Chapter 7
“Germy Hermy! Great to see ya! And Nocty, a pleasure as always.” The bearded man said.
“Sheogorath, Nocturnal, what are you doing using my altar as a conduit?” The mass of eyes and tentacles somehow asked, seeing as tentacles and eyes shouldn’t have been able to talk.
“Don’t be such a sourpuss Mory-moo. Anyway, Nocty over there didn’t even mean to hijack your little acolyte’s altar. I did though, mostly to welcome Nocty, but I’d been meaning to check on Luna over here.”
“Fred, stop ogling.” George hissed at his twin, before speaking up to the crowd. “Hi, um George Weasley, that’s my twin, Fred. What the fuck is going on?”
“George, how are you so tactless?” Harry sighed, intending to explain until the Mad God interrupted him.
“We’re demon gods, here to steal your souls!” He yelled before cackling with laughter. “No, but do explain for the little Earth Mortals Mr. Tentacle Wizard.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Harry sighed “Unfortunately, the Mad God isn’t entirely wrong. They aren’t demons, they’re Daedric Princes, but for you, they’re kind of the same. Fred, the Prince you were ogling is Lady Nocturnal, Lady of the Night and Mistress of Shadows, Patron of Thieves and Queen of the Nightingales. The one making you look violently ill Geroge, and do stop green doesn’t suit you, would be my… patron god I suppose you could say. Lord Hermaeus Mora, The Gardener of Men, the Prince of Fate, and Lord of Secrets. If you haven’t noticed, I made some changes to the Chamber at his behest. Finally is Sheogorath, Lord of the Never-There, Comforter of Men, the Mad God himself. Luna is… under his protection, I think?”
“OK, that’s… a lot to take in. I’m just going to have a little mental breakdown in the corner.”
“You do that George. Now, not to disrespect someone of your stature, but what are you doing here, Lady Nocturnal, Sheogorath?”
“No Lord, little wizard? I’m hurt.” Sheogorath responded. “I’m here because it’s fun, but Nocty was pulled here by a funny little artifact. That cloak you have in your pocket, the Shadowcloak, is one of her artefacts.”
At that, Nocturnal gave Sheogorath a sharp look. “If you are lying, Trickster, I will ensure the renewal of the Greymarch.”
“Oh Nocty, you wish you could do that by yourself. Plus, can’t you feel it? That missing piece of your power?”
“Mortal, present the cloak, if that lunatic is correct.”
Given he could quite easily be smote by Nocturnal, Harry just pulled the cloak out of his pocket and held it out in both hands.
“So he speaks truely. As a boon for the return of my artifact, I shall grant you the ability to travel through the shadows. Now, how were you aware of this, Sheogorath?”
“Well, to answer that, it’s story time!” The Lord of the Never-There exclaimed, clicking his finger as he did, making a shadow puppet theatre.
Moving to levitate over the rest of the group, he sat cross-legged upside down.
“Once upon a time, there were three brothers, who apparently met Death and were gifted three items, but that’s a load of Baliwog shit. What actually happened starts in Morrowind. Now, long story short, we Princes will occasionally give some artifacts to whatever mortal impresses us enough. Sometimes, we don’t check with each other who has a claim over what mortal, so they wind up getting multiple artifacts. Such was the case for one of the Morag Tong who had taken up shop in Morrowind. Problem was, he had mightly pissed off the newest initiate into the Nightingales. Even longer story short, Gratius something something stole the Skeleton Key, used it on the Dunmer, and sent him here! For some reason, he loaded off the artifacts onto some silly little mortals who misused them. Well besides the youngest.”
“Uncle Sheo, you wouldn’t happen to know what the other items were, would you?”
“Not a clue Loo-Loo. Nocty might though, I was mostly focused on hating the fucker.”
“Unfortunately, I do. He was a foul, loathsome little thing. The other artifacts, the stone and staff, though I suppose it has molded itself into whatever focus is most common in this world, belong to two other Princes. The stone, The Twilight Stone of Souls, is an artifact of Azura’s. As far as I am aware, it allows the wielder to recall the souls of the dead, if you channel magicka through it.”
“What about the staff? Although it probably got turned into a wand, knowing how the wizards in this realm are.”
“Ah, that is… complex. The Staff of the Tyrant. From what I recall, and unfortunately, I know my recollection is correct, is an artifact that belongs to… Mehrunes Dagon.”
Harry and Hermaeus Mora both sighed in exasperation at the same time.
“Well, we shall need to disconnect the Staff from Dagon. I shudder to think what forms of destruction he would wreak upon this world. It would not be amiss to return the Stone to Azura if possible.”
“Indeed Mora, though we would have to find both artifacts first.”
“Oh, I know where the Staff is. Though it’s a wand now.” Luna piped up from where she was comforting the twins.
“You do?” Harry asked, shocked.
“Of course. Daddy and I have been keeping track of quite a few artifacts, making note of when they pop up. The Staff, or the Elder Wand as it’s known now, has quite a traceable history, given that it tends to leave bodies where it goes.”
“So who has it now?”
“Oh, Dumbledore.”