The Heresiarch [ASOIAF / Harry Potter] (2024)

Chapter 26: Harry VII

Water surrounded Harry. He tried to disapparate, but the cold, salty water surrounded him like a cage. He couldn't get out. Or even move from the spot.

What enveloped him was like a slippery and almost elegant form of an anti-disapparation ward. And at the same time, he sank further and further into the cold and dark depths, until even the fires he had set on the ships were no longer visible. Harry didn't have to be a genius to realise that something was extraordinarily wrong here.

Fortunately, magic itself still worked. At least directly on him. A bubblehead charm gave him enough air to breathe and a warming charm kept the worst of the cold away. But even that was exhausting, as if something in this water was actively fighting his magic.

He tried to swim upwards, of course, but even with magically enhanced muscles, it didn't seem to do any good at all. It was as if the sea itself was pushing him down. And that was no small piece of magic. It required control the likes of which he had not seen in Westeros.

Eventually something touched his feet and before he could react much, something began to wrap itself around his limbs. Harry, mildly distressed, channelled Sectrum Sempra through Guidance and hacked blindly around himself. At the same time, he let pulses of Lumos slip through his left hand.

The seaweed that tried to wrap around Harry as if seized by an otherworldly will was sliced smoothly by the magically assisted blade. But it didn't help. More and more kelp seemed to flow towards Harry, clutching his arms and legs like a pack of living ropes.

Harry felt involuntarily and unpleasantly reminded of the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, if only because of the circ*mstances. He tried to loosen them from himself with Relashio. But it brought little more than a brief respite until the kelp was wrapped so tightly around Harry that he could no longer move. He struggled against the oppressive force, but it seemed hopeless.

He racked his brain feverishly for a spell that could help him. But no idea presented itself. He simply didn't know what or whom he was fighting here.

If it was a wizard or witch controlling the tendrils, he would have to attack and incapacitate his enemy to remove their control. Since Finites didn't help, he assumed it was a directly controlled construct and not animated semi-autonomously. And it was a frightening amount of control that was prevalent here.

With a wand, Harry might have been able to replicate that in the short term. But in a world where magical foci didn't seem to exist, this was extraordinary. And it urgently raised the question of who he was dealing with.

In all his time in Westeros, he had not also come to suspect that someone was lurking around who surpassed Harry in power. And this feeling was almost palpable. Like the fact that it all smelled like a trap.

An unknown entity had calculated how he would proceed. Someone had waited until he was distracted enough and positioned correctly. There shouldn't be anyone who could do this. Not a human, anyway.

And that was a rather sinister thought. Considering who Harry had fought there, it seemed possible that this was the work of the sea deity the Ironborn worshipped. Raymonda had thought this Drowned God was a fairy tale that the Ironborn used to justify their way of life. Perhaps she had been very wrong. She and a vast part of Westeros.

The absolute will that pulsed in this seaweed only made Harry's apprehension grow. He was pushed back mentally as he tried to take over one of the strands. If he didn't know it would scald him as well, Harry was almost ready to envelop himself in fire at this point just to cut the damn things off.

He considered putting sharp blades on his skin to wriggle free. At that moment, a deep grinding sound rang out, rising and falling rhythmically. It sounded like panting breaths. Or like an old, malicious laughter.

Some kind of luminous spot flickered beneath him. Then another, and more and more, until there were hundreds. They rose upwards and began to cling to seaweed leaves. Perhaps they were small crustaceans, glowing like fireflies?

The seaweed itself in front of Harry swirled and shifted. It slowly formed a shape that vaguely reminded Harry of a mixture of an octopus and a giant face without eyes. Then again, the lights moving in a synchronised fashion with the seaweed face almost resembled eyes.

Intellectually, of course, he knew that this was just a combination of different elements. The illusion of a face was created by the swirling seaweed, the glow and the strangely concentrated current. And yet it felt like a person was staring down at him. Looming. Contemptuous. Mocking.

A deep heavy voice suddenly permeated Harry: "You're quite the fool, aren't you? What was your primate brain thinking entering my realm? Was it arrogance, or stupidity?"

In this situation, Harry was grateful that he had a good grip on his Occlumency. It wasn't so much the words that shook him as the sheer force behind them. It would be crazy not to be afraid of this being. But Harry had never been one to give in to fear.

"Your realm?" Harry replied in as firm a voice as he could muster. "What's that supposed to be?"

"The sea," the voice boomed. "The realm of roaring and stillness. Of eternity and change. Always swirling and flowing and yet always the same as a whole. Richer and emptier than any other worldly place."

As the voice spoke, Harry's mind was flooded with images. Coastlines, kelp forests, coral reefs, massive creatures lying somewhere between whales and sharks, shoals of fish. Compositions of green, blue and black. Finally, huge cities on the seabed. Many of these were in ruins and others were inhabited by creatures that reminded Harry very distantly of the merpeople from his world. Meaner and more menacing.

"I've never set foot in the sea, though," Harry pressed out.

"Whatever floats on the sea also belongs to me and only stays apart because I allow it," the roar replied adamantly. "When you boarded those little ships, you crossed those boundaries."

Harry swallowed and forced himself not to be intimidated. But whenever the voice rose, he could only maintain the spells with which he protected himself from the water with great concentration. The air in the bubble around him already smelled of rot and salt, the coolness around him was damp and suffocating.

"A lot of people cross the sea on ships," Harry remarked tensely. "I don't see you bothering them."
At this, the voice laughed again, amused. Harry didn't know whether this was a good or bad sign. He wasn't sure what exactly this entity was trying to do. Since it hadn't crushed him yet, he assumed that it didn't want him dead.

"You are not just a simple harmless intruder in my domain," the voice rolled through the water. "You don't belong in this world at all. An eternal guest invited by other strangers. I am not surprised that the invaders have taken you and the new deity so readily and willingly under their wing. Kindred spirits, it seems."

"Why invaders?" Harry asked, noticing how the face took on an annoyed expression.
Contempt quivered through Harry's bones. Images flickered through Harry's mind again. But this time he could find no meaning in them. A chaos of fire, ice and stone. For a moment, Harry thought he saw something like a blazing meteorite, but it flashed too quickly before his eyes.

"Because these new gods come from outside. They don't belong here," the voice replied bitterly. "They have woven their influence, from Andalos into the world. They have displaced us old gods and taken on abstract domains until they were strong enough to chase my siblings into dark corners where they continue a pitiful existence in the shadows."

Harry realised that an orange-red glow was rising on his upper right arm the more the voice spoke. Yeah, just what Harry needed. Another god. The glowing dots in the kelp fixed this development and the sea deity laughed.

"I see you've already met some of my siblings," it boomed to Harry, almost a little smugly this time. "The lost thirteen are still suffering from their misplaced trust."

"The fire said it had been betrayed," Harry muttered uncertainly.

"Betrayed?" the voice repeated, amused. "They betrayed themselves when they thought the strangers would help them. That they would give back what they had taken. But their power is small and thin. They are like a carpet of algae on the surface of a sea, suffocating the depths below. The Fourteen Flames should never have hoped for the help of your masters."

The glow dimmed noticeably. It almost felt... rejected and despairing. Finally, it faded and only the bluish green of the depths remained.

Before Harry could probe further, as that sounded rather interesting, the voice continued to rumble through the water: "But not all of the old ones were stupid enough to make a pact with the new. They never had a hold over the waters of this world. Not over the endless sea, not over the meandering rivers and not over the cold ice. And we, the true old gods, do not submit to their games. Even the clouds that glide across the sky are our eyes into their domains."

"And what does that mean?", Harry gasped. "Do you think I'm like one of those clouds just for the Eight? I didn't even know you were real."

"You are part of their influence, willingly or not," replied the sea deity. "The Seven themselves are weak today but firmly in their place. We had a comfortable balance. It is not acceptable for them to find new strength. This foreign magic is more than they ever were. They will drain you both as they did with the others. But until then, you can shift the scale. And I will not be threatened."

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The deity droned on, "They have already destroyed too much. My domain will remain closed to you and your mistress until you submit to me or my remaining siblings. They should not forget that my realm is still independent. Your influence shall be forbidden."

There was dead silence for a few moments. Harry couldn't help but ask, "Then why am I still here? You could have killed me at any time, couldn't you?" And on the subject of killing, another thought occurred to him, "After all, you killed all those followers just to make a point."

"I?" laughed the deity. "Oh no, that was an obsequious servant all by himself. It doesn't take more than a few whispered words in the right ear. If the gods of heaven have their emissary, why shouldn't I have one too? After all, we don't want things to become asymmetrical, do we?"

That was ghastly news. Harry doubted that this sorcerer of the sea, whoever it was, could work magic according to Harry's standards, but there were plenty of parallels between the powers of this world and his own. And it suddenly became clear to Harry why the Ironborn had chosen such a perplexing attack strategy.

"The attackers were unwitting human sacrifices," Harry realised in horror. "The waves were summoned by their collective death."

"The young human overshot the mark somewhat," the deity remarked approvingly. "No sense of proportion, but he fits in with his people as a result."

"But they were still your people, your worshippers. Don't they give you more influence over the world? Don't you care about them?" Harry wondered, more to himself. The old Seven had implied something like that.

"They are irrelevant to me," the voice explained disinterestedly. "I have better and more numerous servants when I need them. Worship strengthens us, but we do not need it. Otherwise the Seven of yours would be overwhelming. And they haven't been that for a long time."

The deity laughed and added: "And remember this: The endless waters always inspire fear. The sea is vast and full of depths. And a god is its domain. Anyone who fears the sea also gives me strength."

"If you're so powerful, why isn't this an ocean world?" Harry interjected.

Harry wasn't naïve enough to take the deity's words at face value. It was obvious that it was pursuing some kind of plan. But what that might be still eluded him. It seemed excessive for a mere warning.

"There is a place for everything in the grand design. I know mine," the voice boomed. "Your masters have risen above what they are and paid the price. They deserved to fade and now a coincidence is supposed to make them regain their strength? Let us remind them that I remained silent out of indifference, not out of frailty. I remember how the old game is played."

All this remained strange. What was it with gods to speak in generalities and riddles? The Drowned God remained ominous and vague.

"What's the purpose of all this?" Harry wondered, looking from the tendrils of Tang that bound him to the face before him. "Just to make a statement, or a warning, it didn't need all this. What are you going to do to me?"

"Things must be felt for your kind to understand them," the deity replied reprovingly. "The waves I plant in your mind will never stop swirling. There will be no effort against me and my kingdom without me knowing about it. There are always ways to make a threat useful."

"How could I be a danger to something like you?" Harry objected, not quite managing to keep the incredulous chuckle out of his voice. "You're a god."

"And you, little hairless ape, are a breathing infraction of the rules," explained the Drowned God. "You, and your mistress, of course. You came after the pact was created that brought order to the chaos. You could become a great tool of my will, or at least an entertainment. Killing you wouldn't be very appealing. And who knows? I might not win you over, but your descendants might submit to me."

That was a thought Harry hadn't really entertained yet. He avoided thinking about a more distant future. Those would force him to commit far more to where he really wanted to go. And he had always enjoyed living into the day far more, beyond short-term arrangements.

The idea of fallen descendants made it more urgent to overcome himself. Harry knew that his power could be devastating in the wrong hands. Only he could raise his children, should he ever have any, in a way that didn't turn them into something that made the purebloods of his world look like schoolyard bullies. But what about the generations that would follow long after his death? Who would keep them in check if they developed delusions of grandeur?

"Hold all this in your mind, wizard," the sea deity spoke, the last word with a mocking undertone. "Stay away from my domain and we can ignore each other. For now. But expect torment beyond your imagination if you cross my boundaries again. You have been admonished."

The strange swirling current disappeared in front of him and the glowing dots ceased to shine. The seaweed sank down again. The strands might still be wrapped around his limbs, but there was no longer any will behind them. It only took Harry a moment to realise this and he immediately disapparated.

Harry instantly found himself on his knees on the hill where Harry had left the cart. Confusingly, the sun was shining. And there seemed to be no sign of the cart.

He was pretty sure he hadn't spent more than half an hour under water. And it had been early night when he'd set fire to the first ship. Another thing to be wary of when it came to the Drowned God. Time might not be his domain, but apparently there were overlaps.

"Harry!" a familiar voice called to his side and someone rushed into him.

Selyse nearly knocked him over as she clung to him. She stayed like that as she asked in a raw voice, "Where have you been? We were worried sick. Daven even suggested you might have fallen. I knew that was ridiculous, of course. I was waiting here for you."

"Ah," Harry said. Despite having obviously been in the water for so long, his throat felt dry and sore as he spoke. "I had a conversation with the Drowned God. Not that he ever introduced himself. Let me summarise: He's not fond of me. What happened here?"

Selyse broke away from him again and looked him in the face. She looked as if she hadn't slept for a long time. Her eyes were red. But even in this state, her wide relieved smile mesmerised him.

"The Drowned God, hmm? You'd better explain in detail later. Well, Lord Tywin can forget about the city anyway. The knights' seats have weathered this flood well, but the rest? Shimmersands is pretty wrecked," Selyse explained, a hint of gloom in her voice. "We've helped where we can. But the survivors are nervous. No one knows what happened, and not much of the army is left."

Harrys let his eyes wander to the beach and saw that piles of corpses were heaped up there. Selyse, who followed his gaze, said, "I offered to burn them. They're quite happy to get rid of them, I think."

"How long was I gone? Have the Ironborn been driven off?" asked Harry, adding more urgently, "Have you noticed any of them behaving unusually?"

"Not that I know of," the Valyrian beauty replied with a shrug. "The remaining Ironborn who managed to stay on their ships have fled. Of those on land, the army left no one alive. And you were gone for more than a day."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. A whole day. Raymonda was probably spinning this as a victory somehow. But it was hard for him to imagine how she would manage that. But then again, maybe he was assuming too high a death toll.

He lifted his eyelids again and looked sullenly at the sea. Before he did anything else, Harry had to find this sorcerer that the Drowned God was guiding. The man was obviously a madman if he was sacrificing so many of his own people for... whatever this had been. But who knew what this one thought he had done.

But the servant was only as vile as his master in that regard. The sea deity may have endeavoured to raise doubts about the Eight in Harry, but everything about its actions, its coldness and its disregard for life certainly did not endear Harry to him. No more than the works of the fourteen flames did.

Harry wanted answers, certainly. But no serious rebellion flickered in him yet. His right hand still clutched Guidance. Perhaps he should take a small cut at himself after all.

The idea was not entirely new. It was a way to at least communicate directly with the Stranger. If they allowed it, of course. But he would save that for when he could ensure his own safety while he was knocked out.

But these old gods were not very enticing at all. Perhaps he should call them primodrial gods, so as not to confuse them with the old gods of the north. After all, he had not yet fully explored what those were all about. For all he knew they belonged to those primodrial gods too.

But whatever they were, they all seemed not to be gods of humanity. And Harry had no intention of fighting for something that at best only knew indifference and at worst malice for humans. In that, at least, he found no fault in the Eight.