Acknowledgments: Rpeh on the beta work.
Chapter 10
Harry landed on a beach as the water splashed over his feet. He peered down at it for a moment before taking three steps onto dryer land. He looked to his left to see Circe doing the same. She wore no shoes and he watched her dig her toes into the sand, sighing almost contentedly.
He watched her for a few moments. She'd closed her eyes and stretched her arms over her head in a way that wasn't unpleasing. She turned to face the sun, letting out another long sigh as the warmth of it shone down around her. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something familial in the touch. Of course, he knew she wasn't on the best terms with her family and doubted that her father was the actual orb in the sky. But that didn't prevent him from wondering what the warmth reminded her of.
That being said, he knew there was equal chance that it didn't remind her of anything and she just preferred the warmth of it to any other set pattern of weather. Given that she spent most of her life on a Grecian Island that seemed to be the likeliest scenario.
"Do you have any idea where we are?" Harry asked. Circe stiffed for a moment next to him. She seemed to weigh her words before speaking.
"Some," she said, not opening her eyes or looking away from the sun. "But that isn't the important question."
"Do you have any idea when we are?" Harry asked. Circe shook her head.
"No. And I don't know how to do Seth's star trick," Circe responded.
"Would you even be able to tell the year from that if you could?" Harry asked.
"No chance," Circe admitted.
"How does he?" Harry asked.
"You're assuming he does at all," Circe responded.
"Seemed confident. You believed him," Harry countered.
"I know better than to argue," Circe said.
"Fair enough," Harry said, knowing better than to argue. He walked down the beach a few steps trying to find anything that would identify where he was. He knew it was futile but he liked to feel like he was doing something.
"Where are you going?" Circe asked.
"No idea," Harry said.
"Can't we just relax on the beach?" Circe frowned.
"I'd rather not," Harry said. "I'm still trying to get home."
"Got a bit distracted from that when you wound up being catered to in a villa though," Circe commented.
"I was waiting for you," Harry said.
"Sure," Circe responded. Harry felt his teeth gnash together. He fought back a snide comment about removing a stick from an orifice and took a deep breath.
"This was your idea," he said enunciating each word in an attempt to keep himself calm.
"You're the one that wanted to go home," she said.
"Bollocks," Harry said. "You wanted an out and you used me to get it. I can't control where I wind up or where you wind up. And the damn portal didn't show up until you did so even if I wasn't, I was."
"Go find your way home then," she retorted. Harry had to fight back the urge to hex her. He thought that would be a monumentally stupid decision on his part. Except, a small voice in the back of his head whispered, she needed your power for the spell. And you're much better trained now than you were then. And Seth seemed to think you had talent for whatever that was worth. Perhaps a fight would be closer than you think.
But what was the point of fighting with her. That was nothing more than a waste of energy. There was no real way that would help his cause. Even if he desperately wanted to. Maybe hashing it out would do them good.
One small thought stuck out in his head though. She'd told him words were her weapon. Or at least a weapon she'd used against Seth. He still didn't know what the other man had done to earn her displeasure but it felt like she was projecting that grudge onto him. And he had no idea why.
He stared at her. Her head was still tilted towards the sun as she stood on the beach. She'd stopped moving her toes in the stand and he recognized her posture readily enough. The tensed shoulders, almost the same as his, gave it away first, but everything else about her screamed she was ready to pounce. He instinctively knew he'd have to disarm her or they'd battle all day.
Harry took another deep breath and attempted to force the tension from his own shoulders. He turned to gaze over the water, as if he couldn't bear to look at her. And then he played his gambit.
"Why won't you help me?" he asked in as small of a voice as he could manage. He felt her surprise but he resisted the urge to look at her to see if her demeanor changed.
"I have helped you," she said.
"Sure," he agreed. "You helped teach me. But I feel like that was only a means to an end to power your spell. Since we've gone through the portals it's been about you."
"What?" she asked.
"We wound up on an island where, well, I'm assuming you were kidnapped. We met your mentor. We were in London where you knew something but wouldn't tell me why it mattered or how you even knew. And then we wound up back at your mentor's home," Harry said.
"And?" Circe asked.
"And you promised to get me home. Nothing has gotten me anywhere near home. Why aren't you willing to help me get home? What did I do? What don't I know?" Harry asked.
"Nothing," Circe responded. Harry exhaled through his nose and resisted making a comment about one-word answers. But before he could respond she continued. "Well, there are many things you don't know. But now isn't the time."
"When is?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Soon I think. You'll have to know in the end. But I'm not sure it pertains to you. I don't think you need to know."
"More knowledge never hurt," Harry said.
"I wish that was true," Circe responded in a way that felt too familiar.
"Is that why you won't help me?" Harry asked. He turned to look at her then. Her eyes were contemplative, looking in his direction but not quite at him.
"No. I…" she paused and bit her lip before adding. "I'm exhausted."
"What?" Harry asked.
"You had time to rest. I didn't. For me you left three days ago and I've been trying to find you since. I haven't slept. I hadn't eaten anything until Seth's. I don't have the energy to explore," she admitted. Her shoulders slumped as the tension in the air evaporated.
"I don't understand the combativeness," Harry said.
"I don't think we should split up," Circe said.
"It feels off when we do," Harry said. "Like something is missing."
"Yes," she said. When you'd gone through the portal there was this…I don't know. It was like a throbbing in my head that I wasn't where I needed to be. It made it hard to function. It pulled me toward the portal."
"It wasn't like that for me," Harry responded. "I wasn't sure if it was anything more than, well, I missed you."
"What?" she blinked.
"We'd been together for over a year," Harry shrugged. "I missed you."
"Thanks?" Circe shrugged her shoulders looking rather confused. Harry got the sudden feeling she didn't return that feeling. It made him feel rather insignificant but before he could worry too much about it, she continued to speak. "But you were also where it wanted you to be. I suspect it wouldn't be as bad."
"Maybe," Harry said. "I'm still not sure what you're trying to get at."
"Can you just stay with me for a bit? Let me get some rest. Another day won't make much of a difference," Circe said.
"Don't you at least want to get off the beach?" he asked.
"I like sun and water," Circe shrugged.
"Fine," Harry sighed. He waved his hand in the air and conjured two beach chairs and an oversized umbrella. Circe blinked at him after he did it.
"That is…impressive," she said.
"I didn't spend the entire time being catered to in a villa," he said, throwing her words back at her. He walked toward one of the chairs and sat down, staring out over the waves as he wondered how anachronistic his conjured furniture was.
Circe moved toward the other chair. She adjusted the umbrella so that the chair would be in the sun and then reclined down on it. Harry turned his gaze away from her and out over the sea. He watched the waves lap up on the beach, losing himself the rhythm of it.
He listened as the water sloshed up on the sand. If he'd have thought about it for long he would have thought the waves would be louder. But it barely drowned out the soft noise of Circe's even breathing next to him.
It only took a quick glance for him to see Circe asleep. She'd rolled nearly onto her front on the chair and had one hand dangling off of it, her fingers just short of the sand. He conjured another umbrella and placed it so she was in shade, figuring he'd at least save her the trouble of brewing a salve for sunburn.
He paused for a moment as he adjusted the shade over her and wondered if there was a charm to prevent that. It felt like such a charm should be fairly simple work, but he didn't know how to cast it. He finished adjusting the shade and turned his attention back to the water as he pondered the mechanics of such a spell.
It shouldn't be that hard, he thought. Just something that would imbue the skin with some resistance to the sun. He could think of five or six ways to hide something from that off the top of his head. But which would be the most effective? His eyes grew heavier as he pondered. By the point that he thought an external shield would work better he slipped into slumber.
The sun was starting to descend when he opened his eyes again. He sat up and stifled a yawn before looking around. If he was honest, he expected Circe to be gone. But she was still on the chair next to him. She'd rolled onto her other side on the chair, her back to him. His first instinct was to wake her up but that felt a bit rude.
Instead he pulled himself up to his feet and started to pace the beach. He felt rather restless despite knowing that he shouldn't. He paced for a few moments before sparing one glance to the sleeping Circe. He wanted to do something. He felt like he needed to do something. Even if it was just a quick walk down the nearby path. After a moment his urges won out. He conjured a note and left it on his chair before turning to follow the setting sun inland.
He looked around as he walked, taking first the sandy beach and then the grassier hills that followed. There was something oddly familiar about it. Nothing looked recognizable as he glanced around. But there was still something there. Something in the air, he thought, that felt like he'd been there before.
He wondered if that was just what it felt like to be on a beach. He didn't have enough experience with different ones to know. Sure, he'd sat near the lake at Hogwarts before. The Dursleys never took him on any sort of fun holiday like that. The only time he'd been on a tropical beach had been when he stayed with Circe.
But he knew thinking about it wasn't going to accomplish anything so he walked on. It was about a half hour before he reached any sort of civilization. It was a small village at best, built out from a small port.
People were milling around, a few hands unloading a ship that Harry wasn't quite sure felt seaworthy. A group of men passed him without sparing him much notice. Their outfits consisted of brown belted tunics and boots but Harry didn't know nearly enough to judge when that would put him. It felt later than when he'd been, was it a century? A millennium? He had no idea.
Still, the best idea he had was to follow them and try to gain some local knowledge. They were talking, and the words felt Greek, but he couldn't quite make them out as he listened. He frowned in annoyance at that, wondering how he'd gain anything while he had to play the part of the idiot foreigner.
He felt his magic flare at his annoyance. And then a thought occurred to him. Sure, he couldn't understand them, but if Seth could teach him Latin with a single spell, maybe he could come up with something more useful for his current situation.
It wasn't a great idea, he knew. He didn't know enough about the type of spell he'd need to even guess at what would be successful. He tried to form a few different ones in his head, but it only took moments for him to spot the flaws that would make them worthless.
Somewhere in that rumination another idea struck him. He was being too deliberate, he thought. He'd listened to Seth pontificate on the absolute power of magic more than once. He'd lectured about it as a concept in their time together more than all of his Hogwarts professors had combined in his time at school. The lectures always ended up with the same general theme.
Magic was power. An absolute, stunning, and incomprehensible power. And he was one of a minority that could control it. But Seth hated that word. There wasn't always a need for control. Sometimes cooperation was a better tactic.
He didn't know the spell he needed. But that didn't matter. He let the magic flow into him as he focused on their words. At first, nothing happened. He hadn't expected it to. At least not instantly. It didn't deter him.
It took five or so minutes before the words changed. They didn't become English or anything. And he didn't think he understood it word-for-word. But somehow, it made sense. Jumbled words and phrases sorted themselves into something more comprehensible in his head. He had to keep focusing on it, and it felt like there was a momentary delay while the magic worked, but he could at least follow their conversation.
After a few minutes of following the group he grew distracted by the smell of bread. He turned to his side to see a small stall manned by a middle-aged woman. The men passed it without paying her any notice as she tried to distract them with the bread. Harry, though, was hungry and figured Circe had to be as well. He waited until a customer approached the stall and then moved closer to the men walking away.
He shifted his right hand toward a small brown pouch hanging off of the belt of one of the men. It detached itself from the man's belt and flew straight into his hand. It fell open and he peered inside to see a handful of coins. He plucked out a few of them and then let the pouch return to the man's belt before turning toward the stall.
The woman turned her attention from a customer leaving and smiled brightly at Harry.
"Hello," she said. "What can I do for you?" It took Harry a moment for the words to click. He opened his mouth to speak and then realized that he wasn't sure what to say. Or how his words would come out. While he could get the magic to translate for him, he wasn't sure if it would work in reverse. So he tried Latin.
"Panem?" he asked. The woman looked confused for a moment but gestured to the loaves.
"You're not from around here are you?" she asked. He shook his head and pointed toward one of the ships in the harbor. She nodded.
"Duo?" he asked, pointing at two of the loaves. She nodded and held out her hand. Harry held out his own with the three pilfered silver coins in it. She took two of them before pushing the bread toward him. Harry took it and thanked her with a nod before continuing on his way.
He spent a few minutes walking around the harbor before moving into the small village. He didn't expect anything to stick out but he also didn't feel like going back to the beach quite yet. There felt like more he needed to do. So he spared one glance down the path he'd traversed and continued on his way.
Sometime during his pacing he came to a dirt road leading outside of town. He turned down it on instinct as he peeled a chunk of bread off of one of the loaves and started to eat it. He wasn't paying much attention to where he was going until the road made a familiar right curve around an ancient stone wall.
Except there wasn't a wall there. He peered at the spot for a moment, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu as he stared at the trees where the wall should have been. After a moment he peered up the path.
Before his eyes even registered the path he knew it would start uphill and then curve around to the left. And that was exactly what he did. After a moment he closed his eyes and focused.
Sure enough, he felt two pings of Circe. One behind him and one ahead of him. The one ahead felt far stronger. He opened his eyes and took two steps forward before pausing.
She wouldn't know him. That presented a problem, he thought, given how she was known to treat visitors. He couldn't imagine she'd be thrilled with some wacky tale a random man made up at her doorstep.
But he wanted to see her. It would answer so many questions if he could get eyes on her. So many more things would make sense. He knew that the risk would be worth the reward. After a deep breath he continued up the path.
His steps quickened to the point of a jog as excitement spurred him onward. It felt almost like walking onto the Quidditch pitch before a match. He wanted to see what was before him more than most anything he could remember. Even if a voice in the back of his head told him this was a stupid idea.
After about a half hour he saw his destination. The marble villa that had been, or, he supposed, would be, his home for a year appeared on the horizon. It looked exactly how he remembered it from the exterior. Except now when he looked at it he could feel magic radiating from it.
It had to have always been there, he knew that much. But something about it felt stronger, as if more charged than it had been in a while. That made sense, though, if she was actively powering the charms undoubtedly littering the building.
He closed his eyes and thought of her for a moment. He didn't want to be noticed so he only looked for a moment. But it was long enough to sense her. A great power swelled from the direction of the gardens.
It was only a few more steps to clear the building. The garden stretched out before him. In his time, it was a patch of soil that ran the length of the building that ended at the dirt path that led down the cliff to a small beach alcove.
But now, even in the dying sunlight, he could make out perfectly ordered plants lining the entire path, some even seeming to grow out from the cliff face. There were markers every few feet, no doubt distinguishing one plant for another. But from a distance he couldn't make out the differences.
A shockwave emanated out from the garden. Harry braced himself against the magic just before it hit him. He staggered but kept his feet as the power washed over him, past him, and then was gone. He closed his eyes to focus on what was before him once more. The power was still there but it was less than before.
Once he shifted toward the magic he saw her. She was angled away from him as she stood near the middle of the garden. His first thought was that somehow Seth was right. She wore a white tunic with gold filigree lining it. She had waist length red hair, bound back into an elaborate braid and her eyes were a bright gold that seemed almost capable of lighting the area around her.
Her skin was a perfect bronze and he couldn't help but admire her curves. He couldn't help but fantasize immediately. Her lips were parted as she stared down at something before him, distracted by something just out of his sight. Harry's only thought was to walk behind her and place his hands on her hips, to use them to press her to him and to press his own lips to her neck.
In his mind he slid his hands down her legs, then back up to her waist as his lips started to trace over her arm. He moved his hands to hers and twined his fingers into hers. And that was when he noticed the blood on her hands. It snapped him back to reality. The real woman before him held up her hand and examined an elaborate silver tiara she was holding. It felt familiar to Harry. The object itself had a large blue gem at the front and a distinct avian motif.
The blood on her hands was fresh enough that it flowed down over the object as she examined it but she didn't seem to care. She looked tired, Harry thought. A sheen of sweat was visible on her in the fading light and her breathing rapid. Whatever she'd done seemed to have taken a great deal out of her.
As she examined the tiara, though, she lips curled into a smile and her golden eyes seemed to light up even more. She giggled as she started to spin the tiara around her finger. Harry watched as some of the wet blood flew from it. His eyes followed the blood down to the corpse before her.
He hadn't noticed it before as his attention had been focused on her. It was a man's corpse. He was dressed much like the sailors he'd seen in town and his chest had been cut completely open. A blade was impaled into his hip as if left there for easy access if she needed it again.
Harry focused on the corpse and wanted to vomit. It wasn't just the gore that got to him. There was a perversion in the air around him, a sort of sick tasting magic emanated from the area as the Witch of Aeaea giggled from the corpse.
A rustling in the trees behind him drew his attention. The Witch ignored it as two foxes poked their heads out of the woods. Harry saw them both look toward the corpse and then turn to run, squealing in fear as they did so.
The Witch stopped twirling the tiara and turned her gaze to the setting sun. She made a distasteful face at the orange ball in the sky and held the tiara up in the air. She let her hand drop and the tiara floated above her head. She stared at it for about fifteen seconds before Harry felt the magic rise in her once more.
A moment later the force of it shot out from her and into the sky. It took the tiara with her. Harry watched as it grew smaller and smaller in the sky until for the briefest of moments it flashed like one of the newly appearing stars before vanishing completely.
He turned his gaze back to the Witch. She closed her eyes and the entire villa seemed to darken. Harry watched her, wondering what she was doing, waiting for anything to happen. After a solid minute she opened her eyes and started laughing and then dancing around, her hands waving in the air in a childish manner.
Harry didn't get it. What did it matter? She'd shot something off of the island. What did that matter? Why did it look like she wanted to celebrate a milestone? And why had she dissected a sailor to do it?
He watched as she danced, spinning in circles and giggling. Harry raised his brows as he watched, wondering exactly what she was doing as she hopped around. At least until she landed funny on the incline and twisted her ankle and fell to the ground.
Harry stepped closer to her, wanting to offer help. But instead, she started laughing more and lay back in the dirt, her red hair fanning out behind her. She kept laughing, her chest rising and falling in an alluring way as Harry stepped back away from her.
He wondered if she knew he was there. It felt like she should, but she looked rather distracted by her own general amusement. After a few more minutes of laughter she sat up and looked at the corpse. She signed and pressed her lips together, looking annoyed that it was still in her garden.
She rose to her feet and walked over to the corpse. She held a hand up above it and the knife flew up into her right hand. She brought her left palm up and waved it over the blade to clean it before tucking it into her belt.
She stretched her arms above her head after, still peering down at the corpse. She lowered her hands, pointing both of them at the body and Harry watched as it was minced into smaller pieces and sent all over the garden.
Once that was done, she paced through the rows of herbs and vegetables. She peered down at a few of them. Occasionally she would kneel down to examine some of the plants more closely. Sometimes she summoned water from her hands and wet the ground.
Finally, she returned to the cliffs by the side of the villa and sat down. She watched as the sun fell completely below the horizon, the last vestiges of it vanishing as night engulfed the island. She stared at the horizon after a few minutes after the sun faded before she rose to her feet.
Harry watched as she took the knife from her belt. She stared at it for a few moments, tracing her finger over the blade. Fresh blood joined the dried blood on her hands. It didn't seem to bother her thought. Harry assumed she healed it as it faded almost instantly.
She gave one more forlorn look toward the sky and took one deep breath before she raised the dagger and stabbed it clean through her left wrist. Her shriek of pain drowned out Harry's gasp as he saw the tip of the dagger spear through her arm. She grimaced against it and pulled the blade down slowly the length of her forearm.
Harry reacted on instinct. He dropped the remaining bread and made to sprint toward her but after two steps his legs grew impossibly heavy. He tried to press on but something deep within him told him that he couldn't. That no matter what he tried to do in that moment he would never make it to her. Crushing magic surrounded him as he tried to press through. His eyes never left Circe.
She pulled the blade from her arm with another shriek. Harry could see the wound on her arm knitting itself back together as she raised it once more. This time her target was her throat. She slashed it clean across herself. Her eyes quivered as the blood spurted from her. He watched her eyes dim.
The wound on her neck reacted exactly as the one on her wrist and started to knit itself back together. Harry pressed forward, trying to get to her. But it just strained his muscles as he tried to press onward. Each step was agony. His mind flashed back to London. She'd been frozen, she'd told him that he couldn't move. That she'd been unable to stop anything. He wondered if this was how she felt.
But he didn't care enough to think further on it. It didn't matter. He needed to help her. He tried to cast a healing spell on her but his magic wouldn't come. As concerning of a thought as that was it wasn't helpful in the moment.
Instead he kept trying to press onward. He couldn't let her die. He couldn't let her kill herself. That was such a waste, such a pointless waste. Nothing could be bad enough to warrant that. Even if it was being stuck on the island for her entire life. It just couldn't warrant death.
He managed one more step before she foiled his plans.
She raised the dagger once more and plunged it into her heart. This time she gasped rather than screamed. Harry didn't know if it was because of her damaged throat, or if it was all she could muster.
The light around her dimmed and she fell to the ground, landing on her side and rolling onto her back. The crushing weight around Harry vanished as soon as she hit the ground. He sprinted toward her and slid to the ground near her.
She stared at him through blurred golden eyes. They fluttered closed once or twice, seeming to focus on him as they did. Her expression grew confused as his hands shot to her throat and he let the healing magic rise into him.
But before he could attempt any spell the light of her eyes faded completely, leaving the garden in darkness. He stared down at her body for a moment, wondering exactly what he was going to do now. Wondering why, despite his most recent training, he'd been completely unable to help. He closed his eyes and let his failure wash over him.
He felt her behind him then. He opened his eyes and rose to his feet as he turned around. She walked out of the woods and met his gaze.
"You knew," he said.
"I thought you were Hermes come to take me away," Circe said.
"You. Knew." Harry said again, his voice steeling her.
"Of course I knew," Circe sighed. "Did you think I didn't recognize my prison?"
"You let me fail," Harry said.
"I didn't let you do anything," Circe said. "Do you think a boy born a thousand years after this happened would have any bearing on these events?"
"I don't know," Harry said. He looked down at the dead woman before him. He let his magic flare to close her golden eyes. He could feel the residual magic in her still healing the wounds. They'd almost finished. She looked almost peaceful, despite the blood caking her skin.
Something sat wrong with him though as he looked down at her. The gold eyes didn't fit. The red hair didn't fit. The Witch before him had larger breasts, more prominent cheek bones, more muscled legs, tanner skin, thicker lips and wider hips. She did not look like the woman behind him.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Circe," she said. And then paused and shrugged. "Emily."
"That doesn't make sense," Harry said.
"I guess not," she responded.
"Seth said you'd ruined yourself. He mentioned it at two different occasions," Harry recalled.
"He did," Circe shrugged. "He always was a prick."
"What was the tiara?" he asked.
"A diadem. A gift. One of my favorite pieces of jewelry. I liked the hawk motif on the front and the sapphires in it," Circe paused for a moment. "Even if I did end up hating the gift giver."
"I thought I recognized it from somewhere in my past. She enchanted it somehow. She killed someone to do so," Harry said.
"I did," she commented.
"What did she do?" he asked.
"I split myself," she said. "I put a piece of me into the item and then banished it form the island. The enchantments still thought I was there because I was. So, the item got out. It was my own little escape. My own little path out of hell."
"You could have just asked him to get you out. He would have done it," Harry said, finding himself growing more frustrated by the moment.
"Never. It wouldn't have been worth the cost," Circe spat.
"What's the point of it if she just killed herself anyway?" Harry asked.
"The spell was supposed to allow me a ghostly existence. I was going to follow it and find a way to restore a body. I figured if I was far enough away, and stayed far enough away, I would be free."
"That didn't happen," Harry said.
"No. The runes here were meant to contain me at my full power. The wraith I turned into wasn't strong enough to fight them. I was destroyed in seconds," Circe admitted.
"Then how are you back? And why are you so different?" Harry asked. He turned back to face her but she wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Luck," Circe said. "Coincidence."
"You aren't telling me something," Harry said.
"It doesn't matter," Circe said.
"Look at me," Harry ordered. Circe shook her head. Harry closed his eyes and focused for a moment. He felt his magic rise in him and as he opened his eyes her face was turned onto his, her eyes open wide in surprised terror.
When his eyes met hers his world dissolved into segments filled with women. He tried to blink rapidly, to have it gain focus. He didn't feel his eyelids move but the images did clear up. He felt a rising sense of competition as he stared at her and two girls came to the front of his thoughts.
He'd seen them both before. One was very young, perhaps five. She wore a plain white tunic and had loose red hair flowing down her back. Flowers sprouted up wherever she pointed and her bright gold eyes looked radiantly happy.
Across from her was a dour looking girl Harry would have guessed at about eight. She had lank brown hair and brown eyes. She wore a shabby gray dress and looked to be doing everything in her power to not be noticed. She seemed to be ceding as much space as possible to the more boisterous girl.
They were replaced in moments by two more girls, older than the last pair.
This time the first was the brunette. She wore a Hogwarts uniform in Slytherin colors, the Head Girl badge on display on her chest. She spun her wand around her fingers and looked ready to fight anyone that would question her. She radiated confidence and power as she stared him down.
This time the redhead stood off to the side. She was in her teens and wore a robe similar to what he'd seen Seth in when they practiced magic. Her hair was done up in a lazy bun and she cowered away from him. The exuberance of youth was gone and instead he only sensed confusion and betrayal from her.
The two of them vanished and were replaced by two figures he'd seen before in his life, standing in direct opposition to each other.
The first was the woman he'd just let die. The Witch of Aeaea, wearing an elaborate gilded tunic. Her hair done in an intricate braid with gold weaved into the locks. Her eyes were a glowing bright gold and her expression was one of defiance, confidence and power.
She stared down a woman Harry had only seen in his own mind when Dementors attacked.
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stood before him. She wore billowing black robes and had her wand trained on the Witch. Her eyes were darker, her hair done back in a tail. Her features were less perfect than her counterpart but her expression was just as determined. Both were ready, no, eager, for a fight. A fight that neither thought they could lose.
Then, in an instant, all six of them appeared. They pulled together in a puff of imagined smoke. When it cleared a far more familiar woman stood before him.
The Witch of Aeaea, Circe, or She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or Emily Riddle. A ghostly diadem hovered around their head, seeming to flicker in and out of existence. Some combination of both of them stood before him as his vision refocused the surroundings to him. He watched as she blinked her eyes back into focus, her expression as stunned as he felt.
"You," Harry said, anger rising in him.
"Wow," Circe responded, tears welling in her eyes. She made to wipe them away with her sleeve as she fell down to her knees in the dirt, her entire body shaking as she made sure her gaze was nowhere near his. His chest seemed to constrict as it appeared she was in pain.
"What did you see?" he asked, unable to keep the compassion out of his voice. She looked so helpless before him. But it didn't matter. He felt anger rising more in him as she shook beneath him. She opened her mouth to respond but the only noise that emerged was the beginning of a strained sob.
He thought of cursing her, hexing her, killing her. This woman before him was directly responsible for his misery. And she'd lied to him about it.
Of course he always knew. He wouldn't admit it to himself but there was always something in the back of his mind whispering she was his enemy. And now, through primal magic he had the truth he needed. He knew exactly what she was and she him. She was his enemy. That was all he needed to know.
But she'd also saved him, cared for him, fed him, supported him for over a year. All when, if she really was his enemy, she could have killed him without any sort of issue in thousands of different ways. And she hadn't tried. Hell, Seth had come closer in his training than she'd ever even attempted.
That didn't matter though. Nothing was going to prevent him from ending the life of the woman that killed his parents.
As the thought rang through his head magical ripping noise emanated from his side. He spun to face it on instinct and watched as a rip in the world appeared before him. It grew almost instantly, transforming into a shimmering silver portal.
Harry didn't care though. He turned away from it as soon as he recognized what it was. He was going to kill Lord Voldemort or die trying. The final act of revenge. He readied his magic until Seth's voice rang through his head.
The portals would show them something they needed to see. He saw that the woman before him was the Dark Lord responsible for all of the grief and chaos in his life. But what good did harming her now do? The damage was already done. To change anything, he'd need to be at a point where such a change would impact his future. And this certainly wasn't it.
And he still didn't know just how a Greek myth was part of the woman who'd killed his parents. So much still didn't make sense. But perhaps he could get it to. He spared one more glance for the portal.
Hogwarts castle glistened in the silver sheen before him. Harry blinked in surprise as he saw it. There was his home. Finally, after more than a year of running in what felt like circles there it was.
Thoughts of the woman before him slipped from his mind. She didn't matter. He was steps from home and he didn't care if she followed him. He turned away from her and stepped through the portal.
Author's note: I'm on PAT RE ON now at TE7writes. Any support you can throw my way allows me to continue this time-waster of a habit and is much appreciated. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!