I do not own KHR, or Harry Potter.
WARNING: Angst, slash (graphic in places, no sex scenes), mature themes, canon-derailment – a little.
000
Chapter Six
000
"-torture curse. You can kind of guess what it's for. No one really knows what it does internally, but it's supposed to cause unimaginable excruciating pain. A lot of normal raised have theorised that it causes nerve or brain damage," Harry explained as Reborn diligently took notes at his side, his lower left eye-lid spasming every now and then as he very, very carefully wrote without snapping the pen in his hands as Harry explained, gesturing animatedly with his hands as he lectured (had he taught before? Under other circumstances, Reborn would have called his gesturing cute, but the subject matter killed a lot of his kinder feelings at this particular moment). "It's a deep vivid red, scarlet coloured, and almost... You've seen sparklers, right? It looks like that only the core is a deep blood red and the rest of it is slightly lighter scarlet. You can't really use magical shields against it, only physical ones, and even then they'll be destroyed once struck. If you're under it for too long... it'll destroy you mentally."
"And the last one?" Reborn asked as he made a fullstop on his page.
They had been at this for the last three hours as Reborn quizzed Harry on some of the more destructive magics possible. The teenager however, started with transportation magic. Proving that he had a damn good head on his shoulders by talking Reborn through what manners of magical transportation he knew about, what was favoured by whom, how to identify it, and how to counter it, the Wards involved, the limitations to each method, and how to get around them as well. He would be speaking to Hermione when she returned about installing those Wards of hers throughout Harry's suite – save, of course, for a private room that she would be using to come and go. After that, he began on the Big Three. The Unforgivables.
And they were, utterly, unforgivable. If only for the fact that all three had been used on HIS Sky. It made him itchy with the need to kill those responsible.
"The Death Curse, Avada Kedavra. Unblockable, Undefeatable. If you're hit, you're dead. No do overs. No recovery. Instant unavoidable death. At least, for everyone that isn't me," he added with a disgusted expression twisting his face. He then tapped his forehead and chest, those horrible, evil gouges that still glimmered with captured flame as Harry's uncontrolled Sky Flame scorched it, and Sun Flame healed it, and the donated Sky Flame harmonized the whole thing into an endlessly repeating loop until the wound either healed completely, or burst open.
It was a delicate balance, one that Reborn continuously pushed in favour of healing with every lick of Sun Flame he introduced to Harry's system – and it was such a delicate balance too. Overload him with Sun Flame and he could spontaneously develop tumours or even, worst case scenario, necrosis (that had happened once, Reborn had been a young Hitman, attempting to gather intel from someone and using his Sun Flame to stimulate the nerves to essentially torture the individual in question to giving him information. Instead, he accidentally caused rapid onset cellular break down when his Sun Flame activated the man's cells, but didn't give them enough energy to replicate or split, they died, and in doing so, the cell wall dissolved and released enzymes into the surrounding cells that then ate the cellular walls of the others, repeating the process. Reborn watched his screaming victim die, rotting to death from the inside out, in under five minutes).
"Magical shields are useless to defend against it; physical shields will explode if they aren't metal. Professor Dumbledore favoured conjuring golden ones to defend against it, and some of the animated gold statues managed to withstand a lot of curse damage without exploding. They melted and dented significantly, but they withstood the spells." Harry wrinkled his nose thoughtfully as he crossed his arms, frowning down at his knee, "I wonder if the composition of the metals used affects their durability against certain curses..." he muttered.
"Focus," Reborn requested shortly as he scribbled a few lines on his page and made an aside about the possibility of testing various metals against the curse – just to see what was most effective. His Sky may not have been educated, but he wasn't stupid.
"Ah, yes. Well, not much is known about the Avada curse. It's history got stricken from record back in the 1500's for some unknown reason, but given how there was a sudden upswing in anti-Dark Magic sentiment, to the same degree as the non-magical's Witch Hunting craze, Hermione and I figured that it was censored. Uhm, what else?" he muttered thoughtfully leaning back in his pillows and glancing over to Reborn who was still making notes.
"Is much of your History censored?" Reborn asked out of mild interest as he marked another fullstop and finally looked up.
Harry shrugged, "Probably. More than likely it got rewritten entirely, or passed off as children's tales and legends. Afterall, my family History is now considered a fairy tale. The Peverells are thought to exist only in a story but my family are descended from the youngest brother in the legend. We even have the Cloak it talks about. The wand was one of the main objects the whole war was fought over, and the stone belonged to Voldemort's grandfather," his Sky explained in a 'what can you do' fashion, tilting his head to one side in mild annoyance, but acceptance.
Reborn sniffed in offence. Truly, the more he heard about the Wizarding World, the less he liked it. Backwater, ignorant, wasteful – he breathed deeply through his nose and glanced down to the small compilation of notes before Harry's attempt at a stealthy yawn caught the corner of his eye.
"Enough for today, I think," he declared, closing the notebook with a soft 'fwip' of flicking pages.
Green eyes widened, "Pardon? B-but there's a lot more to cover! The Unforgivables aren't the be all and end all of magical combat and - "
Reborn leaned over and placed a finger on his Sky's lips, silencing him, "You are tired," he pointed out gently, "I will speak with Miss Granger when she returns and have her do some digging, bring me some books, research papers, journals. Whatever. She seems like a very resourceful and determined young lady, and, unlike you, a healthy one whom doesn't need his rest," he added shifting his hand down to press against Harry's chest, just below his collar bones. "So lie back, and rest." And when Harry narrowed his eyes up at him, clearly contemplating telling him exactly where to shove it, Reborn suppressed the grin that threatened to steal over his lips (feisty), "Please?" he begged.
And Harry caved. Scowling knowingly up at him as he shifted back down into the pillows with a grunt of teenage frustration.
"Fine."
It was tempting. So very tempting. To just close the gap, just those scant eight inches between them, and suck on that pouting bottom lip and -
Reborn pulled back and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out through his nose as he set the notebook down on the desk beside Harry's bed. His Sky was going to be the death of him. He was either going to masturbate himself into a coma, or kill himself through sexual frustration. Blue Balls was not even cutting it as a metaphor at this particular juncture. And the most frustrating and alarming thing about the situation was: It wasn't entirely Sky Attraction making him feel this way. He was beginning to breed genuine feelings, separate from his usual appreciation of pretty Sky Flame users, for Harry himself. Even if the boy's injuries were to develop to the point where they would need to Seal his Sky Flame just to stop it from burning him out, Reborn knew he would stick around. Not that he would ever allow things to progress to that point. His Flame sensitivity was enough so that he could practically taste when the Sky Flames in Harry's injuries began to over-power the Sun Flames, and could react as needed. But by the Gods, he had to be careful.
He never, ever, wanted to... The idea of Harry's skin going hard, black, and cold under his hands...
He swallowed tightly, feeling his stomach turn as he got to his feet and went to the coffee machine. An ever so fine tremor shivering through his fingers as he turned the machine on and listened to it grind his favourite dark roast. A double espresso right now, he decided. And two sugars.
A knock on the door interrupted his desperate attempts to force back the memory of that first instance when he discovered the dark side to having a ridiculously high Sun Flame Purity, and successfully dragged his attention away from his memories and to the door.
"Come in," he called, hand drifting down to his jacket pocket.
The door was bumped open with a hip, and Reborn was in the perfect position to see Harry's jaw drop in a mixture of horror and hilarity.
"Guess who came to visit?" Nurse Yale chirped stepping into the room with Miss Granger's cat perched in her arms.
"Oh my god, Crookshanks!" Harry gasped as the Storm Nurse made her way to the bed and allowed the feline to drop down onto his Sky's lap. The cat immediately shoved his head into Harry's hands, broken meows demanding attention as he rubbed his cheeks against the boy's fingers. The Gryffindor could only laugh a little helplessly as he stroked the Kneazle's fluffy head. "What have they done to you? Hermione's going to kill me," he laughed as Crookshanks greedily pressed harder into the scritching under his chin with a brrp of contentment.
They had shaved him.
All the puff, and fluff, gone. Only his head, paws, and tail survived untouched. Fur now clean, trimmed, and groomed, but still comically huge and fluffy in comparison to the velvety soft shave to the rest of his body. Harry would have probably been angry on Crookshanks's behalf if he hadn't seemed so happy with it, purring his fluffy misshapen head off as he nuzzled his cheeks into Harry's fingers with increasing force. He looked like a miniature lion. He was honestly surprised. He had always thought of Crookshanks as a large cat, but without the fluff, he was surprisingly thin, if not lean, almost muscular.
"We gave him a good grooming session, and fed him up some. He's a lovely old boy, aren't you sweetheart?" Nurse Yale cooed, reaching over and giving the half Kneazle's ears a fondle.
"He's so thin," Harry commended, almost confused. "He looks so different now, it's kind of weird," he admitted grinning as the cat climbed up his chest to sniff his face, and then purr like a broken motor as he bumped his head up against Harry's chin, rubbing his cheek along the boy's jawline.
Nurse Yale laughed, "Well, we could hardly let him in here as a fluff monster, could we? Who knows what might have been cooking in all that fur?" she declared, "we gave him a decontamination wash and scrub up, several shots, and an over-all health check."
"Speaking of," Reborn interrupted smoothly, espresso in hand as he leaned against the chest of draws behind him, "Please tell Miss Granger that I would like a word with her before she pops in here to speak to you. You are under quarantine, and for very good reasons. She can visit, but she'll need to go through the same decontamination methods as the rest of us."
Harry paused before he nodded, "Ah, okay. Sorry. I- I completely forgot. About the decontamination thing," he admitted; face twisting into a guilty grimace.
Reborn sniffed, "You don't seem to have suffered any ill effects, though if Nurse Yale would be willing to run your blood again for anomalies, I would be grateful. But from now on, no visitors before clean up. Understood?" he asked sternly, eyeing his young Sky from over the edge of his cup.
He bridled a bit, understandably so. Reborn was more than acquainted with the fact that Skies rarely liked taking orders from anyone, Harry also had the added issue of also being a strong Cloud Flame in addition to that. Which meant he was very much his own creature and hated being under the directive of anyone.
But Dumbledore had been thorough in his manipulations of the boy, and even though there was a light of mulish rebellion in his eyes, he nodded in agreement and settled down.
"But I'm still stuck in here," he muttered unhappily.
"Unfortunately so," Nurse Yale said sadly, "when we see some improvement on your immune system we'll see about garden access on the roof, but for now, I'm afraid this room is the safest place for you."
Harry grumbled as he stroked Crookshanks' velvety shaved back, not looking at either of them as he stewed unhappily in his confinement. He hated being locked up in places 'for his own good'. It reminded him too deeply of the Dursleys, and of Grimmauld Place, even though that had been only a potential threat from Voldemort and his followers, and this... this was somewhat easier to swallow for him as there was a very real reason for his having to remain, and he wasn't the only one being inconvenienced by it. But it still stung.
Voldemort was dead and he was still being squirrelled away like some princess in a dragon guarded tower.
"What is on the agenda for today, Nurse Yale?" Reborn suddenly asked, keeping half an eye on Harry as he turned his attention to the nurse. He would let Harry brood for a bit, he did that occasionally, but never for long thankfully.
The woman smiled, "Well, today, we have a few tests. Only the two. One of which I'm sure you'll definitely like," she added, grinning over at Harry who looked up and squinted suspiciously at her.
"One of the Lightning Nurses from downstairs has agreed to come up and give you an eye-test and put through a rush order on a set of glasses for you. While I'm sure it's poor compensation for being able to go outside, but at least with the glasses you won't be so bored in here, being unable to read without them," she explained, watching as his eyes widened in surprise and a grin cracked over his face. "After that, we'll be doing an allergy test. They won't require blood or anything, I promise, but the long and short of the prick test is that we'll use a little needle coated with a substance and insert it just under the skin. If there's a reaction within twenty minutes, we'll know if you're allergic and can put it on your papers and see about avoiding it in future. And finally, we're going to see what we can do about that Nerve Damage of yours. Nurse Nasato crunched the numbers and overlooked the scans; she believes that we can regrow the majority of the damaged nerves inside of six months with only a few careful Sun Flame treatments."
Reborn shifted, "And her Flame Purity is...?" he asked sceptically.
"Nurse Nasato has a high graded flame purity, nowhere near approaching yours, but fairly high on the scale. Her control and flame sensitivity makes up for the high Purity levels. She has never had a botched operation," Nurse Yale assured him with an understanding smile.
It was a not so well known issue when it came to Flame Purity. Essentially, the higher purity of flame you had, the more concentrated the power was, and the more of its unique properties were open to you. For basic Sun Flame users, without much flame purity, they did not need much control when it came to healing, or to attacking. The higher the Sun Flame's Purity was, the more of its Cellular Regeneration abilities were opened up – as he learned the hard way by inducing traumatic rapid onset necrosis. And again, as another Sun Flame user learned, when he accidentally gave his girlfriend malignant tumours attempting to save her life by botching a healing attempt and putting several of her cells into overdrive. He accidentally gave her a form of cancer. Having a high purity level as a healer was actually a negative to those who knew. No one wanted a High Purity Sun without control.
Harry grimaced as they spoke over his head, he knew Reborn had spoken about Flames and the like before, but he couldn't remember any of it. And a small part of him recoiled at the thought of asking him again – he didn't want to look stupider. The man already thought he was lacking in the intelligence department, he didn't want to add to that belief.
Nurse Yale clapped her hands and smiled brightly at him, "So, let's get started shall we? Nurse Rashmi is waiting outside for now. Would you like me to send him in?" she asked kindly.
Reborn hummed, pulling his yellow chair closer to Harry's side and throwing himself down into it, espresso in hand, while Harry nodded eagerly. "Yes please," he agreed, he wanted to be able to see properly. And soon.
Nurse Rashmi was a friendly Indian gentleman seemingly in his mid-to-late fifties. He had a bit of a pot-belly stretching the fabric of his vivid green scrubs, glasses on a round smiling face, and short dark hair combed carefully to hide his receding hairline, and silvering temples. He nodded politely to Nurse Yale when she let him in (smelling strongly of chemicals). He turned to Harry with eager anticipation and excitement, and then froze uncertainly when he clapped eyes on Reborn beside him, stretched out languidly on his seat, dark eyes following him with predatory intent.
"Master Reborn, heh – ahem, I didn't – the Young Master is Your Sky?" he asked in accented Italian, alarmed. Reborn nodded his head slowly, sipping his drink as he continued to watch the optician from the Lightning Floor sweat fearfully and shuffle in his too-tight scrubs. "I – err – well, it's an honour, sir," he stuttered, stretching a hand out towards the Hitman in order to shake.
Reborn made no move to accept it.
The silence stretched uncomfortably making Harry roll his eyes.
"Ah, um, right, right okay," the Nurse rambled uncertainly as he quickly snatched his hand back. As if he expected Reborn to tear it off at the shoulder if he didn't move quickly enough.
Harry picked up the roll of newspaper from the desk that Reborn had been reading from earlier before he woke, and swatted his Sun Guardian around the head with it. He may not have understood what was being said, but it was very clear to him that Reborn was being an asshole and purposefully intimidating the nurse. Specifically the very one that was going to give Harry the ability to see further than his elbow with clarity.
"Behave," he scolded as the Italian twitched and rolled his head over to frown at him. Harry arched a challenging eyebrow straight back at him, that intimidation tactic was hardly going to work on someone that had spent half a week using him as a teddy bear and hot water bottle all rolled into one. The Hitman snorted in amusement, slumping bonelessly in his chair under the disbelieving gaze of the Nurse who had clearly been expecting some form of violence when the Young Sky told THE Hitman what to do. As if he were a misbehaving child. And met his eyes head on at that!
(Just how ballsy, or stupid, was this kid? The Nurse wondered.)
Things... didn't improve, even with Harry's telling off.
Harry had never had an eye test before. He found that... he wasn't at all that keen on them. He had to get out of the bed and into the plush orange throne so that Nurse Rashmi could quickly move around him. A poster was hung at one end of the room and after several long minutes of the Lightning Floor nurse spending entirely too much time very, very closely in his personal space. Practically on top of him, which he could see made Reborn grind his teeth protectively, (possessively?), from the corner of his eye. Breathing deeply the whole time as he used an odd cone shaped thing to examine his eyes.
He pulled back with a grimace, "Young Master Cielo, I'm not sure what I can do to help you. There is extensive damage to your eyes, especially the left. The optic nerve and even your retina are heavily scarred. I'm surprised you can even see out of it at all. Any glasses I procure for you will become useless as soon as they are treated," he explained in somewhat strained Italian as he glanced between Harry's clueless expression and the carefully masked homicidal one on Reborn's face.
"He doesn't speak Italian," the Hitman announced succinctly. And it was only too obvious by the way that Nurse Rashmi's face twitched, that he didn't speak English either.
"And his system is still too delicate for prolonged operations with Sun Flame. Especially in such concentrated locations as the optic nerve," Nurse Yale interrupted when she saw her colleague's gaze dart to the door as if trying to gauge whether or not he could escape the room before Reborn snapped his neck. "Young Master Cielo will not likely improve enough for such operations within the next five months. So please, continue with the test. The lad needs to be able to at least read while he's cooped up in here or he'll go mad," she pleaded, turning on the charm a little to get the optician to bend to her whims.
After that, he had to wear an awfully uncomfortable contraption that looked a bit like orthopaedic glasses frames from the forties made of plastic (if it were a PC, Reborn was pretty sure it would be running Windows'92, it was even that same horrible warm beige-y grey colour). Nurse Rashmi then had him try various different lenses and quizzed him on how well he could see the poster at the other end of the wall, having him read it out with almost every change of lens, before using an odd little box that lit up red or green to see which colour he saw best.
And then Harry was free.
Nurse Rashmi took the frames and the lenses, made careful note of them, and smiled nervously at Reborn. "That wraps it up. I can have the glasses made within the day as long as the Young Master decides on the frames he would like before lunch. Please have him go through the catalogue at his nearest convenience?" he requested, gently presenting the young Sky with a small A5 sized paper catalogue of various glasses frames.
And with that, he practically jogged out of the room. It wasn't Harry's imagination that he saw the man shoot over the threshold of the room as if he thought someone was trying to snatch him back.
He chuckled a little helplessly, "Strange guy," he observed.
Nurse Yale coughed back a giggle, "He recommended you look through the catalogue to decide which frames you would like. He can get them made today if you pick before noon," she explained as Reborn lurched to his feet and immediately crossed the room to his Sky. She quietly excused herself, unnoticed, as Reborn dropped down to the floor beside the teenager and promptly buried his face into Harry's lap.
"Reborn?" the teenager asked, confused and a little alarmed, hands automatically moving to try and lift his head, only for the man's grip on his waist to tighten. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly as he dug his fingers into the man's hair the same way he had for Crookshanks who was currently perched on one of the desk chairs watching the goings on in the room with lamp-like green eyes.
Reborn shook his head, refusing to answer. How could he answer, explain that the sight of the other man hovering over him, practically trying to inhale Harry's presence, taking his sweet damn time sniffing him under the guise of checking his eyes, all the while his Flame tried to stealthily Reach out to him. Thinking that Reborn would notice those tiny tendrils he sent twisting towards HIS Sky as if he didn't already have a Lightning Guardian, as if he was in any way worthy of Harry's time, or attention.
How did he explain that, without coming off like one of those possessive Discordant self-deluded 'Guardians' dragging 'their' Skies into abusive, controlling, relationships?
So he stayed silent, and stewed in his anger over the optician, silently planning to have any access to the Sky Ward revoked in future. He would not be coming anywhere near Harry again. The easiest time to Harmonize to a Sky was when they were feeling particularly threatened, or vulnerable. In moments of immense emotional duress, or when their lives were in danger. It was how Reborn Harmonized to Harry. And it made him itchy under his skin to think of just who Harry might have ended up grabbing onto at his weakest moment back in that bar.
"Okay," Harry soothed, "We'll just sit here, until you feel better," he said, leaning tiredly back in his chair staring idly out of the window as he felt tiredness beginning to creep up on him again. He had been fighting back the fuzzy edges of exhaustion earlier before Nurse Yale came in with Crookshanks because it was important for Reborn to know about magical transport and the worst of the curses. Only the Death Eaters would curse first and bother to ask questions never. The Order would at least demand answers before they got overly wand happy. But right now, after that awkward meeting with Nurse Rashmi, he was wrung out. It shouldn't have worn him out so much to just look at things, to talk about them, and remain so still. But he felt drained like he had after the Triwizard Tournament's Second Task, when all the adrenalin had faded and all he felt was tired and a little rubbery.
"Hey... Reborn," he murmured, nudging him with a knuckle, "Would you like to pick the frames? I... don't think I'm going to stay awake much longer," he admitted before yawning hard enough to make his eyes water.
He felt Reborn's head shift and a kiss being pressed to his palm, "Of course. Sleep well, Mio Cielo," the man told him softly. Harry hummed dully in agreement as he felt the last threads of his awareness slip from his unresisting fingers.
000
Harry slept solidly through the day, Reborn not leaving his side save to give Nurse Yale the list of frame choices he had picked out. For Harry, he had selected two frames that he thought would suit his features, a day pair, and an evening pair, and found a number suiting his own aesthetics that would prove handy for his various disguises. He called in for a sandwich, and ended up having a pleasant conversation with Nurse Abbadelli who, when he brought the incident up, promised to look into Nurse Rashmi's behaviour and reprimand him. He then spent the next few hours leaning against the arm of Harry's chair, pressed against his leg, reading 'Life Debts' by Rorimac Malfoy (he had yet to get up off the floor and found his current position perfectly agreeable).
It was the sound of Miss Granger 'Apparating' into the living room that finally had him peeling himself from Harry's side.
Thankfully he caught her before she got into the room, practically colliding with her as he stepped out. He caught her with one arm about the waist and casually spun them away from Harry's room, closing the door as he did so.
"Miss Granger," he greeted, smirking a little when he spotted the startled blush that decorated her cheeks. Clearly no one had gone through the appropriate effort to properly woo her. She needed a better boyfriend. A lady of her calibre needed romancing properly, deserved romancing properly.
"Oh! Err, h-hello Reborn!" she squeaked, hazel eyes wide. He set her down and stepped back, watching in amusement as she visibly came back to her senses and gave him a mild frown, "You know, you can call me Hermione, right? If we're going to be in each other's space all the time until Harry recovers, I'd prefer it," she admitted, tucking fly-away strands of hair behind her ear.
These kids, they were going to be the death of him.
"If you insist... Hermione," he agreed, smiling a little when she practically beamed at him. How in the Seven Hells were Harry and his young Guardians so goddamn adorable? They were the same age as Shamal who was a completely uncute little shit!
"Is Harry sleeping right now?" she asked, peering over his shoulder towards their Sky's room. "I had a bad feeling earlier but couldn't get away until now. Is he okay? Did anything happen?" she asked anxiously, wringing her hands as she looked up at him with large doe eyes.
She must have felt Nurse Rashmi's attempt to displace her. He was going to snap that bastard's neck and mount his head somewhere public as an example of what happens when you poke your flame where it wasn't wanted.
"It was just a tiring day," he assured her, mentally vowing to get her trained up and Useful. Get her a reputation in the Underworld. The sooner she was a known powerful factor, the less likely anyone would have the balls to try anything. He would have to bring in their unknown Cloud Guardian as well. Harry he would train personally once he was well enough, or contract out a Home-Tutor for him as he was much too close and may either go too hard, or too easy on him. It would have to be someone just as powerful as him and completely unafraid of him as well. That slimmed the numbers down considerably. Lal Mirch, of COMBUSKIN was a possibility. As was Fon of the Triads. After that... Well, he'd run out of names that he would be willing to get involved with Harry. Timoteo was a possibility, but he was in no way neutral, and while he was willing to ally himself to the Vongola, he didn't want to work for them and Timoteo would do his best to drag Harry under their umbrella.
"Tiring?" the schoolgirl echoed curiously.
Reborn hummed in agreement, "The optician paid him a visit, and we had a long discussion about curses and magical transportation. Speaking of..." he added, giving her a critical look over. She was just as, if not more, frazzled looking and tired than the last time he saw her. She needed rest. Meaningful rest. Not simply a nap caught between duties. "This room is for your use, Hermione," he informed her, presenting the Lightning Guardian's chamber. Like all the Guardian rooms, it was a small affair. Looking more akin to a student room at a Halls of Residence. Bed, desk, bookcase, and chair, all done in shades of green and cream. "You look exhausted. Rest. When you've woken up, had something to eat, and gotten a shower in, could you see to placing some Wards around Harry's rooms? His immune system is severely compromised at this moment, the last thing we need is people Apparating in and out as it suits them, exposing him to disease."
Brown eyes went wide, "His immune system is compromised, how?" she asked swiftly as her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"He doesn't have one. No white blood cells to speak of," he explained and, for some absurd reason, she relaxed, and even laughed a little. "May I ask what is so amusing?" he bit out testily, he hadn't pegged Miss Granger as the kind to find such things amusing but, this was only the third time he had spoken to her.
She shook her head a moment, "When I was younger, I was hospitalised a lot. I had to be kept in clean rooms at all times. I couldn't attend school like a normal kid. Because I had absolutely no white blood cells. Absolutely none," she explained, continuing to smile in amusement while Reborn twitched in confusion. So, she had the same problem as Harry? But she looked fine. There was no disturbance to her Flame, beyond what was to be expected from a budding Active attempting to become Useful. "It's the magic," she finally said. "Our immune systems are magical, Harry's and mine. So technology? Scanners? You can't see them on those kinds of imaging or measuring equipment. Take a look at it under a regular analogue microscope and you'll find them, I guarantee it."
Reborn hummed before quickly striding to the Call Button. He knew Shamal was sleeping right now, so he wasn't surprised when Nurse De Vitis arrived, her orange uniform trimmed in Lightning Green as she smiled at them.
"Nurse De Vitis, if you would be so kind as to check Harry's blood work a second time, with analogue equipment. Evidentially, he possesses the same... Mutation that his Lightning Guardian does, meaning white blood cells do not show up on imaging equipment," he explained nodding to Hermione who smiled and waved. To her credit, she didn't so much as bat an eye at the appearance of the young woman who certainly hadn't passed through the security check points, or anywhere else in the hospital, or the fact that she was apparently dealing with ghost immune systems.
She nodded, "I'll look into it, is there anything else I can help you with?" she asked.
"If you could find some spare clothes for Miss Granger it would be appreciated. She will be spending the night here," Reborn announced, ignoring the spluttering of the young lady in question and her protestations of:
"But, I have to go back!"
"Molly will worry if I don't get back to the Burrow!"
"Oh really, there's no need!"
Reborn shot her a smirk as Nurse De Vitis left. Hermione gave him an exasperated and decidedly unimpressed look as she planted her hands on her hips.
"Reborn, I really can't stay," she protested, "I would like to, Merlin knows how worried about Harry I have been, but I can't. I need to be at the Ministry tomorrow at six for the next lot of inquiries. Not to mention that if I go missing as well, the public backlash will really get out of hand and – "
Reborn placed his hand over her mouth, really, this was getting to be a habit he noted as he stared intently into her hazel brown eyes. "Hermione, you are exhausted. Anyone with eyes can see that you are wearing yourself down to threads. It does not have to be until Harry is released. But please, sleep here tonight, have a decent meal, spend some time with Harry, and then return to your tasks the day after tomorrow. You can afford one day, Hermione," he informed her gently.
"But everyone is-" she protested.
"You are seventeen. You're still growing. You're still young. And you, my dear, need. Rest," he reiterated as he steered her towards the Lightning Suite. "Please Hermione, as your Senior, it is my job to look after your wellbeing just as much as Harry's. Let me do this," he pleaded shamelessly, presenting her to the green room once more.
Her resolve crumbled.
"Alright, but only tonight, okay? I really do have to get back!" she reminded him.
Reborn hid his smirk of triumph as he gave her a gentle push into the room, of course she would say that now. But if she gave in once, then she was more likely to give in twice. She would stay tomorrow. He knew she would.
"Of course," he agreed amiably, knowing full well she most certainly would not. "Towels and washing products are in the bathroom. Nurse De Vitis will lay some clothes out for you on the bed there. If you place your clothing in that basket there she will see to it they are cleaned before tomorrow morning," he explained before patting the girl on the head and stepping out of the Lightning Suite.
He wondered how she would react to the cat.
000
"Harry's Cloud?" Hermione queried as the two quietly ate their dinner in the living room so they wouldn't disturb the young Sky still sleeping. Reborn had gone back to their room briefly in order to see to it that he was returned to his bed and properly tucked in, Crookshanks solemnly taking a guard position at the foot of Harry's bed, stretching himself out across the teenager's feet so as to warm them before the Hitman left.
Nurse De Vitis had not returned, instead, Nurse Nasato had stepped in to provide Miss Granger with some scrubs from the Lightning Ward before whisking her clothing away to be cleaned. Not half an hour later, the two of them were sitting down to eat at the small round table in the centre of the room. Reborn had availed himself of the wine menu and selected a very pleasant red to go with his steak in cracked pepper sauce, while Hermione had instead opted for a glass of water with her sausages and mashed potato in onion gravy.
Reborn nodded, "Indeed. The disquiet you felt earlier was from another Flame – my apologies, another Aspect user attempting to bond with Harry. However, you already possess the same bond he was trying to form, though it is passive and without energy. It came to my attention then that Harry is unacceptably vulnerable with those Bonds largely dormant. I would like to awaken your Aspects, get them Useful, and bring his Cloud Guardian into the equation as well. But I cannot do the later without even knowing them." And verifying if they were even appropriate. With the bond so underpowered, it would be no trauma to actually break it for Harry as long as he regulated his flame between the two so as to prevent any backlash. He had done so before, he did not like doing it, as it meant he took the backlash onto himself – but it was that or allow Timoteo to continue down that self-destructive path alongside his former Sun Guardian turned Discordant.
The young lady set her knife and fork down, taking a sip of water before leaning back in her seat thoughtfully.
"Unless you're taking Arithmancy along with Ancient Runes, Aspects are largely considered just glorified personality archetypes used in Horoscopes. A little like Pieces and Aries and Cancer in Astrology. They don't tend to actually come up in every day conversation. I'm fairly sure ninety three percent of magic users are either unaware, or have completely forgotten what their Aspects are." She rubbed her chin and brushed several wet curls from her face. "I can only think of Neville, Ginny, and perhaps Luna. But I know for a fact that Neville doesn't have an Aspect, he's an Elemental of Forces," she explained before catching the frown of confusion on the Hitman's face.
"Ah, Elementals are like Aspects, but operate differently – while Aspects manifest as fire, elementals manifest as substances. You call the Aspects Flames of Sky, yes? Well, imagine the Elementals as Flames of Earth and you're along the right lines. They're a lot rarer than Aspects and harder to control. Harry has Ruling Aspect, Sky Flame. Opposite him, Neville has Force Element, Earth Flame? Or would Gravity be a better... Magnetism?" she shrugged a shoulder, "The colour is a very deep almost magma coloured red. Ginny was a Ruby Aspect but she had another one that she never really mentioned; it could be the purple Cloud. Then there's Luna... She's actually the most likely, I would think, for being Harry's Cloud."
Reborn pushed aside the idea of a second Flame alignment and instead focused on this Luna girl. "What can you tell me about her?" he asked curiously.
The young woman chuckled a little wryly, "There's no way to really explain Luna. She's someone you have to meet to really understand. She's sweet though, if not altogether there. She's staying at the Weasleys' as well, would you like me to introduce her tomorrow?" the Lightning Guardian asked.
Reborn nodded, "That would be pleasant, yes. Have you heard anything from the other two failed Guardians? Ron and Fred, was it?" he asked idly, carefully masking all traces of iciness from his tone.
Hermione still flinched, "It was George. George went to the Healers. Fred died," she corrected him softly, staring down at her food with a stiffness that immediately made Reborn feel bad.
"My apologies. How are they doing?" he asked considerably more gently. It was not George's fault that his flame was so closely tied with his twin brother's that they became Dual Guardians – only to be driven to Discord when his other half quite literally died. No, that brother... if there was anything that Reborn could do, he would be happy to help. It was the other brother, Ron, the failed, traitorous, Storm Guardian that he found himself fighting off sneers when thinking of.
"Ron is... being Ron. And thus difficult. He keeps insisting there's nothing wrong with him and fighting the Healers at every step. George is... quiet. They're tackling his brother's death before going onto anything even approaching the fact that he was a Squire to a Lord," she explained softly, fiddling with the table-cloth. "The Healers say that if he can get some energy back, he should make a recovery. Both he and Fred have always been close but the war... it was maturing them in separate directions as twins normally do, they weren't as entangled in each other as they were when they were younger. It's the only reason George isn't insane or suicidal right now."
Reborn nodded, "Would having access to Harry help in any way to stabilise him?" Often times when a Flame fractured or nearly polarized under stressful circumstances, spending prolonged amounts of time around one's Sky was the ticket to recovery as their Harmonization ability gave their Guardian's strength even on a subconscious level.
Hermione shrugged, "I can only ask. Though the Healers are getting really insistent on trying to find out who his Lord is. I don't like the way some of them react when he refuses to answer though," she added with a dark frown before abruptly standing, her chair screeching a little as it was pushed back. "I think I should put those wards up now, I'll finish eating when I'm done." she declared purposefully, flicking her wand at her plate before leaving the table.
Reborn blinked, glass of wine half-raised to his mouth.
Well... She was a Lightning.
He continued to sip his wine as he steadily ate his way through his steak, watching her work from the corner of his eye. They could continue their conversation at a later time, when both of them were certain that Harry was safe.
000
Hermione did not return to the Weasleys the next day. Reborn saw fit to distract her immediately upon her awakening by presenting her to a shaved, and very pleased, Crookshanks before she could even begin to attempt her goodbyes. Her startled shout of 'CROOKSHANKS!' woke Harry up in the next room and in short order everyone was back in his room (Reborn explaining the chemical showers to Hermione as he wasn't willing to risk Harry's health until the nurses confirmed her explanation thoroughly. Thankfully she understood and was willing to do as she was told – as long as he didn't look while she was in there. Reborn resolutely didn't throw the snarky comment lingering on the tip of his tongue about how he would have no problem with not looking at her, Harry though would be impossible to ignore. Thankfully he had better sense than to admit he would quite happily peep on a minor).
Shamal appeared in order to schmoose with the young lady, and it was terrifyingly affective even as Hermione scowled, blushing hard, and told him to take a cold bath. It was very clear that no one had ever made the effort to make her feel like a lady, a desirable one at that. A little harmless flirting and she was taking it so seriously, embarrassed, touched, but also wary to the degree that it made Reborn wonder if someone had played with her feelings in the past. He idly entertained the thought of interrogating Harry about it and then dealing with the protuberance of humanity in as painful a fashion as he could think of for playing with a lady's heart before shaking the thought off. Somehow he doubted either Harry or Hermione would be particularly willing to indulge his particular thirst for revenge. Shamal, perhaps.
Shamal... Revenge... Ah yes, that reminds him, he was going to deal with Harry's family at one point. His Aunt and Uncle. He would leave the cousin alive, Dudley, from what he recalled of that phone conversation he very faintly overheard the fateful day he first met his Sky, they had at least made some attempts at making up. He didn't wish to undo all that hard work, especially when Harry put so much effort into it.
He smirked, watching as Hermione laughed over the Gameboy, and Harry's confusion at why it took him back to the beginning of the game. Which then had her taking him through the start of Pokemon Yellow and laughing herself to tears when he named his rival 'MALFOY' again. They played through the game while Reborn flipped through a book, Crookshanks on his lap purring quietly – the feline seemed to have really taken to Reborn for some reason, the not so fluffy annoyance.
Eventually Harry energy ran dry and he slipped back into sleep, Hermione quietly saving his game, and setting the turned off Gameboy onto the desk with a smile as she tucked him back in.
"Hard to believe he's a juggernaut in a fight when he looks like this," the girl mused quietly as she ran a hand through his hair.
"Is he?" Reborn asked idly.
"He taught me how to defend myself," she admitted pointedly, "The only reason the fatalities at the Battle of Hogwarts weren't a hundred percent is because he started teaching us Magical Defence when we were fifteen. He always spoke about going into Law Enforcement at the Ministry, but he looked so much happier teaching than he did fighting..." she muttered before leaning down and kissing his forehead. "I hope he does something he wants to do with his life, instead of bowing to the expectations of others. He's got a hard road ahead of him, if he ever comes back home," she muttered softly, knowing full well that it was very possible that he just... wouldn't come back to England.
That now he was a fully realised Lord, with a Knight, a proper Knight (possibly even Gilded if she were reading the signs right), there was a very high possibility that he would choose Reborn over England. And she couldn't blame him. She knew that where ever Harry went, whatever he chose, she would probably follow him, as she always had done. Because he was her home in all the important ways that mattered. In all the ways her parents hadn't been since she was twelve and trying to explain Pureblood Supremacy to her parents who both had grandfathers and mothers who fought in the Second World War in a way that wouldn't have them yanking her out of Hogwarts so fast her head would spin.
Reborn watched her with a lidded gaze before sighing, "I am afraid... things are complicated in England as far as Flame Users are concerned. Harry will be remaining with me once he is recovered. Flame Users... do not stay in England. It is controlled by someone who does not brook intruders on his, or her, territory," he explained delicately. No one was a hundred percent certain that Ghost was male, or female, as Ghost... changed throughout the years. "England has always had a Ghost, for as long as there had been a Vongola, there has been a Ghost," he explained flatly to the school girl who watched him from her place curled up in the Lightning armchair. "Male, female; Cloud, Rain, Lightning, Storm, Mist; it's clearly as inherited as the leadership of the Vongola – passed down through the Mouzey Famiglia. Or rather, the Black Famiglia as they would call themselves now."
"Blacks?" Hermione asked curiously.
Reborn nodded, "You can always tell a Black Flame User from anyone else. They are the only family that runs before it can crawl. Their hair and eyes will always be stained with the colour of their Flame when in use, and they will step into a rare evolved form of a Dying Will mode often called a Hyper Dying Will Mode. When certain Flame Users first use their flames, they use them in a high-burn form, becoming single-mindedly focused on the task at hand, at what they've set their minds to regardless of physical or mental harm to themselves or repercussions to the future. Hyper Dying Will is a step beyond, a slow but intense burn that allows them to use super human abilities, intelligence, intuition, at prolonged lengths of time. But it causes huge stress to the body. The Blacks are genetically predisposed to handling Hyper Dying Will Mode better than anyone else. They step into this advanced form of Flame handling right off the bat and must work backwards into that high-burn form in order to gain complete control of their Flames."
Hermione hummed thoughtfully, "You said that this Ghost is a Black, right?" she asked curiously, watching as Reborn nodded before she glanced at Harry. Something seemed to be ticking over in her brain judging by the small crease between her eyebrows as she studied the young man carefully.
"Indeed. The Ghost before him was quite the Rain User if memory serves. I had the good fortune of meeting him only the once when I was a teenager. The man stopped me dead in my tracks with a flick of his wrist. He had been saturating everything around him with his Flame for fifty metres ensuring that everything was slowed. It was like running through treacle on a cold day. The new Ghost though, he is a fun one. Considerably younger. Cloud User. However, the rules are plain for all Flame Users. England is neutral territory, none may settle, none may remain, and to set foot there, one must have permission. Even I needed to gain permission before making a stop."
And hadn't that been a pain. Thankfully the Ghost didn't give a crap about who you were sent there to kill as long as it wasn't a member of the Royal Family. For some reason he got bent out of shape the last time someone petitioned for access so they could assassinate the Princess of Wales. The Ghost actually went out of his way to track that petitioner down and rob him beyond blind – him and his employer.
"What are you thinking about, Hermione?" Reborn asked curiously as she continued to stare at Harry speculatively.
She jolted and laughed a little nervously, waving her hands, "Ah-hahah, no, never mind. It's nothing! Just a silly idea," she assured him with a wry smile as she shook her head. "A really silly idea."
Reborn arched an eyebrow, but decided not to prompt her further.
000
And done. Y'know, given how this chapter was so EASY for the first half, I did not expect the second half to be like pulling motherfucking teeth. Goddamnit. And then the ending, I spent an hour wondering how to put an ending to this chapter and the moment I get an idea for it, start writing it – the characters go COMPLETELY in the opposite direction.
But that's just Reborn all over, isn't it?