Unpleasant Encounters
Chapter 37
Unpleasant Encounters
It took another week to finish Joffrey's precious chessboard and Harry ended up using a good deal of magic to aid in its completion. While normally he worried about the overabundance of his power in an object he intended to give to someone like the short-tempered prince, he honestly just wanted to not have to think about this thing anymore. For the moment, having the golden prince get off his back was his biggest priority, and Harry looked forward to the massive weight lift from his shoulders the moment he met the royal boy in his chambers to bequeath it to him.
Ser Myran announced him at the door and Harry entered to find Prince Joffrey polishing a robust, gleaming sword studded with rubies and gold filaments. The Hound was off in a corner, acting as the prince's additional security.
"Lovely isn't it," Joffrey boasted, showing off the fine blade. "I call it Lion's Claw."
"It's a fine blade," Harry stated with no further compliments.
"Indeed. It would have been the blade to take your hippogriff's head had you not stood in my way," Joffrey chuckled. "I would have renamed it, had it tasted that blood. Hippogriff's Bane, or something like it."
Harry's jaw clenched with those words, fighting back a comment about how it would have been the blade to be left unused had the ward been too slow to save the brat from the hippogriff. Harry managed to swallow it down though. He just wanted to get this over with. "I have the chessboard you commissioned from me."
Joffrey set aside the blade, and beckoned Harry forward. He meticulously examined the smooth board then each and every piece thoroughly as if looking for blemishes in Harry's work that he could mock and complain about. There were none and were all as Joffrey specified; the stag design was on one side and the lions on the other. One side was a golden-yellow wood, and the other was ebony. He could even store them in the board that they came with, which cleverly doubled as a box, divided into numerous compartments for each individual piece to be stored in.
"A fine game set," Joffrey mused using that same word again. "You will of course honor me with a game, won't you?"
The wizard wanted nothing more than to refuse.
"I'd be honored to play a game any other time, my prince. However, I have an awful lot of work I need to do today. If we could reconvene at another time..." Harry tried to explain.
"You seem to mistake my order for a request, ward," Joffrey stated with menace. Harry's eyes flicked to the Hound at his back, who was looking every bit as intimidating as he normally was. "Sit down and play a game with me."
Reluctantly, Harry took up a chair at a small round table with the unlikable boy seated across from him. "Which side do you want?" Joffrey asked with a smile that made Harry uneasy. "I'll let the guest decide today."
Harry scrutinized him. "I'll have black." He'd let Joffrey make the first move in this.
"The stag's side. The king's sigil," Joffrey observed.
"Would you rather I take yellow? The queen's sigil?" Harry asked.
"No need. Guest's first, after all." They set up the board and Joffrey was given the first move. He boldly moved one of the lion knights in its standard L path, and Harry responded with moving a pawn that would leave his queen's bishop unobstructed at the next turn.
As they played, they talked.
"Such a funny game," Joffrey remarked. "From Lorath, correct?"
"Yes, Prince."
"Popular there?"
"Among some people."
"So, if I were to find a Lorathi to play with me, he would know this game?"
"I can't say, my prince. It's more common among nobility, though it's not guaranteed that they would play very often."
"There's not a lot known about Lorath," Joffrey remarked. "I've asked the maesters to find whatever they could about your country and they've only managed to come up with the bare minimum."
It took everything in Harry not to react to that revelation. Thanks to Hermione's incessant research, doubled with Luwin and Lord Eddard's own insistence, she had drilled into him every bit of information she could find about that land to him. It wasn't hard since there was so little to remember, but Joffrey's mention of their supposed-country-of-origin had him sweating. Did he know more about that place than Harry was supposed to? He would certainly have access to more sources of information than they did, not only with a larger library at his fingertips but also spies and informants who could confirm anything that Harry tried to claim. And if he had a true Lorathi to confide in, that would make things enormously complicated. Still, Harry tried to keep it cool. "What use would you have to learn anything about my country?"
Joffrey only shrugged with a twisted smile. "Why, you're getting to be so popular that it's only a matter of time before Lorath itself becomes a country of interest. Perhaps we might end up establishing a trade agreement with the land. You could even aid in that. As of this moment, we only know that they maintain their trade routes between the other free cities and even between them, Lorath holds on to their secrecy like a vice."
"That's a decision between the three princes," Harry stated, avoiding any comment to that. "I have no say in how they conduct the nation's business."
"You may, though, somewhere in the future. My father has taken to you so fondly I dare to wonder when he'll ask you to start sharing his bed, if you haven't already."
Harry's head snapped up, his eyes went wide with shock, and his mouth dropped opened. The accusation was so sickening he couldn't form words for a moment.
"Don't get me wrong, it's quite a vulgar allegation," Joffrey continued. "But what do I know about Lorathies, after all? And my father is a man of strong intent and power. Some would like nothing more than to take advantage of that."
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was Joffrey insinuating that Harry would take advantage of Robert? The thought was both laughable and downright disgusting.
"Have you brought these feelings up to your father?" Harry challenged. "I wonder which he would find more insulting; that you would accuse him of enjoying the company of male youths like that, or that you think him capable of being overpowered by someone a third of his size?"
Joffrey's smile vanished and his face darkened. "Make no mistake, I have the highest opinion of my father. He is a man of impeccable strength and resilience, but he isn't insusceptible to trickery or the seductions of exotic temptations. And I would protect him from some foreign orphan and idle courtier gossip if it's within my ability." In all the time they had been talking and playing the game, Harry hadn't noticed that Myran had snuck up behind him.
With Joffrey's words, Harry felt his hair being ripped out by the roots as a fist caught the strands and used them to slam his head down in the middle of the chessboard. He heard a crunch and felt the arm of his glasses snap in half beneath his skull. Chess pieces toppled over and rolled onto the floor, destroying the progress of their game and leaving the victor forever undecided. His head was spinning with the force of the blow and with Myran's full weight pressing down on him, Harry was unable to so much as move. Pieces were pressing into his neck and chest, and a pawn was digging between the skin of his cheek and the wooden board. Beneath the haze of his spinning vision, he felt someone rummage in his pocket and pulled out his wand.
His heart hammered in his throat as he watched from his place bent over the board, as Joffrey handled it, spinning the tool in his weaselly little hands.
"Now, what is this thing?" Joffrey demanded. Harry's mind stuttered between demanding it back and providing an answer that wouldn't condemn him.
"Nothing. Just a gift from home," he finally said.
"Nothing, you say? Well, if it's nothing then I suppose you won't really be needing it anymore." Joffrey braced both his hands over the wood, preparing to snap it in half.
"Wait! WAIT!" Harry proclaimed. "I-it's an identification!"
Joffrey paused to that, his head tilting in confusion. "Identification?"
"Yes!" Harry's mind raced to further explain. "All Lorathi noble children are bequeathed them on their eleventh namedays. It identifies us as nobility." It was a sort of truth. It more accurately identified them as wizards and witches, but he wasn't about to say that.
"Sticks? You use sticks as identification?"
"It's a custom we don't commonly share with outsiders," Harry went on. "It's like a family heirloom or a key. It proves that I'm a Potter."
Joffrey frowned, observing the wand in his hands more closely and tracing the smoothed rod and intricately carved holly branch handle. Harry held his breath. Did he believe it? "Such a stupid way to identify yourself," Joffrey finally stated. "Use signet rings like modern societies."
"I'll... ask them to take that into consideration the next time I go home." Harry had actually wanted to bite back that he couldn't change a thousand years of tradition, but thought a more respectful response was in order, especially with the compromising position he was in.
A lengthy silence stretched as Joffrey considered Harry's words. Finally, he seemed to decide that his claim was satisfactory and allowed his guard to release the Stark's ward. Harry straightened shakily, examining the damage to his glasses and feeling his hair stinging from where Myran grabbed him as well as a bruise spreading along his face where he was slammed down. Through his broken glasses, he saw Joffrey step up to him, practically getting in his face. Though, he was only thirteen, the boy was tall for his age, only a few inches shorter than Harry himself. As acid green eyes stared into Harry's spring orbs, the young wizard tried very hard to keep the emotions on his face in check. Beneath the surface of his mask, though, he was absolutely seething with the prince's ugly treatment of him.
"Do be sure you keep in mind who you really are the next time my father wants to take you and that flying beast of yours out for an adventure," Joffrey declared lowly to him. "Nobility or not, you're foreign Lorathi trash and that's all you'll ever be."
With those words, Joffrey shoved Harry's wand back into his hand then dismissed him with a careless wave. To add further insult to injury, he tossed--actually tossed--a gold dragon at Harry's feet as payment for the board. Harry absolutely refused to stoop to pick it up.
"Don't waste money, ward. I harbor a guess the Starks nickel and dime every transaction they go through. I can't imagine they have much allowance for a lowly foster child."
Harry glowered, ignoring the coin and the comment as he exited the prince's quarters, resisting the urge to stomp or turn around and hex the little twat for that. If Harry had any balls he would have at least spat on that coin before turning. Instead, he just returned to his paddock, shaking with fury and shock for the ordeal he'd just gone through. Of course, Harry had known Joffrey was a threat and likely jealous of him, but he hadn't realized just how much until that moment. He was so mad at himself for just taking it like that, and wondered over and over to himself why he hadn't bothered to fight back. When he was of a clearer mind though, Harry understood that there was no way he could have retaliated, even as he had wanted to. Without his wand, he was no match against either Ser Myran or the Hound, and Joffrey's status kept him well and protected from all consequences to his actions. If Harry had reacted, he would have been punished even harsher than getting his face slammed into a gameboard. It was a bitter medicine that Harry could do nothing about but swallow with fury and disgust.
Harry had to magically fix his glasses for the thousandth time. He also sported a visible bruise for the coming days, though if anyone asked about it, he just said it was a training mishap, and the person to ask immediately lost all interest. He didn't bother making a report about it to Lord Eddard. He didn't want Joffrey to think he'd gotten under Harry's skin and there was nothing he could do about it anyway.
As an added burden, Harry now had to think about his wand. He had placated Joffrey with that lie, but it was only a matter of time before the boy prince figured out he had been decieved. What was Harry supposed to do about that? It also brought up how he was supposed to store it from now on. It seemed like keeping it in his pocket was a bit of a hazard, now. What if someone else tried to take it from him like that? Maybe he ought to get a holster or a scabbard for it and play it off as some dagger. He'd be able to wear it openly in that case, as most people would just assume it was a blade.
He had a lot to decide about it, but not a lot of time to think about it. A few days after that humiliating ordeal, the king called on Harry again, proclaiming that they would be leaving to visit his brother Lord Stannis on Dragonstone.
The new adventure had Harry excited to be leaving the Red Keep. This time too, Ser Barristan Selmy would be joining them, and the knowledge left the lad feeling relieved to have a responsible chaperone accompanying them for once.
It was a bit of an awkward seating arrangement with Harry at the front steering Buckbeak, then Robert, and lastly Barristan protecting his liege at his back. Although maybe the knight would have done better in the middle. For as Bold and Selmy was, it seemed he was not too fond of flying.
The journey was doubly hard as they flew over wide stretches of water and Buckbeak was unable to fly at his top speed due to the additional weight of the extra passenger. Their provisions were also limited, and Selmy was not able to wear his kingsguard armor due to its excessive weight. They followed a route that had them following the shore that kissed the Blackwater, passed Rosby and Duskendale until finally they stopped to make camp on a peninsula overlooking the Gullet, a wide expanse of sea that lied between the mainland and their destination. It took them two days to cross the whole distance between King's Landing and Stanis's keep with small breaks every few hours. It was a good thing there were various small islands between their destination as the three men and the hippogriff all doubted that they'd be able to ride without stopping the whole way, especially with their cramped seating arrangements.
There were times that Harry feared Buckbeak would tire as they were flying, and then they'd be dropped into the ocean where they'd all drown in the waves. Thankfully, they managed to spot some miniscule spits of land lined up on their path to the island that allowed occasional, though sometimes clumsy, landings. It gave them all frequent opportunities for breaks, stretch their legs, get some food, and have a piss.
Harry remarked that they had almost missed the little strips of stone and resolved to get a good telescope and some additional tools for navigating for next time. It sort of irritated him to think he hadn't thought of such things until this moment, but he mentally ticked off a few items that would have made travel abundantly easier, including but not limited to, a telescope, a compass, and a sextant. Some star charts might have been useful too. Up until then, they had been relying on maps and Robert's intellect. Shocking as it seemed for the brutish man, but he was actually a rather talented navigator.
In time, they were back on the hippogriff and resumed their journey once again.
Hours soon passed before they at last cleared the cloud-cover to reveal the island Robert indicated, though they nearly got it confused with Driftmark, the seat of House Valaryon and a keep was at the west of Dragonstone.
Harry grimaced to see a fortress cradled in the embrace of a towering mountain. Pale grey steam rose from vents at the top, revealing that the peak was in fact an active volcano. Harry had never seen a volcano before, but he was immensely unattracted to the idea of sleeping at the base of one, paranoid by the possibility of it erupting during their visit.
Turned out, he liked the castle even less than he liked the mountain that loomed over the structure.
As they came closer to the keep, Harry took the sight of it in. While it was without any doubt an impressive construct, it was a grim place and throbbed with magic, though not the same as what had filled Storms’ End. This magic wasn’t repelling Harry as much as it was beckoning to him, like a wicked siren eager to sink its teeth into his flesh. He had learned that the Targaryens had constructed it with the use of arcane arts, fire, and sorcery. The family was gone, but their magic still lived in the strange gothic-like castle. With the ability to liquify and reshape stone with dragonflame, the ancient lords used their magic to shape their keep to resemble a flock of their fire-breathing beasts of the sky, or a thunder, which was what a group of dragons was called.
Dragon architecture could be found all throughout the castle, such as small dragons framing gates and dragon claws holding torches. A pair of great wings covered the armory and smithy, and dragon tails formed archways and staircases. But it wasn’t just dragons that had been designed into the stone. Animals like basilisks, cockatrices, demons, griffins, hellhounds, manticores, minotaurs, wyverns, and other creatures adorned every corner and archway. With so many looming decorations, it looked less like a seat for kings and queens and more like the lair of some fiendish villain to Harry.
He wholeheartedly did not want to stay in such a place and would have gladly chosen to find a bed in one of the nearby fishing villages if that had been an option, but with Robert giving the orders and Selmy to back him up, there was nothing Harry could say to it.
When all three men had dismounted, Robert had hastily whispered to Harry to make a good impression. He had said it with such insistence, it was as though that alone was the most important thing Harry could ever do. They were met by pages and attendants who had been informed of their coming visit through raven and were there to escort them to the throne room, but only after Harry had made sure that Buckbeak had been provided with a paddock and food. It had been a long journey for the noble beast and all three men wanted to be sure he was taken care of.
While they stayed there, Harry met Lord Stannis himself, his wife Selyse, and their young daughter Shireen. They were all greeted in the great hall, an impressive room that was carved in the shape of a huge dragon lying on its belly; the heavy red doors of the hall were set in the mouth, and those entering passed beneath the gateway teeth and through the dragon's maw.
At the end of the room was a stone throne, though it was unoccupied at this time, as the brothers chose to face each other in the center of the room.
Like his brothers, King Robert and Lord Renly, Stannis was a large man—tall, broad-shouldered, and sinewy. But that was where the resemblance ended. Stannis had neither the jovial mirth of Robert, nor the charm and elegance of Renly. He was all hard surfaces and sharp edges, with lackluster blue eyes, that looked like a sea on the verge of becoming a hurricane. His head had only a fringe of black hair like the shadow of a crown, and his blue-black beard was cropped closely on his square jaw. Stannis's face had a tightness to it like cured leather, and he had hollow cheeks, and thin, pale lips. When Harry moved forward to greet the solemn lord, he couldn't help but notice how he towered over the youth.
"Are you another of my brother's bastards?" The man demanded the moment Harry had finished bowing to him. "He's got so many I've lost count of them."
"No, my lord. My name is Harry, Harry Potter. I'm from Lorath."
Stannis's voice sounded like he wanted to roll his eyes. "So, my brother now has bastards from Lorath. His seed has reached across the narrow sea."
"Show some courtesy, Stan," Robert lectured. "Harry is Ned's Ward. He's the keeper of the hippogriff we flew here on."
"Hippogriff?" The question came from the woman on Stannis's left, who must have been his wife, Selyse. The woman was not attractive. She was as tall as her husband, thin, and had two large, pale eyes. Her nose was sharp and she had the hint of a thin mustache under it. Perhaps Harry would have felt sorry for her if her nature wasn’t so cold.
"The creature that I wrote to you about," Robert explained.
"I only received your letter this morning," Stannis told him. "I was not expecting you here the very same day. We scarcely had time to prepare for your arrival."
"Damn! I had hoped we'd be able to beat the raven! Still, only a few hours behind. That's the marvel of air-travel, brother!" Robert boasted. "It's a wonderful experience. Wait till you meet the creature for yourself."
Just then a head popped out from behind Selyse's skirt's and Robert's head snapped down. "Shireen!"
A shy girl in a golden-yellow dress rushed forward at the sight of the king. "Uncle Robert!"
With one move, the man lifted her into his arms and spun her about. "How's my favorite niece today?"
"Hee-hee. I'm your only niece!" The girl giggled as the man planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'm so happy to see you. Did you really fly here?"
Robert grinned, proudly. "I certainly did. On a large creature called a hippogriff, which is half horse and half eagle."
"For truly?"
"Of course. In fact, this is Harry. The keeper of the beast."
Robert put the girl down and Harry was facing a child who was about eight to nine years old. She looked to be a sad, sweet, and gentle child, but not exactly what Harry would consider pretty. She had the Baratheon blue eyes though sadly also inherited the square, jutting jaw from her father’s side. That along with her mother’s large ears made for an odd combination. But the thing that drew his eye over all of that was the large, black, and scaly scar that crawled over her left cheek and most of her neck, residue from greyscale that she had suffered from as a baby.
When Robert first told Harry they would be visiting Stannis and his family, he decided to present the little girl with one of his wooden toys, hoping it would make a good impression. "Hello, Princess. When I learned we were coming I decided to bring you a gift. I hope you like it."
At the mention of a gift, the girl came closer, curious. Then the lad knelt to offer his token to the little girl. It was a wooden whale that was cut in six thin sections that allowed movement to the tail in the same way a real whale actually swam. The girl was instantly won over as she took it in her hands and tested the movement for herself.
"It's just like a real whale," she realized. Then she hugged it tight, pressing it to her unblemished cheek so she could feel the smooth surface against her skin. "I'm going to call him Fellow."
Harry felt his shoulders relax as it looked like introductions were at last over and it seemed like he had managed to make a decent first impression.
"You know, I bet if you asked, Harry would be delighted to show you the hippogriff we came on," Robert suggested.
Her eyes sparkled as she spun to look for permission from her parents. "Oh, Father, can I? Please?"
There was a momentary stretch of knowing eye-contact between Stannis and Robert, as if the two of them were having some silent, brief argument, before the younger of the two finally looked down at his daughter and relented. "So long as Davos accompanies you."
She nodded happily and a man, who Harry assumed was Davos, stepped forward from one of the chamber's corners with that announcement.
While Harry escorted her there with the man called Davos, Selmy remained where he was and acted as guard to the king, which left Robert and Stannis to talk about certain matters. Harry didn’t know what it was about, but a king did not need to explain those things to the lad as he had been repeatedly reminded.
Instead, he focused on entertaining the little girl. With one look at Buckbeak, Shireen was immediately enamored with the creature.
The steed was given a day to rest as he was winded from their long journey and too hungry to do anything but feast on a swordfish that had been offered to him by Stanis's personal fishermen. Even while he was doing nothing but picking at the kill, Shireen still delighted in the novelty of the marvelous animal, declaring at the first sight that he was perfect. The following day the girl was granted a ride around the island on that very same perfect hippogriff. After that, the girl was entirely won over, not just with the hippogriff but with Harry as well. She often took him by the hand and dragged him around the castle to show him all of her favorite places. She took him to see the Stone Drum, the Great Hall, the library, and Aegon’s Garden, which was abundant with tall dark trees, wild roses, towering thorny hedges, and cranberries. With so many evergreens, it had a pleasant piney scent that Harry hadn't been expecting. That was where Buckbeak landed after the ride with Shireen and where he stayed for the remainder of their visit.
While Shireen had rapidly gotten fond of him, Harry soon found himself growing fond of her in return, though it also came with pity. Did she not have any friends her own age here? All alone without peers to interact with, only her parents, attendants, and her simple-minded fool? It seemed so terribly tragic to him. She didn't even have a pet to fawn over, nor many toys though she did fill her room with a generous collection of books. The sight of all of them had him immediately thinking of Hermione and he had to ward off a sting at the memory of her.
They often sat in the garden while the girl delighted in sinking her small hands into Bucky’s soft feathers and showering him with praise. Buckbeak loved the attention and rolled on the ground, kicking his legs in the air while she fawned over him. Her fool, Patches, a simpleton with an antler hat that had noisy bells attached to each point, stayed well away from the hippogriff, singing rhymes and riddles about the travelers and their visit.
"Bastard, Bastard of the King
Visits Dragonstone with his steed
Charms the lass with toys a plenty
Despite the danger of the sentry
But the little bird tells warnings
The silly maid sings plainly
The cursed knight says nothing
And the mighty steed preens vainly”
Harry despised the fool’s songs after that very first chorus and hoped if this dummy was destined to be following him the whole time, then their visit wouldn’t be long. He hated himself for thinking it, but he felt like there were times when he wanted to throw the fool from a tower and watch him fall to his death into the waves of the ocean. He felt awful for it, but also felt like this place was influencing some violent side of him that he dearly wanted to keep buried.
During their stay, Harry supped with Robert and his brother’s family as Selmy stood behind the king, dutifully protecting his liege. Stannis took up the front of the table while Robert sat on his right and Harry was seated beside Robert. Shireen smiled directly across from him and Selyse sat on her husband’s immediate left while she eyed the lad suspiciously. During these dinners, Stannis grilled Harry relentlessly on countless hypotheticals involving noble houses, the economy, warfare, and common people. Though these questions confused him, he did his best to answer as honestly as he could. Often, after he had given his response, Stannis would cast a side-eye to Robert and proceed with a new hypothetical. It made Harry feel like he was being interrogated or tested, though the king’s brother was very good at hiding any of his emotions and it was anyone’s guess whether or not the answers had pleased him.
At last, they were allowed to leave, and Harry could not have been happier to do so. Patches hadn’t relented once all during the long visit, and any time he had encountered little Shireen, her fool was there as well, following like a motley ghost. He reminded Harry a bit of Peeves, a poltergeist jester that haunted the halls of Hogwarts and frequently played cruel pranks on the inhabitants of the castle. Except now, Peeves seemed a lot more entertaining and intelligent compared to this annoying simpleton.
And speaking of ghosts, Harry had slept very poorly in those four days. He often kept his quarters in or near the stables where Buckbeak was being held, wanting to keep a close eye on him whenever they traveled because he always feared someone would attempt to hurt the steed if he laxed in his safety for even a moment. Yet even with the proximity of his trusted beast, the horrible dreams hadn’t relented. They mainly focused on the dragonlords when they lived in the palace, and all the awful deeds they committed behind those very halls.
He had a particularly frightening dream of a woman who had been burned and eaten alive by a disfigured golden dragon, as a boy, who was only a few years older than Harry, laughed madly from the very stone throne he had faced the day before. he had woken with a jolt and nearly leapt out of his skin when he thought he spotted a wispy white figure standing in the corner of his room. It had an unpleasant resemblance to the woman who had been killed, though once he had put on his glasses, the specktor was gone. That had likely been the worst dream of all and he thought he could take no more of it, when at last Robert gave them leave to go.
Shireen had been incredibly sad to see her new friends leave, and he could admit he was sorry to say goodbye to her, too, but not at all sorry to say goodbye to the castle.
"I wish you weren't going," she told him, almost crying to lose him so soon. "I normally have bad dreams, but ever since you got here, I've only been dreaming about you and Buckbeak and whales. And they are all good dreams."
"I'm sorry to go, Shireen," Harry told her as he knelt down to bid her farewell. "I hope you come to the capitol soon so I can show you all my favorite places."
To that, she leaned forward to his ear and cupped her hand over her mouth as if she were telling him a secret. "I've been to the capitol before, but I never like it. My cousins aren't very nice to me."
"Well then you'll have to spend time with me and the Starks," he whispered back to her. "We'll be nice to you."
"I think I'd like that," she decided, looking much more optimistic now.
Then he looked at her and tucked a strand of her black hair behind her ear, brushing the scarred side of her face gently while doing so. “You know, I think you were my favorite part about this visit,” he admitted to her. She had beamed with those words, wishing over and over again that he could stay. But they couldn’t delay any longer, and although Harry could admit she was his favorite thing about the visit, she was easily the only thing he liked, too. She waved back to him as they were flying away, clutching the toy he had bestowed upon her until they had disappeared into the sky.
They were all glad to arrive once again back at the capitol, winded and exhausted from the excessive flying.
The coming few days left Harry feeling eager to take his mind off of the king’s next demands and work on some projects until their next adventure.