down resources in another lord's lands that the lord in question didn't seem to have on their own maps. It felt like they were under-utilising their resources purely through lack of awareness.
Unbeknownst to the Trio, they also left behind varied levels of confusion at the miraculous repairs found throughout the townships. Thankfully, with communication so stilted in the region, no-one made the connection with the travelling merchants, and with a lack of further explanation, much interest was renewed in the Old Gods.
Finally, after a few more weeks of travel, the trio landed on the outskirts of Winterfell. The imposing castle perched on a hill, with Winter Town sprawling out below. Harry was pleased to note that the town was much larger than any other they'd encountered, and gave him confidence that the large population centres he'd seen on the map would be similar, or even proper medieval cities. This town stood entirely within the protection of large stone walls, which was also a first on their travels. A definite step up from wooden palisade walls more commonly used by the smaller towns.
With well practiced ease, they quickly arranged the usual transfigured cart, and filled it with trade goods in preparation for their arrival. Hoping the ruse would facilitate another warm welcome like the ones they had received in the towns on the route. Harry noted that the cart was a little less wonky every time they transfigured it. Clearly practice makes perfect.
They had no invite to the main castle, but Harry did have many documents to deliver to Lord Stark or, at least, his Maester. So they agreed to make their way to the castle proper first, and visit the town later, slightly regretting that they'd now have to push the laden cart up such large hill. A featherlight charm would take care of most of the load, but it was still a hassle they could do without.
As the three of them made their way up the hill, the massive gray castle loomed before them, a testament to the history and power of the Stark family who had ruled over the North for thousands of years. Harry was quite sure that castles were never this large in their old world, which just increased his excitement to explore this new land.
The sheer size of the castle suggested a strange level of advanced construction and engineering, despite the lack of any signs of real technology. Frankly their tech was a bit behind even for the medieval era, which left Harry a bit confused by the massive castle, but equally impressed with what they'd achieved with so little.
As they made their way closer to the walls, all three of them began to pick up on the distinct feel of wards over the town and castle. They'd felt weak wards covering farms in the surrounding area, but here the feel was almost like a weak static charge.
Harry in particular, was quite interested in finally meeting his distant kin, having only learnt about them after arriving in this world. As the Thenn had explained, the Starks were descendants of Ignotus Peverell.
The connection was fairly tenuous, but Harry never had much in the way of extended family outside of the Blacks, so he was excited nonetheless. He was certainly hopeful he'd like the Starks, but he wouldn't hold his breath. After all, most of his relations had been rather lacklustre, Blacks and Dursleys alike. Either way, he'd already decided it would be best to keep his history and their connection under wraps until he could gauge the attitude of the Starks towards magic. Who knows what history they still recalled from the time of Ignotus, and what they might be able to infer from his connection to the man.
There was also much to achieve in their stay here. Harry hoped to raid what was likely to be the largest repository of books and records in the north, with a library stretching back millennia. Hopefully one that was slightly better maintained than the small one at Castle Black.
Sirius would be running their market stall, for the first time in an actual market, small though it was, here in the capital of the North.
Dobby in the meantime was tasked with finding the wardstone, or whatever it was that acted as the source of the magic they felt around the castle. This was an important mission. Harry had read enough books copied from the small castle libraries on their travels, and was quite sure this world didn't have any of the Ancient Runic languages he was familiar with. Harry had however, seen hints of First Men Runes and was keen to find a working wardstone leveraging such runes.
Much like the magic of this world the First Men magics he read mentions of in the books seemed raw. Far less refined than his own. Their runes therefore, would likely add far greater power to Harry's own wards and runic chains, if he could find a way to combine them with his home world runic languages. The library would hopefully contain such knowledge as well. Harry admitted to himself that he was a knowledge hoarder, but that self-diagnosis wouldn't stop him from both copying, and reading the likely large and ancient library of this castle.
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Chapter 10 Teaser:
... Lord Edwyle Stark sat back in his chair, taking a moment to warm his hands by the fire that crackled in the hearth. Winter was always a trying time for the North, and as the Lord of Winterfell, it was his duty to ensure the well-being of his people. With a great sigh and a creaking of bones he lent forward to continue working through the endless paperwork that came with his position.
He eyed the small pile of missives speculatively. Thinking back to the strange collection of messages he had received over the last moon or so. The first was from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and had left Edwyle scratching his head. How on earth did three nobles get lost so badly they didn't even realise they were north of the wall? Not just any wall, but a great big seven hundred foot ice wall.
Not for the first time, Edwyle wished a raven could carry longer messages.
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