I do not own KHR, or Harry Potter.
WARNING: Angst, slash (graphic in places, no sex scenes), mature themes, canon-derailment – a little.
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Chapter Seven
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A ghost immune system. Shamal didn't know if he wanted to laugh, or cry, or possibly go and shake Reborn until answers or candy started falling out. Either way, he was staring at a scientific impossibility and he could not tell a single soul outside of this Ward, otherwise shit would most definitely hit the fan.
Ghost Immune Systems.
Both Harry and his Lightning Guardian supposedly had the same unique mutation. Shamal wanted to contact the Princess Ann General where he had been doing his Infectious Diseases Degree in to verify whether or not they'd ever seen or heard of such a thing. But even asking would reveal that he was aware of such a thing existing, which could put Harry at risk – and then Reborn would tear his head off and mount it somewhere very visible as a warning to those with loose lips. He'd done it before for a job; left the head, viscera, and hands, and strung the whole lot up between two street lamps like macabre Christmas decorations in the middle of Mafia Land. That had actually been the first thing Shamal saw upon his very first visit to the island as a wet behind the ears fourteen year old baby Hitman. And it was a very vivid reminder in the back of his head to be very, very afraid of the Unattached Sun ever since.
Still, he looked to be calming down with the presence of Miss Granger on the scene – knowing he wasn't the only Guardian to an incredibly vulnerable Sky was very different to feeling it. With Miss Granger physically present on the scene, Reborn was a lot more relaxed compared to when she was elsewhere. It would have been startling if Shamal hadn't started his interest in medicine within this hospital, interning under the former Mist nurse for this very Ward, he had begun by observing the behaviours of Guardians, Skies, and Flame Actives and went from there, years ago. With the exception of Honourable Elder Talbot, who had a good four hundred years on him, Shamal doubted anyone was as knowledgeable on the psychology behind Flame Users as he himself; most just simply hadn't put in the time to learn the whys, and instead focused solely on how to use their Flames, never realising exactly how deeply entrenched their Flames were on their every day behaviours.
Fingers crossed that Reborn would further calm down once Miss Granger, the unknown Cloud, and the currently out of action Mist were trained up and their flames made Useful. Hell, just having them present, on the scene, around Harry, would do a hell of a lot for the hitman's temperament. And the stress levels of the staff. These ladies had the strongest nerves of steel he had ever encountered, but even they could only maintain their professionalism for so long in the face of Reborn's darker moods, especially when they had to run tests on Harry.
Still, Nurse Nasato would be very pleased to know she didn't have to perform the young Sky's allergen Pin-prick Test – now that they knew how to observe his immune system, they could run the allergen tests on his blood in the labs without having to take their lives into their hands by stabbing the Hitman's Sky with needles coated in substances designed to find out which ones would actually hurt him. Whoever designed that particular allergen test must have either been a sadist, masochist, adrenalin junkie, or just plain retarded, Shamal decided. That, or they had never worked around Flame Actives. Approach a sick Sky with a needle and you could expect most of his or her Guardians to pop your head off like a particularly greasy zit.
"Nurse Abbadelli, could you please deliver the good news to Reborn and the young master? They are no longer under quarantine and should be able to move freely now," the Mist User drawled as he began to set up for Harry's allergen tests without looking up. The sooner he got them done, the sooner they could move on with the medical trials, they would need to draw more blood, keep it oxygenated, and then see which of their medications produced the best results in Flame retention on his cells and which ones actually prompted further replication or propagation of his flame.
"Of course, Nurse Shamal," the blonde woman acquiesced before excusing herself from the room.
Shamal dragged a hand through his hair as he adjusted the focus on their old analogue magnifiers. He was going to have to call the Cloud Nurse in. He had booked the last two weeks off in order to take his family on holiday to Mafia Land, his son had apparently done very well in his college exams and would be eligible to enter into the University of his choice. Something worth celebrating, apparently.
Wait, had she called him Nurse Shamal?
"I don't work here damnit!"
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"That means I can go out, right?!" Harry blurted excitedly, sitting up out of his blankets, eyes shining. Finally he could get out of this damn room!
"Yes," - "No!" Nurse Abbadelli chuckled, and Reborn snapped glaring at her. Nurse Abbadelli paused, dark blue eyes wide for a moment before she hitched a strained smile onto her face.
"Medically speaking, there is no need for restrictions anymore, however that does not mean that there might not be other reasons. If you would excuse me, gentlemen, lady," she explained before quickly making her way out of the room under Reborn's displeased scowl.
Hermione buried her nose in her book, she had a fair idea what was coming. If Reborn didn't let Harry out of this room, he was going to lose his temper. He had calmed down now the Horcrux was gone, but if there was something guaranteed to make him angry these days, it was being restrained and locked away. He had been through nearly fifteen years of exactly that before suddenly spending what was almost a year on the run living out of a tent constantly on the move. It was odd, but Harry was almost, back then, looser. The lines of his shoulders were less tense while they were living in that tent, with the Horcrux, the threat of death, hanging over their heads than he was whenever he left them at Kingscross in order to return to his relatives. And now with the knowledge of just what aspects Harry had, it was all the more understandable. Amethyst Aspects absolutely hated having their freedom taken away, living with the Dursleys and under Dumbledore's wellmeaning but ultimately smothering 'guidance' was the very definition of trapped and leashed. And, despite having an Amber Aspect, Harry's Amethyst instincts were very strong, enough so for many to actually mistake him for an Amethyst instead of an Amber. It wouldn't surprise her if he hadn't been aggressively channelling that Amethyst nature over the years to such a point that it was actually more comfortable than his predominant Amber. She could see Harry already escaping his bedding and in the process of hunting for some clothes even as Reborn's glare followed the nurse out of the room – completely unaware of the other Gryffindor's actions, at least until he turned around.
"Whoa! Harry, no, stop!" he squawked quickly shooting over and grabbing his Sky's wrist before he could rummage his clothes out of the cupboards. "Harry, you can't leave, you're a Sky, it's too dangerous," he explained seriously. Sky, Sky, she had to keep reminding herself that it was the term these people used for Amber Aspects, for Lords. It would be hell in a handbasket to explain to anyone, nurses and Reborn alike, if she couldn't keep the appropriate terms straight in her head. And she had a fairly strong feeling she would need to explain a few things about their SKY to the Italian fairly soon.
"If I have to stay in this room for another day I am going to go insane," Harry refuted as he tried to twist his wrist free, "I need out."
"You need to stay here, where it's safe! Do you not remember that woman?! She was going to hold you hostage! This hospital has men and women from the biggest crime families from all over the world coming for treatment! If they catch you walking around, they might not even consider the threat of the Vindice and go for you!" Reborn flared, pulling his stubborn, and now resisting, Sky back to his bed. "Skies are absurdly rare and highly valuable, and this hospital is filled with people who would like nothing more than to get hold of you. Some of whom would do worse than keep you hidden in a dragon guarded tower," he growled furiously, mind flashing back to that disgusting letter, the woman, Marcella, who was under orders to rape his Sky. The fact that he himself had been tempted, the fact that Harry wouldn't have even been able to stop him if he had even a single iota less control... Even with no flame to speak of, he was undeniably a Sky. And that was going to be fucking catnip downstairs. Sexual orientation had little to do with Sky Attraction, and an unguarded Sky of a certain age around unaligned Flame Users and Actives was just a recipe for gang rape, or similar horrors.
"I'm not helpless," Harry flared back aggressively, glaring at him as he dug his heels in and jerked back, the force enough to make Reborn stumble to a stop as he tried to prevent himself from falling over.
"You can barely stay conscious for longer than three hours and your temperature is bordering on hypothermic!" the Italian snapped, "You could have fooled me! Get back in the bed and later when you're better, you can explore the rest of the Sky Ward," he reluctantly negotiated. Hermione could tell by the look on his face that even the idea of Harry exploring outside of this very room was giving him hives.
"You - " Harry struggled with his anger, no doubt biting back a great deal of unpleasant words, trying to scrape up the right words to throw in order to get his way.
"You've been up for a while, Harry," she pointed out soothingly, drawing a grateful look from dark eyes, and a furious green one. "We won't get very far before you're too tired to continue. Maybe the next time. We can go together. I'm actually quite curious about the other medical procedures on the lower floors," she admitted, and while Harry was still angry, he was at least mollified with the promise of going together with her the next time he woke up. Reborn on the other hand, was treating her to a look of mingled fury and betrayal. Tough luck for him, she appreciated everything he was doing for Harry, and while she understood he was better able to protect him from physical dangers, but if he thought he could just steamroll in and declare himself lord and master of her bestfriend and expect her to bow to his whims when she had been wrangling Harry for the last seven years...
"Fine," Harry grit out before shooting Reborn a scowl, "You can let go now. Or would you like to handcuff me somewhere, perhaps a leash," he sneered making the hitman drop his wrist as if burnt.
Hermione sighed. He was going to be in a foul mood for the rest of the day.
"Harry - " she started, he shot her a look and she sighed, closing her book. "Alright," she allowed getting to her feet as Harry grumpily sat on the bed, looking for all the world like a tantrum throwing teenager – which, in this case, was not far from the truth. But it was with good reason. She would have thought him to have a strange version of claustrophobia if she hadn't known that it was purely the lack of freedom that was getting to him. Small spaces were not a problem. Not being allowed to leave was. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, "I'll see you later. Is there anything you want me to bring from home?" she asked briskly, figuring that the offer of his trunk, or perhaps Mrs Weasley's cooking would go a long way to soothing his upset.
Harry grimaced, knowing exactly what she was doing, but unwillingly swayed as always. He just couldn't stay angry with her, not when she knew the best ways of diffusing that anger. "My trunk, please. And, can you check on Ron and Ginny?" he asked pleadingly, catching her sleeve and looking pained. "Reborn keeps saying its not my fault but... It is because of me, isn't it? Because I have that 'Ruling Aspect' crap."
She should have seen this coming.
She caught his face between her hands, "It isn't, Harry. I promise you. Ron's actions are purely his own. He was young and dumb, and he's hurt himself because of it. But he's getting help. He'll be fine soon enough."
"But if I didn't have that Aspect, he wouldn't have gotten hurt - "
"Ah!" she silenced him, firmly squishing both of his cheeks together to stop him from speaking, "I believe we covered this after our first jaunt to the Department of Mysteries. Stop being such a martyr," she scolded him before smiling and letting him go. "I'll see you tomorrow. Is it alright if I tell the others he's alright?" she asked, turning to Reborn.
He bristled and visibly wrestled with himself before grinding out a highly reluctant, "Yes."
She made a mental note to ask them not to visit just yet, though she might not be able to stop Mrs Weasley from drowning them in baked goods. Or from knitting an ocean of blankets.
She gestured at Reborn to follow her out before leaving. For a moment he looked like he wouldn't listen, but one glance at Harry – who was pointedly giving him the cold shoulder – he followed without a word. At least until the door swung shut behind them.
"What the hell was that?" he hissed, an ugly look written across his face. If she hadn't been right next to Harry throughout his adventures she might have even been intimidated, as it was, she gave him a bland look.
"That was me preventing you from being knocked unconscious, or receiving third degree burns," she informed him coolly as she set her book down on one of the tables and then proceeded to sit herself down on the arm of one of the chairs, crossing her legs at the ankle. "Locking Harry away has never worked. Will never work. He hates it. No, listen to me!" she snapped when she saw the Italian open his mouth to berate her. His mouth closed with a click of teeth. "Harry is a Sky, yes. But remember that no one knew because his Cloud aspect was so strong! Do you understand now? Confining him, restraining him – if you keep doing it he will stop trusting in you," she hissed, narrowing her eyes at him. The summer of fifth year had been the worst, he had known they were withholding information from him, known they were practically imprisoning him first at Number 4 and then at Grimmauld Place. That cold shoulder was one that Hermione never wished to experience ever again. And while it would have probably served Reborn right to be on the receiving end of that temper, she could tell that without the many years and life threatening incidents gluing them together, things between the two would chafe and do so painfully.
"Unless you want him leaving you in the dust, without a word of warning, you need to give him space and freedom," she explained tiredly.
"But it's dangerous," he grit out, why could no one see that?
She stared at him flatly, "So was fighting in a war, but we still did it."
Reborn looked away, pulled up short. There...
She got to her feet, "We aren't helpless. Harry may not be able to use his Aspect, but he taught the rest of us on the front lines how to defend ourselves. He took out the enemy that no one else could kill. He can protect himself to terrifying effectiveness." She smirked at him as she picked up her book again, "He'll probably end up protecting you before you even know there's a threat. He has very sharp instincts. I wish I'd paid better attention to them in school."
Reborn scoffed, folding his arms. "He still shouldn't go wondering around the hospital on his own," he stated. He absolutely would not be budged on that. The idea of those pigs downstairs getting anywhere near him -
Hermione was gaping at him, "Alone?" she echoed in disbelief, "No one ever said anything about his going – Reborn, Harry – you could have gone with him!" she spluttered, making him pause. "Did you not even think of – oh my god, you're both idiots," she groaned, dropping her face into her hand.
Reborn bristled but bit his tongue. Going with Harry had not actually occurred to him. He definitely wanted to, but typically... his experiences with Skies was...
The girl sighed, "I will see you tomorrow, Reborn. And all three of us will go. Just... Give Harry some space, or at least try to explain the misunderstanding. He isn't a loner by nature, he likes being around people who actually want him there. He just hates being caged in," she explained gently.
Reborn nodded with a sigh, "I – yes," he managed to get out before nodding to her, "Goodnight Miss Granger."
"Hermione," she corrected with a wry smile. "I'll see you tomorrow." And with a CRACK she was gone.
Reborn sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. Why did this have to be so complicated?
A Cloudy Sky, huh?
That added an interesting dynamic to their relationship. It also explained what happened in there just now. How his cute fluffy Sky suddenly seemed to grow horns and teeth in the worst way possible – it was a good thing he was cute, because he hated brat teenagers when they threw goddamn tantrums. Knowing he was as strong of a Cloud as he was a Sky was... both concerning and soothing given the disagreement. Concerning due to what it could mean for the future, soothing because now he knew it was just Harry's instincts recoiling rather than he himself. That it wasn't a rejection of Reborn as a person, but rather of his decision.
Walking back into Harry's room, he was certain his blood had turned to ice.
Harry was gone.
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They'd be pissed off, for sure, but right now he really did not care. He needed out, so out he was getting.
He changed into the slacks and white-shirt from his closet, shivering and fighting the urge to steal one of the lovely orange blankets that would have outed him as one of those valuable Skies to the people on the lower floors and resolved to sneak into one of the laundry cupboards and steal a dressing gown when he got downstairs. Hermione was still telling Reborn off in the other room, so he wasted no time in climbing out of the window, gripping the ledge and carefully sliding it shut once more. He didn't need Reborn knowing exactly where he'd escaped and tracking him down within the next five minutes.
Carefully, with both hands and bare feet, he carefully manoeuvred his way down a floor and edged along the decorative window ledges until he found an open window.
Several male voices swore as he swung into their room. It was a nice soothing little ward in shades of pale blue and white occupied by about four other men, one of whom was closer to his age than Reborn's, one exceptionally old man (who looked like he had been clipped with one of Dobby's bludgers), and a pair of middle-aged men, one of whom was heavily bandaged.
Harry flushed, "Sorry, don't mind me, just passing through," he assured them now feeling exceptionally self-conscious.
"Don't... worry about it..." the older man managed to weakly say, watching him with wide dark eyes as Harry quickly sped across the ward and out through the door. As if it were no big deal for a Sky to suddenly crawl barefoot through their window. A Sky without a Rain Guardian. They had all been too stunned to even attempt Flaring at him with their flames – and if he were honest, he'd met a Sky once before as a youngin' even if they'd all Flared at him, he wouldn't have paid them even a blind lick of notice. He was Flame Sensitive enough to know that they were no where near his league.
Harry quickly sped through the hall until he spotted a cart filled with laundry, he swiftly rummaged through and grabbed the first dressing gown he found and quickly bundled himself up. He hadn't the faintest idea that his struggling Sky Flame was already stirring things up on the Rain Floor as he made for the staircases, leaving flustered nurses and fidgety Rains behind him.
Stumbling down the staircases, he had to pause two floors down and lean heavily against the banister when his legs threatened to give out beneath him, as if he's sprinted all the way up the North Tower – that weak, rubbery sensation when he couldn't straighten out his knees. Merlin, he was cold. But he was almost there. Only four floors to go until he was outside, then he would turn around and go back to the Sky Ward.
He just needed to get out.
He took the stairs a little more slowly then, keeping a tight hold on the banister just in case his legs gave out again. He had a feeling that if he stopped, he wouldn't get going again until he was found. And he didn't particularly want to deal with the 'I told you so's. He would just go and see the gardens. He had been watching them through the window since he got here, they looked nice. Peaceful. Warm under the hot sun. Open. There wasn't even a fence, just a very clear divide between carefully manicured and cultivated grasses and flowerbeds and general forest that stretched all the way down to the main-road at the bottom of the hill where the village started.
No walls, no barriers, if he wanted to, he could just keep walking away until he was gone. Outside of the Hospital, there was nothing realistically stopping him.
He had no intention of leaving. But the option of being able to...
The stairwell came to an end on the ground floor with two doors, one however was an alarmed fire-exit. Harry opted to take the other door which opened out onto a ground floor reception area, opposite were the lifts, to his left was a long corridor with gift shops, things like chocolates, clothes, books, stationary, even toys (though that shop was the smallest, unbeknownst to Harry because the number of Flame Active/Using children that were in a position to be helped by the hospital were slim to none, they mostly saw customers getting soft toys for female patients instead of children – even though there was a tiny maternity ward). And to the right was a small lobby area with two corridors going off in opposite directions in shades of yellow.
No one paid him a lick of attention as he shuffled his way out of the hospital through the front doors as men and women in suits and scrubs stalked, strutted, and bustled this way and that. A few eyed him because of his young age, but the blue dressing gown deflected a lot of attention he noticed. Which one was blue? He knew it was Turquoise for Soul Shades, but what was it for flames?
Bugger it, he didn't care he decided as he shuffled through the carpark and onto the path to the garden. It felt like he could breathe again, the heavy weight dragging at his limbs fell off as he shuffled onto the grass, feeling the dirt and plants between his toes.
How long had it been since he'd just enjoyed sitting in a park? How long had it been since he'd had the opportunity? Felt safe enough to do it?
He found himself stumbling to sit beneath a tree, leaning back against the trunk and chuckling to himself. Not since he was fourteen, and his biggest concern was the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Before Voldemort came back, before Sirius died, and they were suddenly on the run from what felt like the entire Wizarding World with their faces plastered across wanted posters, living out of a tent...
He breathed deep.
There was no Voldemort anymore...
No war...
No Prophesy...
He was actually free now.
What to do with that freedom though? What to do...
000
He couldn't have gone far, not when he was so ill, which meant someone had to have taken him! And Reborn was going to kill anyone that got between him and his Sky.
"Okay," Shamal panted as he ran over, "Couple of Rains spotted him climbing through their window, he left pretty quick. The nurses said that no one matching that description was here though, but they did have a dressing gown stolen out of the laundry. So he'll be wearing blue. And with his flame being what it is, everyone's going to be mistaking him for a Rain, small mercy at least," the Mist explained as he wiped a bead of sweat from his chin, and probably breaking Reborn's heart at the same time.
Harry had left under his own power. He had willingly left.
He swallowed hard and tried not to Flare his flame, he was already making several patients uncomfortable. A pissed off Guardian, a territorial Guardian, was enough to make any normal Flame Active/Useful bristle defensively, but when they were sick or vulnerable or unwell, it was liable to make them semi-feral. Hence why the Rain floor was beneath the Sky floor, they were able to tranquillize each other should they get riled up from the Guardian flaring going on upstairs. Last thing anyone wanted was a Polarized Rain to think they were under attack and make the first move, Hitman were twitchy at the best of times.
"So we check every floor at the same time," the Hitman growled out, they certainly had the people for it. "I'll take the Cloud level," he bit out knowing that it was better for corresponding Flames to handle their particular floors, but as the Cloud nurse was not present Reborn was taking that floor as the only one able to handle whatever a feral Cloud threw at them. "We meet at reception downstairs. If he's left the building..." He would tear Italy apart.
They split up, making for the lifts where everyone vacated at their floor.
The Cloud level was largely empty, there were only a handful of people present, but thankfully none of them were particularly strong. They recoiled from him rather than bristled and geared up for a fight. He checked every private room, the store cupboards, the medicine and examination rooms, the bathrooms, the cleaning cupboards. No dice. Even when he interrogated both nurses and patients no one had seen a dark haired young man with green eyes wearing a blue dressing gown. He cursed and made his way back to the lifts.
Hopefully the others would have had more luck.
Nurse Yale and Nurse De Vitis were waiting for him when he got there, they both shook their heads before returning to grilling the reception staff who were flustered and going through their computers with increasing agitation.
"It wasn't too long! I'm not asking you to move heaven and earth, just show me security footage of the lifts for the last hour!" Nurse Yale was commanding as her diminutive 5'1" frame practically loomed over the significantly taller security receptionist.
A loud meow caught the edge of his ears, even as he felt something touching his leg.
Crookshanks purred, batting at his leg when he looked down. He flicked his bottlebrush tail as he padded towards the doors and then meowed, making a show of waving a paw towards it.
Reborn stared at the cat. It was unusually intelligent. And belonged to a witch. It was a magic fucking cat and – god help him, he was fucking insane enough to try it. Crookshanks meowed again, his ugly squashed in face looking between him and the door before he took another step towards it and flicked his tail.
He followed. Crookshanks was immediately trotting on ahead at speed, slipping around men and women who yelped and then parted like the red sea for him as he stormed past them. Rumours were going to be flying throughout the underworld unlike anything after this episode – he was going to have to bring in the rest of Harry's Guardians double quick, get them trained up as soon as possible. He grit his teeth, and he was going to have to go about filling in the gaps in the rest of their Harmony.
The cat lead him into the gardens and through a few flower beds towards a small little sheltered spot beneath a tree hidden behind a flowering bush.
Relief hit him like a punch to the gut.
There he was.
Crookshanks purred as he butted up to the young Sky curled up fast asleep in the grass, completely unhurt. Reborn felt the strain that had held him up die as he knelt down beside the teenager hand gently carding through his hair. He... The Sun Guardian frowned shifting a little closer as he carefully lifted the Gryffindor into his lap.
It was hard to explain what Harry's flame was like most of the time due to the fact that... he had been so focused on his haemorrhaging Sky Flame that the overtaxed and depleted Cloud flame had completely escaped his notice. Enough so that without being told about it, he hadn't even known it was there – now that he knew... that barely felt edge of discomfort to Harry's flame that he now assumed was his Cloud flame... it was gone.
"I'm a fucking idiot," he muttered, realising that Hermione was probably more correct than he would have liked to admit. Confining Harry to his room, even if it was for his recovery, was interfering with his Cloud flame – meaning the recovery of his Sky flame was being choked by his own Cloud flame lashing out in defence. Goddamnit. "Why are the cute ones always the most trouble?" he asked himself as he carefully scooped the teenager up. Harry hummed sleepily and turned into him, burying his face against his shoulder – what little anger Reborn managed to keep hold of for his little disappearing act died then and there.
How could he stay angry when both Harry and Hermione had been telling him to let him out? The fact that he had bowed to their whims and let them keep him locked up for as long as he did was... frankly astounding. And didn't bode well for his mental health, Reborn decided as a scowl steadily shuttered his face.
A Cloud that was far too used to being contained, locked up, enough so that he'd stopped even fighting it? He was going to have to speak at length with Miss Granger.
000
"Thank fuck that's over with," Shamal moaned dropping back into his computer chair.
"We're definitely going to have to rethink roof-access," Nurse Yale commented as she set a cup of water down for him. "I don't want to think what could have happened if he'd lost his grip while climbing out of the windows," she said, shivering in fright.
Shamal shook his head, grimacing, "Don't even think it. That's a mental image I think is going to haunt me for years." The idea of Harry's body broken and bloody from a seven story drop... Reborn's reaction... No. He did not want to think about it.
And luckily for him, the computer pinged just in time to save him.
The test results were in.
While the computer couldn't see the white-blood cells, there were other tests that could be run on the young Sky's blood. The information Reborn had given them regarding his dual Flame nature had given them some considerable leeway in how to further take their testing and answered a few unasked questions. Still, now that they had a full indepth analysis on Harry's flame they should be able to... That couldn't be right...
Frowning at the results, Shamal chalked it up to a simple error and ran it again.
Twenty minutes later, the same results popped up.
"Nurse Yale? Could you run this test for me? I must be doing something wrong here," he told her as he pushed away from the desk.
Half an hour later, the computer pinged and the two of them were left staring at the same results.
"P-perhaps its the machine?" Nurse Yale suggested, looking a little frightened.
"Do we have another one?" Shamal asked.
"On this floor, no. But the Cloud floor is almost deserted, we could run it there," she suggested as they gathered up their samples and data.
000
Getting Harry changed into a set of night clothes was... not as hard as he thought it would be on his restraint. He hadn't even been tempted to... take liberties. It just hadn't even crossed his mind. He was so focused on getting Harry into the bed and the flame receptive blankets that he hadn't even stopped to be angry over the multitude of scars that patched his body.
He wanted to grab a quick shower, but thought better of it. He didn't want Harry waking up alone and attempting to sneak straight back out. So he sat himself down next to Harry's bed with one of the text-books Hermione had brought back. Reading through Soul Bonds was... eye-opening as to Harry's first reaction when he told them they'd harmonized. Almost every example of a Soul Bond featured in the book was malicious, either slavery based, or death and torture based. A few Reborn could see might be flipped over and used for a good reason, but just like with Harmony, there was no good way of breaking a Soul Bond. It almost always resulted in the death of both parties unless they were both willing. Nine out of ten times, they were not.
The door suddenly burst open, making the Sun Guardian stiffen and immediately reach for his gun, "Reborn!" Shamal hissed rushing over in a flurry of loose papers and white fabric, he was wild eyed and flushed. "Do me a favour, quick! Sun Flame, channel it into your hand," he demanded, making 'hurry up' gestures as he practically bounced in place at the foot of Harry's bed.
Curious and a little confused, he did so, feeling the tingle of his flame on his fingertips – a second before Shamal seized his wrist and slapped his hand onto Harry's head, dragging it down his hair.
"WHAT ARe – you..." Reborn began to shout, his voice dying almost as quickly as he stared at his Sky.
Shamal stole his chair, weakly sinking down into the canary yellow upholstery.
"He's a Mouzey," the Mist informed him quietly, the two of them staring at the patch of vivid sun flame yellow hair on Harry's head.
Reborn reeled, no one knew... no one knew, save perhaps himself, what happened to the Mouzey Famiglia, what was once known as the greatest assassination family in Europe. A family so intune with their Dying Will, that they were able to run before they could walk. Entering into Hyper Dying Will Mode... before they'd even learned to harness their Dying Will Mode.
A famiglia identified by the fact that their Flames saturated both their eyes and their hair.
One that changed their name to 'Black' when they left Italy and moved to England.
His Sky was a Black.
Harry was related to the Ghost.
000
Dun dun dun...
And for the people asking if the Ghost is Sirius – we've confirmed that Sirius is dead. It isn't him. Nor is it Harry, he's been a bit too busy with a WAR to bother being a thief. You're just going to have to stick around and find out who our mysterious Ghost is (he changes depending on the story and timeline).
