Harry Potter & the Child of Phoenix

Disclaimer: We've discussed this. I don't own anything! Except for the plot and the characters you've never heard of. They're mine. Mine.

-

Warning: Keeping with the theme of gore, violence, death and tragedy here. Also, there is some crude humor and language ahead that will span through the next story and the sequel. You've been warned!

-

Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Messenger (aka, Shall Find Me Unafraid, Part II)

From the moment he'd been thrust into the wizarding world's limelight there were three things Harry Potter was constantly aware of, to the point that he at times almost considered quitting school, packing his things and joining his godfather to live off rats and stolen food. Almost.

One was the brand reminding him relentlessly of Voldemort, the very title he was sure he'd loathe to the grave: the Boy-Who-Lived. Just thinking about it made the Gryffindor want to score his eyes out with a spoon.

The other was usually stated with compassion and sorrow, followed by a pat on his head or back, and an offered handkerchief to the now watery-eyed speaker. Harry couldn't count the times he'd been told how much he looked like his father, James. As an impressionable eleven-year-old, he'd been ecstatic that someone could tell him about his parents' lives and share their memories. Now, it was somewhat of a curse for him being stopped in stores by witches and wizards he'd never even heard of telling him how he was the spitting image of his father.

Except his eyes. They'd say it every time with the identical hitch in their breath: he had his mother's eyes. Hence, the third constant reminder. Though he had to admit, he didn't much mind being told over and over again that he had Lily's eyes. He was grateful to get any information on his mother, as his aunt Petunia wasn't exactly forthcoming with her memoirs.

But now, Harry realized not only were these things irritating to have repeated over and over and over again … but the people that entertained him with such mournful news were also dreadfully blind.

It was still night when Harry awoke in the hospital wing, staring at the snoozing redhead in the cot beside him; it was still dark, but Harry had noticed something that his admirers failed to detect after some six years of fawning and wistful recollection.

He had Lily's nose. Not James'.

Insignificant though it may be, Harry couldn't overlook the fact that both he and Kaltag sported the same narrow, curved nose, Lily's nose, and not James'. He vowed that the next time someone from forgotten past approached him with sympathies and paused to say how much of a carbon copy of James Potter he was, Harry would smile—smugly—and bring to their attention the difference in their noses. If need be, he'd start carrying a picture of his parents just so he could hold it to his face and prove them wrong. Ha! Lily's nose. Take that, you blubbering brownnoser!

"You look just like your father, Harry," they'd soon start to say, "but you've got your mother's eyes. And her nose, bless your soul! You've got your dad's looks and your mum's konk: You-Know-Who doesn't stand a chance against that bulbous snout..." Harry chuckled to himself, turning back to the sleeping Being in the next bed.

His laugh died on his lips as he soon stared into wide, pulsing golden eyes. Before he could even reach for his wand Golradir was on him in a flash, his fingers closed around Harry's neck and Amenophus' raised blade glinting in the moonlight.

The Bellotaur smacked his lips and growled, "I've got mummy's nose, eh?" He snickered darkly. Harry's hands circled the beast's wrist and he tried to pry the hand from around his throat, gasping for breath, but he was too strong. The manic Being lowered to Harry's ear hissing, "Do be sure to tell her that for me when you see her?" Harry's eyes bulged as he let the blade fall—

Harry shot up from his cot with a yelp, suddenly awake. He groaned groggily as he was met with the gleaming white of the hospital wing walls, sunlight streaming through the windows. Harry swallowed and forced himself to calm down; his chest was tender from all the hard breathing.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Harry turned toward the large hazy blob that was Madam Pomfrey. He squinted his eyes and felt the coolness of his glasses pressed into his hand. "Here you are. You're not discharged yet; I'll be right with you. Don't try to escape." The prospect of being let out of the hospital wing soon made him fully waken.

Harry hastily slipped on his spectacles and blinked around the buttery glow of the infirmary, his eyes quickly scanning the room for the others. Madam Pomfrey appeared to be doing a final examination on an antsy Ella and Mender Magus was transporting sizeable crates that clinked and tinkled every time they were jarred. Kaltagonus' cot from last night stood neatly done up with the linens clean, blanket folded and the hard pillow fluffed, empty. The Being was nowhere in sight.

Harry was a bit worried that they'd let him out so soon, especially now with this Golradir issue. His stomach gave a turn when he thought about last night. With a resigned sigh, Harry pushed off the blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed, impatient to be released.

"You'd be able to get out of here faster if you'd only hold still, Miss Burton," Madam Pomfrey griped, wrapping fresh gauze around Ella's forearm. "Honestly! Everything is an urgency with you children, isn't it?" Harry rolled his eyes and started to dress in his clothes from last night.

"Ah! Wait, Mr. Potter, not you, too." Madam Pomfrey criticized. "This is still my hospital wing and only I give the O.K. for a patient's release. Last I'd checked, you were still my patients—will you sit down, Miss Burton? The next time you move, I'll Body-Bind you, myself!" Ella scowled, crossing her arms and sinking to the mattress, put out.

Madam Pomfrey hummed, clearly ignoring the Gryffindors' impatience as she smoothed on the last bruise ointments and assessed fading scars. "There! I declare you physically fit to join the rest of society, Miss Burton. Emotionally, however…" She trailed off, a trace of amusement in her tone. "Off with you. And please, try not to be drawn in by Potter's charm next time: you're too lovely a girl to fall in with his crowd."

"Hey!" Harry protested, throwing Pomfrey a scandalized look. "I'm right here, you know."

Madam Pomfrey smirked dryly, poking and prodding at his bandages. Harry flinched and hissed. "I'm aware, now sit still." Ella muttered a quick thank you to the busy nurse and peeled out of the infirmary, either to escape Pomfrey's coddling or something completely different. As the witch glanced back over her shoulder at Harry suspiciously, he realized that 'something completely different', was him. He fidgeted restlessly, suddenly anxious to catch up with the ginger-haired witch.

"So eager to part with my company already, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey drawled, her wand drawn and whispered spells streaming from her lips.

Harry bit back a groan as she pushed a sore spot on his ribs. "Figure I'd better get a head start on that lady-killing."

Pomfrey scoffed quietly and murmured, "Fleeting youth. Some days I yearn for that." She inspected the cuts on his face and sighed rather weightily, then collected his discarded pajamas. "Very well, go on. Do take it easy on those ribs." She brandished a finger at him and shook it before his nose as he hastily stood. "And I don't want to see you in here again unless you're on your death bed and half of your body is missing."

Harry made a face. "That's … incredibly morbid."

Pomfrey's mouth curved in a smug grin. "Well, that's the idea, isn't it? Off you go." Harry smiled at her, throwing a quick thanks over his shoulder as he darted after his housemate.

The corridor was empty, strangely enough, and Harry wondered what time it was. For the school to be this empty wasn't normal. He quickly dashed up the next corridor, desperate to catch Ella. With everything that happened last night, he couldn't just forget what he'd learned about her. The wizard released a frustrated groan as the next hallway was vacant, save for a painting or two, and he moved up the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower. As luck would have it, Harry eyed a familiar mane of red hair swishing around a corner and he rushed after it, the corridor echoing with his shouts.

"Ella! Ella! Hey Ella, wait up!"

But the witch was ignoring him, picking up her stride and plodding up a stairway. "Not now, Harry." She groused in annoyance.

"Hey, just a minute! I need to ask you something!"

"I said, not now."

"How long have you known?" Harry stated, watching her freeze at the top stair. Ella's back remained facing him for a stretch before she turned around, her expression piqued. But Harry didn't care for her anger or for her annoyance. In fact, he was quite irritated himself. "How long have you known about Ron?"

"Shh!" She hissed, stomping down the stairs and gesturing madly. "Do you want people to hear you?"

Scowling, Harry turned to a portrait of a seedy-looking man surrounded by relics. "Do you want to hear a secret?" The man nodded eagerly, practically pressing himself against his frame, his eyes glittering with excitement. Harry ignored Ella's black look and jerked his thumb at her. "D'you know my mate Ron Weasley? Well, she's his—"

A soft hand clamped over his mouth, shutting him up and guiding his face toward heated brown eyes, eyes that he'd only noticed resembled Ron and Ginny's all too well, along with her red hair and, most notably, her temper. He allowed himself to be dragged to a nearby unused classroom and let her free some of her anger by jostling him roughly inside. When the door was slammed shut, the red-haired witch rounded on him. "What do you want, Harry?" She asked, exasperated.

The green-eyed wizard frowned, crossing his arms as he leaned on a grimy desk. "How long?"

Ella sighed, scratching at her head while she shook it. Harry forced himself not to get angry at how much of his best friend she now seemed to embody. "Since December; maybe … the end of November?"

Harry gaped. "You knew for this long and you haven't told him? That's ludicrous!"

"I had to stay away from them both to make sure."

"And it took you this long? What's to make sure: red hair, brown eyes, nasty temper—a four-year-old could figure that out!" Harry incredulously growled. Ella threw him a foul look and glowered. "Were you ever going to tell them?"

"You don't know the whole story." She stated with a scowl.

"What's to tell?" Harry argued. "You've known about Ron and Ginny since November and you haven't said a thing!"

"I've got valid reasons!" She claimed.

"What's a bigger reason than your family?" Harry growled back, towering over her angrily.

Ella's face noticeably fell, remarkably going from livid in one second and sad in the next. She looked away from Harry's heated gaze and folded her arms, slumping against the door. When she spoke, her voice was low and quiet and she shook her head slowly. "There isn't one."

Harry's brow furrowed, confused. "If there's not one," he calmly began, "then why wait this long? You've known for months and you're still letting them on."

"They've moved on," she indifferently stated. "To go back would only reopen old wounds."

"You wouldn't be an old wound to them." Harry disagreed, indignant on the Weasleys' behalf.

"Still," Ella stubbornly replied, holding his gaze firmly. "I've got other things to consider, like my own family."

Harry reared back as if burned. Was she serious? His eyes narrowed, disbelief etched in his face. "So you're going back, then? Back to the very people who kept you away from your real family?" He accused, outraged. "The people who kidnapped you?"

"No," she quickly retorted, pushing off from the door to confront him. "I'm going back to the people who raised me. The cowards who kidnapped me—the Death Eaters who kidnapped me," Harry's eyes widened fractionally behind his glasses, "handed me off to my parents the second the Aurors were on their tail." She bitterly confessed. "They knew about me, about Apollo's gift; thought I was useless without Ron. But they knew I was far more valuable alive than dead. So they dumped me near the Burtons' campsite and fled."

Ella's deep scowl softened as she remembered, shaking her head at thoughts Harry wasn't privy to. "I don't regret knowing them: they didn't know about the abduction until the Death Eaters returned last year. They were every bit the parents I know the Weasleys probably would have been, but to abandon my father now would be much crueler than to let the Weasleys wait a little while longer." A dark shadow passed over her face then. "At least until I get my hands on Bellatrix—"

"Bellatrix?" Harry blurted, staggered and bemused. "As in Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Ella sharply nodded. "Who do you think was the Oracle You-Know-Who wanted—Trelawney?" They both scoffed and snickered at the ridiculous thought. Ella's amused expression suddenly turned somber as she turned away from him and swept her fingers through the dust on the chairs.

"I know you don't understand, Harry, but I have to go back. You see, my father, he's…" she swallowed, blinking her eyes and lowering her head. "He's not well. The Death Eaters, after they'd escaped from Azkaban last year, came to Little Hereford. My parents, well, they realized too late that they were looking for me, so they made me hide away from danger. Bellatrix, she recognized my mother, and … well…"

Harry nodded, noting the witch's throat bob and her eyes grow shinier. "And they tortured my father, and he's not been well at all. I didn't even want to come here this year, but he insisted I'd be safe. So I can't just leave him, Harry," she turned to him, all traces of sorrow and helplessness gone from her face. She looked determined and unwavering in her decision. "To leave him now, when he probably won't make it through to Christmas…" she shook her head, her tone softening towards the end of her words. "No. I won't. I can't."

Harry's shoulders slouched. "But Ron—"

"Ron can wait." She insisted, mulish. "My father can't."

"And I understand, but…" Harry exhaled sharply, stumped. "Look, I don't keep things from my best friend. You can't expect me to keep this from him!"

"But you must!"

"Why?"

"Because!"

"Because why?" Harry pushed.

"Because I'm not ready!" Ella yelled, freeing a frustrated breath. "And they're not ready, and … I can't handle the Weasleys now, especially this soon." She turned on him, her eyes irritated. "I can't leave my father to die, Harry. Not even for my birth parents … or Ron."

Harry's throat bubbled with a disbelieving laugh and he shook his head, stunned. He understood she wanted to be with the man who had raised her, but surely she could've told the Weasleys? They would undoubtedly support them both with open arms, of course! Besides, it wasn't like he had asked her to desert the man, just to tell Ron the truth. So why was she being so difficult?

"Harry," he turned his head at her voice, but remained with his back to her. "There will come a time when I get to know my real parents and rather … extensive family. But for now, let me keep this secret and stay with my father. I will tell Ron when the time is right."

The Gryffindor sighed, dragging a hand in his hair and making his mop of curls even messier. "I understand, I really do, but Ron is my best friend," he whispered urgently. "If he finds out that I know this, that's it! He'll never talk to me again! If he finds out that I kept his sister away from him—kept the Weasleys away from you, their daughter and sister, they will never forgive me."

When her face hardened, Harry could almost feel his friendship with Ron disappear along with her sympathy. "I'm sorry, Harry. I can't do that. The health of my father takes priority over your friendship. I hope you understand that. And I hope you know to keep your mouth shut."

Harry realized that a lot of people seemed to be telling him that lately. He shook his head firmly. "Sorry. I can't do this."

Ella's eyes narrowed spitefully, twinkling with mischief reminiscent of the twins. She briskly nodded and made for the door. "Fine. Then I'll tell Ron and Hermione about Kaltagonus."

Harry's eyes widened and he froze, faltering. "W-what?"

Ella gave him a cool look over her shoulder. "If you're going to spill my beans to Ron, I should spill yours to him, too."

"You can't," Harry replied with complete lack of finesse. He made his way to the door and braced it shut. "You cannot tell them about Kaltag."

The red-haired witch smirked complacently at him and crossed her arms in a defiant fashion. "A bit hypocritical, aren't you? You won't tell Ron and Hermione about Kaltag but I have to tell Ron that I'm his sister?"

Harry knew he was well and truly caught. He fumbled for an argument but could only come up with an unconvincing, "It's not the same thing."

"Oho!" She mirthlessly countered, visibly peeved.

Harry gave her an indignant glare. "It's much more complicated than it seems."

"Well, then," her tone challenged. "Now you know how I feel."

"I need to figure this out for myself, to think about it." Harry contended.

Ella cynically pat his shoulder and turned the doorknob. "Ooh, don't hurt yourself."

Harry seethed. "Ella!"

"Sorry, Harry." She bristled with quiet rage. "You keep my secret, and I'll keep yours." With one last warning scowl, she left the grimy classroom and closed the door with a 'snap!' leaving Harry mulling over his thoughts.

He was completely trapped. Ella had turned the tables on him and exposed something he hadn't even thought about or made a conscious decision on. Harry had always assumed he would tell Hermione and Ron about something this serious, but now faced with the actual scenario, he realized he didn't want to. If he could go back to five minutes ago, when faced with the question, he wasn't sure he would answer any differently.

In fact, he knew his answer would be the same. He loved his friends dearly, but deep down, part of him wanted something secret, something private, something his, that only he knew about. He'd had that for a short time with his elemental ability, but even that had come out to Ron and Hermione. And while Harry hadn't felt upset or bothered that they'd known, he hadn't felt at all guilty for keeping it from them. It was his business, after all: he needn't tell Ron and Hermione everything. Especially something as problematical as he and Kaltag being … related.

Now Ella, on the other hand, would have been a much easier confession to make. Of course there would be a period of time when disbelief would reign and proof would be needed, but afterward they'd find out the truth and celebrate her return. Her story would be easy to explain and they'd go on despising Voldemort and his followers. But how was he going to look Ron and Ginny and Mrs. Weasley in the eyes, knowing, all the while, that the sister they never mentioned but could be seen haunting the backs of their eyes, was alive and well, and he knew? How would he defend that against their reproachful looks?

Even worse, how could Harry begin to explain about Kaltag? That Kaltag had passed from Lily's womb to Athena's? That the reason he knew this was because he'd been in Kaltag's mind? Not to mention the Golradir mess; Harry winced just thinking about it. No, it was best he keep that to himself. It was safer that way, the fewer the people that knew.

With his thoughts more troubled than they were settled, Harry pushed himself off the desk and left the classroom to trek to the common room. The sooner he faced Ron, the better. Not that the bleak situation could get any better in his mind.

ooooo

"HARRY!"

The young wizard grunted as a frantic cloud of bushy brown hair tackled him, hugging him tight around the middle. He flinched. "Ouch, my ribs—"

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you? Oh, I'm so stupid!" Harry shook his head and hugged her back, albeit with much less force.

"I'm okay, just a bit bruised, is all." Harry was almost weak-kneed by the time Hermione released him, her worried face blocking the view of the rest of the common room, which had fallen silent. He felt a firm thump on his back and guiltily looked into the freckled face of his best friend, forcing himself to pull off a convincing smile.

"You're all right!" Hermione nearly sobbed.

"You're fine, mate," Ron crookedly smiled. "Had us worried there for a second or two."

Harry swallowed, this throat suddenly cotton dry. "Yeah." He pathetically answered.

"Come on," Hermione urged, grabbing his hand and clearing a few fourth years with gossip rags off the couch with a glare. He fielded a few slaps on the back and welcome calls from his housemates, his stomach roiling with every step as they closed in on the sofa and sat, his best friends on either side of him. "How've you been? Where were you? What happened? I was afraid you'd miss your end of term exams!"

Harry snickered as Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's just brilliant. Harry's gone missing and is possibly taken as You-Know-Who's prisoner, and you're worried he won't be able to tell the difference between fluxweed and hellebore!"

"Of course not, Ron," she scowled, Harry shaking his head at their antics. "Of course I was worried about you, Harry. You just disappeared without a word to anyone. Where'd you go? Why'd you go? What happened? When—"

"Oi, give him a break, Hermione," Ron hissed, glaring from around Harry. "He's just got in, for goodness' sake."

Hermione glared back but it softened the moment her gaze reached Harry. "Where were you?" She asked in an undertone, mindful of the meddlesome ears opened in their direction. "We were looking for you through the play, but by the fifth turn, McGonagall told us we'd better face front and watch the drama or she'd dock points and kick us out."

"We though you were in the back," Ron added, somewhat tense. "But it was so dark, we couldn't see you. Hermione wanted to go find you, but we were afraid of what McGonagall'd do if we moved. You know how she gets at the end of term. Crotchety old bag."

"Ron!"

"Well, she is!" He protested, rolling his eyes at the witch's disapproving look. "Well, we'd had about enough—the play was kind of boring anyway," Harry chuckled at Hermione's objecting murmurs, "so we were about to get up, McGonagall be damned, when right about the end of the play Gilliam bursts through the doors and says you and Ella and Kaltag have been captured. The entire Hall went up in panic and Mr. Smythe took off with Daedelus and Snape."

"It was awful," Hermione added, and Harry was overcome by the grief and fright lingering in her eyes. "We tried to follow them but Dumbledore wouldn't let us. He ordered everyone to go back to the dormitories and refused to let us help or anything. It was just awful." Harry squeezed her hand as she sniffed, taking out her wand and turning a nearby stray piece of parchment into a handkerchief.

"All we know is that McGonagall went to get the Aurors and you hadn't come back yet. By then, they'd shut us up in the dorms and had an Auror come in—Tonks—and tell us no one was coming in or going out except for the professors." Ron continued anxiously.

"The Aurors made it very clear that if anyone used magic or their forces to incapacitate them, they'd be expelled or worse, sent to Azkaban." Hermione pitched in.

"They didn't tell us anything except there was a Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade and some students were involved. We could see the smoke and fire from the tower." Ron ended, his voice bogged down with grief.

Hermione sniffled again, hiccupping rather loudly. "It was horrible, Harry: not knowing whether you were all right or not." Her lip trembled and Harry could see she was fighting to stay in control of her emotions. She sandwiched his hand between her own, her brown eyes holding his evenly. "You really scared me, Harry." Harry offered her an apologetic smile; though, he wasn't quite sure he pulled it off.

"Me too, mate." Ron awkwardly included, patting his back again. Harry gave him a smile as well, expressing his thanks at their concern.

"Nikola and Starbuck were going absolutely bonkers not knowing what was going on. She threatened to break down the walls and portrait if they didn't let her out," Hermione went on, shaking her head. "In the end, Starbuck had to put her to sleep."

"How'd he do that?" Harry finally asked.

"Telethargy," the bright witch replied. "He entered her mind and triggered sleep. But we were hearing all sorts of rumors," she fretfully continued. "That V-Voldemort and werewolves and vampires and trolls were present."

"And Hogsmeade, a magical village—destroyed!" Ron snorted. "You'd think they'd ward their shops against the possibility of fire!"

"Oh, Ron." Hermione scolded, giving him a withering look before she turned to Harry expectantly. "What happened, Harry? Were you hurt?"

"One question at a time, Hermione," Ron chided. "He's just come out of hospital, you know."

"It's all right, I'm okay," Harry repeated, throwing them a small smile. "Just bruised and banged up a bit."

"Why'd you go to Hogsmeade in the first place?" Questioned Hermione, a hint of disapproval in her tone.

"You know," Harry motioned to his scar and Hermione let loose a small gasp. "I … had a vision. Voldemort and Mystikos were in the forest—"

"Mystikos?" Hermione breathed, shocked.

Harry nodded. "And a few Hybrids and Death Eaters and vampires—"

"Blimey, that was true?" Ron exclaimed with surprise. Several heads swiveled in their direction before Ron barked, "Don't you all have some exams to study for? Time's a-wastin'! Get back to work!" Many students grumbled and swore under their breaths at Ron, who turned to Harry with wide eyes as Hermione waved her wand to throw up a Privacy Charm. Ron seemed to wait for the bubble to materialize then fade out of sight before he blew up, "How the hell did they get so close to the school?"

Harry shrugged. "It was near the edge of the forest by the Shrieking Shack. I'd got a vision that they'd had Kaltag."

Ron rolled his eyes and sneered, "What was he doing there?"

Harry swallowed, biting his lip. "I think he had a date."

"In the Dark Forest?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"I dunno, I haven't spoken to him since then," he hastily added. Which was the truth: after that Golradir had taken over, but Harry wasn't about to get into that. "I met Ella on the front stairs and told her to get help, but she insisted she come along."

"Typical." Ron snorted. Harry avoided his gaze.

"I had to reveal my elemental power to her," he whispered, leaning their heads close. "The front gates were locked. But anyway, we got to the forest, led by Argentum, and confronted them. Mystikos wanted to take Kaltag away and his vampires were intimidating enough, telling me and Ella how good we'd taste and all sorts of nasty things."

"Disgusting."

"You should've seen what they turned into when they were angry," Harry added. "Terrible sight, those two."

"Two?" Hermione choked.

Harry nodded. "They said they were the leaders of some clans: Lamia and Moussaka, or some other."

Hermione's eyes brightened. "The Lamiai and Empousai clans? They've sided with Voldemort?"

"I guess. We didn't talk much as she was trying to kill me."

"She?" Ron prompted.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Jojo and Mona or something. I wasn't really paying attention."

The redheaded prefect's face lit up. "Said nasty things, you say? What kinds of things?"

"Ronald!"

Harry laughed at Hermione's indignation. "Sorry Ron, nothing that bears repeating." The keeper's face fell. "And Voldemort, ugh, you should've seen him. He's been drinking Hybrid blood for the last few months." Hermione perked, her interest peaked. "He looks an absolute mess."

"As opposed to before?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You remember that Hybrid from the Hollows?" He waited for their nods. "He looks much uglier than that." He laughed at their dually disgusted faces.

"So that's it?" Hermione dug, giving him a skeptical look. "What happened after you found them?"

Harry swallowed, suddenly nervous. "Er, no. Um, Voldemort wanted me to tell him about the prophecy—"

"Oh, no!"

"But I didn't get the chance. Kaltag kept interrupting him and telling me not to say anything. But then…" Harry paused, desperately trying to keep his breathing even. How could he explain the rest of it to them without explaining Kaltag's part? If he'd left it at that, Hermione would have immediately got that bookish look in her eyes and she'd figure out that someone had to have killed all the Death Eaters. He'd be cutting it close.

"What?" Ron pushed. "Did that prat trick You-Know-Who and heroically save the day?" He spat mockingly.

"N-no," Harry shook his head with trepidation. "Everything happened so fast," which wasn't a total mistruth. "It was one big bloody mess. One minute, spells are flying and the next, a vampire, a Hybrid and three Death Eaters are dead. And Kenward," he tacked on, feeling a heavy pull in his chest at his friends' shocked expressions.

"No." Hermione breathed. "He's dead?"

"You don't know?" Harry frowned when they shook their heads. "Yeah. I didn't see when he arrived, just when he died." Harry quietly replied, fiddling with a loose string on his shirt.

"Oh, my." Hermione breathlessly reacted, a new wave of sniffles overcoming her.

"Blimey," Ron muttered, shaking his head. "Kenward's dead?"

"Along with the Lestrange brothers and some other bloke, yeah," Harry nodded, blinking away the image of Kenward sprawled on the ground, his eyes vacant, dead. It wasn't any easier, he realized, seeing someone die in front of him. "We honestly didn't expect him to survive through the year? The position's cursed, after all." He shrugged at Hermione's displeased look.

The brown-haired witch sagged into the couch, wiping the kerchief over her rubbed-red nose. "That's it, then."

"What are you going on about?"

Hermione turned to the boys with an obvious look. "With Kenward dead, there's no one left to find the Child of Phoenix." Harry exhaled shakily, twisting the thread frantically between his fingers. Could he do it? Could he keep this from Hermione and Ron? Would he be able to live with himself? Was he up to keeping this secret from his best friends?

"Actually…" Ron and Hermione's heads swerved at the sound of his soft voice, surprising even himself. "… I … I think the Child of Phoenix was there … last night." Harry briefly shut his eyes at the look Hermione and Ron exchanged.

"What do you mean 'you think'?"

"You … you saw them?" Hermione's low voice was shaking with barely contained excitement.

"Did you get a good look at him?"

"Or her," the brown-eyed witch indignantly corrected. "It could be a girl." Ron rolled his eyes.

"I didn't get a good look at him … or her," Harry hurried to misleadingly clarify. "It was dark and everything was so fast, I... The next thing I remember is being held back and nearly getting my head lopped off by a Hybrid. Then I spotted Bellatrix escaping with Voldemort and Mystikos and I chased after them."

"Harry." Hermione reproached, though there was no real feeling behind it, he could tell.

"We got to the edge of Hogsmeade and they Apparated. That's when I noticed the fire, and Snape and Daedelus arrived. We practically had to be carried to the Infirmary, we were so beat up. Kaltag was in a bad way … Mystikos did something to him, I dunno. Didn't see him in hospital when I left." He muttered at the end, feigning lack of interest. He inwardly sighed as Hermione and Ron fell silent.

He'd done it. He'd kept Kaltag's secret. Their secret. They were none the wiser and he didn't have the urge to tell them about Ella and Golradir. He did it. Why, then, did he feel like he'd just swallowed a ton of bricks?

When the pair remained silent for an unusual amount of time, Harry decided to brave a look in their direction. He was startled to note they were staring at him. "What?"

"You never saw their face, not once?" Hermione goaded.

"Not once." Harry fibbed, staring at his hands. He watched as Hermione sat back into the chair, her eyes glittering. Of course, she had to be working things out in her mind. Harry sighed nervously, pretending to feel his bandages beneath his shirt.

"If you never saw them," Hermione calmly rationalized, "then that could only mean one thing." Harry forced himself not to swallow when her dark eyes speared his reprovingly.

Harry bit his lip, forcing a laugh. "And what's that?"

Hermione's brow formed a crease. "The Child of Phoenix is dead."

Ron's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "How d'you figure that?"

Yes, Harry inwardly incited. How do you figure that?

"Well it's obvious, isn't it?"

"Uh, no." Ron cynically replied. "Obviously not."

Hermione huffed, giving the keeper a testy look before she began, Harry hanging on to every word of her explanation. "Harry said Kenward was there, but he didn't know when he'd arrived, but saw when he died. So, who else could it have been? Not Harry nor Kaltag or Ella could have killed Death Eaters, Hybrids and vampires single-handedly; and Voldemort and Mystikos are the only ones strong enough to kill him, so … it makes sense that Kenward is the Child of Phoenix." She finished with an eager grin, which then turned into a frown. "Well, he was."

Harry resisted the urge to give a short whoop of relief. The suspicion was shifted off of him and Kaltag and Ella. Hopefully with Hermione's logic, they both would put it all to rest. "I guess that's possible," Ron uneasily agreed. "But then, why would he throw suspicion off himself? You said it yourself, Harry, he told you he wasn't the Child."

He immediately noticed the reflective glimmer in Hermione's brown eyes. "He did tell you that didn't he?" Harry cursed their outstanding memory. Any other time he'd welcome their intuitiveness, but certainly not today, not in this situation. He shrugged noncommittally.

"He could've lied," Harry answered, making sure to glance at each of them in turn. "He lied about having the Sword, didn't he?"

"Well, technically, he didn't lie—"

"Maybe he was doing it to protect himself."

"Fat lot of help that was," Ron grumbled. "Still got himself killed in the end. Although…" Ron pursed his lips, thoughtful. "Don't you find it odd that he died so easily? I mean, this amazing-spectacular-stupendous legendary warrior for all things Light, Good and puppies kicks the bucket through a measly Killing Curse? Pfft. Not that spectacular, if you ask me..."

"Ron!"

"Don't you find it the least bit strange?" He reasoned. "Honestly, if the guy's some celebrated warrior spoke about like a savior, a Killing Curse, no matter how powerful, shouldn'tve been a match for him."

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, there are always extenuating circumstances."

"Yeah, like the fact that he possibly faked the entire thing—"

"Can we please," Harry raised his voice, effectively cutting off their argument, "stop theorizing conspiracies? At least until I've … grasped everything."

He felt a hand on his shoulder, followed by Hermione's sympathetic reply of, "Oh, Harry. We completely forgot: it must have been incredibly awful for you to have seen all that."

Harry nodded, desperate to get them off the subject of the Child of Phoenix before they started ticking everyone present in the clearing off. "Now whether he lied or not, the fact still remains the same: Kenward's gone, along with any possibility of finding the Child. I think we ought to leave it at that."

He waited for their nods of approval. They didn't look too thrilled to let the subject drop, but did so for his sake. Harry decided it was for the best; in time, maybe, when they'd resolved the whole Golradir disaster, he'd tell Ron and Hermione the truth. He only hoped that they would be able to forgive his deception. He strongly doubted they'd be as understanding, but for now, he was willing to lie even to himself to get the peace he so desperately yearned for.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of warning looks from Ella and apprehensive glances from his best friends. Word of their Hogsmeade venture spread like wildfire throughout the school, but none of what he'd heard had been remotely close to what happened. Many tried to prod him and Ella for information, but they remained tightlipped. As for Kaltagonus, since no one could find or corner him long enough, the students of Hogwarts were left to let their imaginations run wild.

The noticeable absence of Kaltag had troubled Harry a bit. While many students were passing on that he'd been locked away in the infirmary due to a deadly case of dragon pox, Harry knew the boy wasn't there. His cot was empty the morning he and Ella were sent back to the tower, but strangely enough, no one seemed to recall having seen him, not in class and not in school.

Rumors were flying that he'd been taken home or to a specialist for facial disfigurement. Harry's instantly thought of Spiridon locking a resistant redhead away in a cage and sending him off, keeping all of his misdeeds safe, but Nikola and Starbuck were adamant that their father hadn't withdrawn the prefect. Although, not even they were certain about Kaltag's condition, which left Nikola in a very foul mood.

The announcement of Kenward's death was met with strangled cries of grief and sad faces. Harry felt a lump in his throat every time he passed by the locked Defense room, a sign nailed to the door stating the cessation of all Defense classes. He found himself fingering Amenophus, which he now carried with him in his pocket, seeking its comforting warmth and magic to ease his remorse.

Needless to say, with all the excitement and grief, end of the year exams were hard for anyone (except Hermione, of course) to concentrate on. And it hadn't helped any that Snape was docking points left and right before their Potions exam for seemingly no reason. Every time he looked at Harry, five more points were taken.

At long last, the Leaving Feast was upon them and Harry found himself waiting for the Celestials to arrive once more. Harry rolled his eyes at the number of girls already bawling into their robes at the prospect of leaving.

"Ridiculous," Ron had said as they watched Lavender and Parvati dab their puffy eyes with tissue. "What are they always crying about anyway?" Harry shrugged, stating that he'd rather not analyze the female mind before dinner; they solutions he came up with were bound to earn him several blows from Hermione alone.

The Hogwarts students were almost all seated when the Celestials began to arrive. He'd heard they'd been told to wear their traditional house robes tonight, to which the Beings groaned. Harry completely understood: gone were their bright-colored cloaks and uniforms identical to Hogwarts' own.

Tonight, the students were dressed in simple white chitons and leaf circlets of gold on their heads. The boys had some sort of cape with their house color and the border on the Entities' dresses mimicked their house. They looked as if they'd jumped straight out of a history book; the boys didn't look too thrilled as they took their seats, grumbling amongst themselves.

"Had I been told sooner," Icarus started as he dropped on the other side of Harry, nabbing a biscuit, "I would've shaved my legs."

"I feel a breeze," Yorick idly stated, oblivious to the disgusted faces made around him.

"Oh, come on, Kaenslar!" Icarus cried, throwing his biscuit down. "I'm eating!"

"Have you seen Kaltag?" Harry thought to ask.

"What? No," Icarus' twisted face held carefully masked concern. "Not since the play."

Harry's eyes were glued to the front doors, waiting for any sign of red hair and blue eyes. He knew Kaltag had been avoiding him all this week; hiding out who knows where, probably smart enough to know that Harry was waiting up for him so he hadn't slept in the dorms all week. Unfortunately, there was no sign of him.

As the rest of the Celestials filed in, some jumping over to their friends' tables—mostly girls, Harry noted—to prattle about their clothing, Harry resigned himself to deeming that Kaltag wouldn't show up. McGonagall was already asking students to return to their own house tables. "Hey," Harry grunted in annoyance as Ron leaned over his lap to question Icarus. "What's with the dresses and capes? Is there another Halloween Ball after this that I don't know about?"

"They're called chitons, you jackass."

Everyone's heads shot up in surprise as a familiar voice answered. Harry felt his heart pound and his stomach twist itself into knots at the sight of Kaltagonus. Little of his color had returned to his cheeks and he was strangely sedate, save for the slight look of irritation on his face. Harry could see the edge of a gauze pad on his neck where the vampires' bites were peeking beneath the dark blue himation covering it from view.

Really, no one would have noticed much of a difference in the way Kaltag held himself and appeared, but Harry knew something was definitely off: by the looks of it, Kaltag's eyes were once again dilated, just as they had been when Spiridon had spelled him. His eyes fell to the silver band shining beneath the floating candles and the stars on the enchanted ceiling, wrapped tight around the redhead's wrist. It may have been a trick of the light, but Harry thought the runes were faintly glowing.

He regarded Ron with his usual look of disdain before he sat across from Hermione and Nikola, not once looking in Harry's direction as he turned to the head table for Dumbledore's announcement. "If he's going to say such stupid things, you had best keep a lid on your culturally-challenged boyfriend, Granger."

Several quiet giggles burst from the Gryffindor girls as both Ron and Hermione blushed, though for different reasons. She muttered a response vaguely close to 'he isn't my boyfriend,' but either no one heard or they just didn't believe her.

"Well," Kaltag's tone sounded louder than expected with all Paradors staring at him expectantly. "Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

"Welcome … back?" Icarus hazarded uncertainly. Kaltag simply inclined his head, his eyes not moving from the professors' table. Harry was somewhat disappointed as he acted as if everything that had happened that week, hadn't: as if it were just a nightmare to be brushed off. Harry didn't know whether to feel upset or worried.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione, ever the mother hen, broached.

Harry narrowed his eyes as Kaltag raised and dropped a shoulder listlessly. "Fine."

"I see your mouth's still working fine. Shame." Ron groused, scowling at him from across their plates.

The Being turned his dilated eyes in the prefect's direction, mocking him with a grin. "The same goes for you, too: shame your stupidity hasn't broken, but then I guess you're a lost cause."

"Why you—!"

"Well, you're in a foul mood today," Nikola pointed out, her brow furrowed. "What's twisted your chiton?"

But Kaltag never got the chance to answer as Dumbledore stood to make his annual end of the year speech. His blue eyes twinkled so brightly, Harry was sure anyone from any seat in the Great Hall would be able to see it.

"Astonishing, how time flies. It seems as if it were only yesterday we were extending these vast arms of Hogwarts to our brothers and sisters of Aripedes, uniting the two great schools once divided. Throughout the year, I have watched you all befriend one another, despite your differences. Some of you surprised even yourselves, never anticipating that you would become closer than friends, but soon finding loyal sisters and brothers in each other."

Harry's head snapped quickly to Dumbledore and he stared at the headmaster wide-eyed, but Dumbledore was smiling to the room at large. He couldn't possibly have known … could he? Spiridon had assured him he hadn't, but then again, what good was the word of a professed liar? He chanced a glance at Ella down the table, but she, too, was avoiding his gaze. Harry directed his sight back to the aged wizard at the front, not daring to look at Kaltag for fear of being overtaken by memories of the past week.

"And here we are now," he smiled warmly at the students' faces staring back him, "At the end of another remarkable year, ready to depart into a world as vague and perplexing as life's complex journey. There will be difficulties ahead for a number of you, I assure you," his tone turned serious and the twinkle in his steady gaze dimmed. "And you have seen how dangerous this war truly is; we are all affected by it, whether directly or indirectly. You will all be faced with grim choices, and my only hope is that when the opportunity arrives, you make the right ones.

"For Aripedes, you have been a delight to accommodate; my only regret is that this year has gone by much quicker than anticipated, but the bonds we have made are strong and unbreakable." Dumbledore's eyes seemed to scan each Celestial in the Hall. "I find that goodbyes are usually declarations of grim finality, so instead, I will say this: no matter the need, students and staff of Aripedes, you will always be welcomed with open arms and hearts here. If need be, Hogwarts is willing to be your second home in these dark and dangerous times, a beacon of light in the darkness.

"So I will not say goodbye," Dumbledore shook his head slowly, his long white beard catching on the buttons of his yellow robes, "but fare thee well, and good luck. I will not say goodbye, but welcome. It has been an honor to house not only Celestials, but family. So come, let us raise our glasses in salute. A toast to new beginnings, a toast to new alliances, a toast to remembering our loved ones, both blood related and non-blood related in times so dark; a toast to our brethren of Aripedes."

Everyone grabbed a goblet now topped with pumpkin juice and raised their cups, declaring in unison, "To Aripedes!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily as he declared with great relish, "a toast to new beginnings; to family."

And for the briefest second, Harry braved a glance in Kaltag's direction, not expecting much from the passive Being in return. He was startled, however, to meet blue eyes across the table, regarding him closely across the gleaming dinnerware of Hogwarts School. Their eyes remained lock on each other's as goblets clinked and the rest of the hall rang out in enthusiastic accord, "To family!"

ooooo

Morning dawned rather bleak and early on Hogwarts School. Harry was awoken by the sounds of his dorm mates frantically storming around the room and throwing their things in their trunks at the last minute. Neville was asking everyone if they'd spotted his toad, Trevor; Yorick was asking everyone to search their clothes for his green pants, to which Seamus gagged in response, saying that he'd burn his things if Yorick's underpants were found anywhere near them.

Harry clambered out of bed and got dressed, joining the frenzy in jumping around the dormitory to find things that were missing and last seen on the first day of term. When at last he found all of his things—Vernon's hideous purple socks, his photo album, and his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages—Harry hauled his trunk and Hedwig's cage down to the common room, dragged them through the castle and outside to the carriages that awaited them.

The courtyard was littered with carriages—and droppings—pulled by thestrals and griffins, both creatures separated, of course, or they'd never make it home, with professors reminding students if they valued their limbs, the were not to provoke the griffins. He immediately spotted Ron, towering over everyone else around him in a small huddle of Celestials and wizards he recognized as his soon-to-be former housemates. Ginny was the first one to spot him, throwing him a bright smile and holding up a brass owl cage. "Look, Harry! I've got my own owl!"

Harry set his trunk down and set Hedwig's atop it, staring back at the blinking, red-feathered owl. "He needed a good home," Starbuck piped in, poking his fingers between the bars to pet Mercury. "I wasn't planning on keeping him forever. At least he can fit in with the Weasleys now." Ginny grinned widely, hopping on the balls of her feet and dashing off to tell Luna. Ron merely rolled his eyes and shook his head, scolding his own tiny owl for bouncing back and forth around his cage in excitement.

Harry briskly nodded, scanning the group for the elusive redhead. Sighing in exasperation, he asked, "What's up with Kaltag?"

As expected, Ron made a face and smacked his lips in displeasure. "He's all broody," Nikola answered, her face a mixture of annoyance and concern. "I tried getting in bed with him—"

"What?" Ron exclaimed in alarm.

"Oh, nothing like that, you pervert! When we were younger, every time one of us was upset, we'd stay in bed with them as long as it took to make them feel better." Her hint of a smile fell and she stared at her nails and scuffed the toe of her trainer in the grass. "He refused me access. That's not like him. Not like him at all." Her eyes narrowed and Harry could see how worried she was about Kaltagonus. His insides coiled in sympathy.

"Where is he now?"

Nikola nodded behind him, to the Black Lake. "Over there. I hope he's tossing in the last of his Sickles and Knuts to wish for a better mood." She breathed angrily through her nose and in anger, bent one of the handles on a carriage door.

By that time, Harry had already excused himself and walked down the grassy knoll to the lake, his apprehension overcoming his concern. His anxiety increased tenfold at the sight of Kaltagonus by himself, as silent as everything was hectic on the other side of the field sitting a safe distance from the bank, staring out over the still waters. As Harry neared he could see a bare patch of lawn in front of the Being's crossed legs, the blades of plucked grass sitting in a pile beside his knee. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Harry gathered up all of his Gryffindor courage and set down the mildly steep decline.

"Stay where you are, Harry," the soft warning voice froze Harry in his tracks and he found himself staring at Kaltag's back apprehensively. The Celestial yanked another blade of grass from his designated gathering place, flicking it to the growing mound at his knee. "For your own safety."

Harry's fingers twitched, all alarms going off in his head and yelling at him to obey, to scramble back up the hill and have his wand in hand should the Bellotaur try something. Instead, he scowled at his overactive conscience and plodded the rest of the way down, choosing to stand beside the forward-facing Celestial. "I don't care." Harry shrugged, crossing his arms.

He could see the Being's cheeks rise slightly in a smile. "Ah, reckless youth. It's refreshing to see that it hasn't been lost on this generation."

"How'd you know it was me?" Harry thought to ask, wary of the very Golradir-like symptoms the redhead was displaying.

"I could smell your pity from here, Potter," the Being drawled, tugging on a handful of grass. "And it reeks. If you expect me to break down and sob on your shoulder while you stroke my hair and hold my hand…" Kaltag snorted contemptuously, "…well, you'll forgive me if I pass."

The green-eyed wizard raised his hands miming surrender. "By all means: feel free not to."

"Good. You wouldn't be able to handle it, anyway."

Harry felt righteous indignation spread through him, but he remained silent. Kaltag sniffed loudly and shook his head. "God, you'd think they don't know what soap and water was!" he jerked his head back toward the number of students milling on the front lawn. "And I could practically hear the blood rushing through your body." He added in a gruff undertone. Harry's fists tightened and he watched the languid Being from the corner of his eye. "You're nervous. I don't blame you. I would be, too, if I'd been through what you went through. I'm shocked that you even mustered the courage to come here."

Harry thought he saw the fin of a merman or woman ripple just under the lake's surface. "What? I can't see my brother off?" He idly commented. He dropped his gaze to Kaltag, who looked up at him. His eyes may have been brighter than a five-year-old's at Christmas, but they were also emptier than Harry had ever seen them, not to mention his pupils were unnaturally wide again. Nevertheless, Kaltag's eyes flashed briefly at Harry's words before they turned blank.

"So … you do know."

"Yeah. I know."

"How?"

Harry found he really didn't know the answer to that. How much could he tell Kaltag that Spiridon would deem fit? But at the mere thought of the General, Harry's sympathies shut down. "Take a wild guess." He returned, displeasure lacing his tone.

It took Kaltagonus a moment to ponder his words but soon his face softened in realization and he sneered. "Ah. Dear old dad? Wonder what his part was in all of this."

Harry's brow creased and he decided to take a chance and drop down on the lawn beside Kaltag. "Don't you remember anything?"

Kaltag shrugged, twisting a long piece of grass around his finger. Harry could see a bit of the silver band cutting into his wrist beneath the cuff of his sweater. "It's kind of fuzzy. I just remember Voldemort laying into me, then after that, seeing you and Ella tied to the trees. The rest is a bit broken, but I'm sure somewhere in there that I killed a few people."

The latter was said dryly, but Harry noticed the change in Kaltag's demeanor. He trembled, only slightly, and his eyes became more blue than black. Obviously he remembered some of the more gruesome aspects of that night and was affected deeply by it.

"You didn't kill anyone. Golradir did." Harry pointed out. There was a difference, and Kaltag had to know that. It wasn't his fault.

The redhead scoffed angrily. "Oh, G—he did. Right. And who is he, Harry?" Annoyed blue eyes pinned him to the spot as Kaltag sighed sharply and stared over the water. "I killed five people that night and caused the death of our own professor. I have to live with that for the rest of my life." He shook his head furiously, his face screwing up in resentment. "I'm no better than Voldemort."

Harry head rose sharply at that. "No. Don't you say that—you're ten times the person he is!"

"Harry, be realistic—"

"I am!" Harry snapped at the Being's skepticism. "You are not Voldemort. You didn't kill those Death Eaters or that Vampire and certainly not Kenward," he listed, his eyes narrowed in anger. "Golradir did. You didn't have a choice: you were being controlled by him."

Kaltag twitched slightly at the mention of the Bellotaur, much like wizards did at Voldemort's name. Harry found it odd that, like the wizards and witches, Kaltag couldn't even say the name of his biggest fear. "No, Harry. It was my hand, my mouth, my body that did it. Go … he can only take so much credit."

"Fear of a name," Harry wistfully began, holding Kaltag's gaze, "increases fear of the thing itself. Dumbledore told me that."

"Mm." Kaltag cynically nodded. "Dumbledore also give you advice on how to deal with treacherous fathers and serial killer split personalities?" Harry frowned, remaining silent. "I'll take that as a 'no'."

He shook his head at Harry's silence, his eyes dim and voice quiet. "It was me. I said those things and swung that sword and-and laughed when I did it. All of those people—dead, and … all the Herald cares about is that I'm dating a witch." He paused, scoffing loudly and yanking on more handfuls of grass. "Was dating a witch."

The Gryffindor glanced up sharply from restoring the mutilated lawn. "What?"

"Yep," Kaltag brusquely replied, uprooting a large bit of grass and root. "Our ten-minute relationship is officially over."

"Wha…she dumped you?" When she was so desperate to save him that night that she nearly cost them their lives? What was she playing at?

Kaltag shook his head. "I broke it off with her. I needed some time to … whatever." The Celestial sighed wanly and his shoulders drooped. "Anyway, if we'd stayed together, who knows what we would do? I can't control him." Harry nodded. Perhaps it was for the best. "She understands completely, said it was a good idea. We both have other things we need to be focusing on than some grade school long-distance fluff-fest. There's no time in our lives for scented love letters and flowers and blown kisses and sappy 'miss you-love ya-ring me ups'. A one-night stand, maybe..."

Harry snorted, shaking his head incredulously. "Besides, nothing kills a relationship faster than attempted murder."

Harry rolled his eyes at the Being's thinly veiled seriousness. "She does like you." Harry somewhat optimistically added, hoping to boost morale in the glum prefect.

"Well, she should get over us; it would only cause her more misery in the future."

The wizard felt uneasiness return, his nerves edgy and on alert. "Us?" He carefully brought up, his hand twitching in awareness. It was the second time in the last minute that Kaltag had referred to him and the Bellotaur as a single being. As the ginger-haired Being narrowed his eyes at him, Harry could've sworn a yellow flash flickered to life in his eyes before Kaltag clenched his fists and it died, his eyes blank once more.

Harry regarded the tight smile with some misgiving. "Sorry. It's harder to focus when I've not spelled myself in a while."

"Spelled?"

"Daedelus. He gave me a spell to block him, albeit temporarily. Passed on to him by Spiridon." The redhead gave a grunt of annoyance and he picked at the grass furiously. "Wish there was a spell to block him."

Harry chuckled darkly. "Yeah. Tell me about it."

"He can't expect me to go back to Themys, not after all he's done."

"Man's a nasty piece of work. You know he tried to threaten me not to—"

Harry tried to speak, but something stopped him. His voice was cut off and his tongue suddenly stopped obeying his command to speak, as well as his jaw that had squeezed itself shut. The air from his lungs was gone in one fell swoop and the taste of burnt rubber glided over his tongue as a reminder. He couldn't tell Kaltag. He wasn't supposed to tell Kaltag. He can't know everything.

Harry blinked past the tears in his eyes and swallowed, calmly reassuring whatever hold the General had on him that he wasn't going to say a word. "Harry?" Kaltag's voice broke the haze around his mind. "Harry, you all right?"

Swallowing a gulp of air and the rubbery flavor on his tongue, Harry forced himself to nod, replying with an evasive, "Fine."

"You sure? You don't look fine to me."

"I'm okay," he waved the boy's concern away. "What was I saying?"

"Spiridon. He threatened you?" Kaltag's voice was cold fury.

Harry turned away, staring at the tentacle that suddenly appeared to snatch a duck off the lake's surface and drag it to the depths. He suddenly felt like that duck: helpless; powerless; prey. "Uh, I didn't mean threaten, really…"

"I wouldn't put it past the idiot." Kaltag grumbled, looking at Harry anxiously.

"He just—he cornered me," Harry faltered through, "afterward to … well, he didn't … he didn't want me making it … known about our rather … unique situation," he formed with care, "without your … permission?" He finished weakly, but loosed a sigh of relief after Kaltag's thoughtful expression eased.

"How do we explain our 'unique' situation to anyone?" Kaltag mused, twisting a blade of grass between his thumb and forefinger.

Truth be told, Harry didn't want to explain it to anyone, least of all his friends. At least not until he himself came to terms with it. Which would probably take, at best, a few years; no sense in rushing it, right?

"Judging by the reactions I got last night, I'd say you haven't told Ron and Hermione."

"Not without your permission." Harry quickly replied to Kaltag's furtive glance. "It is up to you."

The Celestial simply shrugged in reply, focusing on the lawn as his expression became downcast. "Go ahead," he allowed, much to Harry's disappointment. "Though, good luck trying to explain everything. But I'm not about to get in the way of your friendship with Ron and Hermione; I don't want to be blamed for you keeping secrets from them."

Harry nodded, the guilt settling like a cold ball of dread in the pit of his stomach. "Right." He pathetically answered, his features marred with self-reproach.

Kaltag scoffed, flicking his fingers at a nearby dandelion that somehow was spared from his destruction. "God knows Weasley would jump at the chance to discredit me."

"You know, you could try being nicer to him." Harry sharply suggested.

"And why would I want to do that?"

Harry sighed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. "Never mind."

The silence stretched between them, marred only by the sporadic waves made by the Giant Squid and the constant babble of the students over the hill. "Promise me something." Kaltag's words were quiet, but still firm. Harry turned to look at him, but Kaltag was looking away.

"Okay."

"I want it made known that even though we are…" Kaltag pulled a face and gestured awkwardly between them. "…whatever we are."

"Brothers." Harry confidently answered. Kaltag swallowed and glanced at Harry's trainers, obviously uncomfortable.

"I want it made known," he said again, albeit more indecisively than he had started, "I'm still the cute one."

Harry couldn't help the snort that escaped him. Kaltag was smirking at his shoes. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Harry replied, sweeping his fingers through his hair. "And I think your mirror's cracked." He laughed again as Kaltag elbowed him and grumbled under his breath, though a smile could be seen slipping through the cracks of his scowl.

"Well," the ginger-haired Being sniffed, scratching at the dressing on his neck. "We'd better get going. The carriages leave in a few minutes and if I don't leave soon, I'm bound to pick off every blade of grass on the grounds." He stood to his feet with a nervous laugh, brushing the dirt off his clothes and pulling out his wand.

Harry followed him up and eyed the patch of shorn grass with a raised eyebrow. Shoots suddenly sprouted from the ground to replace the earth the Celestial had destroyed. The Gryffindor glanced at Kaltag with a small grin as the boy chuckled, his eyes briefly lighting up in true amusement. "Nobody likes a show-off, Potter." Harry rolled his eyes, wondering if the Being ever took his own advice. "But that does remind me: practice makes … well, in your case, not quite perfect."

"Oh, ha ha." Harry sarcastically replied.

"Though it is strong, relying just on your elemental ability won't be enough." Kaltag informed, his tone authoritative and lecturing. "Use your wand, your agility, but most importantly," Harry tensed as the redhead tapped his wand on his temple, "use your mind. Sometimes your best defense is common sense."

Harry nodded, all joking aside and shoved his hands in his pockets as an awkward silence befell them. He was immediately reminded of one of the original reasons he had come here, warm and more than likely glowing against his fingers. "Oh!" He exclaimed, fumbling to pull the gemstone necklace from his pockets. Harry held the chain out, dangling the golden jewel before Kaltag's eyes. "This is yours now, I suppose."

Only Kaltag shook his head and pushed it back toward Harry. He didn't miss the spark of gold that momentarily overtook his eyes. Stepping back from the Gryffindor and gripping his wand tightly, he said, "Keep it. I've already got my hands full with the Evilstone Scepter. But if I'm in need of a weapon of death, you'll be the first person I call."

"Heh, thanks." Harry saw the macabre joke for what it was, but was hit with another moment of inspiration. Hastily shoving Amenophus back in his pockets, he hurriedly began searching the pockets of his robe and jeans, making a triumphant noise when he pulled out a worn slip of parchment with doodles on the front of it. "Have you got a quill?"

Kaltag threw him a bemused look and shook his head. "No, but will a pencil do?" Harry nodded and accepted the proffered item, scribbling down a bunch of numbers next to a crude drawing of Trelawney. He handed both the parchment and pencil back to the Celestial. The redhead glanced down at them, his face scrunching slightly in puzzlement.

"You … uh, well I know your home is Muggle-like and all, but you're not staying there," Harry hastily added, "so wherever you go … if you want…"

"Ring you up?"

Harry jerkily nodded. He waited until Kaltag finished his scrutiny of the paper and slowly nodded, letting out the breath he'd been holding. "Yeah, I supposed that's … yeah." Kaltag finished lamely, shoving them both in his back pocket.

Nodding as well, Harry motioned his head to the crowd near the front entrance. "I guess that's it, then."

"I guess." Kaltag dully answered, tapping his wand against his thigh. Harry made a jerky movement with his head and started back up the hill. Halfway up he noticed he was the only one moving, Kaltagonus choosing to stay on the lake's edge, looking in his direction but not at him.

Harry faltered in his next step and gestured behind him to the sound of chatter. "You coming?"

The redhead nodded once, his grip on his wand noticeably tightening. "In a bit. I just need to…" He nodded to himself, frowning.

Harry returned the gesture with a bemused, "All right," and set back up the hill to his friends.

oooooooooo

A/N: Secondary title taken from William Ernest Henley's poem Invictus. One chapter left! (does happy dance) Let me know what you think!