That night was… curious. Especially for Hannah.
For the first time, she saw clearly how important we were to these Muggles, but in a way that differed from the previous villages. Here, wizards were not just spiritual leaders or dangerous weapons: they were almost sacred figures, and the city was willing to do anything to win their favor.
When night fell, it wasn't just gifts that arrived at our room, but people as well. Offerings, to put it one way.
They were presents that, according to their customs, wizards might appreciate: women to "satisfy" me, and even some young men for Hannah. Here, both wizards and witches were seen as individuals with strange, sometimes perverse desires, and there was no hesitation in sending people to sate those supposed appetites.
Among these offerings were even daughters and female relatives of the chief himself.
The logic behind it was clear, though twisted: it was known that the child of a wizard had a high probability of inheriting magic. The possibility of one of these young women becoming pregnant by me and giving birth to a wizard in service to the ruling family didn't just exist—it was deeply desired.
I had to explain to Hannah what was happening and why.
Talking to her about politics in those terms was… uncomfortable. Explaining that, from their perspective, this was a shrewd and even reasonable maneuver—albeit a dangerous one—was not simple. I couldn't tell if her expression reflected confusion, shock, or a hard-to-conceal disgust.
In the end, the poor girl didn't know how to react and just wanted those people to leave. Still, knowing me and keeping my "track record" in mind, she went as far as to hint that perhaps I could accept those gifts if I wished.
I declined the offer.
I did so with a simple excuse: that if I accepted, she would have to be present. And since I knew she wouldn't want to do that, I couldn't leave her alone and vulnerable without me by her side. Of course, that could have been resolved with a clone accompanying her… but that didn't matter. What mattered was the gesture.
So, I had to dismiss those "offerings."
I did it firmly, but also with a certain gentleness, especially toward those who had come for me. Particularly with the chief's daughter, whom I let go with careful words and deliberate ambiguity.
After all, politics is also played in the details.
Hannah looked at me, visibly confused.
"If you really want to do it, go," she finally said, turning around and settling down to lie back, without looking at me. "I don't care…"
But it was evident that even she didn't know how to feel about it.
"Jealous?" I asked playfully.
Before she could answer, I continued:
"Being honest is good… but sometimes you have to act according to what is needed, not what is felt. This is also a lesson for you. Tell me, do you think it was wrong for the chief to send those people to us?"
"Wasn't it?" she asked uncomfortably. "I don't know… the feeling it gave me was horrible, but…"
"And do you think the way I dismissed them was wrong?" I insisted. "Stroking her arm, her face."
She turned to look at me.
"No… I guess not," she said hesitantly. "I mean, if you wanted to… you should be able to do it with them, like with the others. Your other girlfriends accept it, so…" Her voice trailed off, growing more confused.
"It wasn't exactly because I wanted to," I replied, settling in beside her. "Though I won't deny I'm curious about what it would be like to be with an Amazonian native of this era… yes. But both situations are based on the same thing." I paused. "Interests."
During the time when neither of us could fall asleep, I decided to teach her something I hadn't touched upon with her until now: the world of machinations.
I explained what the chief wanted, what I wanted, and why those kinds of moves were normal—even expected—in circles of power. I told her about pure-blood families, silent pacts, and favors disguised as courtesy. Even Dumbledore, I told her, played this game… it's just that in our time there are more laws, more masks. Here, by contrast, everything was more direct. Cruder.
Hannah was not the heir to a powerful family, nor had she been born to move in that world, so she had never needed to learn these things. That talk wasn't necessary for her survival… but it was necessary to open her mind. To show her how the world actually worked.
Finally, when exhaustion began to take over, Hannah asked one last question, glancing sideways toward the door where those girls had gone.
"Even though you rejected them now… are you going to look for them later? Or would you accept them in the future?"
"Perhaps," I replied honestly. "As I said, I'm tempted. But tell me… would that bother you?"
"No… I don't think so," she replied after a few seconds. "Why?"
"Because if for the sake of a couple of girls I end up making you angry or causing you to distance yourself from me, they wouldn't be worth it," I said calmly. "As I told you, all of this is a matter of interests… and right now, I'm interested in you. They would be a fleeting pleasure. Your affection, on the other hand, is worth much more to me."
...
The next day, we left the chief's house. He interpreted our departure as a direct offense because of his "offering" and immediately came to apologize.
I tried to reassure him. From his point of view, his move had been blunt, yes, but understandable. Wizards usually had volatile temperaments or twisted minds in certain respects, and the fear that, despite our apparent calm, we might eventually explode in fury was quite reasonable for the time. It took him a while to understand that we weren't leaving the city, just his house… but eventually, he got it.
Our plan was simple: get a place of our own. Away from those political machinations that, after understanding them, Hannah had ended up loathing.
We walked through the city accompanied by some guides, looking at possible locations until we found one on the edge of the settlement, where the houses were more dispersed and the jungle wasn't far away. It was a perfect spot: close enough not to be isolated, far enough to have our own space.
It was just Hannah and me, so we didn't need much. Besides, we didn't know how long we would stay; at least until I could learn the language well and find out if there was any useful information about the temple we were seeking.
We rejected every offering and every proposal of help from the chief. For that reason, our future "home" rose slowly, bringing materials from the jungle or the Fief and working day by day. It could have been much easier to accept resources and labor, but maintaining that status of independence gave us a special satisfaction when we finally saw the result.
Partly, I did it for Hannah: to give her a real sense of achievement, away from intrigues and forced favors. And partly, it was my old gamer mentality. I had always liked starting from the basics, even when I had the means to skip entire steps. Accepting everything served up by local kings and chiefs felt boring to me; I had long ago surpassed challenges that others couldn't even imagine. Perhaps if I were alone, I would have prioritized efficiency… but I enjoyed that time with Hannah, and I didn't feel it was a waste.
With magic, raising the house was relatively simple. A small stone construction, indistinguishable from those of the local commoners. Two modest rooms, a kitchen-dining area, a small storehouse, and a private bathroom for Hannah. There were no modern comforts, no large spaces like we were used to, and everything had a primitive air… but, somehow, it also had charm.
...
Time flew by, perhaps too quickly. Before I realized it, a year had already passed since our arrival in this place.
I learned the language relatively quickly thanks to several people sent by the chief, and by the following month, I could communicate fluently. At the same time, I kept updating Hannah's translator so she could also speak with the locals without difficulty.
As the months passed, we became well-known in the city. Between Hannah's naturally charitable character and my striking appearance, it didn't take long for us to stand out.
Healing, construction, crafting, combat… you could say we excelled in almost every field. Hannah, in particular, enjoyed this place much more than the previous villages. Although a fearful respect toward wizards persisted, it wasn't the paralyzing fear we had seen before. She helped anyone who needed it, offering her hands without asking for anything in return, and little by little she earned a clear and sincere reputation.
Despite her age and not even having graduated from Hogwarts, Hannah was an extremely capable witch for this era. The magical system we used was refined by centuries of advancement, and we had also received a standardized education—something non-existent here. Leveraging that future knowledge, Hannah ended up becoming an all-around scholar.
On her initiative, we started a small business selling potions and magical concoctions. After listening to other wandering wizards passing through the city and thanks to her knowledge of herbology, she managed to identify many local plants with healing properties. She even found substitutes for ingredients in simple potions that Snape had taught us, leading to the birth of a new and very popular potion-maker.
If Snape found out, he would likely hurl insults left and right: the potions were simple and, in some cases, technically deficient. For him, it would be an offense to have been her professor. But for the locals, those tonics were miracles produced by a witch. Moreover, since she lacked for nothing thanks to me, Hannah wasn't interested in money; the prices she set were so low they were almost insultingly generous.
Beyond the business, Hannah never denied help to anyone who needed it. The few healing and treatment spells she knew—some taught by me—she used to care for the injured and sick who, over time, began to come voluntarily to our house. In most cases, she charged nothing: to her, healing within her capabilities was too simple to put a price on.
Among these good deeds, her beauty, and her natural charm—which I, of course, helped highlight with certain special potion services from my time as Morgana and some magic discovered in my adventures—her title of "Village Shaman" was consolidated. There were other, more exaggerated epithets, but that was the most stable and appropriate one. There was also "Flower Shaman," a name I encouraged myself, mixing it with that prophecy. It wasn't entirely inappropriate: we had created a small garden that Hannah filled with beautiful plants and flowers. Some tried to eat me, but they were pretty.
For my part, I stood out more for my physique than my magic. There were few cases where I actually used it. To me, all of this was a kind of game, so I decided to limit myself and not resort to magic unless it was strictly necessary to increase the difficulty. For a time, many doubted whether I was truly a wizard or simply a warrior: some even believed I was an experiment of the "witch Hannah," created to protect her. That idea eventually became debunked, of course.
Since Hannah already had a title, and perhaps out of somewhat childish motivation, she insisted I find out what mine would be. The names they proposed didn't please me much, so I adopted a simple one on my own: "Red Mage," or "Sanguinary Warlock." It was direct and, in essence, quite accurate.
In summary, that year ended with us settled as two wizards on the outskirts of the city: famous, well-known, and respected. Even people from other cities began to visit us seeking our services.
But it wasn't all roses, nor as simple as it might seem. Many things happened during that year: Elise, Tonks's pregnancy, and also less pleasant interactions within the city. None of that passed without leaving a mark.