In a confused furor, Madam Pomfrey came rushing out from her office, her wand tip alight as her eyes scanned the Hospital Wing for any possible threats. She could feel the near tangible wall of broiling magic coming in waves from both Hermione and Irrylath.
She blinked and came to a standstill as she watched a roiling flame of eldritch fire flow over Hermione's skin. It seems that its not just Mr. Potter that has enough magic for it to become tangible. I wonder if it has to do with her partial transformation a few months ago.
Even as she cataloged this new revelation she was moving and securing the beds and wards, ensuring that there was not in fact an attack on the school or her domain. With barely a thought she conjured a comfortable looking enough chair and tried to guide Hermione into it.
"Please rest dear, your core can't take this strain and I need to know what's going on so I can help you," as she spoke soothingly to the distraught girl, her eyes looked up questioningly to the elf, only to flinch as she saw an inhuman, ethereally beautiful mask of absolute fury on Irrylath's face.
Irrylath's brow furrowed as she focused her considerable magic to the surface and probed the edges of Harry's scar, a black miasma now welling up and lashing back against the silver laden magic attacking it. Poppy watched wide eyed as she realized that the elf was attacking a semi-conscious piece of black magic stuck in the Potter heir's head.
Hermione's jaw dropped as she realized that the level of control this woman had without a wand was higher than nearly any mage with a wand, save one of the legendary wands rumored to exist. Slowly, and with extreme effort on the part of Irrylath, the miasma was shrunken to a small wisp and then forced into a sphere of pure, unadulterated magic that pulsed every few moments.
This only seemed to infuriate the black magic which became more erratic in its thrashing and lashing out, making the sphere bulge and bubble. Almost miraculously the sphere held and grew brighter until the wisp of dark magic finally faded with a far-off sounding wail. Irrylath made a small motion with her hands, dispersing the sphere before she collapsed onto the bed next to her Lord.
Poppy leapt up and immediately started to scan her, frowning as her diagnostic charms kept giving conflicting readings. She bites the side of her lip as her wand dances more elaborately, her magic sinking deep into the prone elf.
Hermione's eyes flick back and forth between the trusted mediwitch and still unknown elf. "Madam Pomfrey what's going on? What happened to Irrylath and what was that black substance?"
Poppy didn't answer, as focused as she was, it was impossible for her to be aware of her surroundings as her magic wrapped through the prone woman. Within a few moment's she let out a sigh of relief having finally realized that Irrylath had simply exhausted her own core of magic in whatever act she had just performed.
White. Blank. Eternity. Harry twisted back and forth, his emerald eyes focused as he tried to find something, anything in this expanse that he found himself in. He remembered a brief surge of pain, but before it could fully register, he was pulled into this…. plane.
As before, without warning, a deep rumbling voice called out to the young heir, "I see that you have returned little warrior. However, you are not dead or dying this time. How very curious."
Slowly, Harry oriented himself and turned towards the Basilisk who was watching him with an almost amused gaze. "If I'm not dead, then why am I here again? I thought you said that Fawkes' tears would have pulled me from here."
The King of Serpents did its odd head wave as it chuckled towards the last Potter," True, the phoenix pulled you back to life, however this plane, is a merging of our souls. Even without death, you can enter here to speak with me, however I fear that for a while yet, traumatic experiences will trigger it. Eventually you may be able to come and go intentionally."
Harry crossed his legs as he sat down, his own serpentine gaze locked onto the massive snake in front of him, "Then why am I here? I don't remember doing anything that could have been traumatic."
The great serpent seemed to hunch over as it contemplated the young man in front of it. It forked tongue flicked out tasting the air around the last Potter, "I would say that something may have happened while you were unconscious. My magic resides in you young one, but like your kind's paintings, I am merely a shell of what I was when alive. I cannot learn anything new here, only what I knew before you slew me."
Harry leaned back slightly, his emerald and yellow gaze stormy as he contemplated the King of Serpents. "So, you can't learn anything new, but we are still…. tied together? For the rest of our lives?"
"That is generally how it works little warrior. The Giving of a Gift is a rare and powerful thing. I pushed the full brunt of the wild magic running through my veins through your body as we were both dying. In my haste and my hope to ensure your survival, we forged something new. Something that will perhaps be monumental."
Harry looked thoughtful as he continued to regard the massive reptile in front of him. "Do you know why my magic has felt…. hotter? its almost like a raging fire rushing through my veins. Honestly it's a bit uncomfortable."
The basilisk curled around Harry, its deep yellow eyes sliding closed, "It seems to be a byproduct of our merging and the phoenix tears in your blood. Phoenix tears in my time were rumored to be able to cure any affliction if freely given, however my poison is helping to change your body because we merged our magic and souls together to form something new. So, there is nothing to cure, however Salazar had theorized that the tears themselves could be used as a type of restorative draught if freely given to someone without any wounds."
Harry settled himself into the scales of the King of Serpents as his mind raced to keep up, "So basically because you and I decided to merge, Fawkes' tears are healing my body. The things that were damaged before?"
"Exactly, now rest little warrior, there is much to discuss but your body will need to recuperate before you come here again, otherwise you will not grow." With that the basilisk seemed to drift off to sleep, his breathing deepening and evening out which in turn lulled the youngest Potter to sleep.
Chirping, bright, cheery, incessant chirping. Irrylath's eyes snapped open and scanned the room before she sat up slowly, her gaze being drawn to her Lord and his friend. She frowned slightly when she noticed that her Lord had yet to wake but was satisfied that Hermione had things well in hand.
She quickly took stock of herself, noting that none of her weapons or armor had been removed, but she could still feel the drain on her magic. It looked like she would need to keep to close distance fighting only, and not expend any more magic than absolutely necessary.
Chirp, chirp.
She froze, her gaze shifting to the very small satchel on her waist, also absent-mindedly she reached into the pouch and pulled out a small polished rock made of what appeared to be obsidian. Within moments of her bare skin touching it a flowing script covered the surface.
Irrylath read the script not once or twice, but four times before cursing her luck and slamming the rock back into the pouch. Her sudden motion pulled the attention of Poppy who was just crossing the room to check on the young Potter.
"Are you okay Irrylath? You look startled." The elf in question blinked, quickly schooling her features to her usual impassivity.
"It's nothing Madame Pomfrey, just a note from a friend. Its not all that important at the moment. How is my Lord doing?"
Poppy's eyes narrowed slightly at the nearly blatant change of subject before allowing it, "Magically he's not as exhausted, however I believe the extreme stress that he's been under plus the constant traumatic experiences are hindering even his usual indomitable will. All we can do is simply wait for him to wake. If I attempted to force it, I fear I would do more harm than good."
Irrylath nodded and moved to her customary spot, however instead of blending into the shadows she cast her gaze over the sleeping teenagers, "This path will not be easy for either of them Madame Pomfrey, I hope that you will continue to be a source of comfort and a safe haven for them both."
The aged healer also watched the young teens her gaze softening, "Like teachers, we Healers are taught to try to avoid having favorites. According to my training its so that we remain impartial and fair, but I think its because they break us more than anyone else. I've had the absolute pleasure to be the Healer for Hogwarts for nigh on 35 years and none have captured my heart quite like these two. You and I will need a conversation about the other…. Night and what caused you to be so weakened."
Irrylath stiffened before nodding, her attention slowly returning to watching over her Lord and his friend. "Indeed, we will Madame Pomfrey. Indeed, we will."
