Chapter 12
A/N: This chapter has two firsts: it is the first long chapter as requested (~4,400 words!), and we finally see Harry Potter. Updates may be a week or two apart, but I hope the longer chapters will make up for the delay.
Happy Holidays from Meer-Heika to all her readers, as well as to her betas, Yemi Hikari and MG Mirani!
At last. They've left me alone and unobserved.
Toshiro Hitsugaya struggled to sit up. He acknowledged every ache, pain, sting, and twinge. His arms, shoulders and spine burned from supporting his weight for hours while his interrogators used shallow cuts, boils, blunt blows, and other less pleasant spells to break him.
However uncomfortable he might be due to the heightening effects of the supersensory spell, Toshiro admitted to himself, it could be much worse. At least he had no broken bones, serious blood loss, or internal injuries to slow him down.
I have no idea what lies beyond my cell, he thought. No matter what I find, wherever I am, walking around with a hundred ulcerated boils, bruises, and small cuts, barefoot and wearing nothing but dirty, blood-stained trousers will draw far too much attention.
He wrapped the blanket around himself like a Roman toga―that would do for now. He'd find something better along the way.
He gave the area a final passive scan. Finding no sign of either a guard or surveillance of any kind anywhere in his limited range, Captain Hitsugaya raised his right arm, palm forward, braced his forearm with his left hand, and said, "Hado 31: Shakkaho!"
The instant the red ball of energy gathered in the palm of his hand, Toshiro screamed. The bands around his neck and wrists burned with an unholy fire. The runes etched into the metal flared red-hot, searing his skin and firing his nerves. Interrupted, the kido spell dissipated without being fired.
Damn it! I forgot about the bands. I can't let them stop me. I will work past the pain. I will get out. I need to find Hyorinmaru.
He fell to one knee, braced his right arm upon the upraised thigh, held it in place with his left hand, and aimed toward the door.
"Hado 31: Shakkaho!"
The pain struck again even worse than before, but by some miracle, the kido held true.
Though greatly weakened by the interruption, the shakkaho shot out and struck the barrier. Fragments of wood and iron separated from the door. A dent the size of his clenched fist appeared in the center of the portal. Mini-projectiles pierced Hitsugaya's already abused body and added to his misery.
"I will not lose consciousness. I will not fail. If it requires the full incantation, that's what I'll do. Pain be damned! I will be free!"
Toshiro took a deep, bracing breath, readied himself, and recited the full incantation, "Ye lord! Mask of ... blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings ... ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and ... pandemonium, the sea barrier surges ... m-march on to the south! H-Hado 31: Shakkaho!"
His vision filled with red light and starbursts of excruciating pain as runic magic fought against his reiatsu. Toshiro collapsed face-down on the cold stone floor. When consciousness returned, a smoking, gaping hole filled the center of the door, an opening wide enough for his body to slip through. Through the hole he could see a small section of the corridor, its far wall dented and air hazy with smoke. The prison cell stank of charred wood and overheated, melted metal.
Must ... move. Must go. This is my one chance to escape. I can't let them stop me.
Using the bed frame, Hitsugaya pulled himself back to his feet. He wavered and almost collapsed, but pure stubbornness kept him upright. Toshiro stumbled to the door and stepped through the new opening.
He found himself near the end of a very long, rough-hewn corridor. To his right, the dome-ceilinged corridor went on forever in a wavy, slightly less than perfect line. The parts he could see in the limited light that spilled from his prison cell appeared to be a combination of chiseled and natural stone. To the left were two doors and an abrupt end to the passageway.
Scraping noises caught his attention. The latch of the farthest door on the left-hand side rattled.
Someone is coming. Of course they would have some kind of monitor on the cell door. I've come too far to fail now. I will fight, to the death if need be. I will be free!
The dark, greasy-haired one, Snape, appeared in the opening portal, wand at the ready.
Before the wizard could cast a spell, or even fully exit the tunnel behind the doorway, Toshiro fired another kido, this one a binding. "Bakudo No. 9: Geki!"
Hitsugaya cried out in pain and toppled but the kido spell held together. A red light haloed Snape, paralyzing him, freezing him in mid-incantation.
The shinigami captain landed on his hands and knees, limbs barely able to keep him from falling the rest of the way. His entire body trembled with fatigue and overexertion. The pain caused by the restrictive bands added to his torment. The stink from his earlier kido filled his lungs with unpleasant smoke and left a bitter, metallic taste in his dry mouth.
Toshiro pulled himself back to his feet using the stone wall for support. He blinked in confusion for several seconds before he recognized one additional benefit to paralyzing his enemy: Snape's frozen body held the doorway open. He had a way out.
As he moved past his erstwhile captor, Toshiro Hitsugaya could not resist saying, "Stupid mortal human, to think you could hold me prisoner. Whatever you hoped to gain from me leaves with me. I suggest you forget you ever saw me."
Paralyzed, Snape could not respond with anything more intimidating than an icy shimmer in his black eyes.
The upward-angled corridor was low-ceilinged, narrow, and utterly black. He walked for what felt like hours but was in fact only a few minutes. He at last exited the passageway from behind a painting located at the end of a longer, taller, and wider corridor. Huge firepots decorated with an unfamiliar crest stood against the walls, providing plenty of warmth and light.
Voices echoed around him, their direction unclear. They sounded high-pitched and ... young?
Weaving his way along the corridor, Toshiro found himself in a windowless dungeon of some kind. The most logical way out would be ever upwards. The building felt and appeared to be centuries old. The very stones screamed age and power. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the strange reiatsu-like energy pulsing from every chip of stone and grain of wood.
Hitsugaya climbed several flights of stairs before he came to a hallway that smelled of fresh air and a promise of freedom. It also meant a greater likelihood of being seen and recaptured. It would depend on who he encountered before he found the way out. Anyone would be preferable to meeting Dumbledore again. Toshiro had used almost all of his strength fighting Snape. He'd stand no chance against the elder wizard.
Sounds of high-pitched voices and loud, carefree footsteps approached from behind. Toshiro hid behind a suit of armor set into a recessed niche. He hunkered down into the shadows, pulling the blanket up to hide his fair hair and skin and to break up his human outline. He held perfectly still while a group of children, all pre-teens and clad in matching black robes, trotted past his hiding place, laughing and shoving one another like a pack of playful puppies.
Is this ... a school? It can't be! Yet ... the old man said ... he claimed to be Headmaster of a school for magic? That must be where we are.
How could someone torture a prisoner for information under the feet of innocent children!
For once, his youthful appearance might be an asset. If he could get one of the robes, it would hide his injuries from curious eyes. He could blend in more readily and perhaps even risk asking directions to the way out of the castle. It would depend on the size of the school. If it was a small facility―though that was unlikely judging by the sheer scale of these underground passages―he would stand out because no one would recognize him.
Even then, if he could reach the upper passages and find an exit ... it was worth the risk.
As though in answer to his need, footsteps approached his hiding place. A solitary female student followed in the wake of the larger group, her face buried in a newspaper.
Thank you, Kami. He offered the grateful prayer even as he readied himself to use a healing kido to put the girl into a harmless sleep. I now have my way out.
The willowy young woman stopped a single step before he would have released the healing kido. She smiled toward his shadow behind the armor and closed the newspaper which, he noted, had been upside down. Once the paper was tucked away, he noticed a second robe, this one folded neatly over her bent arm.
"Hello there. You can come out. There's no one nearby except me, and I won't hurt you." Hitsugaya froze in place, stunned at being directly addressed. How had she known he was there? "If it's all the same, I'd rather not be put to sleep and stuffed behind a suit of armor. Wouldn't you rather just accept the robe I brought you instead? Besides, you really should save your strength for later."
Toshiro blinked and stared at the strange blonde wearing a necklace made of cork bottle caps. How did she ... how could she know I'd be here, that I'd need a cloak?
"Oh, don't worry about me telling anyone. Believe me, I have very little reason to trust most of the adults here in the castle, and I know from my recent adventures just how much someone our apparent age would resent being called any variation of 'child'. The Headmaster's habit of calling everyone 'my boy' or 'dear girl' can be quite annoying at times, can't it? Oh, listen at me prattle. You need to hurry or they'll catch you for certain. Here. Take this." She handed over the robe, which he accepted with trembling hands and a numbed mind. "I would have brought shoes as well, but I'm afraid the nargles have hidden all my spares."
She pointed to a nearby flight of stairs. "These steps will lead you to the ground floor. Follow the corridor to the right. It will take you to the main doors. Once you're outside, there will be too many students between you and the most direct path to the forest, but if you angle over toward the lake, you should be safe. But you have to hurry."
"Your ... your name? What is your name?"
"Luna. Luna Lovegood, at your service, kind sir." The girl gave a little curtsey. She waved merrily to him and walked away, her face once more buried in the upside-down newspaper. "Tell Harry hello from me, would you? And let him know no one blames him for what happened. I tried to tell him myself, but he's avoiding me for some strange reason."
"Harry?" Why was he bothering to talk with her? He should use healing kido to knock her unconscious according to his original plan. To let her walk away unhindered was madness! "I don't know anyone by that name."
Her dreamy voice wafted back to him as she disappeared around a leftward bend in the corridor. "Not yet."
Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, sat on the edge of Hogwarts Lake. The fifteen-year-old boy's narrow shoulders bowed beneath a heavy weight of grief and guilt. Unruly black hair and his black school robe complete with Gryffindor House's lion crest waved in the breeze, while emerald green eyes leaked unending tears of sorrow.
Three days. It's been three days since Sirius fell through the veil. Part of me accepts it. That part tells me that I should move on, that Sirius wouldn't want me to waste good prank time by crying over him. He'd laugh in that barking, dog-like way of his and feel flattered if I pulled the world's best school-wide practical joke in his honor.
Another part of me feels raw, like it just happened. I keep looking around, expecting to be back in the Ministry of Magic. I expect to see Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and the others, both friends and enemies, fighting each other. Hermione being slashed open by Dolohov, Neville's broken nose, Ron's tangle with the strange brain, Luna being thrown across a room. And Ginny ... I see it all in my mind as though it's happening all over again, like a crazy movie reel set to constantly repeat itself!
The sun balanced on the edge of the western mountains. The first chilled breeze of night chased away the day's earlier, uncomfortable heat. Feeling a cold that was as much spirit injury as outside temperature, Harry huddled deeper into his school robe and tucked his hands up the sleeves.
A final part of me is numb, as though it happened to someone else, like I've lost someone I will miss but can't seriously grieve for. That's wrong of me, but I can't help it.
My friends were all hurt trying to help me. Am I spending so much time grieving for my godfather that I'm neglecting them? I spent most of this morning in the hospital wing with Hermione and Ron, but was that enough? How much time should I give to the dead before I start stealing attention from the living?
Sirius. God, Sirius, I miss you so much! I could go to you with questions like these and know you'd give me the right answers, or as right as you could think of. Knowing you, it would involve something silly that would cheer everyone up, at least for a few minutes.
Alone except for his windmilling thoughts, Harry paced the lake's edge and tossed an occasional stone into the placid shallows. Far out, in deeper water, the giant squid waved a tentacle in greeting. Harry tried to smile at the strange sight but couldn't summon any feeling of amusement.
Much as I wish otherwise, I can't stay out here forever. It's getting dark. I should head inside. Dinner is being served. Have I eaten anything today? Except for the cup of dandelion juice at Hagrid's, I can't remember eating or drinking anything else. I'm not hungry, either. And who could eat with all the whispering and staring that'll go on? I wish they'd make up their minds about me and stick with it. First I'm a lying, dangerous, unhinged lunatic, the next I'm the tragic, misunderstood hero who valiantly tried to warn them of the dangers.
They're all sheep being led this way and that by the Ministry and its toadies at the Daily Prophet. Not one of them can think for themselves. Idiotic sheep, the lot of them.
As Harry turned back toward Hogwarts castle, he spotted a small figure heading in his general direction. Something in the way the child walked, closer to a hunched, meandering, weaving stumble, caught Harry's attention. The fair-haired boy moved like someone in great pain.
Curious, and desperate for anything to distract him from his grief, Harry left the lake and walked toward the child. He didn't recognize the younger boy and certainly would have remembered someone with silver-white hair as unruly as his own. He was busy this year though. Maybe the child was from one of the other houses? Students didn't ordinarily mingle with other houses unless in class. Except in very rare cases such as the D.A. that he'd set up this year with Ron and Hermione, mingling with younger or older years from other houses was practically unheard-of.
As the distance between them lessened, Harry noticed the boy's eyes, even stranger than his own, turquoise compared to Harry's own emerald green.
Various curses marred the strange boy's face and the small bit of skin visible over the top of the oversized robe with a Ravenclaw House crest on the front. The boy was only partly dressed, missing a shirt, socks and shoes.
He must be a Ravenclaw firstie. Boils, rash, low-level cutting hexes―I count almost a dozen painful curses on his face and neck alone. His body must be a hundred times worse. The bands around his neck and wrist ... are those power runes? Hermione would know, but I can't tell for certain. Only a Slytherin would do something like this. If I find that Malfoy was behind it...
Toshiro Hitsugaya's strength gave out as he approached the lake. He'd cut closer to the water's edge than was truly necessary due to the need to avoid groups of students who might question his presence or point him out to either Dumbledore or Snape.
A rough stone pierced his heel and disturbed his balance. The little captain stumbled and fell to the ground. Every muscle shivered like warm gelatin. Getting up again would not be easy.
"Are you badly hurt?"
Hitsugaya looked up. A young man, around fifteen years old, stood between him and the forest, beyond which lay a daunting mountain range that would be very difficult to cross, given his current state. The boy's black hair was as spiky and messy as Toshiro's own. The stranger's green eyes, visible behind round, black, wire-frame glasses, were reddened, puffy and shiny, all signs of prolonged crying.
"Hey, it's okay. I won't hurt you. I just want to help." The boy pointed toward Toshiro's face. "Most of those look like minor jinxes. Let me get rid of them for you."
The stranger pulled a wand from his robes. Toshiro tried to raise his hand, fought to summon enough strength for even a low-level hado, but he was too spent. He could only lay there, helpless, as the other boy waved his weapon and said quite firmly, "Finite incantatum."
The painful boils sank back into his skin. The redness and swelling from the stinging hexes faded away. All the other physical effects evaporated from his body, including the hypersensitivity that heightened everything else. Only the slash injuries, bruises and weakness remained.
"Madame Pomfrey can heal the rest in no time," the teenage boy said. "Who did this to you? Was it Malfoy and his goons?"
Toshiro looked around, frantic for a way around this stranger. Looking back over his shoulder, he spotted a solitary figure in billowing black robes storm out the castle doors and down the main steps.
He muttered in Japanese, "Damn it!"
The white-haired boy stared toward the castle entrance and said something that sounded like, "Shikusho. How did he break free of the geki?"
Harry's stomach plummeted. Emerald green eyes widened in disbelief. Except for small groups of students headed inside for dinner, the only figure visible was that of the potions master.
"'Break free'? Professor Snape? Snape did this to you?"
The trembling boy struggled to his hands and knees but could rise no further. This didn't stop him from continuing to fight.
"Can't ... let him get me." Unable to stand again, the young man dragged himself across the ground on hands and knees, desperate to escape.
"If Snape did this, there's no way in hell I'm going to let him get you again. We need to hide you, fast." Harry looked around the darkening school grounds. A stand of dense shrubs closer toward the lake's edge caught his attention. "There. You can hide there while I get rid of him."
Harry tried lifting the boy to his feet. The strange youth thrashed around in feeble but desperate resistance.
"Stop fighting me," Harry hissed into the strange boy's ear. "I'm trying to help!"
The white-haired first-year went limp, as though all strength―both physical and mental―had left his body. Harry grunted and pulled until he could set the younger boy down and roll him beneath the stand of bushes. Harry hurriedly wrapped him in the folds of the oversized robes, careful to hide the very visible silver-white hair and every trace of pale skin.
"Stay there and don't make a sound. I'll get rid of him."
Harry moved some ten feet away from the gathering of shrubbery and sat down with his back against a gnarly old oak tree. He stared up at the stars and waited the final few seconds before Severus Snape's careful search pattern closed the distance between them.
Seated as he was beneath the great tree, Harry was little more than a short, slender, black outline in an inky shadow created by starlight and the last fading traces of daylight. He gazed westward for a moment, enjoying the final seconds of illumination against purple and rose clouds.
Inevitably, Snape spotted the shadow. Wand raised, he raced over, ready to strike.
The boy and I have the same physical proportions and body shape, Harry reasoned. I'm a few inches taller, but that'd be hard to tell in this light. Snape must think I'm him.
"Potter!" Snape said, his voice strong with disgust and disappointment. The potions master lowered but did not put away his wand. "How long have you been outside the castle?"
"Since I left to see Hagrid. Right after the fight with Malfoy and his goons, and Professor McGonagall came back from St. Mungo's. Not that it's any of your business. It's Sunday, classes are ended, and I'm on my own time."
Snape's upper lip tightened in a snarl, and his eyes blazed with anger. "You will show me the respect I am due as a Hogwarts Professor, Potter."
Momentarily forgetting about the stranger hiding in the bushes, Harry rose to his feet and faced his most hated professor.
"Respect? I'll show you respect when you earn it." Harry railed at the potions master, fists clenched in rage. "Sirius is dead! Most of it's my fault, I know that, but some of it is yours, too." He threw himself back down to the ground and resumed his rest against the trunk of the oak tree. "Go away and leave me alone."
"Not until you've answered my question, Potter. Have you seen a strange boy wandering the grounds? Short, white-haired, green eyes? He shouldn't be too hard to miss, not for the 'Gryffindor Golden Boy.'"
Harry kept his eyes averted, supposedly interested in the last fading light of sunset. Can't give Snape a chance to use legilimency on me. "No, I haven't. Not that I'd tell you if I did."
"Which doesn't answer my question at all."
Harry shrugged to show how little he cared. "It's the best answer you're going to get. Now go away and let me grieve in peace."
"Harry, my dear boy," a new voice said, "why would you lie to Professor Snape?"
Potter jumped and looked up to see the Headmaster standing next to Snape. "Dumbledore."
Damn it! Toshiro cursed in the privacy of his own thoughts. The old man knows I'm here!
Dumbledore waved his wand. The bushes that formed Hitsugaya's hiding place uprooted themselves, walked five feet to the west, and set themselves down once more in the soil. The black cloak rose into the air and dissolved into nothingness.
No! It can't end like this. The forest is so close. If only I could reach it! Damn this weak gigai. I can't move, can escape, can't fight. I used everything knocking down the door and fighting with Snape. There's nothing left.
The boy who'd tried to help him―This must be Harry, the one that Luna girl told me about―stared at the old wizard in confusion. "Professor? What's going on?"
"You should go into the castle, Harry," Dumbledore answered. "Dinner is being served."
"How can I eat when ... Wait, you knew about this?" Harry's face lost all color, turning a starlit, washed out gray. "You did this? Professor, please! That's impossible! You didn't ... you wouldn't―"
The old man stared at him with sorrowful eyes over the tops of half-moon reading glasses. Starlight and indirect illumination from the castle cast his face into sinister shadow.
"Some things are necessary, Harry," he said. "Someday you will understand."
"No, I won't. I'll never understand something this horrible. How could you let this happen? He's just a child!"
"Looks can be deceiving, Potter," the potions master replied. "The vessel looks like a child, but the spirit within is something else entirely. It isn't even human."
"You're crazy! Whatever you want from him, it can't be worth this! It just can't be!" Harry pulled out his wand and held it in a shaky, two-hand grip. "And I ... I'll stop you if I have to!"
"I'm sorry, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You leave me no choice. I would ask you to forgive me, but I'm afraid you won't remember anything to forgive."
"Won't remem- ... no." Harry's eyes widened in horrified understanding. He dove to the right, desperate to avoid the incoming spell. "No!"
"Obliviate." Harry stumbled to a stop. His eyes lost focus, glazed and empty. The old man waved his wand again and said, "Somnulus."
Harry dropped his wand and collapsed to the ground, a light snore the only proof that he still lived.
"H-h-Hado–"
"Enough!"
Snape backhanded Hitsugaya with a clenched fist. The young captain rolled across the ground, making five full rotations before he came to a jarring halt. By the time he recovered enough to even consider resuming the fight, magical ropes pinned his arms tight to his heaving sides.
Toshiro gagged and spit. Droplets of blood from a mangled lip and split cheek splattered the ground, a shiny, obscene scarlet against the lush green grass of the school lawn.
"Severus, would you take young Harry back to his bed? Settle him to sleep in Gryffindor Tower. I will clean things up here and meet you below."
"Of course, Headmaster."
Snape levitated Potter's body into his arms and moved towards the castle entrance.
I'm sorry, Hitsugaya sent the apology to the unconscious young man. As the greasy-haired man carried the black-haired teen away, he added, Forgive me. I should have trusted you.
P.S. A/N: The next chapter will center on and be from Yoruichi's p.o.v. I don't know her character well at all, so if anyone can recommend any well-written fanfic that portrays her character, I would appreciate it.