Reviews:

Greer123: Merry Christmas to you too, and this chapter does have a slight look at the HP side, but coming up soon a bigger look at what's been going on in the Wizarding World will occur.

lagoon childe: Yes, Harry still has the sword Godo made.

demonic hellfire: It is a popular theory, and I do agree that is the case as well.

PrometheusDark: I'm happy you like the side by side of their journies, and a reunion between Harry and Guts is coming up fast. And Schierke seems to be a popular option.

kaxipoptos: Happy to see that you're enjoying the story so far, and the identity of the Holy See founder will be revealed, and I'm happy it got you thinking.

ezok: The identity of the Holy See founder will be revealed, so I can't say if you're right or wrong yet without giving away spoilers.

Necrogod: Thank you, here's the next one.

Japolo Rei Hellstinger: Thank you, I'm glad that you enjoyed.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.

It has been two years since the horrifying events of the Eclipse. Two years since he and Harry had begun their own separate quests – a quest that he was currently busy with at the moment. The object of his hunt had been another figure of authority within Midland, another count to be precise. Like many apostles before, this one relished in feasting on the flesh of humans, and with the wealth and authority held by them, they took to indulging.

This count – Count Tepes, Guts believed had taken to taking young children from his village and feasting on them. Their remains were impaled by spears and left to fester in a portion of his dwelling. His apostle form, which resembled a giant leathery, black bat proved to be fast in nature, but weaker physically. That didn't mean that the fight was an easy task. Because of the enhanced speed, it made the need to keep his defense up all the greater. This need was solidified when the apostle grabbed a hold of one of the spears he used for impaling his victims and managed to land a hit on Gut's side.

Like many apostles that Guts had encountered, Count Tepes suffered from overconfidence. They assumed that if they got a good hit in it was over, that just because they had superhuman abilities that they would always be victorious. Confidence was a human trait, but apostles were supposed to be above humanity. As such, they failed to understand the full concept of the will of man.

While the bat apostle was mid-flight, Guts reverted to using his crossbow to shot holes in the leathery wings. Tepes hissed as he was brought down to the ground, trying in vain to flap his wings hard enough to lift his form up off the ground and to take flight once more.

"Would you look at that," Guts snarled, pulling the spear free from his side. "Your wings have been clipped. I don't want you flying away on me."

Panicking, Tepes used the talon on his wing to try and pull himself to freedom. Guts was not amused. He stalked over to where the apostle crawled – all but defeated. He made it an effort to drag the tip of Dragonslayer across the tiled floor, scratching the once pristine tile with his massive blade making sure that Tepes could see it from the corner of his eyes. Guts stepped onto the back of Tepes, digging the soles of his heavy boots into his spine. "Where are you going?" Guts mockingly asked. "This is your mansion, isn't it? Why leave? I'm sure your subjects would be devastated if you were to go."

The apostle had to crane his neck to stare up at Guts. His large ears, short nose, and long, sharp fangs truly did give him the appearance of a bat out of hell. "Don't pretend you are doing this for the betterment of my people. I know about you… Black Swordsman." He spat the name with venom. "You hunt our kind, you do so without mercy."

"Mercy?" Guts parroted. "You caught me off guard; I didn't know a creature like you knew what that was." He raised Dragonslayer. "Not that it matters much anyways."

"You are just as much a monster as I!"

Guts showed a minimal reaction. "Of course." He stabbed Dragonslayer down through one of the wings of the apostle, tearing off nearly all the webbing. "It takes one to kill one."

"Yeeeeeggghhhh!" the apostle hissed in pain. "Damn you! Damn you to hell!"

Dragonslayer was a twirling metal arc as the sword was driven down through the back of the apostle's neck. Guts looked down at the now corpse in disgust; he kicked the head away causing it to tumble down a few short steps. "You could consider that mercy; I barely made you suffer before you died." Moving his hand up to his side, Guts noted that his getting impaled by a spear was much deeper than he initially thought. He opened his satchel where Puck had taken to riding around in like a carriage of some sorts. "Hey, bug! Get out here."

The blue elf lazily flew out from his new place of residence. "Huh? Did I miss something?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you actually slept through the entire thing?" Guts' frustration began to grow once again.

Puck shook his head indignantly. "Of course not! I was just keeping Beechi company." Becchi – the annoying little nickname Puck had taken to calling the behelit that he had taken from the one count some time ago. "You can't wake him; he's the one who's asleep."

"I don't want your freaky little egg," Guts told the elf. "What I want is for you to use your dust on my wound."

Puck examined where the spear had impaled him. "I can heal that as best I can, but I'll probably be a little-drained after-,"

"Then just do it," Guts stopped him short before he could say something that would serve to annoy him further. "This is the only thing your good for anyway."

"Hey!" Puck yelled, insulted. "That's not true at all! I can also – huh."

"What?"

"I think that's the closest thing to a compliment you've given me since we've met." Puck flashed that oh-so-annoying smile. "I told you that you'd start to warm up to me – even if it has been two years." The blue elf fluttered his wings to produce the dust. "I knew that I'd get there eventually."

"You have an awfully high opinion of yourself," Guts told his elf companion, he could already feel the dust starting to work its own magic on his wound.

"And you just keep repeating yourself," Puck said cheekily, flying back into Guts' satchel. "So where to next?"

Guts moved his hand to feel at the brand on his neck. It had stopped itching since he had dealt with this apostle, but he knew that it was a fleeting moment of relief; soon it would be sunset and with it another battle that needed to be fought. "There's a forested area to the north of here. I might actually be able to get a few hours sleep before they come."

Poking his head out of the satchel, Puck gave a tiny salute. "Gotcha. You catch up on your sleep, and I'll remain on the watch like a loyal dog. You can count on me." There wasn't a doubt in Guts' mind that the elf would drift off to sleep as soon as the sunset. Regardless, he exited the front of the mansion, the bodies of two dead spearmen – he had killed them before entering. A wind blew from the west, letting his black cloak billow it its breeze; once more Guts set off leaving death in his wake.

"Once more, you've almost got it." The voice of Flora instructed the now fourteen-year-old Harry. The exercise he was currently conducting required him to make the journey to the astral world – but instead of just testing out his luminous body as he had done the first time it was taught to him, Harry was making the next step in that field; bringing something for him to use back with him. As he had seen during his first excursion with his luminous body the forest around the spirit-tree was littered with – ripples, each holding a deeper connection to magic.

Unlike the first time, Harry would not be using a salt circle; he had grown proficient enough to make the journey without the added aid provided by a salt drawn rune. Much like every other time, Harry felt a floating feeling build up behind his navel and it felt like a cord had attached itself to the back of his head. And then he was as light as a feather – or rather, he was even lighter than that. But the physical wind had no effect on him now; his physical body was standing right where he left it. With his luminous body, Harry could move beyond what was right in front of him, now there were the ripples.

When he journeyed into one it was like going back in time or something along the lines of experiencing someone else's dream. The world seemed to suddenly grow much larger, the landscape was dark and hazy; it seemed that there was more to discover in the vast darkness and that it would hold some type of reward if he did. There's so much to this, Harry realized the deeper he went into this new realm of magic. The scenery began to get clearer, and to Harry's astonishment, it looked like a much older rendition of the forest surrounding the spirit-tree. And then he felt the wind. Harry looked at his hands to make sure that they were still the pulsating fire-like substance and not regular flesh. No, he was definitely still in his luminous body; but how was he able to feel that wind? It shouldn't have been possible, but this was magic, after all, he doubted he would ever know everything there was to know about it.

A shimmering beacon of light seemed so tangible to him now, if he were to reach out, Harry was sure that he would be able to touch it. I can bring this back. That is what I came here to do. Harry reached a hand out; he was close to touching it. This is it. As soon as contact was made, the wind seemed to become stronger, the beacon of light was not just an abstract entity – it was a giant figure with a glowing aura. Its face seemed to be cloaked, but the fabric moved like it was made of the wind.

Harry felt a hand on his luminous shoulder – it was Flora in her luminous body as well. "You have made contact. Would you like to come and see what you have unleashed in the physical world?"

"It's there already?" Harry asked, thinking there was more to be done on his end.

"I would imagine so," Flora said with a knowing smile. "It would explain what is going on with the weather." The pair of them floated through the depth of the astral layer they had traversed and back to the physical. However, while still in his luminous body, Harry took in a rather curious sight; the same glowing figure that he had seen before now appeared in the physical world – right behind where his physical body was. "Do you see the fruit of your labor?" Flora rhetorically asked.

"What's it doing?" Harry asked. The being made no move to harm his physical body; it just hovered behind him with its arms spread as if to welcome someone into its waiting embrace.

Flora gestured with her arm to their open surroundings. "Look at the trees. The wind appears awfully strong for a normal fall breeze." She was right. The fall season was always a windy one in Midland, but the way it was now was unreal. It was as if an invisible twister had dropped down, and that luminous being was the epicenter for its cause. While it still made no move, the trees shook violently and the changing leaves fell off the branches in droves.

"That thing is causing all of this?" Harry asked. He had done so little to summon such a powerful entity, and this was what it could do, and it wasn't even moving.

"And you as well," Flora added. "Do not sell your own efforts short. An entity as powerful as this was easy to call forth because of its raw power. Without a specific narrow channel for power, it goes wild. Best return to your physical body and put a stop to it."

"How do I call it off?" was Harry's first thought.

"Tap your staff four times and point to the east," Flora instructed. "But you must do so with commitment; destructive power is easy to use, but harder to control." Harry sent her a nod of confirmation. He had to do so with commitment. The whole idea of summoning a greater power and being unable to control it… for some reason, he felt it acted almost like a behelit – like the one Griffith had once held. And Harry knew after that comparison that he would have no trouble calling off this entity.

His luminous body joined once more with his physical, and following Flora's instructions, Harry performed them with as much confidence he could muster. The entity behind him seemed to give a nod of its cloaked head and the wind began to finally die down. The trees stopped shaking and the leave stopped falling. As quickly as it as it had been channeled, the being began to disappear scattering with one final breeze of wind.

A polite clap brought Harry's attention to his teacher who had also joined with her physical body. "You traversed into that depth quite nicely, and you managed to bring something back with you for a time. Excellent performance, Harry."

Harry lightly bowed his head. "Thank you, but, what exactly did I bring back with me?" he had to know. If ever there came a time where he had to do so again, he'd like to be better prepared to handle the power that he helped channel.

"That was Ate," Flora answered. "One of the four spirits that help governs the elements. As you probably already guessed, Ate is the spirit of wind. He, along with his brother and sisters have largely been forgotten by the outside world, but their presence is still strong here in this forest. It would have been harder to summon them if that village – Enoch, was not so close by."

"Didn't you just say that they were largely forgotten?" Harry asked. It wasn't like Flora to contradict herself.

She nodded all the same. "True, but their history, like so many others has become a bit skewed over time. Now, the people who worship the Holy See know them as the Four Cardinal Kings. In that sense, their legend lives on."

"The Holy See, huh?" Harry mulled that over. It seemed that the Holy See had a much greater effect than just dealing with religion and witch hunting; they were rewriting history as well. This new piece of information only served to add to the growing mystery behind the religious order. Harry had asked Flora before what exactly happened when the Holy See had been founded and found that she was unusually tight-lipped about it. It was a tell-tale sign that either she didn't know (which was unlikely), or she was uncomfortable talking about it. All she had to say was that she didn't know all the details herself and that she was respecting the wishes of another by doing so. That led Harry to ask a follow-up question, this one pertaining to a certain contact that Flora had. She was surprisingly not shy about confirming that it was the mysterious Skull Knight. When asked if he was or had any relation to Emperor Gaiseric, she neither denied, nor confirmed it – rather, she let it hang in the air.

"How did the spell go?" the form of Schierke soon joined the two of them outside of the spirit-tree. In the two years since his arrival, Schierke had become more trusting towards Harry and rarely looked at him with suspicion as she once did. Once she realized that Harry was not going to rat out their location to any outsiders, she had become considerably friendlier. If Harry was having trouble with a spell or potion, she would offer her assistance even if she doubted herself. That was one thing that Harry noted about her after some time had passed; she wanted to help but doubted if she could. He suspected that it had to do with spending so much of her life isolated from the outside world. That was not to say that he disagreed of how Flora had raised the young witch, just that she lacked the confidence of a girl her age would from outside the forest. When he had figured that out, he couldn't help but compare it to how he used to be when he first met the Hawks; back then he was a timid little boy who was intimidated by nearly everything.

Harry had tried his best to assure her that her help was not going to waste; she had been studying magic longer than he had after all. It wasn't much, but it was a start on her own growth. The only thing she hadn't really grown in was height, only sprouting a few inches. Because of it, she often had to ask him to grab potions ingredients that were too high on the shelf for her vertically challenged being, much to her embarrassment.

"He has progressed far," Flora told her first pupil. "I trust the both of you have been practicing during your downtime."

"Yes," they both answered.

"I'm glad to hear it," Flora smiled. "You both have grown so much more proficient in your studies." That was another thing Harry noticed; while he and Schierke both grew in height and age, Flora remained the same as the day Harry had met her. It was yet another secret to add to the witch – along with whatever items she kept stored below the spirit-tree.

"I apologize for having missed it; I was busy with some of the golems." Schierke apologized. "And Ivalera got into some trouble with a few bees as well."

"My, that does sound like something that would keep you preoccupied," Flora admitted, although she said so playfully. "You weren't stealing any of the honey, were you?"

Schierke suddenly looked very pale. "O-of course not, mistress! I would never…" Harry knew that she was not being entirely truthful. He had caught her once in the middle of the night as she walked back to her room with a pot of fresh honey. The excuse that she was "sleepwalking" didn't fly.

"I believe her, Flora," Harry said vouching for the witch. "Since you moved it to the top shelf she hasn't been able to reach it." The look of gratitude she had given him was replaced by a deadpan expression. She wouldn't say anything because she knew he was right.

"Then my method has succeeded," Flora said, almost triumphant. "Although she could always use a levitation charm to lower it." Schierke took a sudden interest in her feet. The three soon retired for the night, the days had been growing shorter since summer's end. Entering his room, Harry filled a bowl with fresh water and used it to check his reflection so he could apply the rune over his scar. It had become a nightly routine for him. Getting onto the feather mattress, Harry was ready for sleep to take him.

He just wasn't ready for where it would take him.

In his dream, he saw death. It was everywhere, corpses were bloated and sickly looking – it was like they had been afflicted by some sort of plague. Rats and flies swarmed over the dead bodies, nibbling on noses and eyeballs, even crawling in the skulls of some to make a sick looking nest. The people who had not been afflicted ran from the infected corpses. There were thousands of them in total, and they were all heading for one place.

A large tower loomed in the distance, and the people seemed to rejoice as they saw it. As they ran, a burning inferno followed them every step of the way – they were trapped outside of the wall that ran along the length of the ominous tower. The fire was closing in on them. And then a shining form swooped down from the heavens, the beating of its wings was enough to stamp out the all-consuming flames. It was a white hawk, one that glowed with all the promise in the world.

It can't be…

But one section of flame had yet to burn out, and he soon saw why. It was a pyre. A mob of angry men and women have gathered around as they tossed torches on the pile of dry wood, cheering as it began to catch flame. And tied to a pole in the center of the pyre was a young woman. Her skin a soft mocha, her black hair had grown longer and messier since Harry had last seen it, but there was no mistaking who that was.

Casca…

No! No, he had to stop this. The crowd continued to cheer as the flames grew higher. Casca's dark eye reflected the fear she must be feeling at that moment – that and the deathly glow of the flames that licked at the dull rags that covered her.

The scene began to change, and Harry heard the hissing of a snake. His eyes scanned his new environment, and it was instead inside a very dusty old house. The person whose eyes he was seeing this through sat in an armchair close to the hearth of a fire. A very terrified rat-like man bowed before him – nervously eying the snake that circled the armchair. The rat-man presented the one sitting with a paper – and a feeling of pure unadulterated joy exploded over the man, and Harry felt it. His scar was burning from this man's happiness.

His emerald eyes shot open in a panic. His forehead was covered in sweat – probably from the first half of his dream. The perspiration had faded the ink he had drawn over his scar, leaving it vulnerable to influence. He wiped the smeared ink from his brow and quickly began to reapply it all over again. Once that was all set, Harry bolted from his door, intent on telling Flora as soon as possible.

Doing so brought him crashing into Schierke as she too was making her way to where Flora slept. "You're awake?" they both exclaimed.

"I had a dream," Harry began. "I saw plague and this tower-,"

"-Surrounded by fire," Schierke finished. She wasn't guessing, she knew exactly what he was going to say.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, almost unbelieving.

"I… dreamt something similar. Tell me, did you also see a great hawk of light?"

Harry slowly nodded. "Yeah, that I saw. And Cas-, a woman. Did you see a woman getting burned at the stake?" Harry knew he probably sounded desperate, but he had to know, was this happening now, or was it yet to happen. "And the man with a snake in an armchair, did you also see that?"

"I… no. No, I only saw the plague and the tower." Schierke shook her head.

"Well, what do we do?" Harry asked, sounding more frantic by the second. "If this is happening now-,"

"-Then what can we do?" Schierke asked him. "We have no idea where this could be taking place, and even if we did, there's no way that we could get there in time to stop any of it."

Harry couldn't believe it – he just couldn't. Casca was in the care of Rickert, Godo, and Erica. That tower was not near Godo's workshop. "There-,"

"-Having premonitions?" dressed in a nightgown of her own, Flora made her way over. "It would appear that I was not the only one to have such a strange dream."

"Please, Flora," Harry asked, "I need to know if what we saw was happening now, or not."

"To have been shared by this many people, it had to have been a vision," Flora determined, calmly. "These events have yet to transpire. As for when they will… I cannot say. However, some truths are known to us; I recognize that tower – the Tower of Conviction. The second – the Hawk of Light will bring nothing but darkness."

Castle Windham

It was early in the morning when all the reports started to come in. Only a handful of nobles were awake, including Sirs Laban and Owen. The first was troubling enough with the use of one word – plague. A deadly plague had broken out in some of the northern and central regions of the kingdom leaving hundreds dead or sick, and thousands seeking relocation. However, due to the deadly nature of the plague, the refugees were being denied entry to the city of Windham. It was for precaution of course, but that did not mean it was easy to have to turn away so many citizens. One place that offered them refuge was the town of St. Albion – the resting ground for the Tower of Conviction, an important structure for the Holy See organization.

Next, there was the increasingly pressing issue of the Kushan Empire. Scouts had reported that Kushan troops were spotted heading westward, already passing through some of the countries under Holy See jurisdiction. War would likely be upon them once again. And to further add to that, the King passed away only hours before. When the country found out they were without a leader, the Kushan would push forward without mercy.

"These are troubled times, my friend," Laban breathed a heavy sigh. "This is just one mess after the next."

Owen handed him another report. "I hate to see you so stressed out, my friend, but I'm afraid that this won't serve to ease that burden." Laban took the report and began to read its contents.

"Nosferatu Zodd?"

"He was sighted somewhere off to the West," Owen recited from the parchment. "From what we know he also possesses the ability to become one of those… monsters." The image of what Wyald actually was would forever stick with the two Midland Nobles. "I doubt it would be of any use to send a party to subdue him."

Laban nodded. "Indeed. He is beyond the measure of any regular human."

"Well, perhaps not one."

"You refer to the Black Swordsman? We have quite a few previous reports on that man."

"Yes," Owen recalled one regarding the daughter of a wealthy count and how she had been orphaned. "From the reports we have gained, he seems to have a habit of encountering these things." Strange how the witnesses under some of these monsters only came forth after they had been slain. Fear must have kept them from speaking out before. "He could be a great help to the kingdom."

Laban ran his hand over his beard. "Perhaps, but do the Holy Iron Chain Knights still hunt him? I doubt any influence we have would be of use to the Holy See."

"You're right," Owen relented. "But we are getting ahead of ourselves. The princess should be informed of her father's passing." Laban set the paper aside and walked with his comrade to the princess' chambers. Charlotte had been quite reclusive since the incident two years ago. She rarely left her room, and the only regular visitor was her handmaiden. As they neared the outside of the princess' chambers, they saw the aforementioned handmaiden run past with an embroidery kit in hand. They looked to one another in confusion.

The door was slightly ajar, and Laban gave a gentle knock. "Princess Charlotte, may we come in?"

"… Just for a moment," her voice sounded from inside. As they pushed the door open, they spotted the princess sitting up in her bed, the embroidery kit in hand as she began to thread a needle. Laban cleared his throat. How would he go about this? How does he tell the princess her father had died from heart failure?

"Princess Charlotte, this visit isn't under the most ideal of circumstances, but-," he saw that her attention was not on him or Owen, but on what she began to sew. "Princess?"

"I saw him," she said. "I saw his face… even if it was just in a dream; I saw him." He couldn't see much of what she was working on, but from what he could, it was the insignia of the Band of the Hawk.

By the time the sun had risen, Harry had made his decision – after two years, he was finally heading out. Flora, unsurprisingly understood where he was coming from in his choice. He had come to learn more about magic, and now he was proficient enough to practice it with ease. He packed up his staff, sword, and a few trinkets Flora allowed him to take with him, like a talisman for growing golems to aid him.

"You have learned much since your arrival," Flora praised. "I'm glad that I got the opportunity to teach you."

"I'm thankful for you teaching me in the first place," Harry said modestly. "I wouldn't know what I do if I hadn't sought you out." Saying his goodbye to her, he moved on to Ivalera and Schierke.

"So you're actually leaving?" Ivalera asked. "I'm not surprised. This was an all girls tree until you showed up, the environment must not agree with you." He had to work on suppressing an eye-roll.

"You're spot on, Ivalera." He thought he saw a tiny smile, but the elf was quick to fly back into the spirit-tree.

Schierke shifted on her feet before offering her hand for a handshake. "Give me your hand for a minute."

"I'm pretty sure a handshake doesn't last that long."

"It's not for that," she chided. "Just give me your hand, please." He did, and both of her hands held it steady as she began to tie something around one of his fingers. "There, done." He examined her handiwork. Tied around his finger were a few strands of green fabric.

"Uh… thank you for the gift." Was this her way of saying goodbye?

"It isn't just a gift," Schierke told him. "They're my hairs. You can use them for thought transference."

"For communication," Harry realized. Schierke nodded.

"Things are going to start changing drastically, and if you run into trouble along the way, I'll be able to help you out by means of telepathy. And also… I'd be able to see what the world is like from your perspective – and don't go and make a height joke out of that."

Harry examined it with a newfound perspective. "Thanks, I'll make sure that it gets put to good use." He patted the witches' hat on her head.

She looked away in embarrassment, but muttering a quick, "Your welcome."

With the goodbyes out of the way, Harry set out on the same path he had traveled before, this time a new journey awaiting him.

A/N: Happy Holidays! The Guts and Harry reunion will happen next chapter, and that should be up by the new year. Thank you for reading.