Chapter Text
Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the Chosen One, felt ill.
"I'm telling you, teleportation circles are the worst," Harry groaned, leaning against the wall of Selûne's temple. Dean Thomas chuckled, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder.
“Seems like the boy who lived could stand a little teleportation.” Dean teased. Harry rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall, the disorienting sensation of falling settling in his stomach. He took deep breaths, trying to shake it off. Every teleportation left him feeling queasy. As a proud and loyal paladin of Selûne, he went wherever he was called, no matter the toll on his body.
Last night, Harry and Dean were summoned to Priestess Sprigg's office. She informed them of an urgent mission in Baldur's Gate. Sprigg didn't have many details, only knowing that Selûne needed them. To Harry's dismay, she sent them off via teleportation circle.
"There you are," a familiar voice greeted them. Harry turned to see one of the brightest wizards in Faerûn, Hermione.
"Sorry we got caught in the limbo between temples," Dean joked, extending his hand. Hermione shook hands with Dean, then turned to Harry for a warm hug. Harry smiled; Hermione always had a way of making him feel more than just a friend. Their adventures together had forged a strong bond.
Today, Hermione smelled like peppermint oil, dried ink, and well-worn parchment. She must have just come from studying. Harry smiled even more as she pulled away from him. Their eyes met, sharing a knowing glance.
"Priestess McGonagall is expecting you," Hermione announced, leading the way down the hall lined with statues of the great followers of Selûne. Harry paused, looking up at one of them, his father, James Potter.
Twenty-seven years ago, James and Lily Potter found themselves under attack by the followers of Shar, Selûne's rival. This particular sect, known as the Eaters of Darkness, had finally caught up with them. James fought valiantly to save his family, but in the end, he fell, Lily vanished, and Harry was left alone.
Harry was only a year old, with no memories of his parents, just a simple scar on his forehead. The stories varied about his survival, but he chose to believe that Selûne had saved him.
So, he dedicated his life to her service. He grew up in the temple in Waterdeep, learning magic from the wise High Priest Albus. Five years ago, the Eaters of Darkness resurfaced, seeking to destroy a cursed item that could have led to their downfall.
Albus fell in the battle, and Priestess Elizabeth Sprigg took his place. However, Harry was determined to continue his quest. Though Elizabeth was more focused on helping the people and leading the choir, Harry was driven to find and destroy the Eaters of Darkness.
“Harry, you coming?” Dean asked. Harry snapped back to reality, looking at Dean.
“Of course.” He said, turning away from the statue and walking away.
Harry, Hermione, and Dean stepped into the High Priestess McGonagall's office. The room, bathed in soft, opalescent light, was adorned with towering bookshelves and a simple desk. Behind the desk, a magnificent mosaic of Selûne, the goddess of the moon, radiated a calming glow. Her staff, a beacon of light, banished the encroaching darkness of Shar, sending it fleeing to the mosaic's edges. A comforting warmth enveloped the room, making Harry feel at ease.
"Welcome to Baldur's Gate, Ser Potter and Ser Thomas," Priestess McGonagall greeted them, gesturing toward the seats in her office.
"I'll leave you to it," Hermione said, backing out and closing the door with a soft click. The sound echoed ominously in the quiet room, adding to Harry's growing sense of unease.
He took a seat and looked at Priestess McGonagall. She sat in her chair, her deep green eyes piercing through him as she studied them both.
"So," Harry began, trying to break the silence.
"Ser Potter, please give me a moment," she replied, her voice a soothing blend of sharpness and softness, like water gently eroding a rock while also offering comfort to a child healing from a burn.
Harry nodded, taking a moment to survey the office. There wasn't much more to see than he'd already observed, his gaze drawn repeatedly to the mosaic of Selûne.
"Relax, my child," a soft, reassuring voice echoed in his mind. "The answers you seek come from your faith. Do not let it wane like the moon."
Harry's head tilted to the side. The voice in his head was wise and comforting, like a trusted friend who was always there to offer support and guidance. Yet, it also held a cunning edge, reminiscent of a fox eyeing a henhouse. A shiver ran down Harry's spine, leaving him invigorated despite the chill. His crescent scar pulsed once, confirming that it was Selûne who had spoken to him.
McGonagall's eyes widened for a second before a knowing smile graced her lips. "You are the one I need, Ser Potter," she said, turning to Dean. "For you, I have a different task. Please step out of my office. I'll call for you when I'm finished. Thank you for coming all this way."
Dean stood up, gave a simple nod, and exited the room. This time the click from the door didn’ sound like a rocket going off. This time it enveloped the two of them in privacy.
"Three weeks ago, I sent a young group from the temple to find an item once sacred to Selûne: a simple chalice that could turn water to pure moonlight," McGonagall said, her voice grave. "They returned, but not alone. In their eagerness to please Selûne, they took a hostage of sorts, a young warlock from a prominent local family."
She rose from her seat, approaching Harry. "This young man seeks a way to rid himself of his cursed mark and find his place with the Moon Maiden. I believe him, and I know it won't be easy. I need you to assemble a group of adventurers to complete this task. There's not much in the way of reward, but saving his life should be enough."She said, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder.
Harry thought for a moment, his gaze fixed on his hands. Then, he nodded. "I can do that, but I want to speak to him first."
"That can be arranged," McGonagall said. "Hermione can take you to see him. She's been helping with prisoner duty while he's here. Let her know I gave you permission to speak to him. I'll give you two days to assemble your group. In the meantime, I'll investigate where you need to go first."
Harry nodded, his anger palpable as he stood up. This time, he didn't pause at his father's statue. His heart pounded in his chest, a drumbeat of rage and frustration. How could someone who sought comfort in darkness expect help from the followers of Selûne? This was clearly a trap, and McGonagall had been deceived. Those who found solace in darkness would never change, and Harry knew it.
"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, his voice sharp and on edge like a piece of broken glass. He couldn't believe he hadn't checked the library first. Fifteen minutes of searching had turned him into a bundle of nerves.s.
"Sorry," he said, aware of the sharpness in his voice. "I just—"
"No, Harry, I get it," Hermione said, understanding his frustration. "Come on, let me introduce you to Mr. Malfoy."
Harry froze, his blood running cold. He recognized the name. The Malfoy family wasn't just wealthy; they were high elves who were old and powerful, with more influence than most families in Faerûn. They prided themselves on their collection of dark magical artifacts, items that seeped out darkness like poison. No wonder they were followers of Shar.
“A Malfoy who wants to step away from the life they have? Fat chance.” He muttered, following Hermione.
The trip down to the holding area led them from the warm, moonlit sanctuary to the cold, silent darkness of a new moon. As they descended the winding staircase, a shiver ran up Harry's spine, a reminder of the stark contrast between the two realms. Though Harry was a paladin, interrogation was not his forte.
Hermione stopped outside a simple wooden door, devoid of any window. A large brass lock adorned it. She held out her wand, whispered the knock spell, "Alohomora," and the lock clicked open. Carefully, she took the lock and opened the door, revealing the dimly lit chamber within.
The room was dimly lit, and Harry struggled to make out the details. He could barely discern a bed, a chamber pot, and a sickly pale boy. The white robes the boy wore hung loosely, revealing his protruding bones. His platinum blonde hair was dirty, streaked with blood and grime. A bruise marred his right cheek, and he seemed to be nursing a wound on his left arm. The bandages didn't show any blood, but Harry knew there must be something significant beneath them.
"It's about time," the boy sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. Every hair on Harry's body stood on end. Here he was, trapped in a cell he couldn't escape, yet he still spoke like that.
"Don't speak," Harry said flatly, stalking into the room. "Lumos," he muttered, summoning dancing lights that floated above his head, rotating slowly through the phases of the moon.
"Don't speak? I suppose you're the all-important Paladin of Selûne who's supposed to be helping me?" Mr. Malfoy asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.
"I don't believe you're actually here for help," Harry replied. "I'm willing to help, but you have to prove to me that you genuinely want my assistance. I don't take Eaters of Darkness at face value."
"You're not wrong," the boy chuckled, leaning back on the bed and looking up at Harry through his lashes. "Followers of Shar can't be trusted. But if I let you cast Zone of Truth on me and don't resist, will you trust me?"
Harry paused, considering the proposal. "Fine," he said, placing his hand over his holy symbol and whispering "Veritas." The magic washed over everyone in the room, taking hold of their minds.
"Tell me, Ser Potter, do you hate me?" Mr. Malfoy asked, his voice laced with a wicked, devious grin. He looked at Harry with his pale blue eyes, and Harry let out a low growl in response.
"I'm not answering that," Harry said. "You need to tell me, are you really looking to get away from Shar?"
"Yes," Mr. Malfoy replied, his eyes filled with desperation and longing. Harry saw the truth in his gaze, realizing that the boy was indeed seeking a way out of the darkness.
A wave of guilt washed over Harry. He had doubted the priestess, snapped at the boy, and allowed his anger to cloud his judgment. He was not a dog in a cage; he was a free man walking a righteous path. This was his path now, to find a cure and bring this Malfoy into the light.
Once Draco, that was the boy's first name, was locked back in his cell, Harry and Hermione ascended the stairs back to the main floor of the temple.
"Now I need to find a group to go with me on this quest," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head throbbed whenever he was affected by mental magic.
"I happen to know some people who might be willing," Hermione said.
"This isn't a payday," Harry replied.
"I don't think that will matter to them, if we help them with some of their wants and needs..." Hermione said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Harry looked at Hermione, realizing she had something up her sleeve. He didn't have the resources to pull this together without her.
"Fine, let's meet at the Three Broomsticks Tavern tonight," Harry said. Hermione smiled, gave him a nod, and walked off to start gathering people to help.