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Harry Potter and the Breath of Life

"There is too much out there that we don't know about. And when the Ministry doesn't know about something, good people, our families get hurt because they were not under the cloak of protection this government offers! The more mysteries there are, the less control we have over potential dangers and the more likely the muggles are to stumble upon it. Do we want them once more aware of our world? History will be repeated and, ladies and gentlemen, history that nearly destroyed us. I, as Minister, will do my best to scout out these dangers before they claim lives. And we will start with the troubled ramblings of that madman, Burwright!" - Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magical Britain

When Potter walked out that door, all in a huff, Draco knew intellectually that he should probably be feeling worried or something. Regretful? Sad? The Heir was most likely still wandering the halls and he had no real way of knowing whether Potter's half-blood status would put the boy in danger or not. However, Draco Regulus Malfoy, the only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, was a bit too Slytherin to give the possibility more than a passing thought. He'd worry about it, after it happened.

"Can you imagine?" he said out loud to himself. "A Potter descending from Slytherin? Everyone thinks they came from Gryffindor."

Granger shrugged. Unlike her housemates, the only expression on her face was one of slight concern. "We don't know his whole lineage and the Potters were pureblooded." she stated matter-of-factly. "His grandmother was a Black so a Gaunt further up the line isn't impossible..."

"Hmm," Draco nodded and smirked a little at the offended look on Severus' face as he stalked over to the door Potter just left through. "Hmm..." The sudden scream that echoed through the closing door made him start a little. "What the bloody hell...?" Granger had suddenly gone a deathly white.

"Another one..."

The entire class was emptying out into the hallways and the unlikely duo of an arrogant Slytherin and a bookworm Gryffindor drifted out along with them. Draco soon found himself in the uncomfortable position of not only being unaware of what was going on in the halls, who was the victim this time and such, but also being ignored. He tried forcing his way through but he was still only a Second Year, there was little meat to his bones. Yelling did nothing, threats had even worse results when some Fifth Years glared at him so he sat back to brood.

Catching sight of Granger's smug expression he snapped, "With a word, Granger, I can make your life miserable!"

"Oh, Malfoy," she hissed in return, stomping on his foot, hard. "How very subtle. Are you sure gold and red aren't your colours?" The blond boy sputtered indignantly but the only words that came to mind would only prove her point. Not for the first time, he wondered how he got into this mess; a Malfoy being familiar with a Gryffindor of all houses. But a second later, like he always did, he remembered.

Potter.

The Boy-Who-Lived attracted nutcases. First, there was Granger, then that mudblood Firstie with that infernal muggle contraption that blinded people and now that...Lovegood girl. As if just thinking about her would cause her to appear, Draco glanced around guiltily but she was no where in sight. For once.

There was the sound of his godfather's voice shouting at someone, most likely Potter, but he couldn't jump up high enough to see. When the crowd started to disperse, every single student whispering to someone else, he made as if to jog forward. He had the vague plan of catching up to Potter and wrangling the details about the snake tongue out of him but it derailed once he caught sight of the Heir's latest victim.

Marcus Flint was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team with grades high enough to be a prefect. His family was an old one, although they kept relatively to themselves and were traditional Slytherins and Ravenclaws. He was pureblooded.

And his father said to let the Heir get rid of the mudbloods...

He was pureblooded and he was petrified.

Quite suddenly, Sprout was in his face. "You should be heading back to your class now, Mr. Malfoy," the plump Hufflepuff Head said softly and shooed him a little ways down the hall. Draco kept stealing glances behind him.

"How will...?" Something dark flashed through Sprout's eyes before she forced a grin. He could tell it was forced because her cheeks tensed, creating slightly deeper than normal smile lines. It was a smile like his mother's whenever he walked into the room.

"Those mandrakes from class won't take too much longer to mature. We'll have him and Colin back before final exams!" Granger was pulling at his robe so he gave the woman a nod before allowing himself to be dragged away. The walk back to the dueling room was a tense and quiet one but he had to say something.

"Flint's petrified." He winced even as he said it.

"Yes, and?" was the girl's only response to that but she did give him this strange look. "You should go back to the Hospital Wing."

It hit him suddenly as she said that. The Heir, getting rid of mudbloods was one thing but he couldn't possibly have anything to do with these non-healing cuts, could he? You would think, that his father would know or at least inform him of stuff like this-

Unbidden, his own words to Potter came back to him. He acted like some kind of animal... He had met the Dark Lord almost face to face and what had happened.

Draco's silvery blood eyes began to dart around, taking in every shadow and every odd shape. He had almost been killed last year and Flint was petrified. Things were not unfolding how they were supposed to. This was all wrong and he just knew Potter had something to do with it. The bloody Boy-Who-Lived always had something to do with it.

"I'm starting to get suspicious of you, Headmaster," Harry drawled as he picked at some of the threads sticking out of his over-stuffed chair. "You know a lot but don't do much."

The old man sighed and this time, with Harry's glasses dangling from his other hand, he really did look old. Some details that the boy hadn't been in the frame of mind to pick up on before were making themselves known like the patchwork helm of Dumbledore's grey robes or the fading band of red that looped around the orange feather pinned on the man's chest. It was still a gross picture but now it was almost morbidly fascinating. What would Snape look like without his glasses on?

"There isn't much that I can do. Hogwarts has been a refuge in dark times for over one thousand years, Harry." There was a moment of silence as Dumbledore popped another Lemon Drop in his mouth. "You know Voldemort is still out there, we can't afford to have this school closed."

Harry inclined his head and cast his eyes about the room. "Do you even have a clue as to how to reverse any of this?" He had one, hanging over his right shoulder... "Do you?"

"The mandrakes are commonly used to treat petrification," was the non answer that the boy expected to hear.

Mandrakes? he inwardly asked.

--Kill with a scream, right? Sounds like Death infused--

So they'll work?

--Doubt it, can't heal stuff without Life--

So they're just lethal plants now...

Bugger. Harry let out a sigh. "They won't work." Dumbledore didn't say anything to that and he sighed again. "So, about the snake..."

The old man shook his head. "I do not have an answer at this time, Harry. There is an explanation for it, however but research will be slow." Harry didn't believe that; didn't believe it any further than he could throw the Headmaster but without proof it was better to just keep quiet.

"Can I go now?"

"You may."

Luna noticed it first.

"No Ausprites, that's odd. I thought they would love this place."

Hermione, even though she didn't think Ausprites existed, couldn't help but to agree with her. If decay was what those fantastical creatures liked then Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was the place for them to be. Myrtle herself wasn't there anymore, gone with the rest of the ghosts in the castle but the neglected state of her bathroom told the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw that it wasn't used by living people that much either.

An odd...scent was the only way to put it, was emanating from it and it made her skin prickle. It was her first time near a ghost's anchor point but she never thought it would feel like this.

"Can you feel it?" Luna was asking and Hermione gave a sharp nod.

"Thanks for showing me one, it'll be a nice thing to add in my essay." She had thought about asking McGonnagall, the substitute history professor while Binns was on 'hiatus,' where the boring old ghost was anchored but it seemed kind of personal. Besides, she had a feeling it was his room and she wouldn't be allowed in there anyway. As they left the bathroom, Hermione scratched her hand. It had started to itch since they went in, maybe she was allergic to mold?

She looked down and saw a mottled brown blot on the back of her hand. Alarmed, she lifted it closer to her face for inspection and nearly gagged from the faint whiff of ammonia.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione swallowed thickly as her amber eyes met Luna's greyish blue. "I'm rotting."

Halloween was coming soon and after that was Christmas with the Malfoy's. Soon, he would be beyond the half year mark and could see the end of this challenge. He was looking forward to when he could get rid of this stupid-

He tore the thing off and threw it on the floor of the Commons, uncaring of who could stumble upon it.

-sword that just wouldn't bloody shut up everytime he thought of anything remotely depressing. It was wearing his nerves very thin leaving him feeling a bit tired and frayed at the end of the day like a shirt washed too many times. Faded almost.

And hungry but nothing he was eating would quench it.

He stormed into the empty dorm room. Empty, because Nott was still in the Hospital Wing along with Goyle who came down with the wizarding flu and Crabbe whom had broken his nose on a door. Harry was in a foul mood from the whispers that followed him at dinner and he just wanted to sleep-

He paused at his bed.

Thana was sleeping in a half-sitting position on it with her back to the wall and head lolled forward enough to send her hair over her face. Without thinking about it, he stilled and moved closer carefully.

"Thana?" he whispered. She didn't move.

She actually sleeps?

--Look at her hands--

Harry looked. Her left hand was trapped underneath her but the right was splayed out palm up and said palm was burnt red and blistered. Small rivulets of blood were leaking from cracks in the skin and as he watched, one of the blisters bubbled and then popped. He wrinkled his nose.

How'd that happen?

--She's an idiot!-- the whisper snapped at him, almost growling. --The only thing that can hurt an Incarnate is them doing something they aren't supposed to do--

He tilted his head to the right and furrowed his eyebrows. Like what?

--Want to see?-- It took about all of three seconds for Harry to agree. He climbed in and sat next to her, carefully placing his left hand on top of her right one (holding his breath) and closed his eyes. Something in his head seemed to expand as he felt like he was lazily spinning in circles. His bracelet warmed and his scar tingled.

Harry stepped out of the Mists, feeling confused about something but every time he tried to grasp whatever it was he had just been thinking about, it slipped away. He took a step forward, faltered and then gained an unfamiliar resolve. It was Time, he thought and there was a pulse of amusement following it. His walk was swift past these golden arches to an immense statue of a balancing scale. A woman was there, leaning against it, with her eyes bandaged in white.

"Justice doth not condone this course of action," she said stoically and Harry shrugged.

"I don't exactly need permission, now do I?"

The woman nodded and clapped her hands together. "My brother has indeed forseen this. Be on your way." The gold faded away into wisps of white, curling smoke and Harry could clearly see the form of a kneeling man in front of him. White hair, white eyebrows and these pale blue eyes that disgusted Harry. Everything about the man made him feel vile.

"This is it, Time," Harry said in a tone that was too light for what he was feeling. "No more strings."

"Chaos once existed in the distant past. I fear you will not like it anymore than you do Order," the man said calmly as he closed his eyes. "You could fail, what would the boy think?"

"There wouldn't be a universe for him to think in," Harry shot back, feeling angry at the low blow. He forced a semblance of calm. "It's a win-win situation."

The man shifted casually and raised an eyebrow. "Why did you never have a Chosen? Things have never needed to progress this far."

"That's something both you and Osiris fucked up!" Harry snarled, pointing at the man. "It's hard to imagine being anything else than Death when you're Chosen from day one. You were both bastards," Harry's voice caught. "Both of you..."

The man's eyes opened. "Do I sense you moving past it?"

Harry didn't know what he was talking about but his head turned away anyway. "I hate you."

"And you always will." He inclined his head upwards. "It is Time."

Harry stepped forwards, raised his arms, and put his hands around the man's neck. He could see into the other set of eyes and was surprised to see that he didn't look like himself. He was female, milky white skin with white hair and those same pale blue eyes. His reflection had an arrogant nose that curved upwards ever so slightly at the tip and delicate eyebrows. He knew this face.

His hands reflexively tightened and there was a snap. He watched, detached as the other set of blue faded into complete white. He let go.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

And his hands burned.

His lungs were burning as he snapped awake and he couldn't breathe.

"I told you," Thana's voice spoke slowly in the darkness. "I told you to stay out of my head!" The pressure on his neck increased and he imagined his neck creaking under her hand. There was no one in the room, he didn't think anyone could help him even if they knew. He wasn't sure if he even wanted help.

Harry gasped. "I-I'm sorry-!"

"No," she drawled lazily. "No you're not because as soon as that infantile mind of yours can justify it, you'll look again." More pressure. "Won't you, boy?"

"You can't kill me!" Harry half-shouted desperately, spots of light beginning to appear before his eyes. "You need me!"

"Do I?" His heart fell to hover just above his big toe. "Eternity is useful to me, not Harry Potter and Eternity, the cheater, he'll find someone else." He definitely heard his neck pop but he refused to lower himself to begging. "There was one before you and there'll be another. I'm patient." Her voice was calm, far too calm; it was like it belonged to someone else. The Thana he knew would rant and rave when angry, cursing like a sailor.

He could feel himself dying and she might as well be talking about an annoying fly. He called out in his mind, but the whisper was silent. He felt like he was about to burst.

"T-Tha-"

"You owe me everything!" she blurted and the pressure eased a bit, allowing him to take a few precious gulps of air. "Without me you'd just be some mortal with flashes of competence. You're mine, Harry!" Her hand left him completely and he nearly collapsed. For a good five minutes he laid there on his bed, rubbing at his throat and reveling in the fact that he was still alive!

"Why stop?" he asked bluntly when his breathing was under control.

"You're mine," her voice shook a bit. "And I didn't want you to see me like that." Harry strained his eyes behind his glasses, trying to see if she was crying but couldn't make out a damn thing.

He did owe her everything and if there was one thing the Dursleys had taught him, before ever becoming a Slytherin, it was that being useful was much better than being useless.

"What do you want from me?"

"Just grow up a bit, Potter. You'll know."

The universe had groaned when Time died without a Chosen to fill in the gap. Fortunately for Everything, Time, like it was with Fate and Eternity, existed outside of the Incarnates. The hole it left was relatively stable and Time was allowed to run wild and unregulated for the first time since its conception.

It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, Time was a rather stable and straight forward universal Force, but it was a start. But the start of what, no one but Truth and Death herself knew.

We're getting close to this year's face off, I'm guesstimating at two more chapters till then but unlike the last book that won't be the end of Second Year. Review!