Author's Note: Welcome to a slight divergence from Tolkien's reality. History that never happened in canon is discussed, but it happened in this story. Enjoy.
Betaed by the amazing Noradin
Thud, clank, clank, thud, thu- squish. Harry's groan of disgust was overshadowed by the gurgling gasps of the last orc as it fell over dead, most of its nearly black life's blood spilling out from the gash in its neck onto the wizard's head. While the packs of the beasts he had encountered weren't too hard to dispatch, the business of killing orcs was a messy one and without a nearby residence there was no way to easily clean himself. The surrounding villages had become wary with the increasing number of roadside attacks by the orcs and a suspicious stranger so obviously covered in blood wouldn't be welcomed, so renting a room and bath was out of the question.
Pulling his sword from the orc's corpse, Harry looked around the area and sighed. The group had ambushed him when he stopped a little ways from the road for a lunch break and to allow Luna a rest and a chance to graze. She was far enough away and had so many protection and notice-me-not wards on her that the orcs completely overlooked the horse and only went for the lone, seemingly defenseless man. Now the seven disfigured bodies lay strewed across the ground, guts and entrails and other such parts Harry really didn't want to think about painting the grass dark. All in clear view of the major road, which was blessedly deserted at the moment, but wouldn't stay so for long.
Harry banished the bodies with a flick of his wand and walked over to where Luna was still peacefully chewing on a patch of grass, completely unconcerned by the brutal fight that had taken place not even fifty meters in front of her and the blood-drenched man currently patting her mane. Is this level of calm and indifference normal for a horse? No, no it probably isn't.
With one final pat and a cooed "Good girl, such a wonderfully, fantastically placid good girl you are", the wizard began to lead his horse towards the woods, following the breeze that kindly offered to lead him to the nearest lake. His Invisibility Cloak was a great help when he needed to disappear in a pinch and was adequate at concealing Manny, but it had an often useful and sometimes annoying resistance to magic as a whole. It would need cleaning by hand or give him away by smell the next time he used it.
Hedwig was already perched on a low hanging branch over the tranquil body of water, using her wings and beak to clean away the dirt that had collected in her feathers over the past few days. The owl spared a single short squawk for Harry when he approached the bank, but remained focused on her task.
"So," Harry began, "you didn't feel like helping me with those orcs, huh?" Not even a twitch in response. "Some aerial support would have come in handy; one of them almost got me from behind. It's a good thing Manny was there." Only the ruffling sound of feather grooming permeated the silence. Well, if she wanted to be juvenile, then two could play that game. Facing away from his owl, Harry stated, "I see, you didn't interfere because you knew that I had it all under control. With my amazing sword skills and spectacular magical gifts, you really would have just gotten in the way, after all. You are so considerate, Hedwig, a true lady of the highest cla- Ahhhh! Oh Merlin, please: not the face!"
Several minutes later Hedwig had returned to her first-class spot to continue preening while Harry sank into the water to wash the dark stains from his cloak and attend to his newly received battle wounds, leaving Manny to recline in the midday sun. Warriors come in all shapes and sizes, from hulking mountains of muscle to terrifying tiny white bullets with talons and hooked jaws of death. Harry really needed some human companionship.
After finishing his impromptu bath, Harry left the water and joined his friends in their relaxation, spreading out on the soft dirt. He felt in no rush whatsoever and wasn't too keen on returning to his aimless wandering from town to town.
![Harry Potter and the Immortal of Azkaban [Book 1] by Supernatural_0taku](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/229039372-80-k897050.jpg)
It had only been a week since Harry had left the Lonely Mountain to begin traveling west and already he could feel his resolve crumbling. Many smaller towns had cleared out and the inhabitants immigrated to large, well-defended cities that welcomed the increase in population as it brought skilled craftsmen and workers, helping industry. The race of men was not nearly as powerless as Harry had first thought; they were all banding together and presenting a strong front against the rising orc threat. Overall the camaraderie was just as heartening as it was surprising, but also left Harry once more without a motivation. His original goal to protect the undefended towns was fairly pointless now that the men were taking care of their own. So far he had only taken out a few stray bands of orcs that had tried to attack him personally; what was to be his purpose now?
Eventually the tranquility grew boring. Harry arose and led his party back to the road, counting on the blazing sun to finish drying his clothing out. Now that the afternoon had rolled around, many more merchants and travelers bustled along the trodden paths, energized by their meals and eager to arrive at their destinations.
~ Three Hours beneath the Beating Sun Later ~
Hmm, the red-bearded man with the oxen-pulled cart is headed east to visit his widowed sister, likely to help take care of the coming child whose father met a poorly timed end. Oh, wait; he is just trying to mooch some money from his happily married cousin. Drat, I should have known from that creepy, tortured mustache/goatee hybrid and the green gleam in his eyes. Moving on; that group of dwarves is going to meet their kin in Erebor, probably intending to drink their family's cellars dry and make eyes at the busty barmaid who they don't know has aged physically quite a bit since last they met. Heh, yeah; spot on. Great, I'm 4.75 out of 9.
Being on the road for so long was an exercise in patience for the wizard; he couldn't risk speaking with Manny around so many others, though the snake had no qualms about baiting Harry with obnoxious remarks, and no one seemed eager to chat with the stranger riding a horse with an owl perched on his shoulder. To keep from giving into the darker suggestions for entertainment whispered into his ear by Manny, Harry spent the drawn-out hours making up stories about the people rushing past him and then using legilimency to skim the outer edges of their thoughts to see how close his guesses were. However, even this game was getting old fast.
<Fine, if you really think setting a few temptingly placed hay barrels on fire‒and really, the owners are just asking for it with that mockingly smiling fish on the back bar; all marine species are incapable of emotions beyond hatred and hunger‒is "not a polite course of action" and charming a few palms onto furtherly temptingly placed rears is "simply inappropriate to an unimaginable degree", then the least you could do is stop in a communal man-crafted tree-gathering and demand one of those already prepared nesting-hole for us. If we camp outside again and that rabies-infested, roadkill-colored bird "accidentally" tries to pick me up for a midnight snack when I sleep-slither around one more time, the fangs will be unsheathed. And I mean it this time. It's for the reals, my little tax deduction.>
Oh Merlin, but that last line warranted a response. Shielding his mouth as if covering a cough, Harry asked <Your little what?>
<I have decided to promote you from petty human minion for good behavior, and based on your stories I take it that taxes are evil manipulation tactics used by the *glove-earning-mint to control the masses and deductions are forces of good that give the underdogs a fighting chance. Thus, I dub you tax deduction!>
<... I have never been prouder; your grasp on 20th century Populist logic is flawless, Manny.>
<Yeah, I know it.>
