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Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
The-Boy-Who-Lived Missing?
By Rita Skeeter
No, you haven't misread the title dear reader; Harry Potter, the savior of the Wizarding World, the one who vanquished You-Know-Who, is nowhere to be found. Last night during the infamous Hogwarts sorting ceremony Harry Potter was inexplicably absent when his name was called. The news was so shocking that this reported worked all through the night to get this article printed for you in this issue of our beloved prophet.
Now, I believe I speak for everyone when I ask, "Where exactly has our savior gone?" The whereabouts of the young Mister Potter have always been up for discussion for these past eleven years following You-Know-Who's defeat, but no solid conclusion has even been confirmed. Theories have run rampant, ranging from he was staying with a pureblooded family to learn the ways of proper Wizarding society, to traveling the world as a celebrity in disguise, and even becoming a child actor in the muggle world.
Yet our questions to that topic have been put on hold as Harry Potter is not at Hogwarts to confirm or deny any of these rumors. So, what could have happened to delay Harry Potter's arrival at Britain's most prestigious magical boarding school? This reporter wants to know! Could Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, hold the truth we seek? Perhaps after that fateful Halloween night, Dumbledore has been training the boy under his tutelage this past decade.
Only time will tell the dear reader. Only time will tell.
For more on the story of Harry Potter, see page 7
Dumbledore read the headline news of the Daily Prophet after a very irate Minister of Magic slammed a copy of it on his desk. Minister Fudge twirled his lime green bowler hat around with his hands as Dumbledore read the article.
"Well," Dumbledore began. "Ms. Skeeter certainly has a talent for grabbing the reader's attention." It was meant to be obvious. As long as Dumbledore had known Cornelius Fudge, he knew the minister could sometimes be appeased by information that he already knew. It was a tactic he suspected Lucius Malfoy of incorporating into his influence over the minister.
"That she does, and that is exactly the problem!" Fudge paced about his office. "Everyone within our society has probably read this article, Dumbledore. And now people are asking questions, questions that I don't have the answers to. Merlin, Dumbledore, do you have any ideas how many letters have been flooding the Ministry this morning?"
"A great deal more than I've received, I'm sure." Dumbledore used his wand to levitate a large stack of letters reaching almost five feet in height.
"Howlers too," Fudge added. "People are furious about this! And for some reason, they think sending a howler at me will solve the problem. I've no idea where the boy could possibly be, but I see no reason to tell them that. People depend on people like you and I Dumbledore. Something has to be done about this!"
"I agree wholeheartedly," Dumbledore told the minister. "As it stands I've already gotten into contact with some old colleagues and sent them to track down any methods of locating young Harry." Dumbledore purposefully neglected to tell Fudge that he put those colleagues on the case almost a year ago.
Fudge actually showed the first hint of smiling since he entered Dumbledore's office. "That is exactly what I like to hear!" Fudge twirled his bowler hat in a slower fashion. "I always could count on you for help."
"Surely those at the Ministry have been a help as well?"
"Hm? Oh, yes!" Fudge nodded. "Dolores has been a big help, as always, she suggested I make a public statement later today to address this situation. She says if I don't the people might begin to panic." He paused. "Well- panic more than they are already. If I don't put some of these rumors to rest, the people might start to think Harry Potter's disappearance was an act of You-Know-Who or something of that sort!" Fudge waited for Dumbledore to deny that possibility. He didn't. "Oh, come now Dumbledore! You don't actually believe that's the case."
"One can never eliminate all of the possibilities, Cornelius," Dumbledore advised. "It would be unwise to do so."
Fudge shook his head in denial. "Dumbledore, do you have any inkling of what would happen if I were to say something like that? If there wasn't panic before, there would be after that! People would riot in the streets, up and down Diagon Alley, even in the Ministry itself! I know you've said before that you don't believe You-Know-Who to be truly gone, but people want- nay, need to feel safe." Fudge stopped twirling his hat to place both hands on Dumbledore's desk to look the aged wizard in the eyes. "That is why they trust us. We have made them feel safe these past ten years, and I see no reason to jeopardize that trust."
Dumbledore raised a hand in a good gesture to calm the distressed minister. "Relax, Cornelius. I did not say that I believe that to be the case; only that it is a possibility, and a relatively unlikely one at that."
After a moment had passed, Fudge sighed. "I apologize, Albus. I didn't intend to come across as confrontational; I just- want the people to know that they can rely on me."
"I do not blame you for your concern, Cornelius," assured Dumbledore. "And as I have told you just moments before, I have already sent a search party of sorts underway."
"Yes, yes," Fudge nodded, picking up his bowler hat and twirling it once more. "I'll be able to quote you on that for when I give my statement, I take it? Hearing it from me is one thing, but coming from you…" Fudge let the offer hang, with the slightest hint of jealousy in his tone.
"You may," Dumbledore approved. "It is as you said, the people trust us."
"As they should," Fudge twirled his bowler hat once more before setting it on his head. He crossed the office to the fireplace and pulled out a bag of floo power from his robes. The minute the power hit the ash the minister was engulfed in a torrent of green flames.
With the minister gone, Dumbledore ran a wrinkled hand through his long white beard. Fudge had acted as expected. He was scared and confused and looking towards him for support and advice. Better him than the likes of Lucius Malfoy.
His phoenix, Fawkes, let out a melancholy hum as an owl flew through his office window and nearly crash landed on his desk. Eyeing the letter it had clutched in its talon, Dumbledore took it; and immediately massaged his temple when he saw who it was from. It would seem Molly had seen fit to write to him as well. He prayed to whatever god there was that she hadn't seen fit to send a howler.
Darkness surrounded him. The only source of light came from the glowing yellow eyes of the beast, which stood snarling over his tiny form. Zodd barred his fangs at Harry as he said, "Your life belongs to another. So sleep now. Sleep, just like your parents!" Zodd gave a roar at the last word, and he too faded into black.
And then, the darkness began to swirl. Slowly at first but gradually picking up speed as it soon became an all mighty whirlwind. WHOOOOOOOOOOOSSHHHHH! It began to sound like a hurricane at full force. And Harry was caught right in the midst of its force.
Around and around he was being blown around, enough to begin to make him nauseous. But as disorientated as he was, Harry could faintly make out a dark shape as the source of the whirlwind. It was very faint, but he found it to be familiar. It was a shape that resided within all humans. It looked like- THUMMM
"AAAH!" Harry sat bolt upright on the bed, clutching at his chest. Wait- bed? He looked around; no longer was he in that chamber with Zodd and the others, he was in some kind of medical ward if the gauze wrapped around his abdomen was anything to go on. The only other person in the room with him was-, "Guts?"
The large swordsman had paused at the exit to turn around to address him, allowing Harry to see the condition the other man was in. Guts was covered in gauze as well, namely his torso and forehead, he was also walking with a crutch under one arm. "Oh, you're awake."
Harry winced a little as he sat up in the bed. "What happened? Where's Zodd?"
"Zodd left," Guts informed. "He ended the fight after deciding not to kill Griffith."
Griffith. "Is he-?" Harry began, only to have Guts beat him to it.
"He's fine; at least I think he is."
"What does that mean?" Harry asked.
"It's been three days," Guts explained. "I haven't seen Griffith since we moved him. Plus he's being treated in a better place than this."
"Is that where you were going?" Harry asked.
Guts nodded. "I'm not in the best of shapes right now, but I at least owe it to him to see how he's doing." Guts hobbled back to the exit. "Hey," Guts cast a glance back toward Harry, "you coming?"
"Me?"
"You see anyone else in this room?" Guts rhetorically asked. "You want to know how he's doing too, right?"
Together the two of them set off down the stone corridor to where Guts suspected Griffith to be. Harry took notice that they were actually in part of Windham castle itself. Griffith was a Knight of the Kingdom, so it only made sense that any wounds he sustained be treated by the physicians at the castle. Along the way, they passed a few members of the nobility who eyed their bruised figures with curiosity, or in the handmaidens' cases, with flushed faces and giggled whispers.
Guts' crutch made a noticeable Clunk sound with every other step he took down the corridors. It was the only thing breaking the silence between the both of them until Guts finally spoke. "That was some move you pulled back there."
"Huh?" Harry asked, confused.
"You fired a bolt at Zodd, right?" Guts recalled. "And that was after he became- well whatever the hell that was."
"Oh," Harry also recalled the memory of what Guts was talking about. "Yeah, about that, I-,"
"Don't apologize," Guts told him abruptly. "What the hell do you have to be sorry for about that? Trying to save his life? Pfft, please. I'm not Casca, I won't bite your head off for acting on instinct and wanting to protect him."
Was it Harry's imagination, or did Guts sound, proud in some sense of the word. Maybe it wasn't too farfetched, Guts was a warrior after all and had probably done his fair share of reckless things too. He was the one who had went in to face Zodd alone when he could have waited for reinforcements to arrive.
And speaking of Zodd, two noblemen stood before them in the corridor seemingly discussing the Hawks most recent battle. The nobles noticed their approach. "Oh-ho, what convenient timing!" One of them exclaimed.
"Yes," the other agreed. "We were just discussing your bands' recent victory over Chuder. Quite the battle we heard."
"However," the first one took up a condescending tone, "strange rumors have been surfacing. Have you heard? I believe they revolved around a great demon appearing toward the end of the battle."
"What do you mean rumors?" Harry asked, a bit indignantly. "It's true. Ask anyone who was there, they'd tell you."
The two noblemen looked at one another. "And you were there I take it?"
"I was," Harry confirmed, not really liking the condescending tone they spoke in.
"Well, I don't find the fact that you believe it to be true all that surprising then. After all, children will believe anything, that's why they should only be seen and not heard. It raises the question of why Sir Griffith would allow- OW!"
Guts continued his walk down the corridor, "accidentally" bringing his crutch down on the noble's foot as he hobbled along. "You coming, Harry?" Guts cast a glance over his shoulder to send a chilling glare at the two nobles.
Harry followed suit and "accidentally" stepping on the foot of the other noble, who was too scared of the look Guts was giving them to do or say much of anything. If Guts disapproved of Harry copying his previous action, he said nothing about it and kept on hobbling along.
"What was those guys' problem?" Harry asked once they were a good distance away.
"Who knows," Guts answered. "They're nobles. They got money and they think that gives them power."
After walking out to an open courtyard, they came across Casca, Judeau, Cokus, Pippin, and Rickert waiting around. A pair of armored guards wielding battleaxes stood a short distance away guarding a closed pair of doors.
"Harry! Guts!" Rickert yelled as he spotted their approach.
"Hey, Rickert," Harry greeted back.
"Yo," Guts casually said.
"Glad to see you both up and moving," Judeau said with a smile. "Griffith should be cleared any time now." Guts looked to the two armed guards.
"He in there?"
"Yeah," Judeau confirmed. "Minister Foss and a few others are discussing a few things inside with Griffith." Guts nodded.
"Thanks," Guts said, approaching the door. The guards crossed their axes at his approach, preventing him from going further.
"It's a private meeting," Casca told him, frowning at his attempt. "We all have to wait."
"Maybe you do," Guts told her, before turning to the guards who were nowhere near as tall as he was. "So I take it you guys aren't going to step aside?" They looked at each other nervously but made no gesture to move out of the way. "Alright."
Guts used his crutch to sweep one of the guards' feet from under him, and then swiftly lifted it and knocked the other on the back of the head. The members of the Hawk either deadpanned or watched in awe at Guts' action.
"Are you out of your mind?" Casca angrily asked. "How hard did you hit your head? I just told you it was private didn't I?"
"Like you don't want to see him either?" Guts shot back, to which she silently glared at him. "Now if you excuse me, I'm going to go check on my friend. Anyone else want to come? Rickert?" The blonde boy shook his head when he saw the look Casca was giving him. "Harry?"
"Uh, sure," Harry agreed. Guts was pushing open the doors and Harry made to follow, but Casca put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her and she shook her head, "no." She walked up towards Guts.
"Yo, Griffi-," Guts called into the room before Casca laid a hand on his shoulder. Guts instantly reacted and turned to see who it was. Wramm!
Casca's fist collided square with Guts' jaw sending him stumbling back. It was a sight that had everyone's jaws falling wide open. Guts rubbed at his chin while Casca stood with both her fists clenched. "That's just like you, isn't it? To go charging head first without a thought to anyone else. I have no idea why Griffith values you like he does."
A tension filled the air between the two of them; finally being broken when Guts turned to walk away. "I'll be somewhere training. Don't want my skills to dull because of these injuries." Harry watched him limp off to go and find his sword.
"Ha!" Corkus laughed. "What a punch, Casca!"
"That was odd huh, Pippin?" Rickert asked the giant man, who simply nodded.
Harry walked up to Casca. "Are you- alright?" He asked, hesitant she might turn her ire on him now that Guts was gone.
Casca sighed and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "I'm fine, Harry. It's just- he's just so- ugh!" She threw her hands up, before helping the two guards back to their feet. "So reckless all the damn time." Harry heard her mumble to herself.
"Well, this is a welcome sight." Griffith walked out of the guarded room leaning on a crutch similar to Guts, and he was followed by the short bald Minister Foss and a few other high ranking nobles.
"Griffith!" Casca exclaimed, her previous gloom seemingly vanished.
"You're okay!" Harry enthused as well.
Griffith chuckled. "Well, I will be." He moved his crutch around for further emphasis. "But yes, I have been cleared by the court physician."
"A fact we all revel in, Sir Griffith," Minister Foss said. "Given your latest exploit, I do believe that you've managed to win our king's favor yet again. I would not be surprised if you were invited to partake in His Majesties hunt. For a knight of your- unique upbringing, you should consider it a great honor." Harry almost missed the small twitch under Foss' eye when he said that last part.
"I do indeed, Minister Foss," Griffith replied. If he too noticed the subtle twitch he didn't acknowledge it.
Foss gave a polite bow. "If you'll excuse me, my presence is required elsewhere." Griffith nodded and watched as the minister walked off with the entourage of other nobles.
"I can see the concern in your eyes, Casca," Griffith acknowledged his second-in-command. "Why don't you wait in the gardens for me? There's someone else I'd wish to speak with first."
Guts had found a level platform on one of Castle Windham's outside staircases. The smells of flowers from the gardens down below were entirely lost on him as he devoted his current attention to his sword. He brought it up and down and in an arc and down again. His crutch lay discarded to the side. He didn't need it, not when he had his sword. He just had to block out the pain with the rush of swinging his sword.
Gambino hadn't taught him much else than that, but it was all he ever needed. This time was no different. Just another injury, just fight through the pain and come out stronger than before. And stronger was exactly what he needed. Zodd. He had been on an entirely different level than what Guts was used to. And then there was that prophecy the demon Zodd had spoken of.
He had warned him about Griffith, and of a death that he would be unable to escape from. And it stemmed from seeing that red jewelry around Griffith's neck. Guts had always found Griffith's "good luck charm," to be creepy ever since he saw one of the eyes open to stare at him a few years back.
Guts' thoughts drifted now to after the fight had ended, of Casca glaring at him through her tears as she shouted that it was his entire fault. But what did she know? He hadn't intended for anyone to come and rescue him. If he had done it like he intended it would have just been him left to fight Zodd.
"You seem troubled." Guts looked to see Griffith walking with a crutch up the stairs to the platform he was on. "Although your injuries seemed to have healed much faster than mine despite being more severe."
Guts stopped swinging to lean back on the railing. "I'm used to taking hits."
"Evidently," Griffith eased himself into a leaning position as well. "Thinking about the encounter with Zodd?"
"It's not exactly easy to forget. He was strong."
Griffith nodded. "He was. It was a miracle we got out of that alive." He fished the red egg jewel out. "Lucky charm, huh?"
"Yeah…" Guts eyed the bauble suspiciously, almost expecting an eye or the mouth to open. They didn't. "And you seem to be healing fast too."
"Not disappointed about that are you?" Griffith asked in a jesting manner.
"No," Guts said. "But I think Casca will be pleased. It might stop her from biting my head off."
"I take it she wasn't happy with the way I went in to save you," Griffith concluded. "I'll talk to her about that."
"Yeah. Speaking of that, why did you?" Guts asked and Griffith tilted his head. "Why'd you risk your neck for me like that?"
Griffith pondered the question over before looking Guts dead in the eye. "Do I need a reason each time I risk mine to save yours?"
To that Guts had no reply. Griffith was doing it again; saying things normal people wouldn't and making them seem natural. Guts was almost relieved when a few new presences came walking down the steps to where they were relaxing against the rail.
Two men walked in front of a group of armed guards, one was clearly young than the other. The younger of the two had long, but well pampered reddish-brown hair and a face that looked like it was always in a sour mood. The other, Griffith instantly took a knee for at his approach. He had lines on his face, but it was balanced out by the luscious black hair and well-trimmed mustache and goatee. It was the King of Midland.
The sour faced man pointed an accusing finger at Guts. "You! Show some respect and kneel before the king!" Guts was about to refuse, but Griffith gave him a look telling him to go along with it.
"That is alright," the king dismissed Guts notion of bowing. "I was just on a stroll, no need for such an action at the moment."
"But sire!"
The king paid the other man no mind. "I'm pleased to see the White Hawk's injuries are healing. You've made quite the name for yourself on the battlefield."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Griffith rose, but still gave a bow of his head.
"Allow me to introduce you," The king gestured to the sour faced man. "This is my younger brother, Count Julius; general of the White Dragon Knights, and second in line to the throne."
"A true pleasure to make your acquaintance," Griffith gave a bow of his head to Julius.
"Humph," Julius scoffed. But Griffith paid it no mind, his attention was drawn to someone at the back of the armed escort, seemingly trying to shy away.
"Who might that be?" Griffith asked in curiosity. The king looked to where Griffith was looking.
"Oh, that is my daughter, Princess Charlotte." Guts saw a brief flicker of the girl as she tried to shy away from some more. "She is quite a shy girl; she rarely ever leaves the castle." Charlotte peaked out just enough to see she was a girl in her teenage years with her chocolate brown hair styled in buns on the side of her head and a nervous pair of deep blue eyes.
"Let us be off," the king announced as he continued down the steps, his guard following. Griffith kept his gaze solely on the princess as she brought up the rear. She seemed especially nervous as she walked past Griffith, so much so that she tripped on a loose stone and nearly fell down the rest of the stairs.
"Ah!" Charlotte gasped, but Griffith reached out and wrapped an arm around her midsection before she could fall. The princess became flushed from the close contact as Griffith helped her regain her balance.
"Your pardon," Griffith said to Charlotte.
"T-thank-," Charlotte attempted to say, but…
"You!" Julius had come back up the stairs to see what was keeping the princess. "How dare you! How dare a commoner such as yourself lay hands on the princess!"
Slap!
Julius backhanded Griffith, much to Charlotte's horror and Guts' anger.
"Hey, pal!" Guts yelled as he took a menacing step towards Julius, who began to pale. Before anything could escalate quicker, Griffith raised his hand, signaling Guts to stop. With his other, he wiped the blood from his split lip.
"Please pardon my rudeness, General Julius," Griffith said with a smile. But it wasn't the one Guts was used to seeing from him. A shadow seemed to pass over Griffith's face as he narrowed his eyes and gave a closed lip grin. It wasn't childish at all, instead, it was like a much different side of Griffith had emerged from his shadow.
It was enough to make Julius pale even further.
"Is something the matter?" The king called from the bottom of the stairs.
"N-nothing, Sire!" Julius called back. "Come, princess. Let's not keep your father waiting." Charlotte followed her uncle down the steps, but not before casting one last look at Griffith before turning away with a blush adorning her soft features.
Harry and Casca sat on a stone bench in one of Windham's gardens, waiting for Griffith to join them as he had promised. The only other people in the garden were two children, younger than Harry, who was being watched by two armed guards. "I suppose I should have asked you this sooner, but how are you feeling?" Casca asked. "Your injuries I mean."
"They're okay. getting better," Harry told her. "You're not mad about it are you?"
"What? Why would I be mad?" Casca asked.
"Well- you were with Guts earlier," Harry recalled.
"Oh," Casca said. "That's different."
"How?" Harry asked.
"Because Guts acted like an idiot and went ahead when he should have just waited five mi minutes for the rest of us," Casca elaborated. "You came in with the rest of us following Griffith, who was only down there because of Guts. I mean, does he think that just because he has strong muscles that that's the solution to everything? I just don't understand him sometimes, if at all."
Harry just shrugged. "It kinda sounds like you like him," he mumbled quietly to himself.
"What was that?"
"N-nothing!" Harry remembered her temper when she hit Guts, he didn't want to be on the receiving end of that. He quickly turned his attention to the two children playing around by one of the bushes.
"Careful," he heard the girl advise the boy. "I thought I saw a snake!"
"It's probably just a garden snake," the boy insisted. "They're not poisonous."
Another girls voice came from Harry's other side. "Father, may I please join Elize and cousin Adonis in the gardens?"
"Of course, Charlotte," a man's voice replied from the distance, and soon a teenage girl came around the bushes. Casca instantly stood up and gestured for Harry to do the same. They bowed their heads as the girl walked past. With her chocolate brown hair done in buns on the side of her head, she reminded Harry of an infamous Star Wars character.
"Who's that?" Harry asked as the girl joined the younger children.
"The princess," Casca told him.
"Cousin Charlotte!" The boy exclaimed at her arrival.
"Greetings, princess," the girl gave a courtesy.
"Cousin Adonis, Lady Elize, it is my pleasure to join you," Charlotte gave a polite bow of her head. "What are you finding in the garden today?" Adonis smiled as he grabbed a stick and pulled it out of a bush.
"I found this!"
Charlotte gave an, "Eep!" as she rushed to hide behind the two guards. At the end of the stick was a garden snake.
"Adonis!" Elize scolded the boy. "How dare you scare your cousin like that! Don't you know girls don't like snakes?"
Adonis scratched the back of his light brown hair bashfully. "Sorry, Charlotte." He let the snake free and it began to slither over to where he and Casca sat on the stone bench. It came close enough that Harry was able to catch it.
"I don't think it's that scary," Harry told Casca, showing her the snake. She cringed a little.
"Maybe gross, but not scary," Casca agreed.
Harry looked at the snake who was slithering between his fingers. 'Hello there.'
The snake looked at him. 'Hello, sssspeaker.'
Harry almost dropped the snake in pure shock. 'You can sspeak?' Should he even be that surprised? In a world that had a skeleton knight, disembodied voices, and a demonic- whatever Zodd was was a talking garden snake too out of the question?
'Of courssse I ssspeak. The trouble isss finding thossse who lisssten.'
'Well, thossse kidsss didn't ssseem to lisssten to you.'
'Oh no, children are the worssst. Esssspecially human children.'
Harry laughed at the snakes' humor. What was Casca thinking of all of this? "Hey, Casca! Can you believe… this?"
Casca was no longer sitting next to him. Instead, she was standing up, looking down at him with her mouth agape and eyes filled with confusion and uncertainty like he had done something wrong. What had he done?
A/N: So for anyone wondering when Harry would be getting magic, this chapter is the start of that with the discovery of his Parseltongue ability. And is it just me, or does Princess Charlotte look like Princess Leia from Star Wars?