Standing in the odd void of prophetic dreams, Draco Malfoy, youngest Seer in all of Hogwarts, tried and failed to curb his rage at the Sight before him.

Harry- his prince, his beloved- was smiling, gazing lovingly into the red eyes of someone who might've been only vaguely familiar to him- someone whom his father had mentioned in passing, but never specific enough for anyone to get a good description of. Well, he had his description now.

And he was not happy with it.

Like all citizens of Hogwarts, Draco wanted his prince- his kind, selfless prince Harry- to be happy, but...but...! Selfish as his namesake, Draco only wanted Harry by his side! Any future where he was with someone else- looking into someone else's eyes, holding a hand different from his, loving anyone who was not Draco Malfoy- was a future he would never allow!

From behind him, the mists of time and space, in their pale ephemerality, billowed out, carrying with them a faint chime, only discernable to those sensitive to magic. Startled, Draco turned.

Why would she be here?

The Dimensional Witch, dressed in flowing blue robes, with bare feet and radishes dangling from her ears, smiled at him, as if she understood the entirety of the universe and all those alongside it- and she did of course, because why wouldn't she?

She stepped forward, the bare bottom of her foot somehow echoing against the Prophetic void, which had frozen in place.

"Draco Malfoy..." she murmured, the words only just audible, "...do you wish to change this future?"

Unthinking of the consequences, Draco was quick to answer, "yes! I wish to change this future!"

The Dimensional Witch's smile took on a cryptic quality.

"In that case, in exchange for such a wish, your price is..."

And just like that, Draco woke up with the feeling that he'd changed something important, but he couldn't remember what he had changed, or even how he'd accomplished it.

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~Hogwarts Country~

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The country of Hogwarts was one of tall, fruitful trees, vast plains, and eternally warm weather (except in summer, where it increased from simply 'warm' to 'oh Merlin my insides are being boiled as we speak'). Because of this constant heat, the only animals one could expect to see in broad daylight were scaled, coldblooded monsters with venomous fangs and varying numbers of appendages that were either more or less than four.

At night, when it was cooler and everyone else was asleep, the furred beasts came out to play, with claws sharper than steel and teeth tougher than diamond, or so the stories said. Everyone was holed up in the great castle, most having been born there, others coming to die there, all out of fear of the unknown. Only one man had stepped outside, and he'd never returned to the castle. Rumors said he'd found other people- tribes who'd conquered the wilderness- and started a kingdom of his own. But it was more likely he'd died, either dehydrated or mauled by some beast (or maybe even both).

This was largely ignored by most, save for the king and queen (who, by the way, were chosen via election) who made it their business to know what fate befell every citizen of their castle.

So when the prince was kidnapped and a ransom note received 'from the Walpurgis Knights', king James and queen Lily knew exactly who it was that'd taken him, and risked sending out a good chunk of their army to hunt him down.

Six months, and the hunt was still going strong, as the king's men had found out that in daylight, there really wasn't anything to be afraid of.

Six months, and no one knew for sure whether prince Hadrian was alive or not.

Six months...

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Idly, Harry paced the circumference of the throne room of what he'd affectionately named Walpurgis-Kastell. He was dressed in the same white, red, and gold robes he'd been in when he'd first been taken and held captive, beneath a soft red cloak that'd been a sort of wedding gift from Mulciber. Though he should've associated these clothes with bad things, today was a special, happy day, and he wouldn't want to taint that.

Walpurgis-Kastell- that is, the hideout of the Walpurgis Knights, led by Tom Riddle, the Man-Who-Left- was really just a set of ruins a few days' trek from the castle of Hogwarts. The rooms were made of stone, of course, but everything else was made up of wood and fabric (metal was reserved for weapons). Though everything was grand in its own right, the throne room was, at least to Harry, the best of all, if not because of how comforting and familiar the magic within felt, then because of its unusual appearance compared to the rest of the structure.

It was like a hollowed out cylinder, but the ceiling was so high it was near impossible to see. At the wall behind the throne, there was a patch of stone cut into a circle with a pair of wings depicted on it. It matched the design on the floor, actually, save for the line cutting the circle in half- a split suggesting something was hidden beneath the room. When he'd asked, Tom had told him he had yet to discover just what was down there, or how to even open the way down at all.

It was a strange mystery, one that Harry wasn't sure he could help figure out. Though Tom had said he could try and help after the ceremony...

The Knights of Walpurgis had all moved into these ruins a good century or two ago, and Tom had stumbled upon them by chance. They were hostile at first, but according to Tom, they'd admired his cunning and charisma, and made him their king.

Harry had the feeling there was something more- some underlying truth that he had yet to figure out. But now was hardly the time to ponder such things.

Multiple sets of footsteps alerted him to Tom's presence, and those of his Knights.

It was finally time.

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It's finally time...

Sirius Black, captain of Dumbledore's Army- named after the first king of Hogwarts after the deaths of its founders- squared his shoulders and turned to face his men. They were all turned in his direction, but none of them were actually looking at him. Their attention was on the wing-shaped ruins behind him, arching into the sunset sky.

Like him, they wanted to get their prince back. That was all the morale they needed.

Harry...all this time, this is where they kept you? So close...

"Men! Forward march!"

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The ceremony would be conducted in the throne room, if not for the symbolism, then for the magic saturating the place that would surely help the process.

Tom was dressed in billowing black robes with subtle silver and green patterns along the shoulders and hem- a mirror to Harry's, which were identical in all but color scheme. Either it was a beautiful coincidence, or those just happened to be the ritualistic robes of the Knights.

In either case, they suited him well, and Harry couldn't keep the blush from his face. Tom went to stand beside him and wrapped a possessive arm around his waist. There came a chuckle from near the front of the group.

Rodolphus was acting as the bonder.

"Are you both ready?" He asked, his voice amused.

"Quite," Tom said shortly.

"Then, if you would both kneel at the center of the room..."

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With their weapons out and their guards up, the members of Dumbledore's Army crept through the halls of the ancient structure. It was eerily quiet and bereft of guards, at least, so far. But one could never be too careful.

Pausing, Sirius cocked his head. From a relatively close room, he could hear what sounded like chanting. Ritualistic chanting.

He turned around to face Remus, the priest, who'd joined him.

"Get out your compass. I think I know where they are."

With a nod Sirius could only see in the dim lighting because of his animagi enhancements, his partner pulled his golden compass out from a drawstring pouch tied around his waist. He opened it with a click and mumbled into it a single word.

"Concutio."

Then he snapped it shut and slid it back into the pouch.

Sirius made to take a step forward and Remus sighed, knowing exactly what his friend was thinking.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait for the others? The Knights of Walpurgis are savages- it'd be dangerous to face them by ourselves."

"Oh, Moony, you worry too much. I'm a Black, remember?" He grinned, fully aware that only Remus would see it, and curled his hand around the hilt of his sword.

"We're just as savage as them. Now, c'mon- the others'll find us quickly enough on their own."

Sirius charged forward- thankfully without the war cry this time- and Remus reluctantly followed.

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The ceremony was proceeding smoothly, in part because Tom and Harry had complimentary magical signatures- poison masculine energy and lively feminine energy, respectively, one to destroy and one to create- and also because there hadn't been any interruptions.

And, of course, because Rodolphus was familiar with the ritual.

It was a type of binding ritual, wherein the participants would become soulbound so tightly, they would force the hands of fate to bring them together, so they'd last through that lifetime, all those after it, and even those that existed parallel to it. Before, it was done by elderly couples, or else very new ones that were especially worried for their relationship.

Rodolphus had acted as the bonder for his own parents, as well as Bellatrix and Rabastian (only because he cared more about his wife's happiness than their marital status), so this would be his third time binding a couple together.

Harry and Tom had already shared of the Elixir Of Eternal Life (a mix of corn oil and various herbs and spices that probably tasted much worse than the name of the brew implied) and bathed each other in their magical signatures. All that was left to do was invoke upon the magic in the air, have them take the oath, exchange blood, and make love.

Harry's eyes were already glazed over- a good sign, since it meant his magic and soul were both in agreement with each other and fully enveloped in the ritual. It was to be expected of feminine energy, which would often give towards the masculine first before taking anything, but especially so since Harry was sensitive to magic.

Satisfied that things were going as they should, Rodolphus opened his arms, resting his staff flat against his palms and across the width of his body. And then, in the ancient tongues of Hogwarts, from back when it was Novescotia, he began to chant.

Tha mi a 'gairm air na draoidhean bho chionn fhada.

Tha mi ag iarraidh air gràdh leannan a chaidh a chall fada.

Bidh mi a 'toirt a-steach an t-seann deas-

A startled shout from Rosier drew his attention for a split second, though he tried awfully hard to stay focused. Immediately, the Knights surrounding the three of them drew their weapons.

Rodolphus forced himself to focus on the ritual, but it seemed the damage was done.

Harry had not snapped back to reality as he should've, but his posture went rigid, and he started to stand.

"Harry? Harry, what's wrong? Harry!"

Tom stepped back and sent a look at Rodolphus that would've killed him had such a thing been possible.

"What. Did. You. Do."

Before he could answer, two men forced their way through the ring of Knights. One of them had his sword pointed at Tom.

"What the hell did you do to my godson!?" He snarled, baring his teeth much like a rabid dog.

Harry began to glow, his entire being lighting up with the red tint of his magic.

"Tha an ceum air fhosgladh ..." he intoned, his voice emotionless. The ground began to shake, and Tom stepped back further. He tried to pull Harry with him, but the boy wouldn't budge, as if he were being held in place by something. His magic? The magic of the room? He didn't know, and there wasn't time to find out.

The floor beneath them split along the diameter of the winged circle, and Tom was forced to jump back to avoid falling. However, even then, as everyone else could only watch in awed silence, Harry stayed where he was, stable as if the ground hadn't abruptly left his feet.

And then, he began to descend down the hole that'd opened up- slowly, as if he were a feather drifting on a light breeze.

With a curse, Tom reached behind him and drew Rabastian's sword from the scabbard that'd hung from the man's belt, then jumped down the hole after Harry. Remus followed, snatching a dagger that'd ended up on the floor. Sirius shook himself then followed, keeping a tight grip on his own sword.

The trio landed at the base of the hole with a loud, heavier sort of clacking sound- a clonk, it might be called- and Tom was admittedly surprised to see that it opened into a large room- like the throne room, but bigger, and where the throne was, there was a stone altar. The wing motif was still largely present though.

But there was no sign of Harry, who they should've passed- should've grabbed- as they fell.

The wall above the altar glowed red, and Tom scrambled to his feet. He could hear swords clanging from above, and idly wondered what had happened in the few seconds that'd passed, but all thought was lost as soon as he saw Harry emerge from the wall.

With glowing red wings- like the fiery wings of a phoenix- unfurled from his back, in full display.

As Tom watched, with a sinking feeling, the wings began to curl in on themselves, threatening to envelope Harry completely.

As beautiful as this was, though, Tom had the nagging feeling that this was very, very wrong.

Discarding the sword he'd been holding, he rushed to the wall and began climbing up as fast as he could. Unfortunately, Tom wasn't known for his athletic prowess, and there really wasn't much to hold on to. When he was very nearly to Harry, he felt himself start to slip, so he did the only thing his frenzied mind could think of.

He stretched his arm up just that little bit and clamped his hand around Harry's foot. When he fell back, Harry fell with him, and Tom adjusted his hold in the few seconds he had so Harry wouldn't get hurt.

As the cold stone slammed into his back, Tom kept his gaze on Harry's wings, watching as they again unfurled and then stuck straight out behind their owner.

And then they quite literally and abruptly split apart, the bright red feathers disappearing into nothingness.

The red glow around Harry faded, and he fell limp in Tom's arms as Tom himself sat up, forcing down the need to cry out at the pain in his back. He looked down at Harry. He was warm, but...

He was pale, and still, and unbreathing.

Remus knelt in front of him.

"Please, let me see him? I need to make sure he isn't..."

Tom nodded. Harry had a close relationship with Remus and his partner Sirius, who was currently hovering over them.

Remus placed a hand on Harry's forehead, and for a moment, his fingertips glowed golden. Afterwards, he relaxed a little.

"...he's still alive," he said, relief coloring his tone, "but...those feathers...they are the pieces of his soul. Without them...without those feathers, Harry will just be an empty husk."

For once, Sirius looked genuinely worried. "But how do we get them back, Moony? You saw them disappear."

Remus smiled.

"No...souls don't just disappear- even when they're mere fragments. They must've scattered to another world."

"Well then send us there! I won't let Harry die!"

Remus shook his head.

"No. We're needed with James and Lily." He looked at Tom again with serious eyes.

"It has to be you," he said, then continued before Sirius could voice the protest on the tip of his tongue, "because you and Harry are already partially bonded, and even though the ritual wasn't a total success, the magic that was used seems fond of him, and thus you by association."

Remus stood back up, prompting Tom to do the same.

"I have a friend who can help you travel through worlds to find the feathers. I'll send you to her now- tell the Dimensional Witch Moony sent you."

And before Tom could say anything, Remus waved his hand in a complex gesture, and they were gone.

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~Càthar~

From a pool of water, Draco Lucius Malfoy, Highest Light Wizard of Càthar, crawled out and onto the marble floor where his mother Narcissa sat with his clothes.

He quickly redressed and looked back into the pool, where his regretfully insane mentor lay in a crystalline sarcophagus.

It was a shame the good Salazar Slytherin had to go down such a path, but at least Draco was able to keep things from worsening.

He felt the weight of his fur cloak being draped around his shoulders.

He turned and let Narcissa fasten it tightly over his chest, all the while trying not to look into her eyes that would no doubt be begging him to stay.

"Must you leave so quickly, my son?"

"You know I must, mother. The curse will destroy this world if I stay- you know that."

Her frown turned up into a sad, resigned smile.

"Yes, I suppose I do already know. But a mother always worries for her son." She leaned up and pecked his cheek, pressing his staff into his hand.

"Be safe, my dragon."

Saying nothing- because he couldn't promise anything- Draco used his staff to trace runes in the air before him.

In a puff of smoke, he vanished.

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~Maurus~

A chilling, bloodthirsty laugh pierced the night sky. Helga sighed, for she knew it well. She turned to her friend and advisor.

"Rowena? Could you escort Godric here, please?"

"Of course, my lady."

Quickly, Rowena disappeared, as if she'd never been there at all. Just as quickly, she returned, holding a grumbling Godric by the ear as if they'd both always been there. The black haired woman released him, watching him fall onto the floor due to the excess momentum from his struggling, and returned to her place by Helga's side.

"Godric." That word, spoken by Helga, was enough for him to shut up. "I understand you still want to get stronger, yes?"

He didn't stand, but he did look rather proud of himself. "Of course- how else would I protect you?"

Helga smiled, shining bright like the sun, and discreetly moved her hands. The floor opened up into a pool of swirling red and black, and red tendrils of magic grabbed Godric's ankles. He struggled fruitlessly against them.

"Wh-what the-?! What'd you do to me!?"

Helga's eyes took on a mournful expression.

"I'm afraid there's no one else here that's stronger than you Godric. So I'm sending you to other worlds so you can get even stronger."

He'd sunken into the pool, so only everything above his waist was visible.

He started cursing, but Helga paid it no mind. She gestured again with her hands, and a ring of magic sunk itself into Godric's forehead. A curse to prevent him from committing needless acts of violence. She knew he'd recognize it once he calmed down.

He vanished, and Rowena looked at Helga curiously.

"Are you sure that was wise?"

Helga solemnly nodded her head.

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-Luna's Shop Of Wishes~

The rain fell in steady trails down the windows.

Luna Xenophillius Pandora Lovegood stood outside on the porch.

They would be arriving soon.