The sun rose over Hogwarts.
The multitude of massive bells in the clock tower began to toll the hour.
Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat in his throne at the center of the head table and wondered if Harry would show up to breakfast this morning. After the disaster that was the Tri-Wizard champion selection the previous night, he wouldn't be surprised if young Harry decided to avoid his peers for a short time. The lad was under quite a lot of scrutiny from them at the moment after all.
The headmaster picked at his breakfast in contemplation as Hermione Granger sat at the Gryffindor table, joining the other early risers. That she came alone rather than wait for her friends did not bode well in Albus' mind. There must have been some argument among them, likely regarding whether Harry had entered himself in the tournament or not if he had his guess.
Just how his name had managed to come out of the Goblet was no mystery. A knowledgeable enough wizard would have had no issue convincing the cup that there were, in fact, four schools competing instead of the actual three. From there it is a simple matter to enter young Harry as the only competitor from said nameless school, thereby forcing his selection as champion.
Or, at least that's how Albus would have done it. In truth, the how matters little. The why is also fairly simple to guess: someone wants young Harry to either die or suffer as a result of the tournament. The real meat of the problem is the who.
For this, Albus has no answer: merely guesswork and wild hypothesis that would do him no good to speak of to anyone.
The great bells of the clock tower sound their last, and as they fade away they are replaced with the typical sounds of the great hall in the early morning: the scratching of silverware on plates, quiet conversation among the early risers of the castle with the occasional joyous laugh interspersed therein, and equally quiet but much more professional conversation held between the staff members that chose to take their breakfast here instead of in their private quarters.
"Albus?" He turned to look at his Deputy, a curious twinkle in his eye, as she continued. "What do you make of the situation with Mr. Potter? It all seems very suspect to me."
The headmaster hummed thoughtfully for a moment before responding. "Suspect indeed, Minerva. I have no doubt that young Harry did not enter himself, and that whoever did, did so with less than benevolent intentions. It is the who that mystifies me at the moment."
It was with a thoughtful expression and pursed lips that Minerva responded, "Are you so sure that-" From behind Albus' throne came a light and airy chime. Surprised by the sudden sound, she turned and narrowed her eyes at something Albus could not see behind him. "Now where did that come from?" She said to herself.
Curiosity piqued, Albus rose and stepped around his throne to get a look at whatever had gotten his deputy's attention. There, a few feet behind, and slightly off center from his seat was a cast iron lamp held aloft, perhaps three feet from the ground, on a crooked pole. The lamp gave off a faint blue light.
"Curious," Albus said. "Where indeed did this lamp come from?" As he spoke he drew his wand, prepared to cast the first of many detection spells on it, when the bells that he had not noticed tied to the bottom of the lamp, gave a sudden jerk, chiming just as they had a moment ago.
"Albus, did you do that?" Minerva asked hesitantly, glancing back and forth between the strange blue lamp in front of them and Albus' still raised wand.
The headmaster shook his head, opening his mouth to reply before clacking it shut in shock when he noticed the floor around the lamp.
Or rather, what the floor was doing that it just should not be doing. For several feet around the base of the lamp, the solid stone floor of the great hall rippled like the water of a lake around a sapling. Dumbfounded by the sight, neither the Headmaster nor his deputy reacted for a moment, but then Albus' wand was moving. Swishing, flicking, and jabbing his way through every detection spell he knew, all of which returned answers that he could make neither heads nor tails of.
Enchantment detection charms told him that, yes, the lamp was enchanted. Enchantment identification charms told him that there was no such enchantment on the lamp. Spells meant to identify dangerous or dark magic returned seemingly random answers from one casting to the next. Baffled, but somewhat excited by the thrill of discovery, Albus redoubled his efforts to identify the lamp and whatever effects it might be having on the castle around it.
But then, before he could finish his battery of investigative magic, something began to rise out of the rippling floor around the lamp. Albus' litany of spells stopped short as his wand arm sagged in utter disbelief at what he was seeing.
It made no sound as it rose, though it soon became clear that it was actually a he. A he that wore a wide brimmed leather hat, and attire that vaguely reminded Albus of the style of his youth; a long dark overcoat with a tattered cape that fell out of style many years before, the interior of the coat lined with red silk, all worn on top of a rather nice, if rumpled and bloodstained, set of a vest, shirt, and pants. The man rose up from the floor in a kneeling position, facing towards the lamp, head bowed as if in prayer, but with his arms hung limply by his sides.
When the man had risen fully, Albus expected the floor to stop rippling so that he would be able to stand on it, and yet the floor continued to ripple around the base of the lamp. The ripples even reacted to the mysterious man's knees where he touched the ground!
All of this was taken in by Albus' keen mind before the figure could move to stand. What manner of magic was this? How did this man manage to subvert the Hogwarts wards in such a way that the headmaster did not notice the intrusion earlier? But, yet again, Albus found himself mostly concerned with the who in this situation. After all, who would have the knowledge and power necessary to accomplish this? This was magic the headmaster had never seen before.
The man stayed kneeling for only moment before rising sinuously to his feet, tilting his head to one side and then the other with an audible crack. The headmaster took note that, while only average in height, the man seemed to be fairly well built.
"Good morning sir," the headmaster started, the man whirling around to face him, his coattails flapping out behind him from the speed of his turn, wide green eyes locking onto his own from behind round glasses. The headmaster stopped short. He recognized those eyes, dare he say that anyone in the magical world would recognize eyes like those! Lily's eyes. Despite the lower half of the man's face being wrapped in some sort of leather scarf, Albus was sure he knew who this was.
"Harry?" the headmaster asked cautiously. "Is that you my boy?" Beside him, Minerva's expression of undiluted shock (which hadn't changed since the man began rising from the floor) turned into a suspicious glare.
"Headmaster," came the slightly muffled voice of Harry Potter from the now identified strange man. "It's over." He said quietly, and then again, the words taking on an almost manic quality as young Harry chuckled darkly. "It's over! The nightmare is finally over! I'm home!"
"What nightmare Harry? Where did you go?" The headmaster asked calmly while motioning for Minerva to hold her peace for the moment. Nothing about this felt right to him.
But Harry shook his head almost frantically; his eyes wide and panic beginning to creep into his voice. "You don't want to know professor! The things I've seen can't be unseen, can't be unlearned, and I'll not put that burden on anyone else if I can help it, no no nononono!"
"Harry, my boy," Albus reached out a hand to comfort the lad, but he recoiled almost violently, leaping back faster than Albus would've expected him capable of to maintain the distance. The headmaster let his arm drop and naked concern leak into his voice. "Harry?"
Harry closed his eyes for a long moment, taking a deep breath, seemingly recentering himself, before opening them at the same time as he pulled down his face covering. He was pale as a ghost and looked like he hadn't shaved in several days.
"S-sorry professor. I, well I've had a rough night." Then his eyes flicked over the headmasters shoulder and widened terribly. With a glance, Albus confirmed his suspicions when he saw that everyone in the great hall was staring at them. Harry would most assuredly not appreciate this kind of attention, especially on the back of what had happened last night with the Goblet and … whatever it is that happened between then and now.
"Harry, why don't we take this discussion to my office?" Harry looked at him and nodded almost frantically. "Then follow me, my boy." The headmaster turned and made his way around the head table, Harry and Minerva hot on his heels, one after the other.
Hermione sat at the end of the Gryffindor table nearest the doors, her Ancient Runes textbook open on her left with a bowl of porridge on her right that she absently ate as she read.
She was trying to distract herself from the utter disaster that had happened the night before. Not Ron being a prat, that wasn't anywhere near as important as the fact that someone was likely trying to kill Harry. Again. She couldn't help but sigh at the thought. He really was cursed with the worst of luck, wasn't he? Well, hopefully the Ministry would pull through on all the propaganda they put in that rag of theirs and actually make this tournament safe for once.
She sighed again and shook her head. Like that was ever going to happen! If there was one thing she'd learned the previous year it was that the Ministry was grossly incompetent at the very least. Even ignoring the whole Sirius Black debacle, they still authorized a young girl to use a time turner just so she could take more classes.
In retrospect, Hermione could acknowledge that bending the very fabric of space and time just so she could take classes she didn't even need was rather … well, a bit much. Not that she would ever admit such a thing to either of her friends. They would never let her live it down if she did! Ron especially would be just awful about the whole thing, though she could see Harry just poking fun at her about it every once in a while …
Maybe she would tell Harry … Once she got Ron to get his head out of his arse and realize that there was no way Harry would both enter this tournament illegally and not tell them about it before hand. Honestly! There's not an ounce of logic or sense to what Ron is thinking right now. If she can just get him to see sense for just a moment-
A sudden shout from the staff table jerked Hermione out of her thoughts, as well as the gaze of the girl herself and everyone else in the hall to the staff table. She frowned in confusion at what she saw. The headmaster and Professor McGonagall were talking to a rather strangely dressed wizard behind the head table, and if Hermione wasn't mistaken they were trying to comfort him.
How odd.
Curiosity was something that Hermione had in spades, and once stoked it didn't stop burning until it had consumed everything it sought after. So she watched the unfolding drama at the staff table with rapt attention, all the while mindlessly eating more of her now cold porridge.
Just as she was taking a bite, the odd man lowered his scarf and she nearly choked on her spoon she swallowed so hard.
"Harry!?" She managed to gasp out once she got the bite of porridge down and the spoon back up. With wide eyes she watched as the headmaster gestured, and the three made their way around the staff table and towards the doors to the great hall.
What was going on?!
She couldn't read the headmasters expression, Professor McGonagall seemed confused if one could look passed her stern exterior, and Harry …
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. He was deathly pale, but there was something in his eyes. Relief, she thought. He looked relieved, too relieved actually. He looked like a great weight had been lifted from him, or like some great trial had been passed. He looked like he did in the hospital wing at the end of first year, right after nearly dying to save the Philosophers Stone.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Hermione gathered her books as quickly as she could before racing to intercept her friend before he could leave the hall.
"Harry! What's going on?" She called out when she had rounded the end of the table nearest the door.
Harry lurched to a stop, his head whipping towards her so fast she was afraid he might have broken something. For the barest of moments Hermione was afraid that Harry was upset with her, but then his expression lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. "Now is not the time to-" She was cut off as Harry covered the distance between himself and Hermione in a dash. The next thing Hermione knew she was being crushed to Harry's chest in what had to be the first hug that he had ever initiated between them. If Harry is initiating then something truly awful must have happened! Not knowing what else to do, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him just as tightly as he did her.
"Hermione," the word was whispered, reverently, almost like a prayer, into her hair as she absently noted that Harry seemed taller now. How had she not noticed that before? They'd been at school for two months now!
"Harry, what's wrong?" She whispered back to him. Then she took a breath, and was assaulted with an absolutely revolting stench. She couldn't quite place the smell, but as she looked at what little of him she could see with her face pressed into his collarbone she noticed the sheer volume of bloodstains on him. He was almost completely covered in them! Not one of them looked fresh, and he certainly felt dry, but that might still explain the smell. She shuddered at the thought.
"Harry! You're covered in bloodstains and you reek! What happened?! Are you hurt? Where did you get these clothes? Where did all this blood come from?" She got all this out in one rushed breath, and felt more than heard Harry's responding chuckle.
"Hermione, I…" Harry pulled back, holding Hermione at arms length, his eyes boring into hers, almost glowing in their intensity, like he was looking for something within her. She stared right back, her concern showing plainly in her expression, and an argument ready on the tip of her tongue should he try and not explain this all to her. After a moment, Harry found whatever it was he was looking for, and his expression fell.
"You won't drop this." He stated in the most exhausted voice Hermione had ever heard from him before. Hermione shook her head even though she knew it wasn't a question. With a sigh, Harry said "Fine. C'mon then, we're going to the Headmasters Office."
His hands dropped from her shoulders as he turned to make his way out of the great hall, Hermione rushing to keep pace at his side. Professor Dumbledore gave her a fleeting smile before preceding them out, while Professor McGonagall brought up the rear.
Hermione kept glancing at her friend the whole way to the Headmaster's office, and each time she found him staring into the middle distance, lost in thought, and so she resolved to let the silence stretch to give him time to gather his thoughts.
In the Headmaster's office, Professor Dumbledore took his seat behind his desk while Professor McGonagall conjured a rather Spartan seat for herself that looked far less comfortable than the overly squishy ones the Headmaster was fond of conjuring for his guests.
Professor Dumbledore gestured to the two available seats before his desk. "Please, have a seat." Harry collapsed into the middle seat while Hermione took the one to his left. "You look tired, my boy, care for a lemon drop?" Harry stared silently at the bowl of hard candies for an uncomfortably long moment, before reaching out a gloved hand, which, Hermione noted, was also spotted with blood stains, to take one of the candies and pop it in his mouth.
With a great crunch that made Hermione wince he immediately bit down into the lemon drop, chewed it up, and swallowed it.
"Harry?" She asked in a small, concerned voice. He looked to her pensively from under the brim of his bloodied hat. "I can tell that something is wrong Harry. What is it? What happened?" He winced at that and looked away, eyes cast down to the floor. In shame, or fear, or embarrassment, Hermione couldn't quite tell, but he made no move to answer her question one way or the other.
"Does this have anything to do with your name coming out of the Goblet of Fire last night?" She asked, hoping to at least get an idea of what was going on. To her complete surprise, and the shock of the other two present, Harry started laughing uproariously at that. Great, belly shaking laughter exploded out of him for several moments.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Really Harry! I don't think this is a laughing matter! You're covered in blood and I don't-" Harry's laughter suddenly shifted into outright sobbing as he hunched over into himself, cradling his face in his hands.
Eyes round with shock and self recrimination, how could she have just snapped at her friend like that when he's obviously been through some sort of ordeal!? Hermione leapt from her chair to wrap Harry in her arms, tossing his hat aside before cradling his head against her chest, babbling apologies all the way.
"Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, it wasn't right when you've so obviously been through some-" Harry's arms snapped around her with such suddenness and strength that it knocked the rest of her breath from her before she could finish. But, his own voice replaced hers, gasping through his sobs.
"A Nightmare! It, it- full of blood and beasts, that cursed city on the night of the Hunt! 'A hunter must hunt!' And so I did and- heavens above, the blood, I can still hear it calling to me, can still taste it, can still-" He descended deeper into tears, while Hermione shushed and whispered to him that everything was alright, her hand running through his greasy, knotted hair, idly noting that he desperately needed a shower.
It could wait until after he was done hurting. But, she could make no sense of what he was saying. Harry had had nightmares in the past, certainly, but none like what he was describing, and a bloody nightmare wouldn't explain the clothes, or the blood that she was only just now noticing was also dried into his hair! He must have been soaked in blood at some point! Dear God what happened?
She looked to her professors, but neither of them seemed to have any better idea of what he was talking about than she did. Wonderful. On their own again.
Harry's crying cut off mid sob, and when Hermione looked back to him she found his face not even an inch away from her own, his bloodshot eyes staring unerringly into her own while a manic smile that showed far too many teeth stretched his lips.
"But she was there and she reminded me so much of you," His voice was a barely there whisper, reverently stroking every word he spoke, that contrasted harshly with the mania in his eyes, and it set Hermione's blood racing through her veins and her heart pounding in her chest. "So curious, so strong, always twelve step ahead of me." He paused, a hand coming up to cup Hermione's cheek, a gloved thumb idly stroking circles on her skin as emerald eyes darted to her lips and back. "So beautiful it hurts."
She flushed crimson even as her mouth ran away before her brain had a chance to catch up.
"Harry, I-I what? Who are you talking about?"
"You." His thumb brushed over her lower lip and she drew in a quick breath at the sensation. "Her." His eyes locked onto her lips and refused to budge this time. "She is gone, but I have no intention of losing you too." Hermione's confusion only had a chance to blossom for a moment before being violently smothered as Harry's hand tangled in her hair and his lips descended on her own.
Her eyes fluttered closed of their own accord.
Her hands clenched in his bloodied hair, pulling him closer, harder against her.
Distantly, she was aware of McGonagall's shocked gasping of their names, but it didn't really register.
He devoured her, kissing her with such wild abandon that even Hermione's highly ordered and prioritized mind completely blanked out and she lost herself in the sensation of his lips against her own. He nipped her lip, making her gasp, and then his tongue was there, dancing with her own, and the iron tang of blood was on her tongue, and-
The two were flung apart, Harry's upper body slamming into the back of the chair he sat in while Hermione fell to the floor in front of him.
"Really, Mr. Potter! That is hardly the behavior I would expect from you!" Professor McGonagall's irate voice sounded from where the elderly witch sat primly, her wand in her hand and a disapproving expression on her face.
The Headmaster merely chuckled from behind his desk.
Hermione's face flamed, eyes downcast, and she opened her mouth to apologize when Harry growled, actually growled at Professor McGonagall! She shot a look up at him and gasped. He was glaring balefully at the professor, teeth that had no right being as sharp as they looked bared in a very real snarl.
"Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall said warily. Harry narrowed his eyes at her and snarled again, making her flinch and raise her wand to him.
"Harry?" Hermione asked gently. He flicked his eyes to her and back to the professor so quick she almost missed it. "Harry." She said again, taking a sterner tone of voice. He looked longer that time, but his growl didn't let up, and he looked ready to pounce at the professor any second. "Harry!" She said forcefully, and this time he turned his whole head back to her, letting the snarl slip from his face though his eyes seemed oddly unfocused.
"Harry, you need to calm down." He blinked, focusing on her after a moment as she kept speaking. "You seemed about ready to attack a professor Harry. Now, if it was Professor Snape than I'd be able to understand, but you like Professor McGonagall!"
Harry jerked in his seat, glancing wide-eyed back and forth between Hermione and their professor several times before reaching a shaking hand into a small satchel on the bandolier running across his chest.
"Harry, what are you-" Hermione cut herself off when she saw the dirty vial of milky white potion he pulled from the satchel, unstoppered, and downed without a moment's hesitation. "What did you just take?" She asked instead as she climbed to her feet. "I don't recognize that potion."
"Neither did I, Miss Granger." The Headmaster said behind her. The professor made a sound of agreement.
Harry shivered once, blinked twice, and let out a relieved breath. "S-sorry. Sedative." He ran a hand through his hair while Hermione just raised an eyebrow at him in question. "Was building myself up into a frenzy there, damn near lost it." He looked up at her with an expression Hermione didn't quite know what to make of, like he was grateful but confused at the same time.
"Thanks for snapping me out of it 'Mione. Never heard of such a thing happening before." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.
"Are you alright now Harry?" She laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly and without thought. Harry covered her hand with his own, squeezing her back with a shaky smile.
"Wouldn't say I'm alright, but I'm better. Was in a right sort, wasn't I? Sedative really helped." Hermione tilted her head questioningly, but the Headmaster beat her to it.
"What kind of sedative was that, Harry?" Hermione moved to sit back in her chair, and as her hand slid off of Harry he tangled their fingers together so that their hands dangled in the space between their chairs. She shot him a curious look, but he wasn't looking at her and didn't seem to realize what he had done, so she just pursed her lips briefly and went with it.
If it made him feel better then she wasn't going to ask questions. At the moment anyway.
"Harry?" The Headmaster prodded gently after Harry had been silent a moment too long, breaking him out of whatever reverie he had fallen into.
"Oh. Right, the sedative. It's the kind you find in Byrgenwerth. Don't rightly know what it's made of, don't really want to know to be honest with you. Just know that it works." Harry finished with a shrug so typical for him that it made Hermione smile.
"Byrgenwerth?" The Headmaster asked with a curious twinkle in his eye. "I've never heard of such a place."
Harry nodded. "I'm not surprised. Famous as they were, they fell to the wayside when Laurence split off and founded the Healing Church in Yharnam." The Headmaster straightened in his seat with a thoughtful frown.
"Professor?" Hermione questioned, having noticed his reaction. "Does Yharnam sound familiar to you?" Harry glanced at her, squeezing her hand as if to say 'good job' before returning his attention to the Headmaster.
"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said. "I read about that island nation once, long ago. Used to be quite the powerhouse in its day if I remember correctly, right up until the whole island just up and disappeared in the late 1860's."
"Disappeared? How does an entire island disappear?" Hermione asked, bemused.
"Taken by the dream." Harry muttered next to her, her eyes shooting over to look at him questioningly, but he was staring at nothing, lost in thought. The Headmaster, having not heard him, answered Hermione's question.
"No one is quite sure. It was an entirely muggle nation, you see. No magical population to speak of. It was there one day, gone the next. There are plenty of theories, of course, from the whole island being put under the Fidelius, to it being swallowed up by the sea much like Atlantis was, but other than the lack of a Yharnam where once one stood, there is no evidence one way or the other for any of the theories."
"Harry?" Hermione gave his hand a squeeze to get his attention. He "hmm'd" and turned unfocused eyes to her. "What did you just say? Something about Yharnam being 'taken by the dream?'"
Both the professors looked at him curiously at this, and Harry replied in a toneless, far away voice.
"Atonement for the wretches, by the wrath of Mother Kos. Lay the curse of blood upon them, and their children, and their children's children forevermore. A bottomless curse. A bottomless sea. Source of all greatness, of all things that be." And he lapsed again into silence, lost in his own thoughts.
"Harry?" Hermione squeezed his hand again. "Harry?" But he remained silent and unseeing, his hand hanging limply in her own. "Harry, what did that mean?"
"Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall reached out a hand to him, perhaps intending to shake him gently to get his attention, but her hand never reached him. Harry's free hand snapped out, catching her wrist in a vice grip. "Mr. Potter!" His head snapped to her, and though Hermione couldn't see his expression from where she was, she did see the professor's face go ashen, though her stern exterior never wavered.
Harry shunted the professor's arm aside and leapt to his feet, ripping his hand free of Hermione's in the process.
"You don't know! You can't know! You don't want to know!" Desperation dripped from his voice while he swung suddenly and randomly round and round on the spot, touching each of them with his gaze but never lingering on one for more than a moment. "The Church and its Choir, Byrgenwerth even! Summoned things beyond our ken! They communed with the Cosmos itself and all of Yharnam burned for it! They brought the scourge of beasts down on themselves in their madness and drowned in blood for all their toils!"
"Harry, my boy, calm yourself." The headmaster said calmly but with a hint of steel, his wand having found its way into his hand at some point. Harry whirled on him, advancing on the desk and slamming his hands down on it. Hermione could only watch in wide eyed shock as Harry continued to rant about things that made no sense, now leaning down to get right in the headmaster's face. They had no context and without that nothing Harry was saying was helping anything.
"Mergo's cries heralded the Nightmare of Mensis. Taken by the Nightmare of blood and beasts the city was lost!" He slammed a fist down on the headmasters desk. "She wanted to make sense of it, but I knew! I knew, professor! Knowledge does not come without cost, and the truest insights bring about only madness!" His shoulders slumped without warning, and the fight seemed to just fall away from him. He stumbled back from the desk and collapsed into his seat before continuing in a small voice.
"I tried to stop her. She wouldn't listen. Stubborn like that, like you." Here he shot Hermione a look equal parts exasperated and fond. "The Nightmare took her. I think." He sighed despondently. "By the end nothing she said made any sense. It was almost like she wasn't even talking to me, but someone standing behind me."
"Who are you talking about Harry? Who is this girl from your nightmare?" Hermione asked as gently as she could manage, unable to keep her curiosity bottled up but not wanting to set Harry off again.
Harry looked to her sharply. "It wasn't my Nightmare, 'Mione. They brought it down on themselves! I just got sucked into it." She raised her hands in supplication, whispering a quick apology. Harry sighed and looked to his hands, continuing wistfully. "Evelyn. Her name was Evelyn. A hunter, like me. Taught me how to survive. Showed me how to hunt. I wouldn't have made it out of the Dream without her help. She gave me this," He reached into his coat, "To remember her by." And pulled out an intricately decorated flintlock pistol that had to be as long as his forearm.
"How did you manage to fit that into your coat?" Hermione asked incredulously. "It's far too long!"
He just shrugged at her and said, "Magic," With a sly smile. Hermione rolled her eyes though she couldn't completely suppress her smile. "You should see what else I have hidden in my pockets!" He said with a wry chuckle as he returned the pistol to wherever it is he managed to hide it.
"Harry," The headmaster spoke up. "You say you were sucked into the nightmare. Can you explain what you mean?"
Harry shook his head. "Not one bit professor. I have no better idea of how I got to Yharnam than any of the other's did."
"Others?" Professor McGonagall asked with a furrowed brow.
"The other hunters." Harry said plainly. "Some of them were born in Yharnam, but not all, and the outsiders like me had no idea how they came to that cursed place."
"Just what is a hunter, Harry?" The headmaster asked from behind his steepled fingers.
"A once-kept secret of the Church. They walked among the people and cut out any infection they came across to keep the scourge from spreading. It was the hunters that burned Old Yharnam to the ground based on a lie." Hermione looked aghast at that, while Dumbledore merely frowned in thought.
Harry continued before either could voice a question. "But even that was only the lowest level of a hunter's duty. We were meant to grow beyond that, to reach for higher places and hunt greater prey than the beasts that roamed the streets. The Moon Presence wanted the blood of its kin, it wanted the death of an infant Great One."
Hermione blurted out, "An infant!? What kind of person would want to murder an infant?"
"Person?" Harry asked bemusedly, looking at her like she had just sprouted a second head that spoke exclusively in nonsense. "The Moon Presence was no person. It was a, a thing with thoughts and reasons beyond our own. I don't know why it wanted the infant Mergo to die. I only know that if it got what it wanted the Nightmare would end." Hermione felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. He's not about to say what she thinks he is, is he? Harry wouldn't murder an infant, whether it was human or not! It's just not right!
"So Evelyn and I delivered. I was freed from the Dream, but I have no idea what happened to Evelyn."
"Harry!" Hermione's reproving tone caught Harry off guard. "How could you? Murdering an infant! That, that's just wrong! Human or not!" But Harry was shaking his head before she could finish, and when she did his voice lashed out angrily.
"You don't know what it was like! Nightmare doesn't even begin to describe what we went through! The things I've seen? That I've done? I don't have the words to even try to make you understand!"
"Then perhaps you should show us then." The headmaster said, bringing the attention of everyone else in the room towards him.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked warily. In response, the headmaster stood and moved to a nearby cabinet with a slight blue glow emanating from within.
"I mean, my boy," he said as he carried a small stone basin over to his desk and set it down. The basin glowed with runes and was filled with a strange silvery liquid. "That we should use my pensieve so that you can show us what you went through last night." He finished with an encouraging smile even as Harry tensed up in his seat.
Hermione noticed. "Harry, this would really be the easiest way. You said yourself that you don't know how to tell us what happened, and asking questions blindly has gotten us nothing but confused, so please, please just show us what happened in the Nightmare."
His shoulders drooped and he looked at Hermione, defeat written on his face. "You won't like what you see, any of you." He said quietly. Hermione reached out and took his hand in her own, giving him a reassuring smile.
"We have to know if we're going to help you move passed it, Harry." He looked into her eyes for a long moment before nodding once.
"You and the headmaster can see, but Professor McGonagall can't." He glanced at her affronted expression. "She won't be able to handle it, I'm sure."
Her expression turned thunderous. "Now see here Mr. Potter!" Only to be cut off by the calm words of the headmaster.
"Minerva." She turned to him, ready to argue. "These are his memories Minerva, and he has the right to choose who can view them. We must respect our students' privacy, even in matters such as this." She pursed her lips but didn't argue.
"Now, my boy, do you know how to retrieve memories to put in the pensieve?" Harry looked to the pensieve and tilted his head, smiling a confused smile.
"Now what are you little ones doing here?" He said to the pensieve, reaching out to pet the air just above it. Dumbledore's brow furrowed, while Hermione looked worryingly between Harry and the empty air he was stroking affectionately.
"Harry," she started hesitantly. "There's nothing there."
He shot her a surprised look. "You can't see them?" She shook her head, her concern for her friend growing. Harry looked around at the others present. "None of you can?" They all shook their heads at him.
"What do you see Harry?" The headmaster asked. Hermione shot him an incredulous look. Here was her friend, hallucinating of all things, and the headmaster was humoring him?
"You will see soon enough, and once you do you will never not see it. Once you know you can never forget, no matter how hard you try." She looked back to her friend and found him staring at her with haunted eyes. "Knowledge is a curse that cannot be cured, and one that is always self-inflicted." Hermione reared back as if she'd been slapped. He continued, whispering now, his words meant only for her. "I know that I can't stop you, just as I couldn't stop Evelyn. Please, please know when to stop."
Hermione could only nod, words having momentarily escaped her. Harry took a deep breath and turned back to the headmaster.
"No, I don't know how. Show me." Professor Dumbledore obliged, lifting his wand to his temple.
"Now, you must focus on the memory you wish to retrieve, bring it to the forefront of your mind, and then it is a simple matter to pull it out." He did so, pulling a silvery whisp from his temple for a moment, before quickly depositing it back into his own head. Harry nodded and rooted around in his coat pockets for a few moments before producing his holly wand and …
Fiddling with it for several long moments.
"Harry? What is it?" Hermione asked, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.
He sighed. "I don't know where to start, or even …" and he trailed off into silence.
"The beginning is usually a good place, my boy." The headmaster chimed in.
"Right, yeah, the beginning." Harry muttered before reaching up and almost yanking a memory out of his head and tossing it into the pensieve. "That, well that might explain a bit. I think. It was the first time Evelyn and I had to face a hunter drunk with blood."
Hermione and the headmaster exchanged a look at that, and mutually decided to save their questions for afterwards.
"Harry," The headmaster said, "Will you be joining us?"
Harry looked stricken for a moment before his expression steeled, and he nodded firmly.
The headmaster nodded back. "Very well then. Simply reach out a finger and dip it in the liquid of the memory. Shall we?" With that, the three did as the headmaster told them and were taken into Harry's memory.
They were deposited onto a cobblestone street, a short wrought iron fence on one side before a great chasm. On the far side of the chasm they could see the skyline of a great Victorian city, and on the side opposite the chasm the street was lined with brick tenement housing. The horizon glowed with the reds and oranges of an imminent sunset. The city was eerily quiet, the only thing that could be heard being the distant sound of shouts and the faint echoing howls of some unseen creature.
And all around them was chaos. Bodies lined the street behind them, one of which Hermione noticed was the same size as Hagrid, but all of the rest were proportioned wrong: arms and legs too long for their torsos, their pants and sleeves having ridden up to reveal furry bodies underneath. Their faces retained little of their human appearance, caught somewhere between wolf and man.
Was this what Harry had meant when he mentioned a beastly scourge? Was that what killed these people?
"You! Are not wanted 'ere!" The shout came from up ahead, where three of the Beast men were fighting two normal sized figures. One was obviously female, wearing a long, dark leather coat that reached her ankles and wrapped almost completely around her legs, with a slit in front of one leg for mobility's sake, Hermione supposed. She wore no hat, and her long blonde hair was held back in a loose tail at the top of her head.
The Beast man that had shouted at her dove forward, a meat cleaver held aloft, awkwardly swiping this way and that at her, but the woman calmly and swiftly ducked and dodged around every swipe, sometimes merely leaning slightly to one side or the other and letting the blade come within a hair's breadth of her, until the Beast man tired and ceased his onslaught.
The moment the attacks stopped she was on the offensive, raising what looked like a simple cane and elegantly driving it across the Beast man once, twice, three times, and a fourth right across his malformed jaw, sending his head spinning with a sharp crack and a spurt of blood that the woman seemed to step into rather than out of the way of. The Beast man's body collapsed at her feet and didn't as much as twitch again.
Meanwhile, a second Beast man, armed with a pitchfork, had charged at the male figure with an animalistic cry of rage. The man, which Hermione knew had to be Harry, although he was dressed in a much less tattered grey leather coat with a tricorn hat in the memory, quickly sidestepped, bringing a massive saw toothed cleaver to bear in the same motion, lashing out across the Beast man's chest and sending a shower of blood all over himself and the street.
His opponent staggered, and Memory Harry pressed on, with a return slash and then one last horizontal swipe he tore the Beast man's throat open, dousing himself, head to toe, in his opponent's blood as his body slumped over, dead.
"My God," Hermione whispered, wide eyed, her hands covering her mouth in horror at what she was seeing. She looked to where the sun hadn't quite dipped beyond the horizon yet, and couldn't help but think that if this is what Harry had been doing all night, then it was no wonder that her friend was such a mess!
"This is what Hunters do." Harry said next to her, watching the scene in front of him dispassionately. "This is The Hunt." This last was said with some distaste, the same way one would talk about a chore that they greatly dislike but know needs to be done. Hermione looked at him, aghast that he could be so cold about this, this, this slaughter! These people were sick and they were killing them! All the bodies in the street behind them, they must have … Harry must have been the one that killed them.
The thought of her friend doing such a thing made Hermione sick to her stomach. Not out of fear or even disgust really, but mostly out of concern for Harry. She knew him, and he wouldn't do such a thing unless he felt like he had no choice in the matter. It must weigh heavily on him, she knew.
Only one Beast man remained, cowering in the corner, armed only with a makeshift shield crafted from four two-by-fours nailed together.
"Away! Away!" He shouted as Memory Harry and the woman advanced on him. Memory Harry paused, tilting his head questioningly, but the woman didn't break stride. With a flick of her wrist her cane broke apart, segmenting into a series of small blades held together by a thin cord.
The Beast man's eyes widened terribly. "Help me! Oh God!" His desperate shout roused Memory Harry, and he looked towards his female compatriot.
"Evelyn," Memory Harry said, "Perhaps we ought to just leave him be?" Evelyn shook her head, but otherwise ignored Memory Harry, raising her weapon and slashing at the desperate Beast man twice in quick succession, his shield being thrown from his grip on the second hit. A third wrapped around his throat, and with a quick yank on Evelyn's part, his head was divested of his body to roll across the street.
This was the woman that reminded Harry of her!? She would have never done anything like that! Executing a sick man as he begged for mercy was just utterly deplorable! What was Harry thinking comparing the two of them?!
"Harry," Evelyn said tiredly, turning to spear Memory Harry with the deepest, brightest blue eyes Hermione had ever seen in her life. With a flick of her wrist her segmented whip reformed into a cane. She brought a cloth up to wipe her face of the blood that had gotten on her during the fight before returning the cloth to a coat pocket. She barely made a dent in the blood caked to her face.
"Harry," She said again, her voice low and clear, each word carefully enunciated. "We've talked about this! They aren't people anymore; they're nothing but flesh hungry beasts now." Memory Harry sighed, pulling out a handkerchief as he stepped up to her.
"I know," he said as he wiped away the blood she had missed. "I know. I just," he paused, head tilted as he looked at her. "I just wish they couldn't talk, ya know? It's hard sometimes, having to kill something that's begging for mercy."
"They might beg like men, but they'll attack like dogs once your back is turned." Evelyn said with the conviction of one with experience.
"Are you sure there isn't some cure for them?" Memory Harry asked, and Hermione smiled, glad to know that, at least in the beginning, Harry cared enough to try and help them rather than slaughter them.
Evelyn shook her head. "I'm sure. Once Beasthood sets in they are irretrievable. The only cure for them is an honest death."
"Can the same happen to us? To Hunters?" Memory Harry asked in a small voice as he put his handkerchief away, Evelyn's face relatively clear of blood now.
"Do you feel the call of the blood, Harry?" She returned, staring into his eyes in the same intense way Harry had looked into Hermione's in Dumbledore's office.
"I do. It sings to me." Memory Harry said in quiet shame. "Evelyn, I'm scared. I don't want to become like," He looked to the disproportioned bodies of the Beast men around them, "them." Evelyn grasped him by the shoulders.
"Don't be afraid, Harry, I feel it too." She smiled gently at him. "We just have to be strong and not let the blood overcome our senses. Can you do that Harry? Can you be strong for me?" Harry nodded solemnly. "Good man! Now c'mon, Cathedral Ward is just up ahead, past the graveyard." She motioned towards a set of staircases in the direction they'd been moving in before the memory started, if the trail of corpses was anything to go off of.
Hermione looked back at the multitude of malformed corpses the two hunters had left in their wake, a pensive expression on her face. So, Harry and this Evelyn woman were sick as well. They just hadn't been taken by the disease yet. It must be a magical disease, there was nothing in the muggle world that even came close to the kind of physical changes these Beast men had undergone. Was it some mutated strand of lycanthropy that had spread through the city?
Evelyn said that they had to be strong. So, the disease could be overcome, or at least delayed, by sheer force of will? If that's the case then it's no wonder that Harry hasn't succumbed yet.
She turned back to Evelyn, boring holes into her back with her eyes. Is that what Harry meant when he said he lost her to the nightmare? Did she succumb to the disease? Or was she simply killed in a fight gone wrong?
Either way, she was still going to make damn sure that he went to the hospital wing as soon as this memory was over, and nothing he could say or do would stop her.
They started forward, but Evelyn stopped short in the middle of the stairs, turning around to survey the battlefield behind them with narrowed eyes. Hermione shivered as those bright blue eyes passed right over her.
"What is it?" Memory Harry asked, turning to see why she stopped.
"Nothing," she replied, "Felt eyes on my back is all. Let's go."
At the top of the stairs Memory Harry stopped again, looking down at his feet. "Oh! Hello little ones. Have you got a message for us?" He asked, a smile evident in his voice. Hermione stepped around Evelyn to get a better look, and there, at Memory Harry's feet, were a half dozen tiny, grey people who would be no more than two feet tall if they weren't sunken halfway into the floor which rippled oddly around them. They vaguely reminded Hermione of house elves, if a bit smaller. Curious, Hermione stepped closer, bending down to get a good look at them only to suck in a shocked breath when she got a good look at their faces.
Or rather: their complete lack of a face. The little beings had no discernible eyes, merely empty folds in their skin where eyes were supposed to be. They turned these empty folds to Memory Harry and flapped similarly empty folds where a mouth would normally go, and some of them didn't even have that right: with the mouth fold running up from the chin and between the eyes.
The little ones reached down between them, pulling up a roll of parchment that glowed with some form of magic. Unfurling it across their upraised hands, the revealed writing was, to Hermione, an unreadable jumble of runes, some familiar but many completely foreign to her.
Memory Harry glanced shortly at the message before saying to Evelyn, "'Beware of Hunter' is what it says."
She frowned unhappily at that, stepping closer to see for herself, and, in the process, stepping right through Hermione. A violent shiver ran through the bushy-haired girl as she scrambled to her feet and away from the blonde Huntress and right into someone else.
"Miss Granger, are you alright?" Professor Dumbledore's question made her jump, head snapping up to look at the elderly wizard.
"Professor!" She exclaimed. "I'm sorry, you've been so quiet I forgot you were here." Harry chuckled at her reaction from where he stood next to his memory self, who was oddly shorter than him, but she resolved to figure that out later.
Instead, she looked at their professor curiously, who guessed her upcoming question.
"I'm," He paused, looking around at the dark brick buildings around them and back at the bloodied corpses left in the two Hunters' wake. "Taking it all in. It's a bit hard to wrap my head around at the moment, I'm afraid."
Hermione knew exactly what the professor meant. Trying to compartmentalize and really understand everything that they had seen in the short time since the memory began would likely take hours and repeated viewings if this kept up.
She was emphatically not looking forward to having to watch this again if she had to.
"Thank you, little ones." Memory Harry said as he patted one of them on the head. "You've brought us a fine note." They all did a little dance at that, seemingly pleased to have been of help to the two Hunters.
"Be ready for anything." Evelyn said to Memory Harry as he rose, and together they stepped through an archway and into a graveyard, Hermione and the headmaster on their heels while Harry had gone ahead, preceding his memory self in.
The graveyard was a large circular courtyard dotted with dead trees and clusters of tombstones. Penned in as it was by the high walls of the surrounding buildings; the waning light of the setting sun barely illuminated the space. Harry was bent over a seemingly random patch of dirt near the center of the graveyard, muttering to himself in a voice too low for anyone to make out. At the opposite end from where they had entered was a wide staircase, the only other exit that Hermione could see. Stood near the stairs was a rather large man with long white hair, dressed not dissimilarly to Memory Harry, although his darker outfit, and especially his rumpled black hat, vaguely reminded Hermione of missionaries from the Old American West. At his feet lay one of the Beast men, already broken and bleeding but still very much alive as it tried desperately to crawl away from the Hunter that stood above it.
Evelyn and Memory Harry stopped short when they noticed him, watching as the large man hefted an enormous one handed axe above his head before bringing it down with a dull thud into the incapacitated Beast man's chest, the resulting arterial spray not making the Hunter flinch in the slightest. The man forcefully wrenched his weapon from the now very dead Beast man at his feet, and rose to his full height, what looked like a blunderbuss in his off hand.
"Beasts all over the shop," he spoke in a quiet brogue, head cocked as if listening intently to something. "You'll join them, sooner or later." And then he turned, revealing blood stained bandages wrapped around his eyes, baring too sharp teeth in a low snarl that eerily reminded Hermione of the sound Harry made after Professor McGonagall separated them during their heated and rather random kiss. Hermione blushed slightly as she remembered it, feeling heat start to rise in her core, but she furiously stomped the feeling down with a ruthlessness that would surprise no one. What an inappropriate time for those kinds of thoughts!
"Father Gascoigne?" Memory Harry said tentatively, but the blind man ignored him, instead charging towards them at full tilt, his axe raised high, poised to strike.
Evelyn and Memory Harry looked at each for a moment before simultaneously bolting in opposite directions just as the mad Hunter's weapon fell where Memory Harry had been stood a moment before with a resounding clash.
Hermione 'eeped!' when the force of the blow sent a small dust cloud up around him.
Gascoigne whirled towards Memory Harry, dodging around the strike aimed for his back while simultaneously blasting him with his blunderbuss, sending Memory Harry recoiling back to his knees. The mad hunter swiftly reloaded before raising his axe, intent on taking advantage of Memory Harry's stunned state, but before he could Evelyn's whip lashed across his back, sending him reeling from the sudden shock of pain.
Gascoigne whirled again, just in time for Evelyn to score another strike, across his chest this time, but he ignored the pain and leapt for her, swinging his axe furiously as she danced around his powerful but slow blows with apparent ease.
Then Memory Harry was there, having apparently recovered from being shot point blank in the chest in just a few seconds, sprinting into Gascoigne and raking his serrated blade across his back over and over, doing unspeakable damage to the mad Hunter's coat and sending crimson arcs of blood flying in every direction. The handle of Gascoigne's axe extended and, taking it in both hands, he spun suddenly on the spot, bringing his blade around and into Memory Harry with a meaty thunk that sent him flying into a nearby tombstone.
"Harry!" Hermione and Evelyn gasped at the same time. Hermione shot the huntress a look, seeing the same concern she felt reflected back in those deep blue eyes, despite her mouth being twisted into a hateful scowl that bordered on a primal showing of teeth.
Maybe there was a little they had in common after all, even if it was just concern for Harry's wellbeing.
Harry, who was still examining that random patch of ground, didn't even look up as he said, "Yes 'Mione?" She looked at her friend, taking in that he was there, watching this memory, his memory, with them, and very much alive, and the sudden spike of fear at seeing him wounded so brutally dulled into only-slightly-more-than-mild concern.
Gascoigne made to move towards Evelyn but lurched to a sudden stop, his head cocked back towards where Memory Harry sat in a slowly growing puddle of his own blood, shaking his head as if to clear it. "What's that smell?" The mad Hunter asked sharply, scenting the air much like a dog would. "The sweet blood, oh," He turned fully back to Memory Harry, who was watching him with wide eyes as he tried to claw his way back up to a standing position using the headstone for support. "It sings to me. It's enough to make a man sick."
The mad Hunter leapt once more into an overhead strike aimed to cleave Memory Harry in two, who could only raise his arms in a vain attempt to protect himself, but then Evelyn was there, the same pistol that Harry had shown them in the headmaster's office raised and fired point blank into Gascoigne's chest. The thoroughly bloodied Hunter jerked in mid-air before landing at Evelyn's feet and collapsing to one knee, a hand clasped to his newest wound.
Evelyn stalked forward, jabbing her cane into the ground by her feet before forcefully shoving her gloved hand passed Gascoigne's own and into his new wound. Wrist deep in her prey's chest, she lifted him up to look him in his bandaged eyes before suddenly and harshly ripping her hand sideways and out of Gascoigne's chest in a great wave of crimson that coated both of them from head to toe. Gascoigne collapsed onto his back several feet away, moaning in pain, but made no move to get up.
Evelyn sniffed disdainfully at the downed man before turning on her heel, plucking her cane from the ground, and dashing to Memory Harry's side.
"Blood vial!" She barked at him as she steadied him on his feet. "Honestly Harry, did you really forget about them?" Memory Harry grimaced and mumbled something back that Hermione couldn't make out it was so quiet. "Well don't let it happen again. I won't always be there to save you. You have to be able to take care of yourself." Memory Harry nodded, pulling a small hypodermic full of blood out of a pouch on his belt and unceremoniously jabbing it into his leg.
Okay, maybe they had more in common than just a concern for Harry's wellbeing.
To Hermione's complete astonishment, his wound immediately sealed up as if it had never been there to begin with. Evelyn looked him over once and, seemingly satisfied that he'd be able to stand on his own, stepped back to look at Gascoigne where he still lay, moaning in pain.
"He's lost to the blood." She said regretfully. "There's only one thing to be done for him now." Memory Harry said nothing, only nodding his head absently as he watched. Evelyn made her way back to Gascoigne, standing near the man's head and raising her cane to strike him across the jaw, a blow that would surely break his neck and end his suffering.
A blow that never landed.
As Evelyn swung her weapon, Gascoigne howled, exploding outwards in a cloud of dust and debris that threw Evelyn onto her back several yards away. She leapt to her feet while Memory Harry stared at the dust cloud with wide eyes. Before the dust could even begin to settle, a great beast, like a werewolf on steroids, wearing the tattered remains of Gascoigne's outfit came charging at him faster than anything Hermione had ever seen.
Clawed hands swung at Memory Harry in an animalistic furor, unrelenting in its ceaselessness as the massive beast that used to be a man continued advancing, forcing Memory Harry back with every swipe. Memory Harry ducked, dodged, and wove his way around and between what attacks he could, but he could not dodge them all, the occasional spurt of blood the only outwards sign that he had been struck. All the while, Evelyn followed, her whip biting into the back of the beast again and again, but it would not be deterred from its chosen prey and pursued him until his back was up to a wall.
Hermione gnawed on her lip in silent worry as she watched the memory of her friend be brutalized in such a fashion, unable to look away despite the horror of it all. And now with his back to a wall how was he going to get out of this alive?
No sooner had she had the thought then a gunshot rang out and the monster that Gascoigne had become fell to one knee at Memory Harry's feet. Just like Evelyn before him, he rammed his gloved hand into Gascoigne's chest as deep as he could, managing to reach in to his elbow, before tearing his hand back out sideways.
Unlike Evelyn, Harry's hand did not emerge empty. Instead, grasped there in his bloodied fist was Gascoigne's too large, but still beating heart.
The beast fell back from Memory Harry, howling plaintively for a moment before falling still and silent. Memory Harry stared down at what used to be a Hunter like himself, breathing heavily, for a heartbeat before saying to Evelyn, in an utterly lost voice, "What are we going to tell his daughter?"
The scene in front of them dissolved, and Hermione, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Harry were back in the Headmaster's office, standing over the pensieve.
And there, only an inch away from her face, waist deep in the silvery liquid of memory, was the face of one of the little ones.
Author's Note: It has been several years since I was active on this site, but the idea behind this story keeps clomping around in my head and taking up all of my focus, so here it is! I don't have any sort of set schedule as to when I will be writing the rest of this, so updates will be rather sporadic. That being said, I do have a damned good idea of the meat and bones of this story, and I even know how I want it to end! So odds are good that I will finish this one eventually. I will certainly try at the very least.
Reviews, whether they be a short 'loved it!' or a short essay on all the ways I completely failed, are always appreciated. Lemme know what you guys think, and I will do my best to reply to every review.