Author's Note: I never do these before a story, but I feel like I need a preface. I KNOW I'm starting a new story when I have so many to update and I know it's been forever, but I'm super busy with school and life and stuff, and I don't usually get the time to update as frequently as I'd like. But I couldn't get this out of my head and it was surprisingly easy to write down once I started. So I hope you're not mad at me, and all of my stories are always ongoing, I will not abandon any of them. Hang in there, guys!
Secondly, this is quite heavily inspired by Azorrah Lee's A Strange Set of Circumstances, which I'm re-reading and I'm completely OBSESSED with! A few basic premises overlap with that story, but I'm trying hard not to emulate it too much and keep this original. Anyway, you should all go and check it out if you haven't already, it's a wonderful crossover, one of my favourites!
Sorry for the ramble. Hope you enjoy this!
Reclamation
"When the winding path reaches its end, and the night grows to an apex of darkness, he shall choose whether to reclaim what was once his. And the stray bird in the raven's nest will choose to rise with the darkness or to fall with an icy caress."
Prologue
31st October 1981
The man pressed his back against the wall, breathing raggedly.
His clothes were torn, face flushed from running as fast as his legs could carry him, as his life depended on it and an assortment of other metaphors that were apt to his situation.
He tightened his grip on his wand and pressed it to his neck. He took a deep breath to steady himself from the raucous chaos that exploded around him.
The air around him glowed a brilliant white light.
"It's over, old friend. Please, make sure he's okay. You know what to do."
The luminous light faded until only the darkness remained.
The man pocketed his wand and rubbed his hands together.
He focused his mental energy on the surfaces around him.
His world spun upside down until everything felt smaller.
The ground felt closer than before as he bounded into the night.
The man let out a sharp growl as his surroundings closed in around him, boxing him in.
A sharp snap sounded in the quiet air and voices were speaking. He didn't know what they were saying as he was lifted from the ground. The man whispered something to the people around him before the world turned to black.
1st September 1993
"We're going to miss you so much," Carole Hudson-Hummel sobbed into her stepson's neck.
Kurt Hummel rolled his eyes fondly. "We've done this twice before, Carole. You and Dad send me off to Hogwarts and I assure you that I'll write every day, which I subsequently forget to do. But this time I'm promising you that I will. Roger's going to be thrilled with all the exercise he'll be getting. Won't you, bud?"
The majestic barn owl in the cage adjacent to Kurt hooted in disinterest.
Burt Hummel let out a quick chuckle. He looked around at the abundance of students boarding the train with their pets, , racing to join up with their friends. "You let us know if you want to come home. I'll drive to Hogwarts and pick you up myself."
"Dad, you can't even see the building, remember?"
Burt shrugged. "I'm your father, I'll find a way in."
Kurt grinned at his doting father's resilient attitude. He knew that was where he himself got his steely will from. In nurture at least, considering he wasn't related to Burt by blood.
Elizabeth Hummel had died when Kurt was just six, something that had truly devastated him.
The grief was hard on him and Burt alike, as was predicted. They became temperamental, moody, and would argue more than was healthy. Once the unusually precocious Kurt learned more words and rhetoric patterns, along with more details about his deceased mother, he began to fight back just as viciously as Burt could. At the peak of their arguments, Burt had drunkenly threatened to kick the boy from the house, aged nine, because he wasn't his responsibility anyway. Carole, who Burt had married just the year before, (two years after Elizabeth's passing Kurt was quick to remind him) was shocked at the revelation and asked for more details, as had a belligerent and distraught Kurt.
Burt had told him, rather reluctantly, that Elizabeth had had an affair during a particularly unstable part of their marriage. She had regretted it immediately, begging Burt to forgive her, as he had. He would have done anything for that woman. Then she had revealed that she was pregnant.
Elizabeth was reticent to contact the biological father and Burt had assured her that she needn't. He was more than willing to raise the child himself as though they were not his own.
It was only when Kurt was born that Elizabeth informed the father. After nine months of stewing on whether or not to tell him, she had caved and had reached out to him. The man had been overjoyed at the news, asking to be as involved as she and Burt were comfortable with. She had allowed him to be present for the birth, much to Burt's dismay. He had not gotten along with the man who impregnated his wife, the man whose son he would be raising. The father had backed out of their lives, seeing how happy the trio was going to be when they took the baby home. But not before he had put his choice of a name into the ring. He had offered a suggestion and disappeared from their lives for good, sending money for Kurt every two months, when he could.
Burt and Elizabeth lived a happy six years with Kurt from then on.
Or at least that was the story that Kurt had been told. There was something about it that didn't quite click to him, his radar for sniffing out lies was slightly tingling.
Kurt had adjusted to this new information better than everyone had expected. His biggest source of anguish came from his step-brother, Finn Hudson, and his all too easy assimilation into the family dynamic. Kurt's initial jealousy of his father had been poorly disguised until the issue had been put onto the table by Burt, who assured him that he would never be replaced.
It had been like that for the next few years until the revelation that Kurt had been a wizard had shaken them all to their cores.
Kurt, however, had taken to his magical aptitude with aplomb. He had taken advantage of the summer before Hogwarts reading up on the customs and politics and histories of the wizarding world, as well as combing through his first-year curriculum more times than was probably necessary.
"I'm sure you would, Dad. Now, I should probably get going. No point delaying these goodbyes any further, Carole might just run out of tears to shed on my behalf."
Carole sniffled. "Thanks, Kurt," she added, sarcasm dripping from her tone. Kurt had taught her well.
Burt roped Kurt into a tight hug. "Love you, buddy. Remember, we're only a letter away. And you can come home."
Kurt wondered why he kept broaching the subject of coming home, but let it go with a small frown. "I'll let you know if I want to come home, I promise. Tell Finn I'll write to him later in the week, okay? Love you both!"
And with three hearty waves, Kurt skipped onto the train. The attendant enchanted his luggage to fly into the luggage car at the back of the train. Kurt carried only Roger on board with him, as well a clothing bag containing his robes for the obligatory Sorting Ceremony and Welcoming Feast they would be looking forward to in the coming year.
A slight pang of anxiety hit Kurt as he realised it was the first year out of the three that he wouldn't be boarding with his friends and would hence have to find them.
As fast as the feeling had hit him, he had created a solution.
He slowly opened the door to Roger's cage, wincing as the owl fluttered his wings dramatically and flew straight down the train. Kurt followed the bird, weaving past people on his way.
"Watch it, Hummel," Tracey Davis, a Slytherin girl he knew from Charms class, muttered as he dodged past her.
"Sorry, Tracey," Kurt replied sheepishly as Roger came to a halt not too far from them, diving headfirst into the compartment.
Kurt smiled at the bird's intuition before poking his head around the compartment door.
"Anything from the trolley, dear?" Kurt wheezed in a scarily accurate impression of the lady who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express.
His friends smiled at him in unison.
"Hey, Kurt," Terry Boot greeted him, patting the seat next to him. He took the seat, dipping his head in gratitude.
He looked across the compartment at the rest of his friends: Susan Bones, Neville Longbottom, and Anthony Goldstein.
The five of them had been inseparable since halfway through the first year when Professor Sprout had assigned them a group project in Herbology and they had gotten along tremendously. It was easy for them to then knit together the lines of their friendship as each individual had a deep connection with the others. There was no weak link, they were all as close as the strongest friendship was. That was, arguably, Kurt and Terry, who had sat together at their first-year Welcoming Feast and had discovered that they were sharing a room together as well, which only made their bond even stronger.
"How is everyone? Our weekly letter writing webs can only reveal so much."
Susan pursed her lips. "We were actually just talking about Azkaban."
Kurt smiled. "Did Anthony finally get caught for stealing that extra set of robes from Madam Malkin."
The blond boy paled, looking around the room in abundant paranoia. "I always feel like she's watching me."
Neville shook his head. "I'm sure you've heard the news about Sirius Black by now."
Kurt frowned. "If he wasn't on a Vogue cover this year, I haven't heard of him."
Terry grimaced, ignoring Anthony's confused look. "He's the first person to ever escape from Azkaban."
Anthony leaned forward. "You know, the wizard prison."
Kurt smirked. "I'm Muggle-born, Anthony, I'm not remedial."
Anthony mumbled his apologies as Susan sighed, continuing the explanation.
"Nobody knows how he did it. It's completely surrounded by Dementors and it's even on a remote island far away from anything."
Kurt felt a chill creep its way up his spine. He unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself. "I'm assuming he's dangerous, then?"
Neville nodded gravely. "He was the one who betrayed Harry's parents to You-Know-Who that night. He killed twelve Muggles and a wizard, Peter Pettigrew."
"He sounds like a real delight," Kurt drawled. "would love to meet him sometime."
Neville unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and delicately began to eat it. "That's the thing, nobody knows what he wants."
Susan raised a hand. "My aunt, Amelia, told me something about it."
Everyone leaned forward to hear the story.
Susan cleared her throat. "Apparently, when Black learned that the Dark Lord had perished all those years ago, he was furious. He was his most loyal follower and she thinks he's been trying to escape for twelve years, all to exact revenge on Harry."
Anthony gaped. "Just when you think that boy's been through enough."
Neville gaped. "That's dark. She really told you that?"
Susan shrugged with a slight smirk. "I may have been eavesdropping."
Terry chuckled. "Thought so. What do we do with this information?"
Kurt nodded solemnly. "I'm assuming Harry knows by now."
Terry shrugged. "Probably. I'm guessing Ron filled him in or something. Hermione knows everything, maybe she did."
Kurt turned to Neville. "As the Gryffindor delegate of this group, could you let us know how he's doing from time to time. Sitting next to him as he falls asleep in History of Magic isn't quite enough time to get up to speed on his wellbeing."
Neville nodded. "I'll be sure to do that."
The five spent the remainder of their journey catching up on each other's summer holidays.
Anthony had detailed his extensive re-organisation of his closet, as well as his trying experience with the Monster's Book of Monsters. Neville had empathised with the latter.
"You're supposed to stroke the spine," Kurt and Terry said in chorus. Susan nodded seconds later.
"Well, how were we supposed to know that?" Anthony whined. "That damn book chewed up my favourite socks."
Susan smirked. "Were those the ones with the little Bowtruckles on?"
Anthony blushed before nodding.
"So how was your summer, Terence?" Kurt wondered. "Your letters were rather vague about your Paris trip."
"Wizarding France is weird, man," Terry chuckled. "Sure, everybody's gorgeous and the food is lovely, but not being allowed to drink yet really doesn't help when there's wine everywhere. Though I swear I almost transferred to Beauxbatons when I had the bread there. You would've loved it, Kurt."
Kurt shrugged. "Who needs France when you complete the re-organisation of your closet?"
Anthony wiggled his eyebrows. "It makes it easier when you're not hiding in it anymore."
Susan and Neville snickered at the obvious joke. Kurt just shook his head fondly.
"Then what's your excuse, Goldstein?"
Anthony just winked.
Susan grinned. "So how do we think this next Defence teacher is going to fare?"
"You mean considering the first one was fifty percent evil overlord and the second one didn't know how to spell overlord?"
Kurt giggled. "If we're due a pattern, I would say this one is going to be fairly competent, but also hiding a secret that we'll find out towards the end of the year."
Neville paled. "Was there Divination homework I didn't know about?"
Kurt shrugged. "No, I wrote a letter to Professor Dumbledore just after school let out last year pleading that he provides us with an appropriate Defence teacher who was thoroughly vetted and won't be harbouring Voldemort on the back of his head."
"And you're assuming he listened to you," Anthony clarified.
"I'm the second best student in our year, he's bound to listen to me."
Susan rolled her eyes. "And you're not bitter about it at all," she chirped.
Kurt folded his arms. "Maybe if Hermione Granger would stop getting perfect scores in Transfiguration, then maybe I would have a shot at winning."
Terry frowned. "How do you know you're still second if exams were cancelled last year? We have no way of knowing our homework averages, which I'm assuming are the basis for our second-year grades."
Neville groaned. "Damn Potions."
"Oh Terence, I just know these things. When it comes to admin, I'm like a bloodhound. I must sniff out the information, it's what I'm trained to do."
As the group laughed, an unsettling cold fog ripped its way across the windows outside the train. An icy mist spread across the train's exterior.
The light inside the compartment flickered on and off, before snapping off.
Kurt jumped, startled, clamping his hand around Terry's thigh. Susan brought her knees up to her chest.
"The Hogwarts Express has never broken down before," Anthony whispered. "In its extensive history, it's never broken down."
Kurt slid open the compartment door, poking his head out to look down the corridor. He saw various other students thinking and doing the same thing.
The train shook violently, throwing Kurt back into his seat. Roger hooted uncomfortably from his position on the seat next to Kurt. Kurt ran his trembling fingers through the bird's feathers, trying to soothe him.
"What happening?" Susan whispered harshly.
As she spoke, the compartment door froze up, ice spreading across it, filling the compartment with a cold dread that lingered in the air.
Roger flew onto Kurt's outstretched arm as he ushered everybody into the back corner of the compartment. Terry and Anthony squished themselves into the corner, Kurt backed up against the former. Neville and Susan held onto each other for support. Trevor, Neville's toad, croaked disinterestedly from atop Neville's hand.
Roger's eyes widened as a thin, bony claw wrapped itself around the slightly opened compartment door.
"Seriously, guys, what's happening?" Susan hissed again.
As the door slid open, a black void filled the doorway. The air became harder to inhale, room feeling devoid of any feeling, anything they could grasp onto. Roger hooted uncomfortably, flying to the other side of the compartment.
Kurt blinked rapidly, dizziness overtaking him. He jerked upwards as the creature beckoned into the room, swishing its cloak-like body.
His mind filled with images he would have much rather forgotten. His mother, laying in the hospital bed. His father, spinning out of control. His friendless childhood, the torment. The anxiety of his parentage, that would once keep him up at night. Everything swirled around his brain until he could no longer anchor himself to what was happening.
His eyes filled with a brilliant white light, before the world he knew collapsed around him, replacing the luminous white with a dark, ominous black.