Deathly Hallowed
The Tale of Three Brothers was not a legend. It was a warning. No one cheats Death. And luckily for Lily Potter, the promise of the Cloak's return in exchange for her son's life was a fair deal.
I'm dreaming every night of a large storm. The clouds spiral and the air is heavy. Lightning but no thunder. I'm at the safe house, it's untouched and the dream doesn't end until I go inside. The books are there, the runes and it comes from the window just as it first did. But then when it reaches me, it just stops, watching. Every night. It just looks. I don't know what its watching me for, what does it want from me? Why is it watching me? Why won't it stop? – Lily Potter
My watcher needs a name. Morrigan, Tuoni, Persephone, Anubis, Hades, Thanatos, Freyja, Pluto, Erlik, Azrael… - Lily Potter
Harry ambled into the Great Hall that morning early. He had checked, double checked, triple checked Hogwarts: A History and was as sure as he could be that he couldn't get into trouble for what he had planned. He snuck a glance at the Head Table before quickly walking over to Slytherin table. He snagged a seat in the vague First Year vicinity and hunched his shoulders a bit so that his blue and bronze tie didn't pop out.
The older students began to trickle in first, Alex with them to his relief. Hopefully, having one of the prefects on his side would make this easier. He waved at her and snickered as she froze in the process of sitting. "Good morning!"
She sat heavily. "Mr. Potter." She wasn't the only one to look towards the Head Table. "What are you doing?"
"Waiting for Theo." He strained all the innocence he could into his voice and tried to look cute. Sometimes Aunt Petunia fell for it, but it was iffy and something told him the Slytherin would be a tough sell. "It's not against the rules. I checked."
"And you are aware that if a Professor asks you to return to your table, you will have to comply?"
"But—"
"They are free to dictate seating, Mr. Potter."
Harry glared mulishly. "This is one of those 'can make up new rules' kind of things, isn't it?"
Alex had one of those small, sincere smiles that was halfway to addictive with its perceived rarity. It was also contagious and Harry found himself smiling back. She got up and took the seat across from him, ignoring the angry snort from the boy she had been sitting next to with practiced ease. "I'll cover for you this time."
He beamed.
Several of what must have been her year mates gave them puzzled looks, but just as quickly shook it off and took their places. The Slytherin Head of House spotted him and got this strange half-angry, half-scared face as if Harry was a boy shaped pile of dungbombs at the table waiting to explode. Alex shook her head at him when he opened his mouth, raised an eyebrow and got into this weird silent conversation with the man that ended up softening the expression on Severus Snape's face to just 'surly.'
Harry got a terse nod and was then promptly ignored.
"What was that about?"
She looked at him thoughtfully then up at the Staff table and hummed. "Not sure."
Well, that was helpful. Harry rolled his eyes as platters of food began to appear on the table. Neville sent him a double take from the Gryffindor table before shrugging. Harry snuck him a wave. Theo Nott stumbled into the Hall behind several other late comers, yawning. He plopped himself into the empty seat beside Harry but didn't actually notice him until he was halfway through his bacon.
"Wait…" Nott looked down at his tie, as if expecting it to be a different color. "Am I at the wrong table?"
"No." Harry was amused.
"Oh." Theo blinked sleepily and bit into a biscuit. "Are you at the wrong table?"
"Yup."
"Alright." Harry waited. Theo stated drinking his pumpkin juice, and then jerked wide awake, spilling it. "Hey! "
Harry almost choked on his tongue in laughter. Alex took pity on her fellow Slytherin. "Are you usually this slow in the mornings?"
Theo looked shifty, patting a napkin in his mess with red cheeks. "…No."
"Liar."
Nott groaned and buried his head into his hands, his wet napkin dripping pumpkin juice off the edge of the table. "Is it too late to go back to sleep?" He then yelped as Harry tugged at something on his head. "What was that for!"
Harry looked back at him in shock, clenched between his fingers was a short strand of hair. "You have grey hairs?"
Theo squinted his eyes at it as Alex inclined her head. Her gaze was suddenly sharp, tracing over the single silvery hair and looking over the boy's scalp. She leaned forward on her hands. "Bit too young for those, aren't you?"
Nott grabbed it and ran his hand through his hair from where it had been plucked repeatedly. "Great. I'm going to be an old man before my OWLS."
"Grey hair makes you look distinguished," Harry said with the air of someone who really didn't know what he was talking about and knew it. "That's what my uncle says, anyway."
"It makes you look old." Theo countered sourly. Harry couldn't disagree with that logic. He didn't even try.
"Mr. Potter." Harry turned to see a disapproving Minerva McGonagall staring down at him with an arched eyebrow. "You seem to have gotten lost, I see."
"I'm with my friends, ma'am." Harry said quietly. Look cute. Look innocent. He idly poked at his sausage and didn't have to try too hard to look like he was scared of getting punished. He thought it was working a bit, as the hard frown the woman was wearing eased.
The Deputy Headmistress eyed him before she sighed in something that was not quite exasperation. "Continue to stay out of trouble, if you would?" Harry nodded quickly. "You won't be in my Transfiguration class, Mr. Potter. A separate assignment has been set aside for you in the Headmaster's office."
Harry's eyebrows jumped. "What, why?"
She gave him a stern look that was slightly imprecise. She wasn't entirely sure why either. "We have been informed that there are extenuating circumstances involved. And Mr. Potter?" Harry cringed, waiting for the point deduction. "The Headmaster is fond of sugar quills."
He blinked in surprise as she walked off. "Well, I figured he had a sweet tooth but…are all his passwords candy?"
"All the greatest wizards are mad," Theo told him solemnly, imparting great wisdom. "Bloody barmy. All of them. No exceptions."
"Dumbledore?"
"Yup."
"You-Know-Who?"
"Very."
"Lily Potter?"
Harry grinned wolfishly as Theo held up a finger, mouth still hanging open as he aborted his first answer. "Alex? Help?"
"Save yourself."
Defense Against the Dark Arts took place in one of the many nigh abandoned Dueling rooms on the second floor of the castle. The raised elongated platform dominated the middle of the room and vaguely people shaped dummies were lined up along the walls. Newspaper clippings completely covered one corner like a black and white collage, large diagrams dissecting various creatures. And Harry's instantly favorite feature: a moving image of a roaring dragon that had a wall all to itself.
Professor Newborough was a morose middle aged man who was missing the middle finger on his right hand and had a jagged, painful looking scar crossing the bridge of his nose and cutting into his left ear. He stood on the platform as the joint Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff class filtered in, legs apart and lazily twirling his wand. Harry thought he was the kind of person that never missed anything, even when it looked like they weren't paying attention.
With a flick of his wand, the door swung shut with a loud clap. The room hushed.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts." His voice was soft and brittle. "The name of this class is a misnomer. There is no 'defense' against the Dark Arts." His eyes were a stormy blue that pierced them all to their seats. He began to pace, walking the length of the platform all the way to the end and back. "There is not getting hit. There is shielding against select spells. There are counter spells for others. There is not getting into that situation in the first place." He stopped. "Which of you has heard of this class before?" He posed the question to all of them, but he was staring at Harry. "Mr. Potter?"
"Neville told me some, sir."
Newborough nodded slowly. "Mr. Longbottom's father is a decorated auror, instrumental in the First War. Well?" He snapped suddenly. Harry jumped. "What did he say about it?"
"Um, that you only teach useful spells, sir!"
The professor's lip curled. "Useful, hmm? I assume he was speaking about the Shield Charm. A moderately difficult spell, apparently, with a large value. Would you believe that a great many adult wizards are incapable of that charm?" He was deceptively mild and no one wanted to speak up. "Small hand movement, simple incantation, blocks most spells and some physical elements and even those employed in the Ministry of Magic can't do it."
He chuckled softly. And then spat, "Incompetents!" He glared at the class. "After all, we weren't just fighting for our lives and the lives of our families merely a decade ago!" He stood tall, looming. "In this class you will take responsibility for what you learn. You will research. You will ask questions. You will practice or you will leave. Is this understood?"
There was a frightened chorus of "Yes, sir."
"Good. As this is the first class, the first spell you learn will be a group effort. Suggestions."
Harry timidly raised his hand. "Shield charm?"
Newborough stared down at him, eyebrows raised. "Following in Mr. Longbottom's footsteps, are you? I must inform you, Mr. Potter, that by order of the Headmaster you are not to cast on another person in this class. Do you understand this?"
Harry's eyebrows furrowed. What? "Yes, sir."
He nodded sharply. "Shield charm it is then. Pick a dummy. Wands out."
It took Harry three tries to get the shield to form but when it did it was all…wrong. Instead of the bright, transparent blue it was a misty grey and made Harry feel like he was looking into a smoky window. It was turning in a slow vortex that was hypnotizing.
"That is peculiar." Newborough stood next to him, staring. "Cast it again."
Harry did so. Same thing.
Wordless, Newborough cast something at him, a bolt of red and it impacted with the shield. It didn't dissipate, or glance off, it was swallowed. It was like the spell was a pebble dropped into a pond, disturbing the mist as it passed through but didn't come out the other side.
Both of them stared.
Professor Newborough rounded him, inspecting the shield from all angles. "There is no curve," he murmured. "A flat plane…" He cast the same spell from over Harry's shoulder and watched it vanish. "That's not a shield."
Harry let the spell go, a small cramp in his stomach untangling with it. "What am I doing wrong?"
He watched the boy cast the shield charm once more and shook his head. "Nothing." He gave Harry a calculating look, interested. "I believe your first project should be cataloging the differences between your variant and the standard Shield charm. Agreed?"
"Yes, sir." As he left to help his classmates, Harry continued to stare into the gently swirling smoke. It wasn't a perfect spiral, oddities appeared the longer he looked into it. Some places were darker, other wisps bordered on white and in the center—
What was that?
Harry peered into it. Nothing but smoke. He let go. It crumpled inwards, like a full balloon that was having the air sucked out of it instead of winking out like the canceled spell it should have been like.
"Protego." It snapped back into existence. Harry bit his lip and slowly brought his finger close to the swirling vortex. Breathed. The tip of his finger disappeared and he hurriedly pulled it out and flexed. He still had it. He stuck his hand in and it was like he had reached into a heavy fog. Droplets of water clung to his skin as he swirled his arm around and no matter what, he couldn't see beyond the mist. To his eyes, it was as if his arm simply ceased to exist past that point. He stretched out his fingers and something brushed against them.
He yanked his hand out and dropped his wand. His heart skipped a couple of beats and had lodged itself in the middle of his throat.
Something was very wrong with his magic.
"Sugar Quills."
The Headmaster's office was much the same as it had been last time with a few differences, mainly the long table holding blocks or balls of different kinds of materials on it. Glass, metals, different kinds of wood, cloth balls…Dumbledore looked up at him from his claw footed desk and smiled genially. He was wearing red, purple and gold robes today, roses perpetually blooming along his hem while a few bees zipped about.
"Welcome to Transfiguration!" He shook his head wistfully. "It has been many years since I was a professor. Many, many years."
"What happens if I cast a spell on someone?" Harry blurted, fidgeting with anxiety.
Dumbledore's smile shrunk. "This situation is rather unprecedented however I suspect that there is a warping influence on your magic. Spells wouldn't quite work the way they should. Perhaps it will do nothing and this caution ends up being unnecessary." Dumbledore's smile had vanished completely. "We will have to see."
Harry nodded. It's been two days, if nothing happened by now, then perhaps Theodore Nott was perfectly fine. The summoning charm had worked just fine. "What are we working on first, sir?"
"First, some words of caution." He stood from behind his desk slowly and Harry was once again struck with how old the man was. "Transfiguration is as complex as imagination and as dangerous as an idea made real." Harry jerked back as a harmless bit of fluff on the table shifted into a large snake. Dumbledore released the transfiguration mid-hiss. "My apologies for alarming you," he rumbled, coughing lightly. "I find it best to enforce the dangers first. That was a snake."
Harry tried not to glare at the matter-of-fact statement. "I could see that."
"Ah, yes. It certainly looked like a snake but now I ask you, was it a snake? Could it be agitated? Would it bite if threatened? Was it poisonous? Would it chase prey?" Harry thought about it. Those fangs had certainly looked real, and it didn't seem too happy but in the end, it was a ball of fluff wasn't it?
"No," Dumbledore told him softly. "The moment my magic imposed a form on it, it became the snake. Magic is reality, altered. And reality does not take kindly to change. It will fight and it will struggle. You will find that what you intend to happen is often not the result and whatever you change, it will change back."
Harry looked down at the row of materials on the table. "So if I changed metal into a sandwich and someone ate it…" He shuddered, imagining shards of metal erupting out of his stomach. "I understand, sir."
"Very well. Then let us begin."
Harry's first practical was to turn a matchstick into a metal needle. And he couldn't do it. He tried. His matchstick got longer, started getting maybe a bit pointy, maybe, but it felt like he was dragging it through every step through sheer force of will. Dumbledore was watching him carefully with a drawn brow.
"It…" He stamped his foot in frustration. This wasn't fair; he got every other spell easily! "It doesn't want to change!"
"So I see." Dumbledore laced his hands together. "Perhaps…" He looked up. "Attempt to make a wooden needle."
That was much easier even as a slight headache pulsed behind his eyes. The red match head broke apart into tiny pebbles that embedded into the needle, creating peculiar wood grains. It had a fine point and even an elongated hole for the eye. The Headmaster picked it up and inspected it critically. "Interesting, this certainly matches what I've been told of your other classes. Spells come naturally to you, don't they?" He placed it back onto the table. "To metal, if you would, Mr. Potter."
Harry pointed his wand at his wooden needle. Metal. Iron, maybe? He could do that couldn't he?
No.
Harry wavered. He felt like he was up against the edge of a line, the edge of a cliff and everything was screaming at him do not cross. It would be simple. Wood to metal. In his mind's eye, the foreign image of a lattice stretched out in empty space. Wood to metal. He could. Much like he could take that one step forward into the abyss.
"I can't." Harry amended his statement. "I shouldn't."
Dumbledore was doing a terrible job of looking surprised; if that was the look he had been trying for. "It is wood, and perhaps, you feel as thought it should stay wood?"
He shrugged. "More like just…don't." It had nothing to do with what it was made of. Trying to shift it into another type of wood rammed against that same mental barrier. Don't.
For a long moment, Dumbledore stared at the wooden match. "Release the transfiguration."
"Uh," Harry said intelligently. He shifted from one foot to the other. "Release?"
"Can you not cancel its form?"
Harry waved in the needle's vague direction. It was like the levitation charm from yesterday. He wasn't holding on to anything. "There's nothing to let go of?"
The Headmaster straightened. The look on his face was one of defeat, his eyes closed and his cheeks sagged with gravity. "I was mistaken. It would seem that you cannot be taught Transfiguration, Mr. Potter."
"What?" Harry snapped, wide eyed. "Why not? I changed it! It's a needle, I mean, it's not metal but if I just practice—"
"No." Dumbledore thundered. To Harry, it was as if he gained ten feet in height, a palpable aura of power exuding from him and for the first time, was the Albus Dumbledore. "You cannot be taught Transfiguration for the same reason I suspect the more complex spells will fail you completely. Your magic isn't magic, Harry. Not entirely."
Dumbledore sighed heavily. His shoulders slumped and he was once again, just a man. His hand rubbed his forehead slowly. "It's alchemy."
"So…I'm not going to die horribly?"
Harry thumped his head onto the small wood table and groaned loudly. Of course, that was what Theo would focus on. Well. He supposed the Slytherin had a very good reason for it. However, when your friends comes to you in distress about how all of his spells after Third Year were going to start unraveling, the tactful thing to do is comfort him first. Then you can get down to the gritty details.
"No, Theo, you aren't going to die horribly."
Neville rapped his knuckles onto the table thoughtfully, his red and gold tie standing out almost painfully in comparison to his friends. "And he said he'd owl Nicholas Flamel? You're sure?"
Harry lifted his head slightly. "You know him?"
"I don't know, the name sounds really familiar for some reason." Neville looked over at Nott, who simply shrugged.
"Don't look at me. Nan made sure I learned the important stuff." He stretched out in his seat. "Money and property."
"And everything else can go hang, right?" Harry said sarcastically, still down on the table and completely oblivious to the disapproving and suspicious looks he was getting from the librarian. Neville wasn't, glancing back every so often and wincing.
"OWLS. Then it can all go hang."
"Well, it's pretty obvious that Flamel has to be an alchemist of some sort," the Gryffindor offered, trying to get them back on track. "Which is strange enough on its own. It's pretty much died out as a discipline."
Harry lifted his head. "Why? Magic is magic, isn't it?"
"It's restrictive. There are a lot of rules you have to follow or you can mess up really badly." He clapped his hands together gently. "Boom. Lots of old magic is like that. Deals have to be fair or," He gave a shaky shrug, trying to look like he wasn't bothered. "It takes you."
"You can summon things with alchemy," Theo said with forced nonchalance as he idly flipped through Harry's textbooks. Neville's eyes darted around nervously, trying to make sure that no one was listening in. "Too many wizards calling things they can't put down and it starts getting outlawed everywhere—"
"Can we talk about something else?"
Theo's eyes glinted. "Don't have the nerves for Dark magic, Longbottom?"
Neville glared at him. "In a public library with no privacy charms? I'm a Gryffindor, I'm not stupid."
Time to intervene. "Alright, alright. I'm not really interested in Dark magic, just the basics." Harry waved them both down, trying to figure out if they just liked egging each other on or were genuinely clashing over nothing. "Alchemist. Nicholas Flamel. Dumbledore knows him. What else?"
He got two identical blank stares.
He sighed. "And that's it."
Neville sat up in his seat. "Hold on a mo." Harry watched him run off quizzically. He came back with a bushy brown haired girl that was vaguely familiar, trailing behind him with a very strong 'lost puppy' vibe coming off her. Her tie was also red and gold and she looked like she didn't exactly know what she was doing there. "This is Hermione Granger. Granger, Harry Potter and Theodore Nott."
Hermione's eyes kept flickering to Theo's green and silver tie as she greeted them. "Neville said you needed help researching something? Is this for your DADA? Wait, Harry Potter, you're the first year who can cast the summoning charm!" She took a breath before commenting shyly, "Your mum's in quite a few books."
Harry stared. What should he respond to first? "She says they didn't get any of the details right, yes I can and it's actually just a general search. Nicholas Flamel, alchemist." He spread his hands out helplessly. "We don't know where to start. Would you help?"
Hermione grinned widely and Harry was a little taken aback. Why was she so happy about being asked to help them look through books? He liked books. He liked reading books. For fun. This was just going to be a slog through texts that may or may not have the information he wanted inside. And that was just boring.
The girl pulled a chair over and joined them. "Count me in!"
Theo gave her a narrow eyed look, but after shooting quick glances at Harry and Neville he stayed quiet and burrowed his head a little deeper into his arms sleepily. They didn't even notice when he fell asleep.
Harry crawled into his bed, banging his knee against an almost mint copy of Hogwarts: A History and sending it spilling onto the floor. With a sigh, he leaned out to snag it. He really should have put it back into his trunk, but he was already in bed and really didn't want to get up and pull the heavy thing out. He stuffed the book into the small space between the edge of the bed and the wall, making a mental note to remind himself that that was where he put it.
"So…is it true?"
Harry burrowed under the covers. "Is what true?"
"That you're too good for normal classes!" Terry burst out, like water out of a hose that had been stepped on. "So you have to take Transfiguration with the Albus Dumbledore!"
Harry snorted. "It's not what you think," he assured the other boy. "My magic is just weird."
"Professor Newborough said you weren't allowed to cast on people," Michael said quietly from the top bunk and Terry pounced on it.
"That's right! How come?"
"I told you already. My magic is weird. The Headmaster is helping me fix it, that's all." His dorm mates gave him skeptical looks but Harry didn't budge. That was all he was going to tell them. The way rumours seemed to spread in this school, the last thing he wanted to do was even hint to anyone else that he would start failing his practicals after Third Year. Neville and Theo were supportive, Hermione didn't know and Dumbledore promised to help but Harry wasn't going to hold his breath for a miracle. "Really."
Grumbling Terry started fluffing up his pillow, clearly not inclined to believe that was all there was to the story. "If you say so…"
Kevin leaned over the side of his bed, his hair spiking down towards the floor and a solemn expression on his face as he and Harry stared at each other. His eyes narrowed slightly and his voice came out in a cautious whisper. "Shield Charm?"
Harry bit his lip, remembering the window of shifting grey mist and how there had been something in it. Kevin was keen, wasn't he? He nodded. Satisfied, the boy swung back up to his own bed soundlessly. The lights dimmed.
"Good night guys."
"Yeah, night."
"Good night everyone."
"Night."
Harry lay in bed for several long minutes, his glasses perched beside his pillow, listening to Ravenclaw tower. The wind was whistling through sadly, all low tones and breathy notes. Wind chimes and paper fans chorused with faint tinkles and rhythmic rustling over the creak of some door that hadn't been shut. Kevin thumped the wall in his sleep and the sounds changed. The notes carried by the wind began to vary, a little louder, a little higher, a little lower. The chimes stopped cascading, bells ringing out one at a time. The door closed. It was a song. No words. Familiar. It lilted, twirled, hovering in between natural and meticulously orchestrated on a fine thread. There was a soft awareness to it, an absent minded melody with no purpose.
Harry sighed quietly. Some notes were too clear to be just the wind, someone was singing a lullaby. He blinked slowly and let it carry him off to sleep.
He woke suddenly.
It was still dark. Terry was snoring away in his bed as he rubbed his eyes, patting around his bed for his glasses and slipping them onto his face. It was quiet. Harry eased out of bed, a faint sense of unease trickling through. The wind had completely stopped, leaving a dead silence. Was that why he awake? He waited, expecting some stray breeze. Nothing. The shadows danced as he stood up, wiggling his toes, silvery light reflecting from everything in the room.
Silvery light.
Light.
He left the dorm room at a dead run, slipping on a piece of parchment someone had left behind, holding his necklace out in front of him so that he could see. The doors were closed, the couches were empty, for a moment he considered going back to grab his wand as he looked around wildly. Something was coming and he didn't know from where- He stopped. Arranged in a semi-circle around the tower, next to the holes that let the wind through were the windows. He swore under his breath.
The windows.
A large crack ran through the stained glass rendition of a bronze eagle. The train. The thing from the train. He couldn't be here in the middle of sleeping people with nowhere to go—
More cracks began to spider through the pane.
Time to leave boy
He didn't question the feminine voice, bolting towards the tower exit as the glass exploded, the sound of tinkling shards quickly replaced by scraping stone and running water. The halls were empty as Harry ran down them, trying to think, trying to remember to breathe. Get out of the castle or stay in? A room with no windows or just jam himself into a corner and hope for the best? Crossroads loomed in front of him as his feet slapped the stone desperately. Left or right? Which way to the Great Hall?
He didn't know the castle, he didn't know the castle, what if he ran into a Prefect, oh god—
Hands yanked him left harshly. Water. A solid column slashed through the space Harry's head had once been, droplets burning on his skin. A large green eye floated within it. It bulged towards him and his necklace flared in warning.
Run.
Doors whipped past, he couldn't stop; he would open one just to find out that it was only the wall pretending, glass rained on him from above—
He could hear it, water rushing through a tunnel, a path right—
Shoved hard. He hissed as he scrambled for balance, grabbing onto a suit of armor and feeling it slice into his palm as the wall crumbled with a dull roar, he had lost all feeling in his other hand and he had to look to see if the necklace was still there—sharp relief—it was and he could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he begged his legs for just a little more speed—
He was aware that the vague block he just passed was a portrait when it started screaming in terror.
Stairs.
Bloody hell. Damn. Shite.
Harry wheeled, he could see it coming, he wouldn't be able to go up fast enough—
Hands pulled him backwards, water viciously crushed the stairs as he sped down the corridor, completely lost. He had been so sure that he had run into an effective dead end before he was—a sharp feeling of loss- his shadow peeled off the wall to run beside him and the light from his necklace seemed to bend around his doppelganger.
"I—I can't," he panted, not entirely sure why he was talking to it save for that it wasn't currently trying to kill him. His legs were on fire. "Help me!"
It shoved him, splashes of color appearing on its hands where it touched him, and he watched as a perfect copy of himself, necklace in hand took off in the other direction as he fell.
Through a wall.
"The bloody he—Potter? This is the third corrid-where the hell did you come from?"
Harry twitched, staring at the stone wall in front of him in disbelief. His shadow just stole his necklace and pushed him through a wall. His brain spun on an axis. A hand grabbed him and he started violently before the familiarity of the voice trickled in. "I—Alex?"
She stared at him from behind her wand in a hostile stance that made his heartbeat rush through his ears, an urge to take that stupid magic medium and snap it into pieces—
Alex's eyes dropped to the floor for a moment, to the walls, before jerking back up to his in alarm. "Potter…you—you don't have a shadow."
He took a deep shuddering breath. Not now, not here. He ducked under her hand when she tried to grab him. "Never mind, look, we have to go—"
Shattering glass.
"We have to go!"
He didn't need to look back to see the exact moment that thing dropped into the hallway. It was written all over her face, the way the blood suddenly drained as her eyes went wide and then he was passed her…for a few seconds. She caught up, hand on his collar as he stumbled, pointing her wand at a door at the far end of the hallway.
"Reducto!" The door splintered into pieces and she steered them towards the room. Harry took the initiative, throwing himself into the small room. Alex dashed in after him, kicking aside the larger pieces of wood, lifting her wand with sharp gestures. It was coming down the corridor, rushing water the shape of a large mouth and endless teeth, an eye of burning green in the center- "Affigo Vinculum!"
Chains burst from the four corners of the wall to meet in the middle with a heavy clank, Alex slammed her hand down on the lock with a pained gasp and Harry threw his arms over his head as if his thin limbs would be able to do anything because he didn't have his bleeding necklace—
There was a howl of anger. The castle itself seemed to shake, drips of dust spilling onto him from the ceiling. It raged, the chains clattering together harshly and then it all just stopped.
A minute passed. Then two.
Alex started to make a strange huffing sound and he slowly lowered his arms. They weren't dead. He rolled his thought around in his mind. They weren't dead. For some reason, he had a hard time believing that it was over. His heart was still jackhammering like crazy and he couldn't even feel his legs, but they weren't dead. This didn't feel real. They weren't dead. He opened his mouth, feeling like he should say something, but couldn't think of anything else than this latest mystery.
"We're not dead." Alex snorted and he tiredly realized the sound she had been making was laughter.
The Fifth Year Slytherin was barely standing and after a few seconds she slumped to her knees giving Harry a clear view of the massive stylized wolf head lock in the middle of the doorway. And of her hand. Impaled on a spike of metal coming from the mouth.
Harry gingerly stood up. His legs were wet noodles and felt just as stable. They weren't dead. It was starting to sink in, leaving him worn out and numb. "Are you okay?"
She laughed quietly, turning her head just enough to see him out the corner of her eye. "Do I look okay?" She didn't. Her hand was bleaching into a translucent pale that let him see the blue veins underneath the skin and it was wrinkling. She followed his gaze up and flinched, as if actually seeing the serrated dagger in her palm made the pain real. She tugged and hissed darkly. "Bloody fucking hell that's nasty." Her eye flashed back to him. "You didn't hear any of that."
Harry rolled his eyes as he stood beside her. "You ran your hand through and you're worried about swearing?"
She shook her head roughly. "Right. Sorry. Blood magic rush." She turned back to her hand, standing up slowly and beginning to count. "One. Two." She bounced on her toes. "Three!" She ripped her hand free. Her body went as straight as a board, vibrating. Blood splashed on the floor. "Ow."
Harry found himself drawn to the blade. Small pores were opening along the metal, siphoning the blood in. The chains were scrawled with swirling lines that glowed an angry red and when he reached into the gap between, his hand met an invisible barrier. No…he squinted and pushed a finger forward again. Not quite invisible. A light red flare gave it away. "What is this?"
Alex was silent for a while. "Dark magic," she said finally, in a tone that suggested she would rather not have said those two words. "Fortress makers and breakers, first time I've used it." She eyed him warily. "If anyone asks you, part of the incantation was 'contego' and something else you don't remember."
Harry looked at her. She didn't meet his eyes. "Okay."
She sighed, holding her punctured hand close. "Thank you, Potter." She turned and stopped dead. Her good hand reached out blindly for him. "Potter…"
Three shadows occupied the back wall. It looked like a bizarre silhouette family, a mom and dad and Harry's smaller image in between them with his necklace hanging carelessly around its neck. His shadow walked forwards out of the wall until it was standing before him. It took off his necklace and held it out.
This belongs to you a sultry female voice stated impassively, as if ownership could change at any moment.
Harry grabbed it possessively. "Thank you." His shadow slipped back into two dimensions and it felt like a piece of him had returned. "You helped me?"
Yes a deep masculine voice grunted.
It was not enough for a Debt his partner sighed.
"Thank you very much," Harry said sincerely. He snuck a glance at his sickle pendant. Not glowing. That was…good. The relief was a cool drink of water and his knees trembled with the sudden desire to sit down and sleep for years. Safe. "I don't know how to repay you."
The shadows stilled. You would acknowledge a Debt they questioned together.
Alex yanked on him. "Potter, do you know what they are?" Her voice was tense.
Harry had to pause. Aside from their appearance as independent shadows? "Never seen them before."
Her fingernails dug into his shoulder. "They just admitted to trying to bind you into a Debt, you just don't agree—erk!" One poisonous yellow eye snapped opened on each of them, left and right, a mirror image. Alex collapsed, clawing at her head as if she was trying to dig something out. Blood started to trickle from her nose.
"Hey! Stop hurting her!" A heart stopping moment where his necklace flared with a sudden light when those eyes shifted to him.
Of course
The eyes closed. The light faded. He shivered. He was locked in a room with a pair of shadows that turned hostile on a whim. His necklace protected him- it wasn't like the train, but maybe it was because the other boys had been literally on top of him. He shifted closer to the prefect. "Please don't," his voice caught in his throat and his legs gave way, plopping him right next to the girl. "Please don't hurt us."
We apologize
Alex stiffened and drew her legs together. Her shadow quivered. Alarm flooded through him. "What's wrong?"
She let out a moan that actually made him feel kind of uncomfortable. "Make them stop. Now."
The shadows bobbed and shrunk a little, giving the impression that they 'stepped' back.
It was not pain
"That's the problem," she gritted out with clenched teeth. Then she remembered the last time she irritated them and pressed her lips together tightly. This time only the female spoke, simultaneously exasperated and amused, a dark arm making a dismissing gesture.
This Side is confusing
"What are you?" Harry blinked. That was his voice, he hadn't meant to…oh well. The female half lovingly embraced her counterpart and he spun her around playfully.
Every desire ever conceived and then ruu'sghu fthxi ia a'a hrutgh fta fthfthg gri'a
They gave the impression of studying him. The male held the female closer, head tilted down and Harry got the strange impression that it was frowning.
You do not understand
They looked at each other.
Others
We will find them
The shadows scattered. Petals riding a sharp gust of wind.
Harry sagged tiredly. Alex pulled him to her and he could feel her shaking. "It was just a patrol," she whispered brokenly. "Just walk down the halls and make sure no one is out after curfew. That's all." Harry kept quiet. The shadows had helped him but he was sure it had also led him. Her shirt was warm and wet and smelled faintly like copper. He squeezed his eyes shut.
"Shite. Too long, held it for too damn long." She shifted painfully and blinked tears away. "Bloody hell."
"I'm so—"
"Don't!" He flinched. "Don't you bloody dare apologize." They sat in the tiny room. Alex was shaking like a leaf. "Does your mother know?"
Harry had to pull his legs in with his hands. There was a flash of pain and he stared at the long cut in his palm. When had that happened? "I don't know." Thana's letter. Weird stuff. That day in Diagon Alley when they were in that void between spaces. "Maybe."
"Maybe," she repeated. "Maybe." She made a frustrated noise in her throat. "I'm going to avoid you for the rest of year."
Harry didn't blame her."Okay."
"No!" She burst out, three times as emotive as she usually was. "It's not okay! I'm bloody terrified. What the hell was after you? What was in here? You're going to be dead before the month is out from…from monsters. I'm going to be-" She cut herself off with a growl. Her nails were digging into him again. "That's not okay."
Harry thought about telling her that he couldn't die but not only would that seem impossible to anyone that hadn't been there -again, with the tree-but it wasn't a very good defense at all. It just meant he'd hurt for much longer. "My necklace glows, you know," he said absently. "When I'm in danger from…yeah."
"It what?" She looked down at him. Her eyes shifted to the jewelry. Then it snapped back to his face. "The train was you?" Wow, she put that together quick. He must have looked guilty because her lips pursed. The blood trail from her nose stood out on her pale skin sharply. Pale. Squiggly veins were showing up around her temples, little splotches like bruises along them.
"I'm sorry."
She hummed and looked away from him. And tensed. Faintly, there was the sound of rushing water.
Harry glanced towards the door. "H-how long is that going to last?"
Alex looked over. Her eyes traced each chain before lingering on the pristine spike jutting out from the lock. Something in her face sharpened but when she looked down at him, it melted away. "I said I'd look out for you, right?" She murmured. "It'll hold." She gave him a one armed hug. "Try to sleep? I'll make sure it can't get in."
Her wand was where she left it by the door. "I can get your wand for you?"
"I can get at it myself." Her lips made an aborted attempt at smiling. "You're a good kid, Harry. You don't deserve this shite." She leaned back and pressed her injured hand harder into her stomach. "You really don't." She snorted. "No one does."
She didn't say anything else.
It rammed into the door periodically as they sat in that small room, listening to the sound of scraping stone and water through a tunnel. It snarled, spit and thundered. Sometimes it sung. Alex would suck in a harsh breath and whimper—press herself into the wall as if she was trying to melt into it whenever it did. To Harry's ears, it was like it was singing underwater; the words were reflected and bounced around until they were just vague noises.
His necklace glowed softly every time it came.
The door held.
And he was so tired. "Sleep," Alex told him. So he did.
Harry woke with wet sleepwear, dead lumps attached to his hips, a sore hand, and a painful crick in the neck. He was propped up in a corner with a black robe thrown over him, the Hogwarts crest displayed proudly and silver lining the edges. And she had kept her word. Alexandria Blackguard was crumpled in the middle of the room. The door was outlined in crusting, brown designs. Her hands had matching wounds ripping through the middle and her white shirt was almost entirely a dark crimson.
He scrambled over to her, his legs were screaming in agony, and reached out with a shaking hand to touch her, to shake her awake. She was cold. Her eyes stared out the doorway blankly. The small blood vessels in them had burst.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no." This couldn't be happening. They were safe! They weren't dead, they were supposed to be safe. The professors would find them and everything would have been fine! "No! You can't!" Was she breathing? She wasn't breathing—maybe, he couldn't tell, his hands were too numb, but she wasn't moving and she was cold and this wasn't happening!
A dim memory of a little girl in an alley, footsie pajamas with red rabbits wiggled loose. Golden curls and dogs. Warm laughter. The rabbits hopped around in neat little circles in plains of white grass, twitched their ears, wiggled their little noses. And then one of them exploded—
"I won't—" Harry screamed. "You can't go! I won't let you!"
His necklace sparked, flared, glowed.
And shone like the sun.
A girl sat by the large bay window in her room, up with the sun as always and breathed onto the pane. The glass itself seemed to freeze, thin lines skittering across with faint crackles and frosting into snowflake patterns as the sunlight filtered through. A shattered rainbow filtered onto the polished wood floor. Her eyes flickered over her handiwork, a brilliant blue and smiled happily.
"Maybe just—" She stopped as a full body shudder ripped through her, droplets of pure black seeping into her irises. She could feel something in her well up and bubble. Excitement. Amusement. Conflict. "He's fighting you for a soul," she stated flatly and then gasped in pain. "No! I'm not going—" The window shattered. "Son of a—damn it Harry!"
Dudley Dursely woke from a pleasant dream in his dorm room at Dauntsey's to an odd sight. The window directly across from him.
Proudly sporting a large, jagged crack.
And then Death asked the third and youngest brother for his wish. The youngest was more humble than his two elder brothers; the wisest and he did not trust Death. He asked for something that would enable him to leave that place and escape Death's presence. And Death, unwillingly, gave the youngest brother its very own Cloak.
