Okay, I've ignored this fic for far too long, so here is the first revised chapter. I think it's a lot better than the original, and hopefully you will too. It's kind of like a prologue. Please review and tell me what you think. I own neither Dark is Rising or Harry Potter.


Fight. The sounds of battle, screams and cries and crashes as fatal curses soared through the dark. The rising adrenaline that overwhelmed the mind, taking over, turning him into a brutal, vicious fighting machine with no room for thought, only reflex. The beast is there too, a roaring voice telling him to protect the pack, the beast-that-is-him-yet-not-him. Ducking as death flew past on swift wings, and tripping over the body of one of the fallen, the face familiar, a former friend. But grief is for later; there is nothing but the fight.

He pushes sweat-soaked dark hair out of his eyes and fires a beam of red light across the courtyard. The air is dark and smoky, vision hazy; he has no idea whether he hit his target or not. A slashing spell catches his side and fresh pain blossoms, but the beast roars and feeds him new strength. Anger and determination, and suicidal recklessness in battle; they have made him one of the most feared warriors in this war of wizardry. Sometimes he thinks they come from the beast, but they stop his knees from buckling, let him leap over the victims and throw himself once more into the fray.

Blood-cousin is killing many, madness plain in her beautiful eyes. Raises wand at pack-brother. He snarls and fires a curse she dodges with ease. Taunting. Why, cousin, can't you do any better?...

All around, people fight. He levels his wand and makes for blood-cousin. The beast growls with blood-lust. Kill, kill, kill... the man might just give in. "Conjunctivo!"

She parries it; she is at least as skilled as him, probably better; after all she is the Enemy's chief lieutenant. She smiles and raises her wand. Says a word. The tiles in front of his feet explode with force and he is hurled bodily across the courtyard, slamming against the wall with a sickening crunch and sliding painfully down. His wand is jerked from his hand to go skidding across the flagstones. The beast whimpers...

Blood-cousin approaches, taking her time, knowing he cannot escape. She is a cat and loves to play with her prey. His vision is blurry but he makes a hopeless attempt for his wand. She points her own at him. A slender stick of wood. Her lips part.

"Avada Kedavra," she says cruelly, and there is a flash of green light and a cry and the boy-who-is-not-a-boy and a force pushing him out of the way and a swish of air as someone Disapparates and he's looking up into pack-brother's face.

"What? Why am I alive?" he asks, confused, the beast subsiding for now. James' brown eyes are full of concern; his glasses have slipped off his nose.

"The battle's over, Padfoot," he says. "No-" he stops Sirius from getting up- "you lie down. You've been badly hit by a slicing curse. You may have to go to St. Mungo's."

"But-" the pain is making his head go fuzzy- "she said the Killing Curse- I should be dead-"

James' face goes strange. "Will."

Sirius jerks to his feet. The blood rushes from his head, making him sway dizzily. He blinks until his vision clears. There is no more fighting in the courtyard, just members of the Order tending to wounded friends and binding captured Death Eaters. His gaze is drawn to to a small body a few feet away, a boy no more than fourteen, his blank grey eyes wide and glazed from the Killing Curse. "What? He's dead? But-"

The pathetic body convulses, and starts to breathe again. The boy blinks and sits up, his brown hair falling haphazardly around his face. He winces. "Ow. Remind me not to do that again. Stupid."

Sirius feels his knees go weak from relief. He falls to the ground next to the boy. "You saved my life."

The boy waves a hand irritably. "It's nothing. What any friend would have done." Large eyes sparkle with laughter. "Well, maybe not just anyfriend. I suppose I'm a special case."

"You certainly are, young sprout," James laughs, sitting down next to them. "You must be the first human ever to survive the Killing Curse."

"Well, not exactly survive," Will corrects him. Eyes glint in a strangely disturbing way. "And I'm not exactly human, either."

Sirius shivers. Sometimes he wonders if this is truly friendship, when one is so afraid of the other. But the boy has saved his life, and he should be grateful. "My thanks, again."

Dorcas comes up to them, businesslike, her steel gray hair tied back in a strict bob. Many times, she reminds Sirius of his strict Transfiguration teacher and Head of House, Minerva Mcgonagal. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," James says with concern, "but Sirius needs medical help, soon."

"I'm telling you, I'm perfectly all right," Sirius insists, although the world is spinning gently and his back feels like it's broken. He can't even feel his side anymore, and that's probably a good thing, considering the look on James' face when he saw it. "How are everyone else?" He leans against the scorched, blackened wall.

She sighs, grief plain on her face. "Five injuries, and... one fatality."

"No," James gasps. "...who?..."

Sirius chants his inner mantra, an inner prayer he always says at times like these.Please let it not be Remus. Please let it not be Peter. Please let it not be Lily. Please let it not be Dumbledore. Please let it not be Arthur, or the Prewetts, or Elphias, or Caradoc, or Edgar, or Marlene or the Longbottoms or Emmeline...

"Benjy Fenwick," Dorcas says heavily.

"No!" James says, horrified. "Little Benjy Fenwick? We made fun of him, just last night! He can't be dead!"

"Who killed him?" Sirius asked.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," the answer comes. "Very nasty curse. We can only find... bits of him."

Sirius thinks he's going to be sick. Literally. He swallows, a terrible expression on his face. James pats him awkwardly. "I'm so going to kill her next time," Sirius whispers. "She's mine. I'll show her what 'family honor' really means, the-" He tries to get to his feet, and now he really can feel his side, and it's not good. The world tilts and Will reaches out and stops him from falling.

"St. Mungo's for you, Sirius," he insists.

Dorcas notices him for the first time. "Who in Merlin's Beard is he?!!" she asks in bewilderment. "Battlefields are no places for children-"

Will sighs. "Oh, god, not this again," he says. "I've had enough of it already. Please, Ms. Meadowes, could we discuss this in a more secure location?" He has a businesslike tone to match hers, strange coming from what appears to be an ordinary fourteen-year-old.

Dorcas looks rather taken aback. Sirius can sympathize. Will confuses most people he comes across. "Certainly not! Where are your parents?"

Will turned to James. "She's never going to come around, is she?"

James grins. "No, mate, 'fraid not."

The boy turns back to Dorcas. "Sorry about this," he says, his tone of voice unusually gentle. He spreads his fingers wide. "Forget," he says softly. "Forget." Dorcas' face goes blank.

"I hate it when you do that," Sirius grumbles. "It's creepy."

"Just Obliviation, really," Will replies. He turns back to the hypnotized woman. "I am not here," he says. "You never saw me. I don't exist. You'd better go and check on Edgar." Slowly he lets his fingers drop, one by one. Dorcas blinks, then turns and walks away.

"Why do you do that weird finger thing anyway?" James asks. "Why not just snap?"

Will's face grows serious, his voice grave. "Ah, you see, that is one of the ways we tell the agents of the Dark from those of the Light. All Dark minions are instructed to snap their fingers when brainwashing someone. The Warriors of the Light drew the short straw, so they have to do the weird Star Trek finger-thingy."

James and Sirius burst into laughter. Sirius is always startled by Will's surprising capacity, sometimes, for the most irreverent humor. Maybe it's just gallows satire, but it makes him a bit more human, and for that Sirius is grateful.

Will tilts his head back and stares up at the stars, his brief expression of good humor replaced by an alien, incomprehensible look. There is something terribly ancient in that young face, ancient and sad. "I wonder..." he says quietly.

"Wonder what?" Sirius asks in a low voice, hardly daring to breathe.

Will turns those fathomless eyes on him, and suddenly he is aware of emotions he didn't even know applied to this slender figure: fear and doubt. "Merriman..." the boy says to himself. "Am I doing the right thing?"