Regina, the newly renamed Kwi, turned out to be a persistent runner, even with two people on her back, and actually managed to carry the two of them for almost the entire day, and not at a shabby pace, too. Still, there came a point where the large reptile was simply exhausted, so Harry and Arden climbed down, rubbed their sore bums and took stock of their surroundings. They were at the foothills of a group of mountains, nothing too large, but still definitely the highest thing he had seen on the planet so far.
"We have to cross them," Arden said, not exactly sounding happy about it, either. "From the top, we should already be able to see the Imperial prison complex. They sometimes never have their flying machines around, but sometimes one will come and drop off prisoners. That's our only chance off the planet; everyone else, they like to shoot down. I've seen the explosions."
Harry just nodded and took in the rocky rise they would have to climb the next day. "What planet are we on, exactly?" he suddenly asked, surprised as he was about not having done so before. "You've never mentioned, and I kind of just… appeared here."
She looked at him questioningly, obviously not completely believing him. Nonetheless, she answered. "This is Dathomir," she said. "I would not be able to tell you more, or how the galaxy sees us, I've never left the planet. But I can't see how even the existence of us, or this planet would be advertised. I might not know much about the Empire, but even they won't want to make an isolated prison-world all too public."
A hum was the only thing she got in agreement. Even with his limited knowledge, this Empire smelled rather totalitarian to him, beyond just being called 'The Empire', in the first place. He had a distinct feeling that he would be at odds with those people sooner than he knew.
"I guess we'll make camp, then," Harry sighed, giving the rocky soil that would be tomorrow's challenge a last, furtive look. Then, he proceeded to pull out the Potear-hide tent from his rucksack, once more thanking his instincts they had made him create this particular item. Or maybe it had been boredom?
In short order, what without magic would have been hard-pressed to house two people was assembled before them, carefully stuck to the ground, and magically expanded so the two of them would be able to keep a comfortable distance; nothing too far, given that the hide still resented any magic placed on it, but it would do for a while. They would not have to stay long, after all. So, under the both shocked and appreciative gaze of his companion, possibly even new friend, Harry led the way into their domicile for the night after making Regina was well taken care of.
After his long time in solitude, Harry had not planned on having any guests, so with little comment, he used his staff to transfigure a semi-comfortable bed. Feeling the conflicting urges of being a gentleman, and getting a good night's sleep, he finally succumbed to his own moral compass and offered Arden the small cot.
Only minutes later, they were both lying in bed, harried by both worry and travel-induced exhaustion, but neither could really sleep. Harry had been turning around in his bed for he did not know how long, when he finally ended up looking directly at his companion over the warming, blue flames he had conjured. Unsurprisingly, she was looking right back and, judging from her expression, she had been looking at him for quite some time.
"I have never seen magic such as yours before," the witch finally said, sounding rather unsure of herself, although why, Harry had no idea. "You never told me where you come from, or how you came to be here. There is something… something sad about you. You almost seem to be missing something."
If nothing else, Harry now knew, why she had been unsure of herself; it was certainly a daring observation to make, considering how little they knew each other. Still, despite everything, her words somehow rang true.
"I have no idea, how I got here," he finally admitted, after a long period of silence. "I don't even know, how long I've been here. It's not like I bothered to count days."
She kept looking at him, almost through him, obviously not satisfied by his answer, yet unwilling to ask further.
"Might be a hundred days, half a year, a year," Harry guessed. "No more than a year, but other than that, no idea. It was just… good, to be at peace."
"Hmm," Arden commented. "Peace; sounds like a good thing. Not something you'll ever find on Dathomir, but a good thing, nonetheless. So, you have known war, unrest?"
Harry nodded. "Since I was way too young for someone to know such a thing," he admitted. "The first time I killed someone, I was eleven. A mentor of mine told me he was already dead, but I know now that was not the case; I killed a man. Not something I regret, but neither something I enjoy."
"Good," Arden replied, a slight smile curving her lips. "It's not something one should enjoy. Being triumphant, by all means, but for overcoming something, not for killing. Killing is just the unfortunate consequence. Not to be shied away from, but not celebrated either. Still, eleven? That's not all that young."
He was just about to reply in shock, when something he had learned in astronomy class came to the forefront of his mind. "Arden, how long does a year last on Dathomir?"
"491 rotations," came the quick answer, immediately starting Harry on the calculations in his mind. It would explain her reaction to the age-thing, to a degree.
"Well, where I'm from, the year lasts 365 days," Harry informer his companion. "So, in Dathomir years I would have been around seven or eight years old, I guess."
With the age adjusted, Arden seemed a little more baffled by what he had told her. "How come?" she asked, visibly and audibly trying not to come off nosy. "It's not something many at that age do."
"Good deal of luck while defending myself," he answered curtly. "Weird circumstances with the kind of magic my people use."
Obviously noting his unwillingness to elaborate, the witch fell silent again, the only difference now being that she did not start talking again. Instead, she had fallen asleep.
OOOOOOOO
Awoken the next morning by the annoyingly effective buzzing sound of an alarm charm, Harry groaned, before cracking his joints and sitting up on the rough stone. Apparently, he had been more tired than he thought, evidenced by the fact that the bed he had created for himself had reverted some time during the night. At least, it had not woken him up, and the blankets had held longer and were still keeping him warm.
The next thing the wizard, now impeded by neck-pain, noticed, was the supremely amused expression of his travelling companion. Over on the camp-bed he had originally made for himself, Arden was watching him, clearly trying to hold in her laughter at his predicament.
"So, I suppose there is a time limit on your magic, no?" she remarked, surprisingly composed.
Following the halfway serious, halfway comedic glare he sent back, Harry replied, "If I just use my staff, definitely. With a real wand, or had I used runes, it would hold much longer. Being tired and unconcentrated doesn't help either."
She nodded, which he guessed was meant to communicate her understanding of what he had said. Without another word, the young wizard made his way for his bags, out of which he pulled a decent amount of food for them both. The amount of meat he had been eating was probably not the most nutritious of diets, but it would tide them over for the time being. If push came to shove, he still had a few nutrient potions he had managed to cobble together from local flora and wildlife.
Within minutes, the two of them were eating their drab meal of a few berries and foraged veggies, accompanied by a good deal of dried meat Harry could not even remember which animal it came from. When wishing for a simpler life during the first 17 or 18 years of his decidedly more complicated one, he had hardly imagined this; it was in a way simpler, though.
A wave of his staff soon had the tent packed up, before the small bundle quickly vanished into his backpack. He was just about to try and mount Regina, but before he could, the large blue reptile looked at him almost… sadly? As if trying to tell him something, or maybe it was actually doing exactly that, the animal that had become somewhat of a friend, looked at the rocky soil they would be traversing all through the day, shook its head, and looked back at Harry.
"That's okay," the wizard assured the remarkably intelligent creature. "Thanks for taking us this far."
With one last nudge of the square snout, strong enough to almost make Harry topple over, the creature turned around ran back toward the savanna where the two of them had first met. From Arden's reaction to Regina, or Rex at the time, it had been an honour to only be accompanied by the large saurian-like creature, so he vowed not to be too broken up about it. Still, a lingering sense of loneliness remained.
The now diminished group consisting of a young wizard, a Dathomirian witch and a snake began their climb shortly thereafter, their goal being to reach the top before noon, if at all possible. Words were rarely heard during their hike, and it was this silence that allowed Harry to reflect on himself a bit more, a process that had probably been started by Arden's questions the evening before.
He would be the first to admit to being a bit disconcerted about his reaction to basically losing everything he had ever known. And while no one would begrudge him his feelings of generally not caring about leaving behind the wizarding world itself, because really, how much would he be missing it? He certainly would not miss being hailed for things he simply did want to be hailed for, and Voldemort's death would have made the whole thing even worse. Or being publicly vilified. However, there had been a few people he had the feeling he should be missing; not Ron, necessarily, someone he still did not know how he felt about, after all the shit he had pulled over the years. But Hermione? He should certainly be missing Hermione, should he not? And Ginny? Mrs. Weasley?
Over his ever-circling thoughts, the march up the mountain, calling it a hike seemed, in hindsight, a bit overinflated, seemed to both fly by and drag on. Still, in the end, he had no idea where time had gone, when they reached the top of the highest peak. While aware that he should probably have joined Arden in taking a light meal, Harry instead sat down on a patch of dry grass and let himself clam down, breathing deeply, like he did whenever he tried remembering some of the things he had witnessed during… whatever it had been that had deposited him on this planet, in this time. And as he let himself sink deeper into what could probably be considered a meditation exercise, he was struck by a weird instinct.
Guided by an almost irresistible urge, he rose out of his seated position, and began following the ridge, the middle point of which they had made their rest stop. Harry was now following that ridge to its higher northern end, where it grew both rockier as well as narrower. At the very tip, with deep drops in all but one direction, there was a small, almost processed looking piece of stone, on top of which, barely visible, lay a small, almost invisible crystal.
Just before touching the mystery crystal, Harry stayed his hand; things calling out to you would certainly make the list of things Arthur Weasley would warn his children of, along things that could think while having no visible part where they could keep their thoughts. Despite his misgivings, all the spells he had in his repertoire to reveal harmful intent came back negative. Mollified that he would not go up in flames, or anything the likes of which, the young wizard followed his earlier instinct and bowed down to pick up the mysterious crystal.
The moment he touched the surface, a feeling flooded him that he could only correlate to one other: how it had felt to take his holly and phoenix feather wand in his hand for the first time. Not quite as intense, maybe, but then again, it was only a piece of crystal, one part of a whole, and in that moment, Harry knew he had found a core for his new staff, or wand, or whatever it would turn out to be in the end.
OOOOOOOO
"There, that landing pad is our only way off the planet," Arden explained, pointing toward the raised metal structure in drab grey. "Doesn't seem like they have a ship there at the moment," she added, a hint of annoyance tinting her voice.
"Makes sense," Harry thought out loud. "If they're worried about someone leaving the planet, they won't be leaving any ships just standing around. Wouldn't do us any good, anyway." Seeing the questioning glance, he was receiving from the witch sitting next to him in the underbrush around the Imperial garrison/prison, he added, "I don't know how to fly a starship. Do you?"
"fair point," she admitted, before turning her attention back to the occupational forces that had invaded her home. "So, what do we do?"
Harry had been thinking about that for quite a while; he might have been able to assimilate the knowledge from some unlucky Imperial, running around the base, but he would rather not. Ethical questions aside, he had by now simply decided not to snoop into people's personal lives, what he had gained from entering Arden's mind to learn her language had been purely theoretical. Theory was not something he was willing to base his escape, and the survival of his new friend on. That was especially true when it concerned flying a starship.
"Well, I'm guessing," he led into an explanation of his plan, but was rudely interrupted before he could say any more.
"Hands up, civilians aren't allowed around the Imperial Complex," barked a harsh male voice from behind. "Turn around, slowly."
They had been cornered by a group of nine soldiers, dressed in plain green-grey jumpsuits, levelling some kind of gun at them. The leader, who Harry presumed had spoken to them. They all wore breastplates and helmets and seemed hardly older than either of the two people they were holding at gunpoint.
It was a good deal of work to overcome the sudden sense of panic flooding him, but soon Harry became aware that he could use the situation to his advantage. They would always have had to find someone they could milk for information, a situation which had now remedied itself quite nicely. Thanking his unusually lucky star for having learned that particular spell the young wizard grinned internally, before turning to Arden.
"Terribly sorry," he said, an apologetic smirk on his lips.
She smiled back at him, a genuine smile, albeit tinged with sadness. "Not your fault this happened."
"Oh, not that…" Harry replied dismissively. "This. STUPEFY MAGNUS!"
The last bit had been roared, accompanied by a hard impact from his staff into the ground, from which a wave of red energy went outward, incapacitating everyone it touched, namely eight soldiers and one Dathomirian witch.
Just to ensure no one would wake up before their time, he went around and stunned each one again, individually, before he kneeled down and revived Arden.
"Oh, my head," she complained as she sat up, intently rubbing her temples.
Harry chuckled. "And that's what I was sorry for."
She looked around the small clearing at the edge of which they had been caught, inspected each of the soldiers individually, and turned back around to look at him. "I think I can accept a bit of discomfort when it means not being a prisoner," she said earnestly. "What do we do with these? Kill them? Believe me, they would not hesitate to do the same."
He shook his head. "Look at them, they're barely older than us, and I don't think they would actually just murder prisoners," the wizard replied, looking at his companion harshly. "Besides, if we kill them, we might elicit some kind of response that we definitely don't want. I'll look into their minds for some information, then alter their memories."
It was plainly visible that Arden felt a burning need to question him on what he had said, but obviously managed to keep her curiosity in check, something Harry was intensely thankful for. So, instead of answering a slew of questions, he immersed himself in the memories from which he had initially learned the mind arts, unwilling as he was to permanently harm who were basically just young people around his age.
With a steeling breath, he arose, strode over to the leader of the patrol that had found them, went down on one knee, and hit him with a reviving spell. The man fought against his binds for a bit, all the while looking fearfully at Harry. Trying to block out his feeling of guilt at intruding the soldier's mind, the wizard sought eye-contact and, as soon as it was established, he intoned, "Legilimens."
What he found in the sergeant's mind, for that was his rank, as it turned out, supported nearly all of his earlier assumptions. While the man himself, as the squad leader, had a bit more experience, he was dissatisfied with his squad, made up of fresh recruits from all over the Empire, reasonably professional, but with no real interest in serving the Army. Not one of them was happy to be stationed on Dathomir, which they considered a dead-end posting if there ever was one, an assessment Harry found himself agreeing with as soon as he started learning more.
After a few minutes of careful search, mindful as he was of neither causing undue pain nor peeking at anything too private, Harry withdrew from the sergeant's mind, before quickly re-stunning him.
"We're lucky," he relayed his findings. "They get supplies and new prisoners once a month, that's in three days. Otherwise, no one lands on or leaves the planet without being shot at by something called a Victory that's guarding the planet. Otherwise, these are just conscripts wishing to be anywhere else but here. Now tell me, what kind of local wildlife would be attacking a patrol like this, and how would that look?"
OOOOOOOO
"I've laid a few basic wards, so don't leave the clearing. You won't find back," Harry warned his companion, as they watched the small Imperial patrol trudge away in their tattered uniforms, a good few bruises adorning their bodies, while three of them had 'lost' their weapons and some gear in a stampede of large, local herbivores.
With nary a further commentary, Harry erected the tent and sat himself down in front of his small workspace, laying out the guns in front of him. From the trooper's memories he knew how to operate and service the weapons, but given that he had some time available, he wanted to actually go through the motions at least a few times. Also, having taken one more than they needed to arm themselves, he would be taking a look at the surplus gun in an effort to find out, how well this kind of technology worked in conjunction with his magic.
Therefore, while Arden was practicing her melee proficiency on the patch of grass in front of the tent, he was now inspecting an E-11 blaster rifle, standard armament for the Imperial army. From a design standpoint the whole thing was rather simple; it had a grip, a barrel, a hole one should take care to point at the enemy and not one's own foot. Basic muggle firearm, in essence.
Still, the technology of these weapons was way beyond anything the muggles had ever developed on Earth, and at the moment, it was way beyond Harry's understanding, as well. The man he had read had been a basic grunt, after all, not someone overly interested in how exactly the weapon he used worked. Oh, he had a rudimentary understanding, for sure, enough to clear any malfunctions, but not to the extent that Harry would require to try anything too complicated with the weapon.
Resigning himself to the fact that, for the time being, experimentation with this fascinating technology would be limited, Harry proceeded to practice dis- and reassembling the blaster faster and faster, until he was satisfied he would probably be able to do it from muscle memory, without going through the time-intensive process of accessing someone else's memory. Satisfied with his own proficiency, he decided that the next thing he would do would be to test his own proficiency against such a gun.
To this end, he transfigured a number of stone slabs, which he arranged to be a kind of chamber, leaving a hole just large enough to push the barrel through. He then applied a basic shield charm to the back of the chamber and fired.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
On the seventh shot, he felt the shield buckle, on the ninth it failed spectacularly.
"So, I better not get caught in the crossfire," he mused. "Still, better than nothing."
"Hey, what are you doing?" a severely sweaty Arden asked from behind him, looking over his shoulder at the contraption he had constructed. "Still testing the Imperials' weapons?"
"Hmm," Harry nodded as an affirmation. "I'd like to keep a low profile, and that's not going to happen if I start throwing around spells. I was just looking at how those guns worked to see if I could upgrade them. I have a few ideas, I just don't know, whether they'll tolerate my magic. Technology from my home usually did not."
"Can you show me?" she asked, looking at the weapons in fascination. "I'm not sure I like using them but throwing away the advantage would be stupid."
Over the next hour, Harry went through maintenance and handling of the rifles with Arden, showing her the same drills he, himself had drawn from the sergeant's memories. She turned out to be a quick study, and shortly, she was almost as quick at it as he was. Given that he had double the experience she did, how ever little difference that made in absolute numbers, Harry was impressed. So, within short order, he was back to his original inquiry; how well did these blasters tolerate magic?
Given that his stated goal was being sneaky, he decided the first thing he would try would be to silence the uncomfortably loud weapon, something that was already easier said than done. From what little he knew about Earth's muggle firearms, and it was not all that much, given that he had never looked for any kind of gunmaker in his memories, he knew that they had two reasons to be loud; the first was the explosion of the propellant, something he would not have to worry about with blasters.
However, it was the second thing that made blaster operation loud, and it was the displacement of air around the particle beam, something much harder to silence than a 'simple' explosion, and even harder to eliminate, given the central position it held in this technology. Frankly, Harry had been surprised how knowledgeable the sergeant was about the topic, especially with his general ignorance concerning the finer points of how the beam came to be. Still, he supposed it would make sense for the Empire to make sure their soldiers were aware of their weapons' capabilities.
Resigning himself to return to the silencing issue at a later time, he turned his attention to a different problem, namely the sergeant's general state of annoyance with overheating weapons. Now that was a problem he could easily remedy within minutes. The runic equivalent of a cooling charm was applied shortly to the underside of the barrel where he was sure the enchantment would also incorporate the cooling coils.
Under the watchful eyes of his travelling companion, and with the safety firmly activated, Harry carried the gun outside, where he placed it on one of the stone slabs he had used earlier. In short order, the small testing chamber was rebuilt, only outside, and covered with both a silencing charm and a shield, the blaster itself levitating at the opening. Already pressing his eyes closed, the wizard pulled on the string he had attached to the trigger mechanism and… nothing happened.
Not that much, at least.
When he opened his eyes, it became clear that the blaster had indeed fired a shot, but nothing more; a favourable outcome if there ever was one. Just to make sure it had not been an accident, or simply blind luck, he fired again, and again, and again until the power pack ran out. Still, nothing had blown up. Satisfied with his success, Harry dispelled the protections he had erected, only to extend the silencing charm onto the whole clearing. Within short order, the cooling enchantment was applied to the two other weapons, and both he and Arden were shooting at two conjured bullseyes, both dearly hoping they would not need that training.