Author's Note: Many thanks to GJMEGA for editing this!


Excerpts from "Before the Fall: Dark Days"

"The Aurors were getting desperate. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's forces were getting stronger every day. Several Aurors came up with research on how to utilize the Dark Mark against the Death Eaters…

.it has become well known recently that whenever He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named became angry, the Death Eaters who bore the mark would flinch as their mark began to flare. It would burn fiercely whenever they were summoned to a meeting. It could be used against the Death Eaters by the Dark Lord as a means of discipline for failure. At that time, Aurors noticed the phenomenon on captured prisoners, and began to assign men to monitor anywhere wizards congregated, like Diagon Alley. They were to watch the crowd from above, then report any disturbances that multiple persons had at the same time, like grabbing their arms simultaneously. They were to immediately apprehend these subjects for investigation…

...The success rate of this technique was phenomenal, and resulted in many captures in the weeks before The Fall. It illustrates yet another example of the unintended consequences of wizarding tattoos…


The trip seemed to take forever. Harry was so excited it was hard for him to concentrate on where he was going, and before long he had no idea where they were in the city. They went through alleys, over roofs, and across roads. He was almost convinced that they were taking a long and winding route for just the purpose of not being able to remember how they got here. Kerr seemed to walk confidently, though, and Harry could imagine he had been here many times before. When they finally came to a stop before a dark warehouse-looking apartment building, Kerr turned to them.

"Be careful, and do not ask questions. He will not give his name, so do not bother giving yours. He knows two people are getting one wing apiece, and he has the sizes and details. Tiny, you go first. Remember all we talked about? Relax and think of something else. Do not forget to breathe."

With a reassuring nod to Tiny and Harry, he climbed the steps and entered a dimly lit hallway. They went up several floors using the back stairs, before stopping at room 47. Kerr had barely knocked twice before a man opened the door and quickly beckoned them in.

The man looked malnourished with a sickly tint to his skin, but the apartment itself looked surprisingly clean and well-kept. The furniture was all nice and the floors were carpeted. It did not seem to belong to this type of apartment building or this man. They entered a side room, what used to be a bedroom by the design of it. In the middle was a bench like-chair, and Tiny quickly walked over to it and lay down on his stomach like Kerr had told him to do. The man smiled slightly, before beginning to lay out various tools. He was careful to sanitize his hands and all of his equipment was shiny with frequent washes. Harry already felt a little better about the idea. He felt a poke, and turned to see Mike beckoning at him to sit down in some chairs lined up on the side of the room.

Harry felt nervous just watching the man get ready, but Tiny seemed comfortable. He barely flinched as the man began cleaning his shoulder where the tattoo was to go with antibacterial lotion.

"Ready?" The man muttered to Tiny.

Once he received a quick nod, he slowly began to outline the design. It must have taken at least an hour, but the time flew. Harry heard a soft word spoken every once in a while, but other than that they were all quiet. It amazed Harry that the man barely spoke at all, other than a direction every once in a while to relax.

Suddenly the man leaned back and stretched out his arms.

"I'm done here. I'll be back in a few minutes to do the next one."

With that he walked from the room and Harry heard a door shut somewhere else in the apartment. Tiny slowly sat up.

"Does it look okay?" He asked, trying to look over his shoulder.

"Dimwit, we can't see it. He already bandaged it for the night. Saves us the trouble, don't want you bleeding all over your shirt." Mike scoffed.

Tiny's face fell a little bit. "Oh. I didn't even feel him do that. He's fast."

Tiny looked at Harry.

"It wasn't bad at all! It tickled a little, and it hurt bad at first, but after a while you kind of get numb to it."

Tiny smiled brightly.

"I can't wait to see it tomorrow!"

The man abruptly walked into the room and Tiny scampered off the bench and over to an empty chair. Harry slowly stood up and walked nervously over to the bench. For a moment he forgot how he was supposed to sit. Mike snickered and Harry felt a flash of anger. Why did that boy have to be so, so, contentious! Yeah, that was the word.

Harry took off his shirt and lay down, but flinched when he felt a cold hand touch his shoulder.

"Relax." The man muttered.

Harry found himself holding his breath and let it out in a whoosh. Why was this so hard? He did not want the others to see him scared, but something about the thought of a needle cutting his skin was hard to handle. Harry tried to think of something else. It was hard to concentrate with the man moving tools about, and he could almost hear Mike whispering something to Tiny, and soft laughter. He flinched again at another touch, and the man made an annoyed sound. Harry tried to hold still. What was he supposed to think about?

Tattoos. No, that thought would only lead to needles. He was getting a wing on his shoulder. A steel wing to represent the group and Mr. Steel. It was a symbol of pride, and family. Do wizards make wings to fly around on? The thought seemed to pop out of nowhere, and Harry latched on to it. Mr. Steel had mentioned broomsticks though, so they probably did not. Harry felt a sharp pain and desperately tried to think of something else. Wizards. They could do anything it seemed like. Harry bet they could make wings if they wanted too. What would having wings be like? To be able to fly wherever you wanted. Why, if he had wings he would even be able to easily get away from any attacks, even from wizards! And if they were steel wings, they would surely be able to reflect back any odd laser-spells the wizards shot at him.

Harry began to warm up to his daydream. The constant stinging feeling on his back was beginning to become normal. Not bad at all. But man, steel wings would be so awesome! Would they be heavy? Steel is pretty heavy, but really strong. If he had wings though he would need to be strong enough to use them. How would that work? Bird wings were light, hollow. Hollow Steel? Harry felt himself starting to drift off, the pain in his shoulder dulling as continuous pressure was applied.

If wizards attacked him he could just fly away. Or maybe even attack them! Steel feathers would be sharp, deadly. He closed his eyes, relaxed, trying to picture it. They had spotted him stealing a package from a doorway. He saw them pointing their laser-sticks and quickly climbed up a ladder to the rooftop, the men fast behind him. When the wizards reached the top he would swoop down and…

But there was another wizard suddenly behind him. He felt dread wash over him. The dark figure paced towards him slowly, looming over him. Red eyes seemed to glisten from underneath the hood, and Harry heard a phantom scream from all around him, a woman's shrill voice.

Before he could make out the words, the man began to speak in a sibilant voice.

"You will never defeat me."

The voice pierced him like a knife, and Harry could see a green light gathering between himself and the dark wizard. In slow motion Harry turned and ran towards the edge of the roof, desperate to get away from the green light, terror filling him. If it touched him, surely it would, would, what? His forehead burned and he thrust himself off the roof, plummeting down towards the ground.

Suddenly he remembered: He had wings! Of course! He spread them out and caught the wind, angling up and away from the building.

He was flying through a cloudy dark space. Was he high up? It seemed he could almost see his reflection in the clouds. He began to descend, spiraling down slowly, enjoying the freedom of flight. He forgot all about his terror earlier with the wizard, and instead lost himself in the feeling of being aloft in the air. Flying was amazing! He suddenly saw ground beneath him, and began a slow descent.

He landed with a slow jog onto soft green grass. The sun seemed to be shining all of a sudden, and he could almost hear the sounds of a breeze moving through trees. He turned to see better when he was abruptly faced with a mirror. In it he saw himself with two majestic wings spread out behind him. They were steel grey with black markings running along the feathers. When he began to fold them mostly the black seemed to show, and as he stood there, idly moving his wings he felt an odd sensation deep in his chest. He closed his eyes, wondering, and could almost see what looked like a bright glowing sphere. It was made up of millions of tiny strands of light.

From the sphere more tiny strings seemed to run throughout his body. They barely gave off any light except where they gathered in his hands and forehead. As he stood there, he could feel the sphere pulsing in time with his heart, and when he took a breath it seemed to expand then contract again as he breathed out. Was he seeing his heart? Where the strands of light blood pulsing through his veins? Suddenly the light shifted and Harry felt a pull in his chest cut off his air for a second. Another pull. The sphere seemed to be shifting back slightly. Then strands of light began to unravel from the sphere and move towards his back.

They pooled for a moment at where his wings met his skin. Then with a quick rush that felt like the air being pulled from his lungs the strands expanded through his wings. They moved into every bone, every muscle, and every feather. Even the very tines that made up each feather began to glow. Harry could not breathe. The sphere of light was getting smaller and smaller, beating slower and slower. Was he going to die? The light inside his chest dulled to almost non-existence and Harry felt as if he was about to lose something precious, something that made him who he was. Then the pulling stopped and he could breathe again.

He sucked in air in quick gasps, and saw that the light had stopped spreading through his wings. It hovered for a second, glowing, before beginning to retreat back inside him. The wings went with them. At first the wings, outlined in bright shining light, curled around his body, covering him from head to toe. Then they began to get smaller and smaller, turning completely to light as it reentered his body. The light-wings were so small Harry could barely see any details at all, only the barest impression of feathers on wing shaped objects. They seemed to now furl around the sphere of light, and for a second resembled a winged ball which sent an odd echo of memory through Harry's mind.

Then they were gone. All that remained was the sphere, now pulsing on time with his heart.

Harry opened his eyes, once more faced with his reflection. The wings were gone as if they had never been there. Harry abruptly staggered as something pushed him in his shoulder. He spun around, only to see nothing. A sudden sharp pain on his cheek made him angrily open his mouth to shout…

And saw Mike's grinning face.


A dream. It had only been a dream. The other boys, even Kerr, teased him unmercifully about falling asleep while getting his tattoo done. Even the man grinned before ushering them out of the apartment. Harry felt at a loss. How could it of been a dream? It had felt so real, the feeling of flying, of soaring over the ground. Even the weight on his back had felt real.

The journey back was just as winding as the one there, but they took a different path back that didn't involve as much climbing. Harry was almost surprised to see a glimmer of dawn on the horizon. They had been out all night!

"Don't want to stretch out those new tattoos do we?" Kerr laughed as they skirted around another building.

Harry heard more laughter and saw Tiny's exuberant face. Tiny seemed to be on an emotional high, talking over and over to the others about how he could not wait to see his tattoo the next day. Finally Mike gave Tiny a playful shove and said in a not-so-playful voice.

"Enough already."

Harry sighed, which attracted Mike's baleful attention.

"What, not happy with your little wing, Skinny?"

Mike sneered at him. Harry wanted to snap something back at him, but lost the energy. He felt as if he had run a long-distance race over bad ground. It didn't help that they had all now been awake all night going into morning.

"Leave me alone." Harry muttered.

Mike laughed. The older boy loved any opportunity to pick on him.

"Oooh, leave me alone." Mike mimicked in a whiny voice. He then smiled viciously.

"Try not to fall asleep on us! Ha ha ha ha."

"Oh stop it, Mike. It's late. Or early, I guess." Rick spoke up.

Rick has been silent most of the trip, and seemed to be deep in thought. Mike just shrugged and turned away. It wasn't any fun to pick on the younger boy when the others might get annoyed.

By the time they got back to Mr. Steel's place, the sun was just beginning to shine over the top of the buildings. Kerr quietly told Tiny and him to go to bed, before staying behind to murmur something to the boys. Harry was too tired to care about trying to eavesdrop. He fell into bed with barely a pause to undress, and was asleep before his head touched the pillow.

He dreamed of flying.


When Harry woke up he felt as if something was holding him down to the bed. He was so tired! Just the thought of walking down the stairs to eat breakfast made him wince. What was he going to do? He wanted to sleep another day, at least!

"Get down here or you aren't eating!"

Ricks voice echoed up the stairs. Harry heard Tiny grown and turn over, then yelp and sit up.

"Ouch!"

Tiny wrinkled his nose at the unexpected pain.

"This hurts more than I thought it would. My back is sore! Yours feel sore?"

Harry turned over and sat up, stretching his arms a bit.

"Yeah, my whole back feels like I got stomped on by an elephant."

Tiny shook his head. "My whole back doesn't feel sore, but the right side does that's for sure!"

Harry shook his head, then stood up and carefully began to get dressed. It was very difficult to pull his shirt over his head. As he struggled, Tiny began to bubble in excitement. It didn't seem the younger boy was that hampered by the wound.

"You think we can see them? What time is it? It's gotta be way past breakfast by now! I mean, it was practically breakfast when we got back. It's probably supper time! They said tonight right? Right?"

Tiny seemed to have gotten over any soreness he felt as he quickly rushed downstairs to find out. Harry just sighed and sat back on the bed. He raised a hand to his chest and massaged a bit, circling his solar plexus. What was that feeling? He felt stretched thin, or oddly out of shape and short of breath. Was he getting sick? That would just figure, that he would get sick now that he was finally a real member of Steel Wings!

"Come on, Harry! They said after we eat!"

Tiny's voice drifted into the room, and Harry reluctantly stood up. He hoped it didn't do this the next time he got a tattoo, it was miserable! If he ever got another, anyway. He hoped so. Having just one would feel really lopsided.

As he limped slowly downstairs he was met with the sight of the boys eating dinner with Mr. Steel. He immediately stood up straighter and tried to act like he wasn't hurting that bad. Mr. Steel smiled at him.

"There you are! We were beginning to wonder if you were hungry. Sit down, sit down. It's already dinner time!"

Mr. Steel pointed to a chair, and Harry caught an odd look. Mr. Steel seemed to be disappointed in something. Throughout the meal Harry noticed Mr. Steel staring at him. Harry ate slowly, hunched over, and tried to just disappear, but the boys kept asking him questions and talking loudly. He was beginning to get a serious headache, and really wanted to go back to bed for the next few years.

"Okay, I'm done! Can I take the bandage off now?"

Tiny burst out finally. The boy was practically bouncing in his seat.

"Please?"

Laughter filled the room. It seemed everyone was enjoying themselves but Harry. What was wrong? Abruptly he knew he needed to get out of the room. He stood up, his chair scraping loudly. Before anyone could ask him what was wrong, he muttered "Bathroom", and walked quickly down the hall.

He closed the door to the bathroom behind him, and leaned over the sink.

When he looked into the mirror, he was struck by something missing. Wings. Wings that are not painted on, but real wings, able to be spread wide and soar high in the sky…

Harry shook his head, angry at himself more than anyone else. That stupid dream! Every time he closed his eyes he could see the image burned into his mind. Two steel-grey wings, run through with strands of light. In his dream those lights had taken the wings away. He was suddenly struck by the odd idea that maybe, just maybe, those lights could bring them back. A knock on the door struck him out of his wild thoughts.

"You alright in there, Harry? Hmm?"

It was Mr. Steel. Harry suddenly realized that his thoughts were madness. What was he trying to do? Turn himself into a wizard? He shook his head at himself and opened the door to look into Mr. Steel's concerned eyes.

"I'm fine, just a little sore from last night. I'm sure it will go away soon."

Even to himself Harry's voice sounded weak.

"Oh, no doubt it will. Well, do not worry about the boys. They like to tease, but at heart you are part of the family now. Come in to the living room, Tiny is showing off his back, and everyone wants to see yours too."

This last was said with a deep, piercing look. Mr. Steel looked like he was about to say something more, but instead turned away and gestured towards the other room. Harry followed him, still confused and off-balance. He could not get rid of the feeling that everything had changed while he was sleeping, and that Mr. Steel had an inkling why.


Tiny's tattoo was a perfect replica of the other boys. The single wing was gracefully angled across his right shoulder, and each feather was carefully detailed. Something seemed off about it though, and Harry quickly saw why. The wing did not match the one he imagined himself having in his dream. There were no black marks running the length of the feathers, and the size was off. This wing was overly simplified, almost like it was more of the idea of how a wing should look, rather than a picture of an actual wing. The secondary feathers were much too short, and there was no alula, or wrist feathers, at all. This was not a wing that could bear a person in flight. You would fall from the sky! Harry found himself horrified at the thought, and quickly shook his head. This was not the time to be daydreaming.

"Harry? Something wrong?"

Kerr asked, and Harry saw Mr. Steel quickly turn out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh, no, nothing is wrong. I'm just feeling a bit under the weather. I think I'm going to go upstairs."

Before he could even turn Mike quickly slid forward and grabbed him.

"Oh, no, you're not! We get to see your pretty little wing first."

Mike smiled maliciously, but Kerr was nodding along with him.

"The bandage needs to be changed. There is always a little blood the first night, and you do not want to get any type of infection from leaving it on too long." Kerr beckoned Harry closer, and he reluctantly began to pull off his shirt. It was not till he turned around to let Kerr take off the bandage that he realized something was wrong. All the talking in the room had stopped. Even Tiny was quiet. He began to turn back around to see what was wrong when Kerr stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Mike, you were watching, right? Harry was only given one tattoo. Harry, what did you do?"

Kerr asked, his voice unreadable.

Harry was confused. Kerr had not even taken the bandage off. What on earth was he talking about?

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, you have a tattoo on your left shoulder as well. And it's different than ours." Kerr's voice sounded odd.

Harry wished he would let him turn around so he could see his face.

"What do you mean? I only got the tattoo last night. It is a wing, right?"

"Little liar! I bet he snuck out last night to try and get one-up on us! No wonder he is so tired. And he didn't even get it right! It's different!" Mike yelled out, his face alight with justified anger.

"Of course it is a wing, Harry; it's just shaped and colored a bit differently than ours. And it's, well, bigger."

Kerr was interrupted by Mike ."That's probably because he couldn't remember what it was supposed to look like! The little brat!"

"Now here, boys, I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation for this. Come here, Harry. Rick, go get a mirror for us please, meet us in the bathroom." Mr. Steel said quietly.

Harry finally got a good look at the other boys. Tiny looked furious and Kerr looked disappointed. Mr. Steel was oddly calm. Mike acted like it was Christmas; the boy-who-could-do-no-wrong was finally in trouble. Rick just stared, confused. He knew for a fact that Harry had not left last night, because Rick himself had snuck out to meet a girl outside. There was only the one entrance and exit. No one had gone through.

When Harry got to the bathroom, Mr. Steel had him turn around and look into a hand mirror so he could see his back in the bathroom mirror. It was his wing. Exactly, in every detail, down to the very last feather. It stretched from the top of his neck all the way down the left side of his back, ending barely above the waistband of his pants. It was smaller than the ones he had in his dream by quite a bit, but still! Every detail was right! This was a wing that could fly! But, how had this happened? His mind could not comprehend it. Had he been corrupted by a magical artifact? Was this some sort of perverse joke by Mike? Was he still dreaming?

Mr. Steel reached up and carefully peeled off the bandage on his right side to reveal another wing just like the one on his left side.

"Impossible! I saw it; it was just like ours last night! I swear!" Tiny burst out.

He looked quickly between Harry and Mr. Steel. "I was watching close!"

Mr. Steel shook his head and began to walk out of the crowded bathroom and back into the living room. Harry was desperate. What had happened? Was he still dreaming? Harry quickly followed Mr. Steel into the larger room.

"Sir, I'm sorry! I don't know what happened, I promise!" Harry burst out, so afraid that he might lose his new-found family.

"Oh you are getting it good now! Hey maybe he will get kicked out." The last Mike whispered to Rick just loud enough for Harry to hear it.

Harry felt his heart begin beating faster. It was a disaster! Mr. Steel said nothing, just shook his head. He looked overwhelmed. They were going to make him leave, Harry was sure of it now. None of the other boys would stick up for him if they thought he did this on purpose. The tattoo was supposed to be a special symbol that was earned, not just some trivial mark. They thought he had cheated, and probably stole some money to pay for it. Oh, how he wished he could just fly away like he had in his dream! Harry closed his eyes in despair, and clutched fervently at that thought. He wanted to just fly away!

At that thought something entirely odd happened. His heart seemed to skip a beat, and then began to race. His breath caught and he was pushed forward. His back ached fiercely and then there was a sharp, burning pain that ended as quickly as it had come. Harry abruptly realized that he had fallen to his hands and knees. He slowly stood up, feeling lighter, and finally pain-free for the first time since last night. When he shakily looked at the other boys, he was greeted with looks of shock. Mr. Steel's was the only one who looked like he knew what was happening, but he also seemed amazed that it had.

"What's wrong?" Harry whispered.

There was no answer right away, and then Mr. Steel stood up and approached him. Mr. Steel walked carefully, looking at something over Harry's head. Harry turned to see what could possibly be wrong, only to hear a chhhing sound, like the scrape of metal on metal. Before he could turn farther, Mr. Steel spoke.

"Oh, child. I've been waiting for this for so long, hoping."

He shook his head as if ashamed at himself.

"Look over your shoulder, slowly. Try not to turn. Do not panic."

That did not sound reassuring. Harry did as he asked. And they were there. Just like he dreamt, just like he imagined. They were huge, easily twice the size of his body. How? Two metal wings, seeming to merge with the skin on his back. He twitched his shoulders, could feel how they were attached. It was like suddenly having two extra arms and no idea how to make them move. How do you twitch fingers you've never had before?

"Harry." Mr. Steel breathed.

Harry turned and looked into the face of the older man, uncomprehending.

"How, sir? Why? I don't understand..." Harry rambled. He knew he was supposed to be panicking, he knew that he would when the shock wore off.

"How?"

Mr. Steel spoke quietly, calmly, his eyes seeming to communicate that everything would be alright.

"You're a wizard, Harry."


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