Chapter 4

The injury had not been a serious one. A little bit of magic and a good nights sleep and Harry was back to his former self, ready to go back to lessons at the academy. However everything was far from normal. The looks that Harry received on his return to lessons the next day were ones of curiosity and interest. These were looks that Harry had, so far, avoided in his time at the academy. He gave a sigh, it seemed that his anonymity, no matter how brief, was over. Every eye in the class was on him. All of them wanted to know who he was. He was no longer a normal student. No. He had become something else as soon as he had stepped between BlackStar and Kid.

"Harry" Kid's polished notes came like raindrops on a roof. A sound that was beautiful in its own right. A sound that needed no justification, it simply was. Harry turned his head to see a welcoming look being sent his way. However underlying it there was something more. His eyes were telling another story, from the small, welcoming smile. It was one of suspicion and wariness of others that looked at Harry. It was one of possessiveness.

"Kid" Harry said gently. Kid's eyes seemed to dim before being replaced by a new light. One that was filled with less fear. Kid instantly seemed to relax as Harry made the few steps over to him, his form becoming less rigid with each movement that Harry made.

Wilson pattered forward, his feet skittering along the wooden floor. His wet nose butted Kid's hand and Harry had to repress the laughter at the look of disgust that filled Kid's face; however much the boy tried to repress it. However instead pushing the dog away as Kid would have done with anyone else he instead forced a smile and gave an awkward pat to the scruffy fur. Harry sat down in the seat next to Kid, giving a whistle to Wilson. Although it was amusing to see Kid's awkward face he felt that he should rescue the boy from the dog. Wilson was a little overly friendly at times.

"So" Kid said, relief rippling over his features as Wilson moved away. "You're alright?" The question was simple but the reply needed was not. A flippant response would not do. Harry needed to reassure Kid. He needed to reassure himself. Harry clasped Kid's hand in his own. Green eyes held the gold.

"Your father has made sure that I'm absolutely fine Kid." Harry said softly, his voice little above a whisper. He gave the pale hand a squeeze. Harry held the boy's gaze. Kid's eyes were wide and Harry could see as the trace of fear that had still remained trickled out of them; flowing away and out of sight like a leaf on a stream.

Every eye was on them, but Harry didn't care. He ignored every one. Kid was more important right now. He let the boy search his own eyes, looking for anything; looking for nothing. Harry was not sure, but he let him look all the same. The contact was broken as Kid gave a nod.

"Okay" was the hushed reply before he turned his attention away from Harry and back toward the front of the room where the teacher was entering. However as Harry made the move to take his hand from where it was clasped in Kid's the boy stopped him. A harsh squeeze to the delicate fingers stopped Harry in his tracks. Their hands remained clasped on the desk for the next two hours. Harry was sure that neither of them took many notes and any that they did take were incomprehensible.

For the rest of the day Harry felt as though he had a second shadow. Kid was close behind him everywhere that he went. The boy said very few words and ignored most of Wilson's attempt at friendship. However what Kid did object to, was anyone getting within a foot of Harry. Several people Harry had no problem with Kid banishing from sight. However, when, at lunch, Crona approached, Harry objected to the glare that was sent by the overly protective boy sitting at his side.

"Crona" Harry called out as he stood from his seat and followed the pink haired enigma that Harry was intent on making his friend. He caught up with Crona, placing a hand on their shoulder.

"Hey Crona, just ignore Kid." Harry said with a small smile. "He's just being grumpy." With that Harry led the pink haired teen back to the table, forcing them to sit. The tray in their hands clattered to the table as Harry plopped himself back in his own seat. He gave Crona a grin.

For the rest of the meal the three sat, no one daring to approach them. The look that Kid was giving anyone that even looked at Harry was one that promised a painful demise. Therefore with Kid's glares and Crona's peculiar reputation no one came within ten feet of the group for the entire meal. Harry was the only one to talk. With the occasional grunt for Kid or a ride eyed nod from Crona. Harry didn't mind. He had chosen to be around these people, despite their peculiarities.

As lunch ended Harry stood, cleaned off his tray and made his way to his next lesson. Wilson gave a happy yip as the pair made their way from the room. However as Harry stepped from the cafeteria he made a new discovery. It seemed that he had two new shadows now.

"Kid shall we head back to your house?" Harry questioned, a small smile dancing over his features at the look of disgust that played on the boy's face, before he quickly controlled it. Kid looked conflicted. He did not like people in his house, not at all. They broke the symmetry that he fought so hard to protect. However before Kid could mull over the question any further a burst of laughter pushed its way past Harry's lips, causing the golden eyes to sparkle in confusion.

"Don't" Harry huffed out in a half laugh "worry about it Kid." Harry's face was bright, cheeks red from laughter and eyes twinkling. "I know you don't want me there." It was not an accusation. Kid attempted to interrupt. It wasn't that he didn't want Harry there. He didn't want anyone there. It was his place. The only people that had ever been there were his father, Patty and Liz. All of those people knew his rules and followed his instructions. Harry was a wild card. Howe ver before Kid could worry further Harry raised a hand, stopping both the words and the thoughts that swirled in Kid's head.

"I understand." Harry said seriously, before he tilted his head with a grin. He pulled the young man into a hug. "I'll see you later Kid." Harry said with a smile before running off, Wilson hot on his heels. Harry took the short cut to the field behind the academy a smile on his lips as the wind rushed through his hair. This was as close to flying as he had got since he had died. He wondered if there was any chance that he would ever be able to fly again.

As Harry reached the field, an expanse of overgrown grass, he set his bag down on the ground. He quickly rummaged through it, finding the ball that had managed to wedge itself inside one of his folders. Wilson let out an exited bark as he saw it. Harry grinned and launched the bright red ball as far as he could.

The next hour was spent doing nothing more than playing. Harry and Wilson. Harry let his worries melt away as he threw ball after ball. Harry chased after the exited dog and the two tumbled around in a mock fight. It seemed that the stress of lessons and that his feelings about Death, Kid and Crona were all disappearing. So as the sun began to set Harry could only grin at the beautiful sight as Wilson lay over his chest.

However Harry was broken from the sweet relaxation as a voice broke through the peaceful evening.

"You are peculiar." Harry shot up, his head whipping around to find the voice. Wilson, getting over his shock at being thrown up so suddenly, quickly followed his master's gaze. At the entrance to the field stood a man that Harry had seen before. A shock of red hair and hazy blue eyes. Harry was sure that the man before him was not in his right mind. Be it alcohol, drugs or simply self loathing the man was not the one that he had seen only days ago.

"A Master he calls you…But you" he pointed at Harry. "You are weak." His eyes glinted dangerously as he stepped forward. His intent was clear, the footsteps were precise, even as he stumbled over the words that fell from his lips. Wilson growled.

"You can't even protect yourself. No; Lord Death, Kid and now this mutt" he said with a sneer at Wilson, spit spewing from his lips as he spat out the 't' of his final word.

"What does he see in you." It was not a question. Harry said nothing as the man continued to step closer and closer, words falling from the venomous lips.

"He does not need you. It would be better for all of us if you were gone." The red headed man hissed. "A Master" a snort of derision followed his words.

A small snick echoed through the space and the man's hand, now turned blade, shimmered in the light of the setting sun. Harry tensed as he saw the bitter smile and the deadly weapon that the man had become.

"My daughter hates me, my wife loathes me and now," the man mumbled, mostly to himself. "now Lord Death? I will not have him taken away as well" the man's words were becoming quieter, more mumbled, but Harry could still hear them.

Harry felt his instincts kick in as he heard the words. A man protecting something was far more dangerous than any other man could have possibly been. Even with the state that the man was in, he was a threat. A Death Scythe with a point to prove was a dangerous weapon indeed.

"Wilson" Harry growled out in a low voice. He did not need another innocent being hurt in a fight that was not theirs. He had had enough of that to last a life time. Thankfully the dog got the message. Wilson scampered away. Not out of sight, but far enough that he was no longer in any danger of being harmed by the rouge weapon. Harry instantly felt better. It appeared Wilson had enough sense to know when to retreat. However the constant growls still reverberated from the dog's chest, an indication that he may not stay in his given place for long.

"What do you want?" Harry growled out equally as viciously as Wilson. His eyes piercing, danger shimmering in them. As spirit saw the killer green he faltered slightly. His feet stumbling and an unexplained lump in his throat. He stopped, only for a second.

However the man ignored his instincts. He let his feet lead him closer as his second hand now became another glinting blade. He looked at Harry in scorn and derision; although his eyes were not fully focused. Harry stood his ground. His feet firmly planted and his eyes hard. He had never been one to back down from a fight. As the man got within a foot of Harry he answered the question.

"I" he took a step

"want" and another

"you" another

"gone" he stopped.

His face was inches from Harry's his breath pungent. It was clear what the man's drug of choice was. Alcohol was strong on the air and with each exhale of breath Spirit filled the space between him and Harry with more toxic fumes.

"Tough shit" Harry's voice cut through the tension as he brought up his fist, smashing it into the weapon's face with all his might. The red headed man stumbled back, blood now gushing from his nose. He smiled.

"It seems you're not as weak as I thought" Spirit chuckled. The sound was muffled and a wince crossed his features as he spoke. Although it seemed that much of the pain was dulled by the alcohol. Wiping away the blood, which was soon replaced by more, Spirit bared his teeth. It was not a smile. It was a declaration of war.

He ran for Harry, his right hand extended read to strike. Harry dodged the blow and then let his fighting instincts take over. Harry ducked below the second blade. As he moved from yet another strike his fingers began to tingle, the feeling spreading into his hands. Feeling intention in his movements he thrust his hand up and watched as a red spark shot from his palm. It was only the highly trained reflexes that kept Spirit from being hit as he leapt back.

Harry saw the shock in the man's eyes at the lights that now sparked from his hands. However it did not cause him to stop, or even slow down. Spirit continued his attacks on Harry, over and over, his blades slicing at the boy. Harry was not sure whether it was the alcohol or the training that kept him from his questioning, but Harry did not have time to ponder it at that moment.

He managed to put several hits on the man before him, just as the man put many on him. He now had several cuts littering his arms that were bleeding sluggishly. Spirit was not doing much better. The man's nose was steadily streaming blood and he could no longer see from one eye due to the swelling from Harry's earlier punch. Several sparks had skimmed him, casing a few bruises and cuts, as well as a nasty rash to spread up one arm and under his clothes; only to appear peeping out of the neck of his shirt. Harry was not intent on heavily hurting the man, merely incapacitating him. So when the chance came, he took it.

Harry slid his foot behind Spirit's own and watched as he stumbled, a misstep. It bought Harry a couple of seconds. Gathering all the power that he could in each hand Harry sent a stunner, bright red and violent towards the man. Spirit dodged, stumbling again. Before the man had a chance to right himself he sent another. A shining ball of raw power that hit the man square in the chest. He went down. His body slumped to the soft grass, consciousness slipping from his grasp.

Harry's knees gave way and thumped to the ground. He let out a shuddering breath before quickly pulling the air back into his lungs. Harry's thoughts were jumbled as he attempted to return his breathing to normal. How had he done that? He had never been able to do wordless, let alone wandless magic before. Yet he had just done both; repeatedly. He felt drained and yet strangely satisfied.

Harry let his eyes flicker back to the now unconscious Spirit Albarn. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

It turned out that Harry had had to do very little. He had sat on the grass, thinking, for about fifteen minutes before Spirit rocketed up from his position on the grass. He let out a load groan as he sat up, his hands shooting to his head. Several seconds stretched on as Harry watched the man, the teacher, the Death Scythe; as he did little more than rub his swollen eyes and wince at the feeling.

When Spirit finally looked up to see Harry there was a look of shock, shame and slight fear reflected in the blue eyes. Harry only raised a brow, not wishing to start anything more than Spirit already had. Wilson let out a warning growl. Spirit quickly averted his eyes from the piercing green and pushed his way up from the soft grass. Not looking at Harry again and not saying a word Spirit made his way from the field, first stumbling and then jogging as he found his footing. Harry watched him go.

A few more minutes passed before Harry decided that he need return to his home. It was November and the darkening sky did little to help the cold temperature of the month. Death would also worry if Harry stayed out much longer. Harry gave Wilson a pat on his head and a sad smile as he walked from the long grass that still rustled in the wind.

Harry returned through the large black double doors that defined the entrance to the quarters that he shared with Lord Death. Harry stumbled through them with a sigh as Wilson let out a whine. Harry just wanted to have a nice hot shower and then collapse into his bed. He was far too drained to do anything else. However it seemed that any plans that Harry may or may not have had were of little concern; as when he entered the room he was met with Death's face. It looked like thunder.

"Master" he growled out. His eyes were flecked with worry and anger. He rushed forward, his strides purposeful. Harry looked up with weary eyes.

"Death" Harry sighed "Not now" Harry was far too tired to be dealing with the overly protective being that stood before him. However it seemed that Death was far from cooperative.

"Master, where have you been?" Death growled out. He was now directly in front of Harry, his eyes bearing into Harry's with an intensity that Harry could never remember seeing in the man before.

"I…" Harry mumbled, his voice quiet, filled with utter weariness. "I don't want to talk about it right now Death." Harry sighed.

"No" Death growled out, his voice harsh, leaving no room for argument. "Tell me." Death clutched Harry's arm. His grip was not harsh, however it caused a flinch to ripple through Harry's form. It had caused one of his wounds to be jolted, the delicate scab breaking and a trickle of blood leaking down his arm.

"What was that?" Death pulled at Harry's sleeve to reveal the numerous cuts and the now bleeding gash that was spreading across Harry's arm. Harry said nothing.

"Master" Death growled. "What. Happened?" Even with the honorific his words were still demanding. They were forcing Harry to speak. He may be the being's Master, but before Harry stood the Lord that everyone respected and feared. The being that ended your life and took your soul for his own. The most formidable force in the world.

Harry raised his eyes, green clashing with an angry gold that shimmered in the dimly lit room. He let out a sigh.

"Spirit" he whispered. Death raised a brow, his hand tightening on Harry's pale arm.

"Spirit?" he questioned. His voice filled with suspicion and disbelief. "Spirit Albarn?" The voice was higher now, Harry could feel the anger radiating from the four syllables. Harry could only nod.

Death's eyes raged, the inferno sparking, the gold eyes adopting an almost angry red. However as soon as it came, it was gone. His grip on Harry relaxed and a large breath escaped his lungs. His hand dropped to his leg with a small slap as the palm connected with the black material of his trousers. His eyes were sad. That was the defining emotion that Harry now saw reflected in them.

"Ah" Death said with a sigh. The word a little more than a puff of air escaping from the pink lips.

"Come on Harry, lets get those seen to." Death said with a sad smile. He took Harry's hand in his own and gently led him through the rooms. Death made his way into the living room and gently pushed Harry onto the couch.

"Out of that Master" Death soothed, pulling the shirt from Harry's skinny form. The cuts were revealed. Three across his chest, two on his right arm and the one that death had already seen on Harry's left. Harry winced as the material was pulled from the wounds, the scabs having tentatively formed with some of the material still in them. Blood began to trickle from several of them.

Death's eyes widened. He set a gentle hand on his Master's arms. His words were gentle, even if they were meaningless to Harry. As Death's words reached their completion Harry felt a wave of contentedness, a warmth that comforted him, as though he had been engulfed in a hug. The wounds Harry had sustained gradually began to heal. Blood returned to its original place, scabs forming over the broken skin, before they slowly faded to nothing more than white lines littering his skin. Soon even those faded. There was nothing left of the pain. Harry looked up.

"Thanks" he whispered out. His eyes downcast, a slight blush marring his cheeks. Death gave a nod, even if it was one that Harry could not see.

"Master." Death said quietly. He took Harry's chin in his hand, forcing their eyes to meet. "It's okay Master" Death soothed. He pulled Harry toward him.

The hug was a short one, however it was meaningful to both. It felt longer than the few seconds that it really lasted. It spoke of the care, the reassurance and the love that both men wanted and needed from each other and to give to one another.

"Night Death" Harry whispered as he stood from the embrace.

"Goodnight Master" Death responded.