Chapter 36: Flight, Fate, and Luna Lovegood

Harry was staring resolutely at the floor, tracing the contours of the stone with his eyes.

He was back in Dumbledore's office for the first time since he'd almost killed the man. Harry couldn't bear to look at him, couldn't risk losing himself to Voldemort once again. He trusted the Potion, but he didn't trust himself. Not after last time.

"Harry, I'm afraid I need you to tell us what you saw when you connected with the Horcrux. Did you see any clues for where the others might be?"

Harry nodded, still refusing to look up.

"Potter, you can look at the Headmaster. I assure you that my Potion will protect even your delicate mind."

Harry bristled a bit at the insult, but slowly lifted his eyes to meet Dumbledore's. Nothing happened.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, muscles relaxing, breath coming easier. Remus put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, silently encouraging him to tell the Headmaster everything he knew.

Harry was glad Remus was here. He didn't want to talk about Horcruxes in a room alone with a man he was afraid of murdering and his venomous Potions Professor. Harry was less pleased by Snape's presence, but he understood the necessity behind it.

Remus and Snape were part of an elite sub-set of the Order of the Phoenix who had been given information on the existence of the Horcruxes. Dumbledore had wanted to keep the information between Harry, Sirius, Remus, and himself. Sirius had violently disagreed.

He'd argued, and rightly so, that information such as this was so sensitive to the cause that it couldn't be kept to such a small number of people. They needed multiple minds working on this issue, diverse minds, diverse skills. Sirius had won the argument, convincing Dumbledore to inform a select number of other individuals. The group of people who knew about Horcruxes now consisted of Dumbledore, Harry, Sirius, Remus, Snape, McGonagall, Mad-Eye, Tonks, and Bill Weasley.

They were all sworn to secrecy, even within the confines of the Order itself. Each had been selected because of unique traits and connections that could make them vital for finding and destroying the Horcruxes.

The most controversial addition had been Snape. It was actually Sirius who had suggested him, to the complete shock of everyone. Sirius had pushed for Snape's inclusion, citing his intimate knowledge of Voldemort's habits and his intelligence. Sirius had said the last part like he was being poisoned, but the point had gotten across nevertheless. He was also a master Occlumens, keeping information from Voldemort constantly. He was uniquely equipped to keep the Horcruxes a secret.

Remus hadn't been happy, but he was more tolerant of Snape these days. He still greatly disliked the Potions Master, but the man's commitment to making the Potion for Harry had improved their relationship to a workable level.

"So, Harry," Dumbledore prompted, smiling kindly at him.

"What can you tell us?"

Harry frowned, trying his best to remember exactly what he'd seen.

"I saw a ring..."

"A ring?"

Dumbledore looked intrigued.

"Yes. It had a black stone. He made it after…"

Harry fought down a wave of nausea, remembering the dead bodies of the Riddle family.

"He made it after he killed his father and grandparents."

Dumbledore nodded, looking as if he'd expected that.

"Have you any clue as to where it might be?"

Harry concentrated, trying desperately to remember what he'd seen. There had been a box and...

"It was a house. I think. It was small and run-down, probably abandoned."

"Anything else? Anything that can tell us where to start looking for this house?"

Harry shook his head, ashamed. He should be more useful.

"Alas. I will begin searching…"

"No," Harry cut in, feeling his panic begin to rise.

"You can't go alone, Sir. There's a curse…"

Harry shook his head, remembering the dark, slimy feeling of the magic Tom Riddle had imbued into the ring.

"It'll kill you. You need to…"

"Then you shall accompany me."

Harry stopped, stunned.

"Albus," Remus interjected, looking angry.

"You can't possibly expect him to go on a mission! He's fifteen AND on a very draining Potion!"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers before his chin, gazing thoughtfully at Remus.

"We shall wait until after he has been taken off the Potion. His age, on the other hand, does not warrant concern."

"But…"

"He has faced Voldemort before, Remus. More times than most members of the Order. He is capable, brave, and level-headed in the face of danger. I have no doubt that he can handle anything this mission may entail. I believe you know that as well."

Remus looked upset, but he nodded slowly, glancing at Harry.

"I know."

Dumbledore turned back to Harry, blue eyes serious.

"I will inform you when I have found the location of this house. Once you are off the Potion, we shall go together to retrieve the Horcrux. Is that agreeable to you, Harry?"

"Yes, Sir."

Snape leaned forward suddenly, staring fixedly at Dumbledore.

"Why have we not destroyed the Horcruxes that Potter has already found?"

Dumbledore sighed, straightening his spectacles.

"Because, Severus, Voldemort will know when they are destroyed. He will feel it. That cannot be allowed to happen. If he discovers that we know he has made Horcruxes, he may make more."

Snape nodded, looking satisfied.

"Sir?" Harry asked, unsure as to whether Dumbledore could answer this question.

"Can a Horcrux be a living thing?"

Dumbledore started, a sudden flash of shock in his eyes.

"Why do you ask, Harry?"

"Nagini," Harry said, confused as to why this particular question would concern Dumbledore so much.

"She...felt like the other Horcruxes."

To Harry's bewilderment, Dumbledore almost looked relieved.

"I believe she is one."

Harry felt his anxiety rise, panic constricting his chest.

"How can we possibly get to her? She's always with Voldemort. We'll never be able to kill her!"

Dumbledore smiled gently at him, understanding in his eyes.

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it, Harry. Do not fret."

How could he not? It was impossible not to worry about this. All the reassurances in the world meant nothing. They were facing an impossible task, a task that had to be completed in order for Harry to fulfil his destiny. It was a monumental worry, constantly tugging at the back of his head: a war was coming, and he was nowhere near ready for it. He was running out of time.

When the meeting was over, Harry accompanied Remus out of Dumbledore's office, intending to walk him down to the gates.

The grounds were beautiful, all green grass and wildflowers. The Giant Squid could be seen floating in the lake, tentacles splayed out lazily, sending ripples across the water's surface.

"How are you, Harry?" Remus asked suddenly, stopping at the edge of the lake.

Harry thought for a moment. It was a complicated question. The Potion's concentration had been going up steadily in the last few weeks, getting closer and closer to a toxic level. With that increase came worsening symptoms. The pain had plateaued, but his fatigue was increasing. It was becoming more and more difficult to make it through the day. There was also some concern that his immune system was beginning to fail. His white blood cell counts were falling steadily. They weren't dangerous at the moment, but it was a worrying trend.

George and Snape were scrambling to find a better solution, understanding that it was only a matter of time before Harry had to be taken off the Potion. There were only two weeks left until OWLs, but Harry was worried that he wouldn't make it through. He didn't know what would happen if he couldn't take the Potion anymore. Would he even be able to stay at Hogwarts?

"I've been better," Harry said finally, deciding to be honest.

"I guessed as much. The Potion has been rough for you, hasn't it?"

Harry nodded, watching as the Squid waved a tentacle at him as if saying hello. Harry waved back absentmindedly, getting a laugh from Remus.

"You know, we once put the Giant Squid in the Prefect's bathroom. I think it rather enjoyed the trip."

Harry was hardly surprised. The Squid seemed like a pretty chill Cephalopod.

"I'm quite looking forward to watching the match tomorrow."

Harry whipped his head around to stare at Remus.

"You're coming to watch?"

Remus smiled at him.

"Yes. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Besides, Sirius is demanding a full play-by-play. Well, only if Gryffindor wins."

"Oh, we're gonna win," Harry said, failing to conceal his grin.

…

The morning of the Quidditch Final dawned sunny and unseasonably hot. It was boiling, a dry heat that threatened dehydration. Despite the heat, Harry was greatly looking forward to playing against Slytherin. He wanted to win.

He carefully got dressed in his red uniform, doing his best to calm his nerves. He was worried that the Potion would interfere with his playing today. He'd had a rough night, barely managing an hour of sleep. The aches in his muscles and bones had faded slightly but were still present, dull throbbing pain radiating over his body. He resolved not to let it bother him. Today was a day to be a normal teenager. Today he was Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Seeker. That was all.

The Great Hall was in an uproar, students resplendent in either green or red. Almost everyone was vocalizing their support in some way. Some students had gone above and beyond the call of duty: Luna was wearing an enchanted lion on her head, Claire had made him a singing banner, and Colin Creevy had blown up a giant picture of Harry's face.

"He definitely likes you," Hermione said, gazing in disbelief at the picture.

"It's a bit…"

"Creepy," George said, glaring at the back of Colin's head.

"Calm down, George," Hermione said lightly.

"I don't think you have to worry."

Harry blushed brightly, turning his attention toward Claire's banner which was loudly singing his praises.

He's the very best Seeker

He makes every other player look weaker

He'll beat Slytherin

Because of Harry Potter, Gryffindor will win!

The tune was reminiscent of a ballad, creating a strange contrast. Harry appreciated the gesture, but he didn't think Claire had a future in songwriting.

He still met with Claire every week, helping her with Potions. She had started getting Outstandings on every assignment, surpassing every other member of her class. She was becoming so skilled that they'd started on the Second Year curriculum. She had such potential, such light. Harry loved spending time with her.

Harry ate as much as he could stomach, knowing he would need his energy. George cut him off after his second cup of coffee, giving him a very stern look.

"That's enough. We don't want you flying off your broom."

Harry disagreed. He could probably catch the Snitch more easily as an owl. His Animagus form, which Sirius had taken to calling Feather Face out of spite, was Harry's favorite way to fly. He loved his Firebolt but having wings was a whole new level of brilliant.

"And no," George said, apparently reading his mind.

"Beak Nose can't do the seeking for you."

"Don't call me that…" Harry said, glaring at George.

"Whatever you say, Wingman"

"Please stop!" Harry said, burying his face in his hands.

"Just accept one of Sirius' names and this can all be over."

"Never!" Harry said, brandishing his fork like a weapon.

"I will not be held hostage by vicious Marauders and their idiotic nicknames!"

"Okay, Bird Boy."

…

Harry knew the match was going to be vicious before the game had even started. Malfoy had lost his spot on the Quidditch team after his attack on George. He was replaced by a Sixth Year named Edward Harper. Harper was a jerk, aggressive and demeaning. At 17, he was much too big to be a Seeker, standing nearly 6 inches taller than Harry.

He was somehow an even bigger blood supremacist than Malfoy, calling Harry a Mudblood in the first five minutes of the game. Harry resolved then and there to beat Harper so badly that he'd never live it down.

Unfortunately for Harry's plan, the Snitch refused to make itself known. They'd been playing for nearly four hours with nary a glimpse of the golden ball. Gryffindor was winning 530-360, and Harry just wanted the match to be over. It was terribly hot, the sun beating down on their backs. Harry was sweating profusely, becoming more dehydrated by the minute. His symptoms were also causing him a bit of discomfort, hips and spine protesting being on a broom for this long.

He needed to end this. Now.

Harry began to fly in erratic patterns, weaving in and out of the other players, eyes scanning rapidly, searching for the Snitch.

He put on a huge burst of speed, jetting straight up into the air, hanging right above the Pitch. He focused hard on the ground and finally spotted it. The Snitch was hiding in plain sight, hovering right in the shadow cast by the Gryffindor goalpost, hidden by the dark shadow on the grass.

Harry dove for it, body protesting the movement, arms shaking with fatigue as he held on. He was 15 feet above it, 10 feet…

CRASH.

Harper had flown right into him, sending them both sprawling off their brooms and onto the grass below. Harry, in a move that shocked even himself, reached out his hand as he fell, grabbing the Snitch seconds before his back slammed into the ground.

He gasped, the wind knocked out of him.

"FOUL!" Lee Jordan shouted.

"THAT WAS A COMPLETE OUTRAGE! WHAT A FOUL, CHEATING...blimey, I think Harry's caught the Snitch. HE'S ACTUALLY CAUGHT IT! GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH FINAL!"

Harry smiled at Lee's antics, standing slowly, Snitch struggling weakly in his fist.

"You think you're so great, Potter?" Harper asked, stepping close to Harry, towering over him.

"At Quidditch? A bit, yeah," Harry quipped, refusing to be intimidated.

"I'm certainly better than you."

Harper reached for his wand, pulling it deftly from his green robes.

"You'll pay for that, Potter."

Harry drew his own wand, aiming it straight at Harper's chest.

"Make me."

Harper fired a spell, a flash of yellow light heading straight for him. Harry blocked it deftly, raising a shield and keeping it in place, letting Harper tire himself out.

"You can do better than that," Harry taunted, grinning at Harper, feeling far too reckless.

Harry wouldn't have been so reckless had he known who Harper really was, who his father really was. Unbeknownst to Harry, Arnold Harper was a Death Eater. A Death Eater who had insisted that his son follow the same path, who had given him the tools and the upbringing necessary to do so.

If Harry had known this, he would have waited for a teacher to arrive before taunting Harper. He would have thought twice before engaging the boy in a duel. But Harry did not know, and so he was not prepared for what was about to happen.

He could see Harper growing angrier and angrier, becoming almost feral in his fury. Harry could see the teachers and students hurrying toward them. He thought that this would end in detention for Harper and nothing more.

He was wrong.

The anger in Harper's eyes became manic, dangerous. He raised his wand with a new conviction, a new daring.

"The Dark Lord will thank me for this," He said, voice low and terrifying.

"Avada Kedavra."

Harry had never expected to hear those words from the lips of a seventeen-year-old. He'd never expected to see that green light coming at him on the Quidditch Pitch of all places. His heart stopped, mind going blank. That light was so familiar, so terrifying, so viscerally horrible.

He gathered himself just enough to raise his universal shield, focusing all his energy on casting nonverbally. The shield rose around him, absorbing the green light, painful shocks of energy racing down his arm and into his chest. Harry nearly dropped his wand from the force of it. He hadn't tested the shield with the Killing Curse. He wasn't prepared for how much it hurt.

He looked back at Harper just in time to see him get hit with a Stunning Spell from Dumbledore's wand. Harry could only stare, completely numb, completely terrified. Dumbledore walked toward the prone boy, pulling up his left sleeve to reveal the twisting blackness of the Dark Mark.

Harry felt sick.

Before anyone could stop him, he walked away, heading straight for the team changing room. Once inside, he ran to the nearest toilet, nausea too powerful to ignore. He vomited until he had nothing left, shaking and coughing on the cold floor of the changing room. When he was done, he leaned against the wall, trying to still the trembling of his hands.

He hated the Killing Curse, hated it so much. It reminded him of the worst moments of his life, the moments when he'd lost everything. He could see those events in his head, feel them all around him. He could hear his mother screaming, see Cedric's eyes, feel the fear just as strongly as he'd felt it on those days.

He dug his nails into his palms, trying to ground himself. He was in the changing rooms, he wasn't in the graveyard, he wasn't watching his mother die, he wasn't aiming his wand at Dumbledore, he wasn't watching that misguided boy attempt to murder him. He was safe.

"Harry?"

Remus had found him.

The man knelt beside Harry, concern in his amber eyes.

"Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head, unable to feign composure. He was terrified.

"I can't believe that happened….I can't…"

"I wish I could say that I'm surprised," Remus said, looking pensive.

"You're not?"

"No. Voldemort has been recruiting. He does not balk at taking young followers, even when they are still in school. I wouldn't be surprised to find that Harper is not the only Death Eater at Hogwarts."

Harry let that sink in.

"There could be others? Then, we're not safe! My friends aren't safe!"

Remus put a gentle hand on his shoulder, looking him right in the eye.

"They are, Harry. Dumbledore was caught off guard today, but believe me when I say that security will be tightened. This won't happen again."

Harry nodded, hoping he was right.

"What about H-harper?" Harry asked, stumbling over the name.

"What's going to happen to him?"

"He's headed to Azkaban for a life sentence. Such is the punishment for the Unforgivables."

Harry felt his heart stop. Azkaban was a terribly cruel place.

"But he's so young…"

"He tried to kill you! He would have succeeded if it weren't for that miraculous shield!"

Harry understood that, but he couldn't condone sending anyone to Azkaban. That place was hell on Earth. No one really deserved that. Even death would be kinder.

"Now, come on. I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing."

"Why?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Look at your hand."

Harry did so, finding that his hand was mottled with bruises: blue and yellow splotches, a mosaic of broken blood vessels.

"What on earth?" he exclaimed, pulling up his sleeve.

The bruising continued beneath the red fabric, spreading up his arm.

"You survived, but I don't think you managed to block all the power of the Killing Curse. It's done some damage."

Madame Pomfrey agreed that the Spell had done some damage, tutting over Harry as she spread healing balm over the bruising. It had spread all the way up his arm, across his chest, and up his neck. Apparently, channeling the energy of the Curse up his wand had been too much for his body to handle.

She forced him into a bed, deciding that he would be staying overnight. According to her, he was dehydrated as well as exhausted, requiring a longer stay in the Hospital Wing. Harry didn't mind. He didn't want to see anyone right now. He was still shaken by what had happened, more shaken than he wanted to be. The Killing Curse made him remember, made him feel his memories. It left him exhausted and shaky, desperate for relief, desperate for the images and feelings to stop.

Madame Pomfrey seemed to notice his distress, taking note when he flinched at sudden noises or kept his wand clutched tightly in his hand. She seemed to understand what was happening.

Unfortunately, she couldn't help him. He couldn't take Potions while on the Dark Magic blocker. Not even the Calming Draught he so desperately needed. Remus left after a few hours, going home to Sirius.

Harry lay awake all night, staring at the ceiling, green light dancing in his head.

…

Harry was released the next morning, heading down to the Great Hall with trepidation. He wasn't prepared to discuss what had happened, wasn't prepared to acknowledge that he'd almost been murdered. Again.

Harry was about to enter the hall when he saw a student exiting, a copy of the Daily Prophet in their hand. He could just make out the headline:

The Boy Who Lived Survives the Killing Curse for a Second Time: Harry Potter Uses a Shield Against the Unforgivables.

Without a second thought, Harry turned away from the Great Hall, heading toward the Kitchens. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to think about this.

He spent an hour with Dobby, picking at his food, uncomfortably aware of his own breathing. Dobby lightened the mood as best he could, but Harry just felt odd, uncomfortable and unsafe. He kept glancing at the door, expecting someone to attack him at any second. He'd felt like this a lot right after the graveyard, but it hadn't been this bad in months. He felt distinctly on edge, in danger. It was a difficult feeling to sit with.

There was no way he could handle being in a room full of students today. He sent a message through the rings, asking Hermione if she would be willing to lead the Founders' League meetings that day. Harry had the lessons fully planned, it was primarily review for the OWLs and NEWTs this week, so all she would need to do was take the students through them. She responded in the affirmative, asking what he was planning to do. He answered that he just needed a day off. She told him to have fun and stay safe, her kind words appearing on the metal band of his ring.

Harry headed up to the Owlery, saying hello to Hedwig. After a few minutes, he transformed into his Animagus form, taking to the air. Hedwig did not follow, seeming immediately suspicious of this owl that smelled just like her human owner.

Harry soared across the Forbidden Forest, letting the wind carry him to new heights. He felt safe here, free. If only he could stay a bird. No one tried to use the Killing Curse on birds. At least he hoped they didn't.

After several hours of flying, Harry could feel the aches from the Potion begin to set in, wings drooping. He landed just on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, transforming back to his human self.

He was in a clearing, and he wasn't alone. Luna Lovegood was there, patting one of the black, skeletal horses from the carriages.

"Hello, Harry," she said, not turning around.

"Hi, Luna," he said, moving closer to her.

"You are afraid," she said, turning her pale blue eyes on him.

"What?" he said, taken aback.

"You're afraid of that Spell. It makes you remember."

Harry just stared at her, mouth gaping.

"How...?"

"I have eyes, Harry. I also know how you feel."

She turned back to the Thestral, patting its boney nose.

"I was there when Mum died. I saw the whole thing. The Spell that killed her was purple. I can't be around purple spells even now. It reminds me. I can tell that green does the same for you."

"I'm sorry," he said, heart in his throat.

"It's alright. I have Dad, and he's amazing. She may be gone, but he loves me enough for both of them."

She took his hand, pale fingers cold in his grip.

"You have people who love you too. I've seen them. A wolf and a star. I don't know what it means, but I've seen it."

"You're a seer," he whispered. It wasn't really a question. He'd suspected as much.

"Maybe," she said.

"Or maybe I'm just open to what magic wants to tell me. You have the same openness, Harry. You've used it before. You've seen before, haven't you?"

He had. He'd almost forgotten that day in Divination when he'd seen himself being tortured, when he'd seen an image in a Crystal Ball.

"Yes."

"There are more Seers than you think, Harry. Some are more powerful than others, more open. Some of us have the will to look while others look away. I always look because my mother told me to always seek what is there, even if it brings you pain. I have seen many things about you, Harry."

"What have you seen about me?" he asked, unsure if he really wanted to know.

She sighed, blonde hair billowing in the wind.

"I have seen darkness, Harry. The kind that can crush, can kill. I have also seen light beyond anything, love beyond anything. You walk a path of destiny, torn between what you wish and what you must do. You can become a great man, a great leader. You can also become broken. I do not yet know which will come to pass. The future is a many-layered thing, and I cannot interpret all that it says."

She fell silent, her radish earrings glittering in the sunlight.

"Lately, I have seen fire and a veil. I do not know what they mean, but I feel that they will haunt you. I have seen a broken promise, a shattered shield. I have seen a cupboard door broken off its hinges,"

Harry flinched at that, staring wide-eyed at Luna, hearing the magic in her voice.

"I have heard you scream into the silence of your own mind. I have seen the traitor be betrayed, I have seen the innocent break free of chains, I have seen a great battle for your mind. I have seen that battle lost and won again. I have seen all of these things. I cannot know for sure if they will happen. I do not know what they mean."

She turned away from him, gazing at the Thestral.

"The only thing I know for sure is that there is love for you in every future. Even when you lose, you never lose alone."

She turned to him, her magic tinkling like ghostly bells in the air around them.

"What did you see in the Crystal Ball that day? What did the magic tell you?"

Harry paused, using his toe to trace patterns in the dirt.

"I saw myself, but I wasn't in control. I was in a dark room, walking along rows: 95,96...97. Then, I was screaming."

Luna nodded, blue eyes slightly misty.

"You have seen what must happen."

"What must happen?"

"Yes. That is not a station you can avoid, Harry. It is a part of your future that is fixed. It has different variations, yes, but it must occur. It must happen."

Harry swallowed, overcome by the certainty in her tone.

"Will...will it be bad?"

She looked at him, profound compassion in her eyes.

"It is the turning point. It is the tightrope. You could lose everything. You could lose the star, whoever they are. This is a part of the story that can break you, can reduce you to the shell you've sometimes felt yourself becoming. It can also free you, free someone you love."

The star? Sirius? He could lose Sirius?

"How can I stop it…?"

"You cannot," she said, voice turning harsh.

"You must not. You cannot attempt to stop that which is coming. That will bring it about. You must simply live as you will. The future will turn."

Harry choked on his breath.

"How can I live with that?"

"You can because you must. You are a child of destiny, Harry Potter. The universe has been dreadfully unfair to you, but you are bound by its dictates just as the rest of us are. Your life is not determined, merely...limited. I can see what choices you are already going to make and what those choices may mean. You are not forced to do the things I see, Harry. You will do the things I see because I am seeing what you were already going to do. This conversation was a possibility, but it will not change what you will do. Seers see what will be, Harry. We do not make it so."

Harry stared at her, in awe of her understated power.

"Take the Seer who ruined your life: Sybill Trelawney."

Harry flinched at the mention of the prophecy.

"She was driven mad by her gift, but she is not a fool. She gave that prophecy when she gave it because she knew that it was the beginning of all the paths that led to Tom Riddle's defeat. She saw, as I have seen, that those futures needed that prophecy to be heard by the right person, at the right moment. It is unfair that your parents paid for it, but it was the way things had to be. She acts as she does, unable to access her gift except when it shines through because she knows what she has done, what she has wrought for you and for the world. That is as heavy a burden as the one you bear. As heavy as the one I bear in my duty to you."

"How do you do it?" he asked.

"Let yourself see? Decide what to share and what not to?"

She frowned, patting the Thestral's head.

"I let myself see because it is important that I do so. I see these things because I can't afford not to. I cannot afford to leave the future unknown to those who must know it. Those like you. I have been given a gift of openness, Harry. I can handle seeing that which would drive others mad. I have the will to foresee things that you must know, things that you must do should you wish to produce the outcome that you wish. I am a child of destiny as much as you are, but I am the one who is destiny's child."

Harry had no earthly idea what any of that meant.

"You do not understand. That is fine. You aren't meant to. Just know that I am here for you, Harry Potter. I am your friend, and I will tell you what must be done when it must be done."

They stood there in the clearing for a long time, the shadows of evening lengthening, the weight of destiny pressing down on their heads.

A/N: The Giant Squid is my hero. See y'all on SATURDAY!