Chapter IV: For those who Dream…
'All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.'
-T.E. Lawrence
o0o0o0o0o
The Joint bar was a quaint little hole in the floor of an ever changing city, the counter was made out of oak, as were the shelves, and the stools…and if Lloyd had his way so would everything else. All jokes aside it was a little pub like Time in a Bottle, without the heroes, or the history, or anything that made interesting, except that the drinks were free for John and by extension Harry. Why? Harry didn't particularly know, and after spending the day with a mournful John he didn't particularly care. It was just like John to bring an inexperienced tag along on his crusades, the only real problem Harry had with it was that John wouldn't stick his neck out for them.
And this time wasn't any different.
There was an upside, John was particularly easy to persuade and took him to the Beeman. The mousy little man had a history of collecting rare and useful relics, from Screech Beetles to a copy of the Crime Bible. Forty Galleons could by a wooden box with a cylinder of Dragon's Breath, a box of Screech Beetles, two glass balls filled liquid fire, and a pair of silver brass knuckles. That box was safely stowed away in his satchel. Lloyd looked nervous, Harry noticed, every few minutes his eyes would dart to the door and then back at John. It had been hours since the two magicals entered the bar.
Something was wrong.
"John, you didn't cross Papa, did ya?" Lloyd finally asked, his voice was tense and he was sweating profusely.
The exorcist just smiled. "It's a beautiful day… outside… not a cloud in the sky…"
Lloyd eyes widened, and Harry stood up from his stool and looked at him. John kept smiling while he dipped his finger into his drink. Harry flicked his wrist bringing his wand into his hand.
"Oh God…" Lloyd whispered faintly. "You did."
The door burst open and three tall, muscular men with shaved heads and tattooed faces. Two of them had their mouths sown shut and carried guns, the third wielded a rusty looking crowbar. "JOHN CONSTATINE! Papa's been calling you. You don't hear so good, or what Ringo?"
One of them put his gun to Harry's head and forced him to sit down, the other kept his distance but kept the gun aimed at Lloyd. John stood up from his stool, still smiling, "It was nice chatting with you guys. Now if you'd excuse me, I'll be off with the Haitians."
Harry kept his mouth shut, biding his time. "Really Ringo? You think you can ignore Papa for three days and get away with it?" Harry shook his head as the man grinned and swung the crowbar into John's torso.
"Jesus!" Lloyd cried out. "He said he'd go with you!"
"Relax. He's gonna go with us." He chuckled, hitting john straight down the middle of the poor exorcist's back. "Right Ringo? But don't worry Papa said he got one hit for every day he made us wait."
John, being the jackass he was, couldn't hold an insult in. "Can't you count?" he taunted. " I was gone for three days."
"Why you-" Harry felt the barrel of the gun brush against the back of his head. Years of being a seeker had refined his reflexes in completely unbalanced footing, which after drinking a few pints with John fell into that type of situation. Harry pulled the gun out of his captor's hand and shot him point blank in the chest. The one aiming at Lloyd took a shot just as Harry tripped. From the floor Harry shot of two more bullets, one blew out the knee, the harmlessly lodged itself onto the wall. Recovering from his slight fall Harry aimed both his gun and his wand at the crowbar wielding leader.
"Now if you'd kindly take a step back." The man took a swing at John's shoulders, breaking it. "Expeli-." A black wave of fire pushed Harry against the bar the impact blacked his vision and filled his nose with the smell of blood. It took him a moment to regain his senses, and when he did fear managed to pierce through his alcohol induced courage. Standing at the entrance of the small bar was a tall lean, yet muscular man, with a bald head, and a necklace of bone, Harry had met the man a few times, the last time was less than four years prior and had counted the man among his allies.
"It seems I was right to worry." He spoke in a whisper but his deep voice carried across the room. Walking over to John's withering body Papa nodded at Harry. "Using your friend as shield, John… I would say I'm disappointed with you but I do not wish to repeat myself." He picked up John by the back of his neck and turned to Harry. "I hold no grudge with you Watcher, but this is my city." An aura formed around Papa Midnite, Harry heard the impact before he felt the impact. "No one disrespects me in my city," Harry's was thrown clear across the room and through the window. "Be gone."
The adrenaline pumping through his body numbed the pain of the first impact, but less so the second. Harry eyes slowly closed. He was tired, no, better to say exhausted. He should have expected something like it would happen, but he had seen a friend in grief and had rushed to is side, ignoring the warning ringing in his head.
But it wasn't in his nature to watch someone he cared about wallow in pain; so he took the risk, forced the fight, and sacrifice to ensure their safety. Even for like someone like John.
By the time Harry was able to stand on his own two feet a black van surrounded by magical energy zoomed away from the bar. Harry pointed his wand at it but before he was able to fire off a single spell he noticed the slight blue tinge in the air; Harry looked at his ruined shirt, on it was arune written in blood, from what Harry wasn't certain but he did recognize what it did. It was a Snare. A true snare, unlike the plant, trapped a person between Faerie and the material world, a special pocket in the universe where a person could walk around but couldn't interact with anyone or anything from material world regardless of skill or magic. "Bloody hell." Harry cursed under his breath, the world shifted around him from, the smells of the city disappeared replaced by the scent of the earth, grass covered the concrete, and the lamp posts became trees. New York City had become an urban forest.
It was, without a doubt, a hunter's dream.
A scream echoed through the darkness, filled with pain and despair, but it let Harry know he was definitely not alone. Harry briefly contemplated pulling one of the two swords in his satchel. "No." A person couldn't hide when their weapons glowed. Harry twirled his wand as he rushed into the direction of the scream. As an agent of the Department of Extranormal Operations it was his solemn duty to protect humans from the dangers of magic.
Muggles or magus, it made little difference.
The screams became louder the longer he ran, but it also became weaker. He could tell the scream belonged to a woman, a magical by the feel in the air. There was the lingering possibility that he was being led into a trap, for example, a Black Banshee could be using an echo of a consumed soul. That theory was quickly dashed when turned a corner and nearly stumbled over the origin of the scream. The woman he that he nearly stumbled was nothing less than a vision, her body was covered in what used to be a white cloak but was tainted by a growing pool of blood. Her skin was fair and, from what he could see, was flawless, to the point that he wondered where the blood was coming from. Her hair was black as the Black Lake on a moonless night. The color of her eyes were the most captivating shade of indigo he'd ever seen. He was momentarily stunned by her beauty, either because of the alcohol that lingered in his body or simply because of her beauty he didn't know, but he quickly recovered an kneeled by her side. Harry pulled his satchel from his side onto his knees and quickly twisted a small dial on the side. When it opened there was as close to an apothecary. "Hello, I'm Harry, I am no healer but I'll try my best." Harry smiled in attempt to reassure the most certainly dying woman. "What's your name?" Harry pulled out a needle and a small vial of morphine. It would dull the pain enough that the pain of restorative magic wouldn't outright kill her.
"Rachel…" She said,
"It's pleasure to meet you Rachel, just wish it were under more amicable circumstances. Now, I apologize if this offends you in any way but I need to see the wound." Harry looked into her eyes hoping that she wouldn't make it too difficult, she simply looked onto the distance seemingly incapable of registering his words.
"Rachel… fin-" She stated coughing a warm shower of blood sprayed onto Harry; Harry moved the cloak away from over the wound, he cringed at the sight. There was a gaping hole just under her right breast, he was certain she was going to die even if he were a healer. There was a slight discoloration around the wound, but it was the smell that called his attention it smelled like rot, the type rot that could be smelled on creatures like the Inferni but older… much older. Harry lifted Rachel's arm and injected her with the morphine into her, no sense in letting her suffer, because this is far worse. It will take her to a lush meadow with the light of summer, she would lie down in the soft grass and bask in the sun and feel nothing but bliss and she would never want to return to this frozen pisshole in the snow that's known as life. Harry scowled. He was once again incapable of saving a life
"Find… Rachel." She tried to raise herself off the ground, pushing Harry away when he tried to stop her. "Azarath… Metrion. " She chanted repeated, she found strength in her chant. "Azarath… Metrion,.. Zinthos." She took a few steps before her legs gave way, luckily he was there to catch her.
"Easy there." He said laying her down nearby a faded out wall. She struggled against him until he right hand clasped her face "I'll find her dear, just relax." Harry wasn't a fan of lying to a dying woman but if he could offer any form of comfort he tried to do it. "Tell me what happened."
"He found us." She gasped. "He called himself Destiny." Harry nodded, he groaned silently in his head, sometimes he liked being wrong about things like that. He would love a nice holiday without having to worry about some narcissistic asswipe and their diabolical plan. "He dragged her away…" Harry placed the tip of wand at the edge of the wound.
"Tergeo" The dried blood faded away; the good news was that it wasn't worse than he originally thought, bad news was he it wasn't much better either. "Vulnera Sanetur" A gentle glow emanated from his wand, but it was much too late.
"There were so many more of us." Her eyes began to close and her breath became more labored. "He made us beasts… he made us do so many things." Her last words trembled with horrors left unspoken. Harry could see the life leave her half lidded eyes. He felt a anger fuel his heart but it was quickly drowned away by guilt. He sat still for what felt like hours but in truth only a few minutes passed.
It was soon after Harry closed his satchel, stood up, and brushed the dirt off his pants. It was never wise to stay still when trapped in a snare. He looked around for a trail of blood, a man calling himself Destiny wasn't going to stop with a single victim; he needed to prove himself to the world as its master. As if by magic of sunlight reflected off of the seemingly glowing blood, so he began walking away from the woman in the white cloak.
o0o0o0o0o
Harry followed the growing trail of blood she had traveled nearly forty minutes, he could feel hunger creeping onto him and a growing thirst. The presence of the indigo eyed woman worried Harry. Her robes were reminiscent of those of an Unspeakable and they usually stayed in their Ministries with the exception during times of war; each country sported a different color but none of them dared to sport white. Why? He wasn't certain but it had to do with purity or some such nonsense. British Unspeakables wore red cloaks with gold accents, while the French had a light blue with moon touched silver, and the Bulgarians wore obsidian armor. They were much more secretive than the DEO. Hell, Morrigan had half the department looking into their origins at any given time.
He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he failed to notice a mass of red cloth that was lying directly at his feet, until it tangled with his legs. The blow was sobering to say the least, knocking any of the remaining haze that lingered from his mind. Harry rolled away and pointed his wand at the cloth, a silver fox shot out from the tip of his wand sending a blast towards, what Harry suspected to be, Lethifold. The patronus soared harmlessly through the rag like a gas before turning towards Harry expectantly before slowly fading away. He pulled the reddish cloth from his feet and studied it with critical eye. It had been white at some point but blood had dried, it was ripped as if mauled by a beast. Looking around he found the suspected owner leaning against a wall naked with his eyes in the palm of his hands. There were others men and women, all missing their eyes and were posed in different fashions, some more degrading than others, especially the women. The anger was apparent bruises on their faces and bodies, throats were slit and the intestines were ritualistically placed on the floor…like goat intestines during the Witches' Sabbath in the Iron Forest.
It was absolutely barbaric.
"How odd…" A voice rang from behind him. "Why are you different from the rest?" Harry aimed his wand at the blue cloaked, skull faced man that stepped out of the shadows. "How do you resist the will of Dee?"
"You did this?" It was more of a statement than it was question. A hollow laugh echoed from behind the skull faced bastard, but the man himself seemed to growl.
"You dare address Destiny!" He growled, his robe billowed in the wind. "I hope you'll prove more entertaining than the Dream-Fucker." He extended his hand, three shadows formed behind him, one picked up a sack while the others darted towards Harry. "Take her to the warehouse." He instructed the wraith.
'Run.' Harry thought as stumbled through the darkness, under a mutating sky. His shield sparkled as it was struck with enough force to send him crashing into a nearby fence. His vision blurred and he wasn't sure if it was because of the drinks he shared with John or because that thing had knocked him on his head. Harry aimed his wand at the moving shadow. It shared its likeness with that of a dementor but unlike the black robed nightmare, the creature attacking Harry held no definite shape, except for a grinning white mask. Harry dropped his shield to fire off a bombarda, but before he could a tendril of black energy latched onto his wrist and cut into skin. Harry turned his head to find himself inches away from another grinning white mask. The next instant had Harry screaming as his blood felt like it were being set aflame. On instinct he poured his magic into the gauntlets, the shield roared into existence in an explosion of blue. The shadow retreated and joined the other circling Harry.
Harry couldn't feel his right arm, but he felt a glimmer of hope shimmered to the for front of his mind. His left hand enclosed around his bleeding wrist. Time seemed to still as his eyes fell upon his empty wand hand. A shadow swooped down taking something from the floor and handing it to the skull faced villain. Later Harry would learn that the shite has taken was his beautiful wand. The shadows took their opportunity to smash into Harry's shield. Exhaustion hit first, the adrenaline high leaving his body leaving his core to take the strain of the gauntlets. Slowly but surely the shield flickered away and the shadows gleefully dug into the exhausted wizard. One tendril wrapped around his left leg, another dug into his neck, and anther dug into his rib cage and wrapped around his heart.
Harry burned.
He burned until he couldn't feel the burn anymore. He felt death approaching, slowly, and not for the first time in his miserable life Harry felt, he wanted to welcome it but found that his desire to live grow stronger. The shadows stilled, before retreating from his body. The fall knocked the air out of his lungs. He heard light footsteps approaching him. The shadows flew away into the twilight. Harry struggled to focus his vision on the approaching figure, but the pavement was cold, like the floor of the astronomy tower, a sharp contrast to the blood pooling around him and he was so tired…so very, very tired. The figure sat down next to Harry and placed his head on her lap. She gently ran her hand through his hair, and with every movement the pain seemed to ease away. "I'm sorry." She whispered soothingly, "I can't take you with me just yet." Harry stared at the silver ankh that hung loosely from her neck. "Dream…" Harry felt a single grain dust touch his face and an instant later darkness consumed him.
o0o0o0o0o
'There are moments in the dark where it consumes you. Where you feel like your drowning and hopes is far out of reach. That dawning horror that you do not want to see the light, because all it would do is illuminate the terrifying things surrounding you. It's hopelessness. It's giving up. It's knowing that the world will never be a better place. That the only thing protecting you is not knowing what new horror will come around the bend. Moments like that… I'd wager are the closest thing to feeling hell on Earth.' John had told him once, Harry hadn't even cracked a smile. He was too angry to care, too full of self-loathing to draw himself away from the cheap swill in his cup. Zatanna was preforming card tricks on stage for her own amusement, or was it for John? Maybe it was… Nick hadn't left his study for the umpteenth week in a row.
It was around that time Harry wondered what he was still doing in New York… Zatara was on an adventure, and Nick was obsessed with lore to teach him anything. Tomes of magic or some such nonsense, in other words some type of archaic magic that wouldn't help him the slightest with finding Orphan. The magic he needed came with a cost, in his case it had him joining the Trenchcoat Brigade. Nothing bad particularly, in his opinion…at least he was learning the tricks of the trade. Tricks that were out of the Old Man's domain.
The guilt hit him unexpectedly the endless numbers of what if's bombarded him again. 'If he had finished his training could it have saved her?' or ' If he just learned one more Morgana-be-damned lesson could he have stopped that monster?' Eventually they just made him numb to the world around him. So he stared at the green drink in his hands, he watched as the ice cracked and melted away, it reminded him of the glimmer that her jade eyes once held. Not for the first time in that year did Harry wonder if there was Blofeld type character that had it in his mind that taking the people that he loved away from him was a good idea.
He stared at the drink for what felt like seconds. He had been brought back into the world by the sudden vibrations coming from his chest. The bar was empty with only a few of the shadier regulars remained. John was gone probably back to his flat with Zatanna. He pulled out his little black phone. "Hello?" He remembered saying.
"Harry!" Zee's voice broke through static. She was probably in the Metro he had deduced. "We're on our way to Nick's. They found him."
"Who-" Harry caught the shift in light off his drink, he felt a cold hand wrap around the back of his neck and slam his head against the bar's wooden counter top. His attacker then let him slide down the bar. Harry pulled a shard of glass from his already scarred face, he turned just in time to grab a kick aimed to his face. While using the brutes momentum to stand up Harry pulled out his wand and sent him flying. The man slammed against the opposite wall. "You have to be kidding with me!" He shouted.
It was then that Harry got a good look at his assailant, tall, muscular, skin as white snow, and silver hair. "All shall fall to the cold flames." The man said in monotone, Harry gripped his wand tighter and lashed out. Blood splattered across room covering him in his entirety. A burning cold erupted from his chest as he felt a cold hand wrap around his neck.
o0o0o0o0o
Harry awoke with a start, his skin glistened with a cold sweat, his throat burned something fierce, and his skull felt like Killer Croc had put it through It's a Small World After AI over again. His body lurched forward and his hands flew to his chest grasping for an invisible blade. A memory shifting into a dream wasn't something that happened to him regularly…they usually stayed to script or they didn't happen at all. Nausea hit him quickly. Harry stumbled off of the couch and came as close to sprinting as he was able to, he nearly tripped over himself when a stray beam of light struck his face. There were reasons he didn't go out with John often, the massive hangover he had to suffer through was one of the many mains. Harry kneeled in front of the porceline throne and released the contents of his stomach. For a brief moment he contemplated how quickly he found the bathroom but those thoughts were quickly squelched by a feminine shadow that slowly settled over him, hands on its hips, he could feel its icy glare land on the back of his head.
Oh, how he wished for death…
"Did you have fun last night?" The voice undoubtedly belonged to none other than the famous Zatanna Zatara, daughter of the late Giovanni Zatara and the late Sindella Zatara, a prominent witch from Turkey. Harry slowly turned his head, green met blue eyes, and Harry quickly regretted squinting. She took it as a challenge "Ekaw mih pu!" Cold water slithered out from the faucet and smacked him across the face. If any event could have confirmed that Harry was cursed it would be when Harry became best friends with both Zatanna and John, because everything was fine while, John and her were happy, but as always fate had a very interesting way of fucking it up. Giovanni died and Zatanna broke up with John, but he still loves her and Harry was, sort of, swept up in the middle of that mess. Not that he was complaining Zatanna was his second closest living friend, of course after Daphne…because if he said any different the woman would most likely immolate him.
"I'm not sure." He managed. "What exactly happened?"
There was a pause and then came a rather loud scoff.
Now that made Harry slightly worried, not that she scoffed it was a common enough occurrence that he would under normal circumstances he would pass it off, it was that type of scoff he'd only heard her use on John when he'd done something completely and utterly nonsensical, which was way too often around her. She leveled her cold glare his way. "I was hoping you'd fill in the blanks, you see, the door man found you bleeding outside."
Harry stood up slowly, shifting his weight from leg to leg. The room seemed to spin around him, memories flooded back with overwhelming speed. The clearest was him and John stepping into the Joint Bar to meet up with good old Lloyd. A few hours into the drinking, an hour before sundown, three men came in, apparently normal muggles, but they knew John, they were quick to put a gun to Harry's head and knowing John he already had a plan. Harry shook his head, he'd rushed in like with the Hatter case the week prior, they'd started beating on John, he hadn't expected that. Harry had dodged the bullet sluggishly, disarmed him and managed to wound the other two. But that wasn't why he'd been hurt, no, the bar doors had burst open with a wave of some of the foulest magic he had felt since the graveyard. It's hard to protect people and fight an experienced dark wizard regularly less so when he was piss drunk. He certainly wasn't ready for a fight with THE Papa Midnite. "I got into bit of a scuffle." Harry moved to the sink. "John owed something, I think, and I got In the middle of it." Harry grimaced at his reflection; he looked like shit…more so than he usually did. He remembered stumbling away from the bar, a child's scream, maybe, but it just went blank "But there's something I'm missing… " He turned to Zatanna. "What exactly did you give me?" His voice was calm, but held a tinge of something dangerous. Midnite wasn't stupid and hadn't damaged him too badly, the DEO would drop a hammer on the man if he seriously hurt one of their agents, and judging by Zatanna's greeting he'd been hit to hell and back.
"Wiggenweld mostly, a few restorative draughts, dittany to close the wounds." Harry gargled water, That explained a lot actually. Alcohol and potions didn't mix well with each other to begin with, add Lycanthropic cells and he had a three way chemical battle. The potions attacked the Lycanthropic cells, because they mirrored an infection, and the sugar in the alcohol just boosted both sides. Side effects: memory loss, aggression, and the unbearable need to purge one's system. "What happened, Harry?"
"John felt the need to cross Papa Midnite, but he left me standing,." He paused. "How long was I unconscious?"
"Eight hours. Closer to nine, at least, you pretty much dragged yourself back here " She was getting angry and Harry could tell he was royally pissing her off. "God dammit, Harry! What happened?!"
"I don't know!" It was less than a roar and more than a growl, Harry liked keeping things in his mind in order, it was really the only thing he had complete control. He was breathing heavily. He lifted his hands up in surrender, anger clouded his mind to much to effectively speak. How could he? Memory was everything he had, a series of random events that tied together forming him, nothing more and nothing less. "I honestly can't remember, Zee. " Zatanna stared at him but stayed quiet. "But I'm going to find out."
"No."
"No?"
"We're going to find out."
"No," He protested. "I'm not putting you in danger."
"Excuse me?" She huffed. "How do you plan on stopping me?" She had him there…she had a wand while he was pretty much left without a focus and even if she didn't have a wand her proficiency with wandless magic was much higher than his…blackmail it was then.
"I could tell people about the time you-"
"I should hex you for even mentioning that, but considering you're under oath…" She trailed off smiling cruelly.
'Okay, Harry dig deep, there has to be something you can use.' "I'll tell John your middle name." When all else fails, bluff.
"I don't have one. Harry, I'm coming with you, whatever tried to kill you nearly tore you apart."
"I was drunk."
"You were hurt, and that makes as easy a target as if you were still drunk."
"Not true."
"You could barely waddle into the bathroom. I don't think you can lift your wand, let alone fight."
Harry tried to prove her wrong by snatching the toothbrush from the sink but found that his arms were too bruised. Upon closer inspection Harry noted a rather nasty looking scab that went around the entirety of left ankle.
"Just hand me my satchel." He groaned. "I have a way." She stared at Harry skeptically.
"Later," She decided. "You need to eat something."
"Did you get a house-elf?"
"Of course not." She was insulted. Zatanna was firm supporter of the Neo- S.P.E.W. movement led of course by Granger. "Who do you take me for?"
"No one, Zee." He tried to smile. He needed to take her mind off what happened. "I just remember what happened last time you cooked for me." There it was…the blackmail he could have used when he had the chance.
"I did that once!"
"And I'm not giving you a chance to repeat it." If there was one thing he was thankful to Petunia Dursley for it was teaching him how to cook. A bit of humor… to take his mind off the foggy memories that hid the coming darkness.
o0o0o0o0o
The sun had set and the moon was high over the sky, goblins and mermen walked openly through the streets. The wind howled between the buildings but Harry couldn't feel it, his skin was covered by intricately woven chainmail, it kept the small bite of fall from ever reaching him. The Suit of Sorrows was a remarkable piece of magic. In a way it was sentient, influencing the wearer into becoming the perfect warrior, no mercy, no compromise; it would make the Old Man proud. In exchange it gave the wearer the collective strength, stamina, and dexterity of all those proud warriors who came before him. No one knew where it came from, some legends claimed it was made from the pelt of the Nemean lion and others claimed that it was made from blessed silver in the forges under the Vatican and given to Sir Geoffrey De Cantonna, whichever myth held merit he wasn't sure, what he was sure was the Order of Purity had been using it for centuries before the Gotham incident.
Azrael, the nightmare, had been spotted throughout history beginning in the thirteenth century when there were two of him. Duality, harmony…Sin and Salvation…words made steel, they ran through his mind like honey-coated daggers.
They wanted blood.
Harry shook his head trying to clear it. The suit was in a sorry state and because of it wailed, it had a hole right in the center of the red cross where Harry had stuck the glowing blue blade. He would have fixed it if not for the suit's resistance to magic. The red cape flapped wildly, he wasn't completely sure that it was because of the wind. Zee walked next to him shooting worried glances when she thought he wasn't looking. She knew the history of the suit much better than he did, he knew that but he never asked how. He was sure it had to do with Batman, or whoever hid under that black cowl. She dressed in her "usual" uniform, well usual since she joined the Justice League, a black and purple shall covering a white and black unitard/corset. white gloves, and knee high black boots.
The first Halloween Harry spent in New York City he had awoken in an amazing penthouse, tied to an out of place plastic chair looking over Central Park. Papa Midnite had come up behind him and had inadvertently quoted the Lion King by claiming "Everything he saw belonged to him". The second had him standing at the funeral of an old friend, Nick had betrayed them and he had paid the price. The third he had been inducted as one of the elite agents of the DEO. There seemed to be a correlation between Samhain and change, usually for the darker. This Halloween was starting to feel the same as he wandered the streets following his own patronus,
"You're being too quiet." She said worriedly.
Harry turned his head ever so slightly. "I am?" Harry tried to keep the surprise from his voice. "It's nothing, my mind just keeps escaping me." Which was partly true, the more time his blood had to settle down the more he began to remember, he certainly didn't like what he saw. 'Dee, Monster, DESTINY, FALSE PROPHET!' The Suit shouted in his mind and Harry was struggling to find a reason to disagree. He wasn't a fan of the Sorrows and it definitely wasn't a fan of him. It protected the wearer from outside influences but at the same time it slowly ingrained itself into the wearers' minds. It also had this nasty knack of a nullifying spell, which made his beloved wand useless. Occlumancy was his best and only defense…which was another reason that he wanted Zatanna as far away from this mess as magically possible. "You know it's not too late to turn back?"
"And let you have all the fun?"
He sighed behind his mask. He could trust her. She was powerful and skilled, if a bit reckless and had terrible choices in men. Sadly, that wasn't the problem, he didn't feel she should trust him, not while wearing the Sorrows at least. Destiny wasn't much of a threat while wore the crusader's armaments, Harry was though and as much as he knew he sounded like that vampire in that serial Daphne loved to read, he actually had a valid point.
One slip and it was over.
"So where are we heading?"
"Just following the trail."
"What trail?"
In complete deadpan tone, "My blood." Whatever the thing that had attacked him was it and its buddy got themselves soaked in his blood, which he could follow using the ring on his right ring finger. It was black with the House Black's crest delicately etched into it, besides being a family heirloom it had a singular purpose. If the head of House ever needed to find blood, knowingly given or unknowingly taken, he would will the ring to guide him or her to the largest quantity outside of the their bodies. Nifty trick that kept many men and women from the Black line from being betrothed to those the House thought were of lesser standing. "We could be walking into a trap." He pointed out.
"Or we could be onto something." She shot back. "Look, Harry you're leaving, at most two days from now and this is my city. Batman has his thing in Gotham, Superman has his thing in Metropolis and I have my thing here." She stood in front of him. "if some psycho is going to be randomly tear people. People as strong as you. I have to try to stop him."
"Zee…" Merlin's beard, he wished she didn't have a point. As soon as he hit the Avalon he was sure Agent Blake would have him carted back to London. "Alright."
They kept their eyes wide open, moving their body to face the more out of place motions in the city. The walked north, until they reached the edge of the city were the only buildings that remained were ruined factories and crumbling warehouses. Harry pulled out Salvation from his satchel, its purging blue flame glowed sinisterly in the low light. "Stay close." She nodded, her hand glowing an almost ethereal shade of purple. 'They are near.' The Sorrows seemed to whisper in his ear. 'They wish to corrupt this world with their twisted malfeasance. Let them know my name.' There was an unnatural silence. Harry readied himself for the worst as the proceeded into the ruins. "We should have brought John." Harry muttered under his breath.
"Like he'd help."
"He would." There was a chain link fence between them and where the ring was telling him to go. Harry jumped clear over the fence land silently on his feet.
"Nepo." Links in the fence unraveled in allowing the very talented witch to make her way through. "Esolc," In an instant they tangled together again. "No, he wouldn't. he didn't even ask about you when he came by yesterday. He was more worried about Jaimini Sargent. He didn't even ask if I'd seen you Harry." Did it sting that John had such a one track mind? Yes, yes it did. Did it surprise him? No. John had always been like that and he wasn't going to change for anyone…well maybe for her but that wasn't happening any time soon. There was a time and a place for every battle; before stopping a megalomaniac wasn't one of those times. Harry shook his head and continued walking. "Did you know Jaimini?"
"That she'd gone insane? No. I would have owled you if I'd had." The ring pulled him towards a brick building with no windows and a single door. "Do you have plan?" He asked.
"I always do." She answered confidently. "Tuo fo eht ssenkrad eb deggard." For nearly seven seconds nothing happened but then he felt a pressure build around him and one by one the masked shadows were ripped out of the building with a grand total of four. "Niartser." By that point Harry had broken into a dead sprint into the building.
Harry expected many things, a gory mess, for example, or a sacrificial chamber. He did not expect a laboratory. Nor did expect for Destiny to calmly be waiting at the entrance. "I had my doubts about you." He sounded happy, which disturbed Harry greatly. "You almost had me convinced, for a second, a split second, I had thought that he hadn't sent you. But Dee knows better than to be fooled by him again." He gestured at the empty containers that sat to is left. "He can't touch me now and he knows it. Why he sent you, isn't it?" He started laughing, a strange scratch sound in the back of his throat. "What did he promise you? Sweet dream? I can give you better, so much better than that dream-fucker! That why I made them." Several containers opened at once, and out of them masses of vines, teeth and tentacles shot out towards Harry. With the suit's guidance, Harry easily cut through them with skill and precision. One by one, two by two, he cut them in half. But an old lesson the old man taught Harry came true. As many Harry cut down more seemed to spawn and just Harry was about reach Destiny one of the flowers latched on to Harry's free arm, then another wrapped around his leg and so until Harry was mere inches away from Destiny. "How boring." He commented, Harry took a swing that cut through the side of the mask revealing a very pink skull like face. The next swing cut through Dee's belt where his wand clattered out. "That's more like it!" Destiny took another step back and reached for something in the shadows. Harry struck down another flower like creature and was prepared to lop the man's head of when he pulled a girl in front of him. She had short black hair and her skin was grey, she wore an indigo cloak that reminded Harry of the woman in white. A gleaming red crystal gleamed on her forehead. One of the plants was stuck to her chest yet she was sleeping peacefully as far as he could tell "Not as strong as my ruby but it's a start." A moment of hesitation was all one of those plants needed to jump onto his chest and dig its teeth into him. The vines coiled around him and dug under his armor. "Tell the coward Dee sent ya."
Harry tried pull the thing off him but found that had stopped responding. He saw Zee burst in her hands spewing fire, but there was no sound.
Only sleep.
o0o0o0o0o
Harry awoke surrounded by warmth, true, beautiful, and all encompassing warmth. A hand touched the left side of his face, almost instinctively he pulled away but the hand persisted, it gently caressed him as a weight slowly settled on top of him. The hand retreated and weight shifted, it straddling him. Harry opened his slowly opened his eyes, he smiled up at the woman. Harry rose up to meet her, capturing her lips in his own, he made to flip them over but was kept in place by his lovers powerful legs. Their bodies pressed together furiously, with an almost animal like heat. She pined his arms down next to his head and bit into his shoulder. She had either not noticed the part of her hear not protected by her long silky black hair or chose to ignore it, Harry took the time to repay her little mark with his own. Her grip lessened allowing him enough time to switch their position. He hovered over grinning, her beautiful green eyes locked onto his. Harry kissed his way down her perfectly toned body, but just as he reached her heat the joys of fatherhood smashed through the door. In one fluid motion Harry had covered both himself and his lover with the comforter. "Cassandra, what have I told you about smashing through doors like that?" The eight year-old Cassandra simply tilted her head and smiled, the girl had never been one for words, she briefly shook her head and with her the unruly mop of black hair jiggled. "That's right, not too."
"Hungry." She tapped her stomach to accentuate her point.
"Give us a minute, and I'll make us some eggs, sweetheart." She pouted but eventually left the room. Harry smiled and turned to look at the woman under him. "You know she gets that from you, right?"
"I disagree, my love, she definitely get her hair from you." Harry rolled off of her.
"And here I was trying to compliment your immense beauty, Carolyn." He kissed her tenderly. The woman tasted like glory and in his humble opinion she couldn't get any more perfect, he would have stayed in bed if allowed but Cassandra was a stubborn one and she would resort to some rather drastic measures to get what she wanted.
She definitely didn't get that from him.
Carolyn was the first to leave the bed as per usual she would take Cassandra outside to do her katas while Harry made breakfast. Harry looked out the window and saw a clear sky, perfect for flying. He'd visit in the afternoon to see how babysitting for Daphne was going or maybe see if Sirius is actually seriously considering settling down.
All in all it was just another beautiful day.
In a perfect world.
