6/ 21/11 So yes, at the start of writing this... I still have only completed two chapters of my ATLA sequel fanfiction "Finding a Drop Among the Waves" . With the final movie coming out less than a month from now, and a new obsession with a certain actor from a recent comic book film (completely unrelated to the Potter films, but the basis for the character 'Lenan'.) I have created this Harry Potter fanfiction. I hope you like it! And I will return to "Finding a Drop Among the Waves"... really I will. I just have to get Michael out of my system.
Now, of course, I do not own anything in this story except for Michael and Hailey. Even after rereading the book, I'm not exactly sure how long Hermione and Harry were looking for the horcruxes without Ron, and I'm certainly not sure how long a period it was between Ron's return and the battle of Hogwarts. So, I'm going to wing it, probably inadvertently extending it to build on Michael's character.
/. /. / Chapter 1: A Stranger in the Nick of Time
/. /. / NINETEEN YEARS AND FOUR MONTHS AGO; FOREST OF DEAN
Harry's shaking fingers lifted to touch the cut the locket's chain had made to his throat, too weak to do anything more. Beside him, his savior collapsed on the snowy bank, coughing and sputtering. He'd thought it was Hermione, being that she was the closest person nearby, but the coughs were deep, masculine. He lifted his head to see the blurry form struggle to his feet, the sword in one hand and the locket in the other.
"What the hell is wrong with yeh?" The voice had a lilting accent to it, making it clear he wasn't from England, but quite close by, likely Ireland. The outline of him was tall. "Out here in the middle of the freezing water, practically naked, and playin' with a sword, let me say it again, in the FREEZING WATER? Were yeh trying to kill yourself?" He tossed the sword to Harry's feet. "Because let me tell yeh, there are far easier ways to do it than that, my friend." Harry found his glasses and looked to his savior. His dark hair hung about his face in dripping tangles, partially obscuring his features. His clothing was dirty and in desperate need of mending. He stood over six feet tall, with a lean, strong build. "And what the hell is this thing that was trying to choke yeh?" He lifted the locket, examining it.
"Give that. . . back. . ." Harry spoke through chattering teeth. The strangers eyes turned to Harry; honey colored and untrusting.
"Hold your horses there, get your clothes on, get yourself situated. I want to make sure you're not going to do anything stupid like play sword in the hole." He gave a hoarse laugh. "Not to insinuate anything crude. I'll still be here when yeh put some pants on." Harry eyed him for a minute, then began pulling his clothing on as quickly as he could, nervous that with every sweater he put on, his eyes would emerge to find he was alone, the horcrux gone. Finally dressed, Harry held out his hand. The man gave him a look over, then handed the necklace over. "I've never seen a necklace try to kill someone before." The mans honey eyes showed clear concern. "There is a powerful curse in there and if yeh didn't create it, yeh shouldn't be carryin' that thing around." He glanced down at his hand. His palm was bleeding freely from a large laceration across it from the chain. "Yeh should destroy that thing." His eyes roamed up to Harry's scar and widened, a smile blooming on his mouth. "Hey, you're Ha-" Before the man could finish his sentence, Harry yanked out his wand.
"Stupefy!" He let out a small grunt before tipping backwards. Harry moved toward him, pulling the wand from the mans wet pocket. He looked by the hole in the water, finding a black canvas bag. He spent a moment considering the moral contemplations before deciding that finding out the mans origins and possible affiliations was more important. Rummaging through more heavily worn clothing, he found a small beaten up photo album buried in the bottom of the bag, just under the lining. The pages were flimsy, some bent in many places. It was obvious he looked at it often. Most of the photos were still, like regular muggle photos. Only a few, about 7 or so out of 24, were moving. The photos showed a beautiful young woman and a young man with a round face, dark blonde hair and honey colored eyes. In the photos, they appeared in their mid-teens. A still photo showed the two of them, his hand on her shoulder. She was smiling at the camera, but he was looking at her endearingly, his face full of love and admiration. There were several more candid photos of her, just doing daily activities; sitting by the window and reading, her face dotted with flour as she baked, sitting in the grass looking out into the distance. A candid still photo of the two of them revealed the most. The two were outside on a windswept hill. His hair was short, his face round and full. He wore black pants and a longsleeve grey sweater, just a tad too small for his pudgy frame, trimmed in blue with a blue and silver tie. The uniform of a Hogwarts student from Ravenclaw. He was looking over his shoulder, extending his hand to the girl. She was beaming at him, reaching for it. She wore a white button up shirt with a blue and green pleated skirt and black Mary Jane shoes, her hair pulled back into a French braid. He was a wizard, and she was a Catholic school student. A wizard and a muggle.
Harry looked to the unconscious stranger, tall and lean. From what he could see, his face was thin, bordering on gaunt, but they both had honey colored eyes. Either he had a brother, or the years had changed him drastically. The last photo was the most worn, faded in areas. It was a moving photo of the girl, looking about 15 or so, waving at the camera and blowing a kiss with a wink before laughing and covering her face with an embarrassed blush. Her eyes were such a dark brown, they almost appeared black, yet they radiated warmth and love.
Indecision tore at Harry. The photos, using mostly muggle technology, portrayed a kind young man deeply in love with a muggle girl. Yet because of current events, it was unclear of who could be trusted. He looked to the man, laying on the cold ground unconscious. He'd saved him from strangling and freezing. He'd willingly tossed over the sword, seemingly unknowing of how valuable it was. He'd handed over the locket, and his palm was still bleeding from yanking the chain from around Harry's neck. He looked at the teenage girls photo again, gingerly removing it from its plastic sheathing. On the back, the name Hailey was written, along with the date of birth and the date of death. She was not quite 16 when she died. A decision was made.
/. /. / THE TENT; FOREST OF DEAN
"Hermione!" Harry called out as he approached the tent, the man laying on a magicked stretcher floating behind Harry. "I've found two things."
"What is it?" Hermione's voice preceded her out of the tent. She stopped in her tracks seeing the stretcher. "Who on earth is that? And why have you brought him here?"
"He saved my life, Hermione. He found me strangling under the ice, trying to get this." He held up the sword of Gryffindor. "He pulled me out, and tossed the sword at my feet. He gave the locket back as soon as I was dressed. I don't think he knew what they were, or how important they are. I'm not saying to completely trust him, but maybe he's heard something. Some bit of news we don't have from the rest of the world. Look," he pulled the photo album from the mans canvas bag, which was slung over his shoulder, "I'm pretty sure that's him in the photos, but the girl was a muggle. Most of the pictures are unmoving."
"Where did he come from?" She stayed in the doorway, not taking the album, and not getting any closer to the man. "And wait... what were you doing in the ice... with no clothes on?" She suddenly moved forward, as if just realizing what he'd said, grabbing the sword. "How did you find this?" She ran her fingers over the hilt.
"I saw a silver doe, like a patronis. My instincts said-"
"It could have been a trap!"
"My instincts said to follow it, so I did." He spoke patiently as Hermione eyed him severely before continuing to inspect the sword. "It led me to a frozen pond. I could see the sword glinting in the moonlight. The only way I could get it was to go into the water. Once I did, the chain of the horcrux tightened around my neck. Before I knew it, someone grabbed me and pulled me to the surface. He got the sword too." Her interest seemed to peak a little and she approached the stretcher. She reached down, moving a wet lock of hair out of his face.
"He needs a bath." She commented dryly, looking at a his grime covered features. Though he was wet, only a good scrubbing with soap would remove the layer of dirt that coated his skin. "How did he find you?"
"He must have been nearby and heard the splashing."
"Let me see the album." Harry handed it over. Hermione flipped through it. "Catholic school girl..."
"There are dates on the back. She died seven years ago."
"She was a muggle..." She looked at the man on the stretcher. "You don't think he..."
"He seems trustworthy... and he looks too happy with her in all the photos."
"I don't know, Harry... maybe we should leave him here and move on tonight. It all seems too convenient. You see the sword, he rescues you and retrieves it, handing it over with no problem. Maybe he wants to find out where we are exactly."
"He had too many chances to kill me there. He could have let me drown in the water. He could have stabbed me with the sword while I was gagging on the shore. He could have used a killing curse while I was fumbling for my glasses. He might be able to help us in some way. We've got to try."
Hermione remained quiet, eyeing the man disdainfully before finally speaking. "Fine, but I want him blindfolded and secured to a chair. He's not exactly weak looking."
The two of them pulled him from the stretcher and carried him into the tent, Hermione bending beneath his weight. They sat him in a chair and Hermione magicked chains around his wrists, ankles and waist. She then tied a black cloth over his eyes, careful not to tie his long tangled dark hair into the knot of fabric. While standing behind him, she noticed he smelled of earth. She'd expected him to smell of stale body judging by the nature of his clothing and the greasiness of his messy hair. She took a step back and Harry performed the counter curse.
The man woke with a start, jerking in the chains around his wrists. His head moved as if he were trying to look around.
"Really? I already know who yeh are, Mr. Potter. Is a blindfold necessary?" His lilting voice was cocky and arrogant, but Hermione picked up on the slightest tone of panic, hidden deep within it.
"What's your name?" Harry asked.
"Lenan Hachas. Male. Just outside of Dublin. 26 years old. Yeh never did answer my question. Yeh know, the one I asked before yeh hit me with a rather unnecessary spell. Why were yeh playin' in the ice with a sword and a cursed necklace? For someone so important to the future of all wizard and muggle kind, it seems like a pretty stupid thing for yeh to be doin."
"How did you find Harry?" The side of his mouth curled up, as he looked in Hermione's direction.
"Now I don't know you, but yeh sound lovely. It's been a while since I've heard a woman's voice. It's like music. I found your famous friend while trekking through the woods. I saw a patronus run in front of me. I quickly followed it to see where it was going, but when I heard Mr. Potters approach, I hid. I heard the splash of him jumping in the water. I went to the water's edge and when he didn't come up, I jumped in after him."
"Do you work for You-know-who?"
"Aw, I was still hoping you were an intelligent bloke, Mr. Potter, even if yeh do play with sharp things in odd places. Of course I don't work for him. But then again, I'd say no even if I did to gain your trust. I mean, being so close to yeh, who would say 'yes, I'm a Deatheater' while chained to a chair, completely vulnerable."
"Did you kill the muggle girl in the photos?" Lenan turned toward Hermione. The cocky smile had fallen and his face turned stark white beneath the layer of dirt.
"You went through my things..." He shook his arms, the chains rattling. "Where is the album!" His voice cracked. There was panic in his movements, his tone of voice. "Let me up. Let me up! Where is the album!" He jerked around again. "Please! It's all I have left and it's so fragile."
"Were you the one that killed her?"
"Please! This is like torture! Let me up! Let me see that the pictures are undamaged!" He looked toward Harry. "Please, I'll answer anything you want. I'll tell you anything! You can obliviate tonight's events and ditch me in the woods for all I care. I'll do anything, just let me up and let me see the album. You have my wand. How much harm can I be?" His voice was pleading. Harry looked to Hermione, who shook her head no. He looked at Lenan, desperately struggling to rise. He pointed his wand.
"Relashio." The chains fell away and Lenan jumped up, ripping away the blindfold. His eyes were red and puffy. He looked around for a moment, disoriented by the light, before rushing toward his canvas bag in the corner. He fell to his knees, gingerly pulling the photo album out. He slowly went through the pages, stopping at the last photo. His finger slowly ran over the face as the beautiful young woman waved and blew a kiss. A pang of guilt shuddered through Hermione's stomach.
"What happened?" She asked softly.
"I'm on your side, Mr. Potter. More than anything in this life, I want to destroy all those working for Him, all those responsible for the fear, suffering, and death of the ones around us. What little family I lay claim to is gone. Dead because of them. If yeh are going to fight them, I want to fight them with yeh." He stood, whipping around to Harry, his eyes red and swollen, his face pallid. He jabbed his free hand at Harry's chest, his features full of anger despite the tears. "But if you're going to play the suicide game, then you're useless. Do yeh have any clue how many people are waiting for yeh to return? Waiting for yeh to make a triumphant arrival with some grand plan to kill the son of a bitch? And what are yeh doing instead? Hiding out in the woods with your girlfriend," he threw the hand holding the album toward Hermione, his voice rising in volume, "messing around in the ice! What the bloody hell is wrong with yeh? I believed in yeh!" He clutched the album to his chest. "I actually thought yeh were going to be the grand hero they made yeh out to be. Instead I find this, an idiot with a strange taste in jewelry, and a nosy girl." He turned from Harry, sitting in the chair once more, the album in his lap, his head in his hands. "I can't believe this. All the naive dreams of grandeur... all for nothing. We are all going to die." His fingers delicately traced the cover of the album as he looked up at Harry, tears in his eyes once more. "And for what, Mr. Potter? Just so that bastard and his treacherous legion of blood thirsty monsters can feel powerful and important? I had so much faith in yeh... I thought yeh were going to be the one to save us all. What an idiot I was..." He looked down once more, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.
"You're wrong." Harry spoke softly, a little taken back by the sudden fragility of such a tall, imposing figure.
"Is that all yeh can say? Is that you're only defense?" He stood, moving to his bag and putting the album in it before lifting it up and putting it to his shoulder. His movements were slow, as if all his energy had been drained away in mere minutes. "I can't even say I'm disappointed... it's not a big enough word..." He moved to the tent flap, glancing at Harry over his shoulder. A bottomless sorrow filled his honey colored eyes. "At least I'll die fighting them. I'm not going to hide in the country side and off myself..." his eyes stayed on Harry, but he cocked his head toward Hermione, "or just wait for it to end like the two of yeh." He turned his head away from them, his hand on the flap, just about to step out.
"You have it all wrong, Lenan. I wasn't trying to kill myself. I jumped in to get the sword. The patronus you saw led me to it. The only way I could get the sword was to jump in the water. I didn't think to take the locket off. I'm not hiding in the woods, as you so aptly insist. I'm fighting harder than you can imagine." Harry worked to keep his voice calm, knowing the insults the newcomer had spewed were completely unfounded. "I'm not the blithering idiot you've built in your mind over the last thirty minutes."
Lenan responded, his back still turned to them. "No one has seen yeh for almost four months. I've heard people talking... some are starting to entertain the grim idea that you're dead already. He grows stronger every day... Yeh say you're fighting, but there's not a scratch on yeh aside from where the chain cut yeh thirty minutes ago." He turned toward Harry once more. "I don't want to call yeh a liar... but I gotta admit, I don't understand how yeh can possibly be fighting all the way out here where you're safe and sound." Harry glanced at Hermione. Her eyes widened and she shook her head no. He looked to where the sword and horcrux lay on the desk along the wall. He moved, picking them up before Hermione could say anything.
"You want to go after the death eaters, then I have a job for you." Lenan stared at him, his eyes still red, his grimy face still pale. He gave a sarcastic bark of a laugh.
"What, are yeh going to take me out back and stab me to death? Behead me? I didn't know yeh had it in yeh."
"No," he held up the locket, "you're going to help me destroy this."
"Harry, you can't! Dumbledore told you of the mission and you entrusted the two of us. No one else is supposed to know! Especially a complete stranger! This is ludicrous!"
"Professor Albus Dumbledore gave yeh a mission?" Lenan spoke softly, but neither of the two teenagers paid him any attention.
"You have to admit. It's gotten harder without Ron around. I have a feeling this is the right thing to do. It was my mission. I feel we need a third. I know we can trust him. I can just sense it." His eyes moved to Lenan, who was now looking back and forth between Harry and Hermione, confusion clear in his face. "The locket you pulled off me isn't just a piece of jewelry. It's cursed as you yourself pointed out."
"Harry, wait!"
"If you want to trust him, this is the best way."
"No, it's not." She grabbed her wand from Harry's pocket and stepped in front of him, pointing it at Lenan. "Show me your arms." He looked her in the eyes for the first time. Any trace of grin he'd given her while blindfolded was gone. There was bottomless sorrow in his honey colored eyes and his mouth was a thin line as he rolled up his sleeves, holding his arms out palm up. The right one was tattooed and Hermione stepped forward tentatively to examine it. A thin line of black ink formed a vine with delicate leaves of ivy spiraling around his arm, down to his wrist, ending on the back of his hand.
"Happy now?" He spoke bitterly, rolling his sleeves down. He looked to Harry once again, then to the locket. "What is it?"
"The locket is a Horcrux..."
"A what?" Lenan cocked his head forward, his face scrunching a bit in question.
"A Horcrux. It's one of many objects that contain a piece of he-who-must-not-be-named's soul. We are hunting them down and trying to destroy them. By destroying them, he is weakened and will not be able to return again after he is defeated." Lenan's face fell and his eyes shot to the sword.
"Wait... that's... that's the sword of Gryffindor..." He whispered. He moved toward it, his hand outstretched.
"Repelio!" Lenan stumbled back a few feet as if pushed away from the gleaming object. He shot Hermione a scathing look.
"The famous Harry Potter trusts me, but the nameless young witch doesn't. Who'd have guessed. Would yeh like to chain my wrists and ankles like a convict, yeh faithless little thing?" Her jaw tightened and he smirked. He looked to the cut on his palm, then to Harry's neck. "Why haven't yeh destroyed it yet?"
"We wanted to find out your motives first."
"Well, you know them now. How many are there? How many have yeh destroyed?"
"This is the first we've actually found, but two have been destroyed before. There are five more, including the locket."
"Well," Michael eyed the sword, "what are yeh waiting for? Stab his soul already!"
/. /. / POST SCRIPT AUTHOR'S NOTE:
P.S.A.N. : So as the date on top suggests, I started this in June and just now got around to posting it in September. After a lot of continuous writing, rewriting, and tweaking of his character for future ideas and scenes, I am completely in love with Michael 'Lenan Hachas' Shanahan. I really hope you guys love him too and feel he accurately fits in with the Potter Universe.