The Boy and His Forest.
July 4, Harry is 8 years old, France…
It was about a week after Harry had left his first encounter with another abnormal. He had to admit, despite the goblin's rather surely nature, and getting tricked, he had felt a certain fascination and excitement with the revelation that he was not alone in being different. Harry was in no way arrogant in thinking that he was the only one, but some part of him had worried that he might not ever meet one.
After his encounter with the goblin, he decided to start writing about his adventures and had even done a few simple drawings, though not masterpieces; of Ragnarok holding a book in one hand with a grouchy look on his face. He wanted to keep a record of the peoples and things he may meet during his journey, and the places or things he may find. He felt that these journals would become handy someday.
Anyway, back to the present.
When he had been in a library last, before he had begun his rainy journey that led him to the goblin, he had acquired a book that talked about the various provinces and cities in France, which proved useful in terms of understanding the setting he now found himself in, but didn't help Harry's first stumbling block upon properly appreciating the Grench country side, which came in the presence of directional signs and peoples that spoke a language that was decidedly not English were used which Harry didn't understand.
The first thing Harry did to solve this issue was to take as many teach yourself French books he could find. Despite being a good learner with magic or appeasing cantankerous adults to manageable levels, he found that learning a language was decidedly harder, though Harry was determined that he wouldn't give in, he was going to learn.
He figured he might as well get used to trying to learn other languages, since he would most likely end up in other places that had other languages and customs that he was going to have to study to keep himself unnoticed and cognizant of possible dangers. Further, if he came across any other Abnormals, he wanted to be able to communicate with them. As evidenced by the book that he got from the goblin, he was not naive enough to believe that he would be as lucky as he was in finding an Abnormal that can speak English next time.
Harry was especially determined to spend time in France not just because of the temperate climate but also for a simple personal reason.
The first ever time that Harry had been exposed to the knowledge that there were desirable places outside of Privet Dr. was when he was 5 years old and sweeping the kitchen while his aunt was gushing to his uncle about how Mrs. Number 5 across the street had won a trip to France in a lottery at their church.
His first lesson about foreign culture came from Petunia's lauding of the fine foods, wine, the breathtaking landscapes, the high fashions and, of course, Paris, one of the most romantic places on Earth (here she would throw coy looks at her husband who would huff and bury himself deeper into his paper).
Harry had been too young to really understand most of what she said, but he had been fascinated by the idea of such places existing outside of the humdrum of his little cupboard, Number 4, and Privet Dr. itself.
This was perhaps why, years later, and flying free, as he made his decision about where to explore, he had decided that France was where he wanted to go, as it was the catalyst of giving him the ability to dream of places outside of what he knew, and he was grateful to the country of that gift, even if he had only been aware of a few bare essentials of the place when he was younger.
So Harry learned, observed, traveled and grew.
Ooo ooo ooo
2 months into France, Harry is now 9, September 4 the Province of Picardy…
He hummed to himself as he bypassed the introduction of his France Fantastic!A Traveler's Spectacle (1), flipping pages to see if he could find specific information for where he was.
He was 3 days into Picardy, as he stood atop a power line pole, hidden by some trees, with a sign below and across the moderately busy road that read:
Abbeville
He knew that he had been following the Somme River, figuring it was as better a directional choice as any, a habit he had taken to now, as following rivers inevitably had habitations or at least something interesting nearby, or as a good resource of fish and fresh water in the less habitable places.
It didn't take long to find where he was.
He turned to the offered page number beside the name.
"…Abbeville is a commune in the Somme department in Picardie in northern France located on the Somme River, 20 km (12 mi) from its modern mouth in the English Channel. The majority of the town is located on the east bank of the Somme, as well as on an island. It is located at the head of the Abbeville Canal, and is 45 km (28 mi) northwest of Amiens…"(2).
He hummed thoughtfully, according to the book, it used to be very picturesque but the bombings in the second world war destroyed many of the sites (2) though there were still a few things he could explore if he was feeling touristy, such as St. Vulfrin's church, The Boucher de Perthes Museum, The church of the Holy Sepulcher situated in the heart of the old town center which was situated in the now unused bell tower, and a monument called the Aux Morts (2).
He was somewhat tempted by the Boucher de Perthes museum, which features art work and other artifacts from the 16th century onward, and other exhibitions that change every few months (2), he had never really been to one that was primarily featuring artistic displays, and since he journeyed, he'd come to appreciate the aesthetic in the world nearly as much as he had exploring his abilities and reading his stories. He felt that it gave his wanderings greater depth and appreciation outside of the necessities of survival from day to day.
He decided to spend a few days there then continue on.
He had to admit, he enjoyed himself, and even went to see the other sites with the Aux Morts being his favorite. He marveled at how a person can create such images from mere rock, knowing that he would never be able to do such things, and decided that if people without special powers can do such extraordinary things with just simple tools, stone and infinite patience, that the mundane world in this context wasn't quite so bad.
Ooo ooo ooo
Harry had ventured to a few more places during his time in the country, meandering in and out of cities, towns and villages.
Inspired by his time in Abbeville, he took the time to really appreciate the art that France had to offer. From sneaking into the most affluent of galleries after hours (he had found that if he used his magic, even passively, like having an apple bobbing behind him, he could disrupt Normal Technology like video cameras and alarm systems for a brief time) to the museums, to perching on the heads of statues, monuments and other sculpture, as well as architecture. He had even observed from hidden spots in trees, bushes and dark ally's as artists painted on their canvas.
Harry also made odd little goals while he journeyed, such as perching on all 37 of Paris' main bridges (3), eating the largest, gaudiest Éclair and drinking fancy coffee's that his uncle would complain about invading his favorite coffee shops back in Surrey, which he did and promptly became rather sick, promising himself that he would never do that again.
There were times that he thought excitedly he might have come across places that had Abnormals.
There were pockets of spaces that he stumbled across at times that made his skin tingle, and his magic flex and flow restlessly, and sometimes he thought he would see empty expanses of fields or garbage infested, rundown buildings waver and reveal snippets of scenery and people that should not be there, but always he lost sight of it, and he had not figured out how to enter those places, so he would eventually move on, frustrated.
After that, he decided to retreat to more rural settings, so he often chose to fly over rivers that were bordered by thick forests, fields and wild lands.
Ooo ooo ooo
He had been in Paimpont Forrest, having decided on the area to temporarily set up camp for a few weeks, if the place looked good for staying, to focus on his studies.
Paimpont Forrest was in the French commune of Paimpont, near the city of Rennes in Brittany (4). He had made a brief stop in Rennes before venturing back in the wild, to Lift as many books as he could find on the country's legends and mythologies and popular fantasies and comic books. He reasoned that there might be some hidden key that he hadn't discovered yet to getting into what he had dubbed the Hidden Places. He hoped to find that key by delving into the material. He also thought it might be prudent to be aware of what exactly he may come across in the local Abnormals, having learned from his experience with the goblin.
He had visited a few of the local tourist sites such as Merlin's tomb and Abbot Guillotin's oak (4) but had not felt any stirring from his magic and was unsure of the validity of the sites as Normals were going by myths and legends perpetuated by other Normals, despite that there could be truths within them after all, and likely if the stories behind those sites were real, the Normals, being what they are, most likely may have got them wrong.
It was retreating to deeper and deeper into the broad leaf trees, oaks and beeches mainly, with areas of conifers hugging him closer and closer in his low flights, giving him plenty of maneuvering practice- that he quite literally stumbled into one of those, until now, un-breachable Hidden Places thanks to an attack by an irate group of territorial birds.
The sensation had been akin to flying into a giant invisible balloon that, for a moment, felt like the air itself was going to ricochet him backwards, only to finally give and melt around him to nothingness when his magic gave an odd sharp ping that he had never felt before, and disappeared just as quickly, sending him tumbling into a large dark purplish bush that promptly tried to eat him for his troubles.
That was his introduction to magical plants and the dubious delights of what he would later determine through his readings was most likely Brocéliande (5).
He was uncertain what the carnivorous plant was, it had broad, jagged edged leaves, leaking stinging mucus-like sap from writhing tentacles that wrapped him up tighter with each struggle. It was his second meeting with an Abnormal, though he suspected that it wasn't sentient, as far as he could figure, like the alien plant that Seymour had to deal with in Little Shop of Horrors (6).
He was finally able to escape when he decided to try creating fire.
He had experimented already with his camp fires, inspired by all the references in his source materials, so many references in myths and legends like the fire rats from Chinese folklore (7) the Balrog from Lord of the Rings (8), the mentions of Psychokinetic powers like those from various comic books and other fantasy stories just to name a few. It was then he remembered the goblin's ease with flame as well and had decided it was most likely something he could do with his power, and what he had been practicing magicslly since his arrival in France, though without much success.
That is until his encounter with the purple man eating plant he latter would dub Audrey (6.5), apparently desperation was a good motivator it seems.
He was grateful that the plant didn't scream as it was burned quickly and efficiently by his flames. He was relieved that the fire didn't spread to the rest of the foliage, this flame seeming to only be concerned with what it had originally been set aflame to, which was odd, but otherwise economical, so he didn't look a gift horse in the mouth in this quarter.
He had stayed as high up as he dared to go above the tree tops after that, while still not breaking the barrier that surrounded the Hidden Place, something he could instinctively sense somehow.
From his vantage point, he could see that the expanse that the barrier covered was greater then what his maps of Paimpont forest covered, it was through this exploration that he determine that a Hidden Place could manipulate spacial dimensions.
Brocéliande, according to a passage in one of his books, is a notable place of legend because of its uncertain location, unusual weather, and its ties with Arthurian Romance, most notably a magical fountain and the tomb of the legendary figure Merlin, the sights of which the Normals claimed to be in the regular part of Paimpont Forrest, which is thought, itself, to be the legendary forest (5).
The place was said to be heavily magical, hard to find, and home to magical beings such as fairies and has also been reputed to be near King Arthur's palace and the site of a mill where King Arthur battles a strange bull-like animal (5).
In the time that it had taken him to find the place, he had come across more plants and wild life that were definitely abnormal as far as he could determine.
There were trees of different colors, some with bark, branches, or fruit that appeared to be made of precious metals, gleaming invitingly in the sun (9), or trees that seemed to move in a manner that was not by the wind, such as rather ugly willow like trees (10) that flicked a black bird with three red glowing eyes (11) into a birch in a manner humans do an irritating insect.
He had seen flowers that were so beautiful that it nearly made him weep to gaze upon, how he would imagine would happen if he gazed upon a god before he was immolated in their power (12), daffodils that honked at one another, and fire breathing toad stools that hissed viciously (13).
He knew it would be sometime before he worked up the nerve to experiment what was safe to eat.
Harry's explorations didn't lead him to finding Arthur's castle, or a mill, though he did find a small cave that appeared to be uninhabited, surrounded by thick mundane oak tree's, with a clear running river near by.
The trees and plants around his new temporary home seemed fairly benign, from what he had observed carefully, before making his camp and further ridiculously pleased that, while the nearby grove of apple trees tended to throw there apples and snicker among themselves when they hit something (14), usually harry or some passing animal, they were normal enough looking apples that seemed edible and where quite delicious once he worked up the nerve to try one.
There were three main rivers that bisected the forest that were sourced from a modest sized lake that was at the very center of the forest. Since he had yet to meet any sentient Abnormals (though he often wondered about the trees at times) he had, like the Audrey, chose to name them.
The north river he called Wendy, The South River he called John, and the west river, that flowed into a sort of sharp curve, he called Hook (15) and the central lake he dubbed Balar (16).
The waters held just as much fascinatingly abnormal things as the land.
When he had become short on food stores and tired of thrown apples about 2 weeks into his time in the forest, he had decided to venture to the closest river, Wendy, to see what it had to offer in edibles, particularly fish, as he had grown fond of both fishing (the mundane variety as well as his own) and eating them in his journey.
Wendy was cool and clear, with breaks of colorful rocks and, he was pleased to note, the occasional glide of rather large and small fish of various colours. Local wild life such as ducks and geese of the variety he had seen in his travels through France so far also made use of the waters, and he knew were excellent for eating.
He made a habit of collecting a few of the birds, which he Lifted towards him and quickly broke there necks, never taking more then one or two birds every other trip or so, having become proficient at cleaning wild game at this point.
The fish, he had come to discover, were lager then what he was used to seeing, though he reckoned that was because of the magical nature of the forest. The water was also especially clear and clean, untouched by human pollution as well.
The abnormal fauna of the rivers and lake he would later explore after Wendy, had led to Harry discovering the largest creature in the forest that he had seen so far.
An honest to goodness dragon.
From what Harry had been able to tell from his books, he had possibly come across the local variety of the mythical creature as it seemed fairly similar to the description:
"… Garguiem, not to be confused with gargoyle, was allegedly a dragon with 4 legs and wings. This water-spouting dragon (more like a serpent dragon, because of its long snake like body) appeared in the Seine River in France. It was said to terrorize boats and flood the land. In the legend, Saint Romain, the archbishop of Rouen, lured the monster to shore using a convict, and then made a cross with his fingers to tame the monster. He then led it into town where it was slaughtered. Some accounts said it was burned. The accounts of burning said that neither the monster's head or neck would burn, so they were mounted on the town's cathedral to display God's power.
The creature was then said to have been carved onto buildings to be used as a water drainage, therefore creating the modern gargoyle. It is similarly accounted that they have no relation other than their water-spouting abilities…" (17).
Harry could attest to seeing four web footed, triple joined legs like that of a frog, the large serpentine body, and bat-like diaphanous wings. The water spouting was also accurate, Harry had witnessed it use deadly jets of water that it would shoot from its mouth to stun the large, razor backed, grey feathered flamingo's (18) that the great creature enjoyed eating, along with frogs and other small creatures in the shallows. The birds would usually scatter, leaving their stunned fellows to be dragged off by the dragon's prehensile black tongue that would drag it bellow the depths.
Luckily for Harry, the few times he had caught the creatures eye, the navy and green scaled creature seemed to be indifferent to his presence, and primarily stuck to Balar, and he never saw more then one or two Garguiem at a time.
Ooo ooo ooo
2 months into his stay at Brocéliande...
By this time he had become proficient enough in drawing that he felt comfortable in going out and sketching more of the the abnormal creatures and plants he had been discovering, naming ones that he had not found references to, whether they were dangerous, passive, edible, etc.
So far he had come across the breathtaking sight of Unicorns, fire-breathing squirrels (19), creatures that looked like a cross between a bear and a bug (20), and porcupine-like creatures with quills like tuning forks that made his teeth ache when he accidentally disturbed one (21).
It was the winged serpents (22) that he had found, much to his delight, were the first sentient Abonromals in the forest that he knew of for sure as they were capable of talking.
Granted, their reference of communication appeared to mainly be tied to the cares and perspectives of serpents, but Harry was still delighted at the discovery, and the creatures seemed to share his appreciation. Better yet, through them he learned that he some how apparently already had the power to speak in the manner of serpents, or so the leader of the flock informed him, and he should be able to talk to any serpent he wanted, even if what he heard sounded like English, though after awhile, he was able to detect the barest hint of hissing if he focused an strained enough.
It was not uncommon that the local flock would dance around him in the skies and share the best places to hunt fat mice and birds, or to avoid their local predators. They also had a keen instinct for determining plants that were helpful to Harry either medicinal or generally edible, as they didn't relegate themselves to flesh alone, though it was preferred.
ooo ooo ooo
He knew that he had about maybe another month left of sketching materials and notebooks before he would have to make the flight back to Rennes to get some more.
He felt, somehow instinctual, that he would be able to find Brocéliande again, so he wasn't all that worried about not being able to return, though he would eventually feel the need to journey again. Brocéliande was fascinating, but he was used to traveling. He had already stayed longer then he ever had anywhere since he started flying. So he decided that he would continue on his travels as soon as he ran out of sketching material.
He was still rather fond of the place though, and felt if there was anyplace that could be closest to feeling like a home, it was this Hidden Place, a place that he would visit again.
He followed through with this decision not long after, only lingering long enough to gather food, secure his cave against the local wildlife, and say his goodbyes to the Winged Serpents, and the Garguiem, whom he had eventually struck up a conversation with after his success with the Winged Serpents, though the creatures were rather boring to talk to, going on and on about this and that food or sunbeam or mating or other .
Ooo ooo ooo
December, Harry Age 9...
By the time he had left it was close to December and Harry decided to continue his journey further south, taking full advantage of the more temperate climates.
According to his maps, France was bordered by Spain, which he thought was southerly enough. He decided that he would spend some time there.
His route to Spain was flying through the provinces of France that meant the Atlantic sea, aiming for the Bay of Biscay were he would cross into Spain.
Along the way, he hit local libraries to get more maps, guide books, folklore, etc.
His journey was, as usual, high up in the clouds or undercover of darkness, and was uneventful and, as he finally found himself soaring over Cantabria, he wondered what new sights and adventures, and better yet, Abnormals he would find there?