It wasn't until this moment, sitting against a filthy wall in a dungeon covered with troll parts with a troll popsicle sticking out of his leg that Neville Longbottom truly realized how little injuries he had suffered through in his younger years. He could hardly remember any, if he was being honest.
Not even the common scrapes and bruises on his elbows or knees when he fell over or the bruises from his grandmother's cane slapping his back reminding him harshly for his posture.
In fact, besides twisting his ankle when he was eight or taking three stunners to the chest during the quidditch match, he couldn't remember any other injuries he'd truly suffered from.
Which made his current situation all the more painful.
Neville was grateful for the pain-numbing charm Mara had cast on his leg before she left as he was sure to be in a huge amount of pain if he could feel the shard of frozen troll sticking out of his leg.
It had luckily stopped bleeding by now, whether a combination of the cold of the ice or his own body sealing up the wound. At the moment, he hoped it was the first as having his leg grow around the troll-popsicle piece was not something he wanted to experience.
Neville sighed, letting his head thumb back against the wall. He tried his hardest not to move his leg, the stiffness was uncomfortable but nowhere near the shooting stabs of pain that came from rustling the injury.
He really hoped the teachers got here soon.
Hope lit up in his chest as he heard the sounds of footsteps outside the wooden door. It opened, creaking and two familiar faces poked into the room.
The redheaded Hufflepuff who was Mara's friend, Lily and the third-year Ravenclaw who helped them, Something Grey.
Grey looked disgusted at the pieces of thawing troll all around them. It was beginning to stink even more in the room but Neville had long since gotten used to it.
"Merlin," Grey breathed, as if he couldn't believe what his eyes were transmitting to his brain. Neville huffed a half-laugh, feeling double the amount of disgust as Grey's face portrayed.
"Oh dear," Lily said, a hand covered her mouth as she spotted Neville's position.
The Gryffindor didn't know if it was his appearance or the troll-stuffed injury that had her looking so concerned.
"What in bloody hell happened here?" Grey asked, as he entered the room. Lily collapsed to her knees next to him, looking at his injury with a morbid fascination.
Neville got a spot of red hair peeking from Grey's back and noticed with astonishment that Ron was being carried piggy-back by the Ravenclaw. He was still out cold seeing as Ron hadn't made one of his terrible jokes by now.
"Oh dear," Lily sighed, looking between the injury and Neville's face conflicted.
"Am I going to die, Doc?" He gave a tired grin, only half-joking by the desolate look on her face.
Grey's lips twitched upwards into a hint of a smile and that was enough to make relief pour through his veins.
"No, but it seems to be healing over," Lily said, grabbing strands of her hair and twirling them in her hands. She seemed lost, unsure of what to do and Neville couldn't blame her.
He didn't know what to do and several times the thought of just cutting off his leg popped into his head unwillingly. But then he always remembered how Mara's leg had looked after taking on a Troll's club head-on and how now, it was perfectly intact. If they could save Mara's leg which had almost been torn off, they could certainly save his.
"You have extraordinary fast healing," Grey commented, his eyes widening at the wound, "It's probably accelerated by your magic unconsciously."
That was at least one good piece of news.
"That's good right?" He tried to joke.
"Not in this case," Grey shook his head, "It's trying to grow over whatever is stuck in it. Is that wood or something?"
Neville winced. "Not exactly."
Lily shook her head, "It was organic or at least it used to be." She said calmly.
It took only a moment for it to click in the Ravenclaw's brain and he flinched back, a look of disgust filling his face.
Neville laughed, "That's exactly how I feel." He pointed a blood-covered hand to the Ravenclaw.
"Can you do a stasis charm?" Lily asked, turning to the boy. "We can stop it from healing so Madam Pomfrey can take the piece out when we get to the healing wing."
Grey grimaced but nodded. Carefully, he set Ron's limp form on the wall, turning to Neville with his wand drawn. Neville only flinched once as the boy turned his wand on him.
"Prohibere," Grey waved his wand counter-clockwise and then slashing right. A green bubble formed around Neville's leg, shaping around the injury to cover it completely.
"Alright," Grey nodded, "It's almost midnight so the Headmaster should be getting my message soon. The Professor's will be down here soon. We'd better not be here when they do. Where's the other girl? The bushy-haired one?"
"Hermione," Neville bit out, because who else was here to defend her?
"Hermione, then" Grey relented, raising an eyebrow, "Where is she?"
"I don't know," Neville hissed in pain as Lily lended him a hand to help him stand. With one hand against the wall, he wobbled as he tried not to put too much pressure on his injured leg. Despite the pain-numbing charm, there were still stabs of pain in his leg. Not even magic could get rid of it completely.
No sooner than Neville had said that, the door his friends had gone through popped open. Hermione stood in the doorway, her eyes frantic as she surveyed them with surprise. She looked to Neville and his bum leg to Lily trying to carefully help him stand and then to Grey and the unconscious Ron.
"Oh!" She said. "Did you get the message? Are the Professors coming? I tried to stop her but Mara insisted on going after Harry. He tried to leave us behind and she just wouldn't have it. How did you two get past the defenses? Is Ron alright? And your leg, Neville? I was-"
"Breathe, Hermione," Neville grunted, sending her a strained smile. He hobbled, limping towards the front of the room with Lily having one of his arms thrown over his head.
"Oh, right. Sorry, I just…"She fidgeted, trailing off.
"As for your question, little Gryffin, The so-called defenses were way too easy to bypass. Devil's snare is one of the first plants you learn in Herbology and notoriously weak against fire and light. A simple wind charm or untransfiguring the wings on the key was enough to take it down. And we simply use the exploding charm to break through the chess pieces defenses. Again, any third year or above could take them easily." Grey listed off uncaringly.
Hermione and Neville both shot him glares.
Grey shrugged, "Just calling it like I see it."
The sound of a striking clock interrupted them. Grey tapped his wand on his wrist and wordlessly, the time appeared in glowing numbers above his wrist.
12:04.
It was midnight.
"Dumbledore should be getting the message and arriving soon," Grey said seriously, "Let's go."
Grey lifted Ron's limp form onto his back as Hermione grabbed Neville's other arm to help him wobble his way out of the room.
"How long until they get here do you think?" Hermione asked, lip wobbling as her eyes misted over.
"About twenty minutes, give or take." Grey answered. He looked over his shoulder at her. "Do you think they can survive with a full-grown wizard until then?"
"It doesn't matter if they can or not," Neville bit out, frustrated by Mara and Harry's lack of self-preservation, "They have to."
Grey smirked.
"Then they will."
Harry James Potter was not often wracked with guilt. Often, it was the presence of his twin that caused the feeling and undoubtedly, it was breaking his promise to his sister and leaving her behind for her own protection that caused the guilt currently twisting his stomach into pieces.
Harry frowned as Aura perched on his shoulder. She continued to send him disapproving waves through the bond, letting him know her displeasure at leaving Mara and Hermione behind.
Hermione, he could deal with. This wasn't her battle. She wasn't equipped to deal with a potential dark lord or a duel with a teacher. She'd probably faint before she ever raised her wand against a teacher.
Mara, however, Mara's shocked and betrayed face as he stormed through the flames, leaving the two in the potions chamber, was something that he could not deal with.
Because, undoubtedly, no matter how much he wished it wasn't, this was her fight.
It was Mara they had been trying to kill, Mara who defeated Voldemort the first time, and it was undoubtedly her he was after.
That didn't mean Harry would let it happen though.
Harry surveyed the next chamber doorway with distaste. It was simple, large and looming, much like the task ahead of him. There were no fancy carvings or misplaced priceless gemstones. It was just a stone doorway and a simple wooden door.
All he had to do was go in.
Harry sighed for the fifth time since he came into the chamber, fear and anxiety eating him from the inside as he struggled to muster up his courage to face what was no doubt, another life or death situation.
Aura trilled again, brushing her feathered head against his in a send of support. No matter how much she disagreed with him, she was still on his side.
"Thank you, girl," He praised her with a smile, grateful once more than he had ever met her. Far from the grime-covered and featherless creature he had saved in the abandoned shop in Knockturn alley, Aura was a vision to behold.
Gold and orange feathers glinted and shined even in the darkest rooms, Aura grew in size every day. No longer could she sit in his palms but instead, was a brilliant phoenix worthy of her name.
Harry took a deep breath, running his hand across Aura's feathers once more for support before facing the doorway.
"Harry!"
Harry swung around on the spot, his wand already in his hand and facing the intruder, a spell on the tip of his tongue ready to defend himself. His eyes widened, shocked at not the intruder, but his own sister.
"Mara?"
Mara stood at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall with one hand. Breena curled around her feet, as if trying to support her weight. Mara's face was red, her breath coming in short puffs as she no doubt had run all the way here on her injured leg.
Her eyes were narrowed dangerously, as if ready to punch him any second.
For a second, Harry wondered if he was perhaps hallucinating.
Harry ran forward, intending to help support her and then maybe berate her for somehow finding a way to follow him once again but just when he was in reach, Mara clenched her fists, squared her jaw, looked him right in the eye and swung her fist towards his face.
"That's for ignoring me all year!"
Her fist collided with a loud 'Thwack' and Harry swore he could see stars for a brief moment. He ducked as he staggered back, covering his head with his hands, holding the now throbbing injury as he looked up to stare at her incredulously. Mara wasn't done though.
She swung her fist to the left, and Harry flinched hands lifting to protect his head but she wasn't aiming for his head anymore. Mara's fierce punch hit his shoulder this time and he let out a yelp from the sudden pain as she yelled "and that's for hiding things from me!"
Harry covered his arm throbbing arm from her dangerous fists, stepping backwards and hopefully out of her violent reach. He glared at her, rubbing his bruised shoulder with a scowl.
Mara narrowed her eyes at him, emotions swirling in her eyes before finally, she kicked her leg out. Harry wasn't prepared for the change in tactics as her leg collided with his shin. He groaned in pain, doubling over as his hands clutched his now injured shin. It was definitely going to bruise.
"And that's for leaving me behind!" Mara said, a satisfied look on her face as she eyed his doubled over form.
Harry straightened, anger replacing any worry he had for her. He faced her with a snarl, his eyes glowing emerald in the darkness of the chamber. His hands shook at his side as he wanted nothing more than to curse her.
Mara's face suddenly softened, her anger draining away into something kinder. She smiled sadly, catching him off guard before she gripped his shoulders and pulled him into a hug, her warm arms wrapping tightly around him.
"You don't have to do this alone, Harry," Mara whispered into his shoulder. "You're my twin. We've always been together and we always will be. Don't push me away anymore. It hurts more than any injury I could ever receive."
Harry shut his eyes at her words, letting himself, just for this moment, clutch his sister back as tightly as she was to him. The guilt which had been eating away at him all but vanished, the tension in his shoulders he didn't know he was carrying relaxing into the familiar warmth of his sister's embrace. He could feel a burning in his closed eyes as he buried his face into her shoulder, letting her, for once, carry some of his weight.
"I'm scared," He admitted into her shoulder, his voice weaker than he would ever admit. He didn't need to explain, he knew she would understand. She always had.
Mara pulled back, gripping his hands in hers. Her eyes were rimmed with red and suspiciously misty but no tears fell. She squeezed his hands, a familiar gesture that proved to lighten his weighed down heart.
"Me too," She said, her hazel eyes gazing unflinchingly into his green ones. Her anxiety, her constant worry was nonexistent in this moment, entirely assured of what she was saying. She suddenly smiled, tilting her head in a familiar way, "But that's why we're twins."
Harry refused to admit the sudden wetness on his face or why. Mara didn't mention it either. They didn't need any other words. In that moment, the two understood each other once more.
Harry leaned forward, shutting his eyes as he bumped his forehead against Mara's. Her warmth was comforting and just as she did to him, he ignored her wet cheeks. They were silent for a long moment, relishing in each other's presence. Letting everything from this year wash away once more until there were only the two of them, just as it had always been.
They were twins for a reason.
They didn't need any more words between them. They had always been on the same wavelength. The twins stepped back, giving one another a reassuring smile, more confident as they clutched one another's hands.
Together, they faced the chamber doors and walked into the unknown.
Lanterns lit up the overly large chamber as the twins walked down the steps and towards the perpetrator. The smell of garlic should've been their first clue.
In front of them, in dark robes and a familiar purple turban was by far the last person either of them suspected. The dark eyes of their Defense against the dark arts teacher met theirs in the reflection of the very large and very familiar mirror.
The Mirror of Erised.
And standing innocently in front of it, Professor Quirinus Quirrell.
"Oh," Mara couldn't stop the dull gasp from escaping her lips. The revelation wasn't at all as shocking as it should've been or perhaps Mara was simply too numb from exhaustion for her brain to make the connection.
"You?" Harry exclaimed, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes widened in disbelief.
Professor Quirrel gave them a dark smirk, one that didn't fit the image of their professor whatsoever. The difference was so startling it left the twins speechless as Quirrell faced them, his back to the mirror.
"Me," He mocked them calmly.
Breena jumped from Mara's exhausted arms to the floor, growling at Quirrel. Quirrel raised an eyebrow at the ferocious tiger but said nothing. On Harrys' shoulder, Aura glared deeply and hatefully at the professor, her body lowered around his shoulders as if to protect him.
"You - you're working with voldemort?" Harry shouted, bewildered.
"You will respect the Dark Lord's name," Quirrel suddenly snarled. Any trace of dark amusement fell off the man's face, a scowl taking its place as he snapped his fingers.
Breena snarled, preparing to jump at him in protection but was caught mid-jump by dark ropes lashing around her, pinning her to the ground. The same ropes wound themselves around Harry and Mara's feet and Harry struggled to escape but his wand fell to the ground with a clatter. Mara shouted out as she tried to pry the ropes off her own body.
He cursed as the ropes wound around him pinning his hands and legs together. Aura screeched as she flew off his shoulder. She tried to pick at the ropes with her beak but nothing was working. Aura dodged one of the ropes that tried to wind itself on her talons.
'Fly away', Harry told her sternly, 'keep close and wait.'
Quirrel wasn't going to kill them or he would have already. He needed them for some reason, that much Harry understood. Aura's reluctance was clear through the bond but she listened as she flew higher into the rafters. Quirrell tracked her movements with a lazy eye, seemingly uncaring about the familiar.
Beside him, Mara struggled as the ropes bound her. Her struggling however, caused her to lose her balance as she fell forward to the floor. She wriggled around in the ropes but they only closed tighter around her causing her to give a muffled scream from where the ropes had closed around her mouth.
"Let her go!" Harry demanded, the only one between them not having his mouth covered over.
"Oh?" Quirrell raised an eyebrow, "And why would I do that?"
Harry didn't have an answer to that. He grit his teeth, grinding them as he struggled to find a way out of this situation.
He hoped to Merlin that Dumbledore or the Professors were on their way.
"It was all you," Harry realized painfully. "The break-in at Gringotts, the troll at halloween, sending the bludger after Mara, the unicorns in the forest - everything was you."
Quirrell looked impressed with him, "Why, of course it was. I admit I'm impressed with your deductive skills, Mr. Potter. You figured out what dozens of Aurors and even your headmaster, could not."
Quirrell narrowed his eyes and took a step forward to where Harry remained motionless caught in the trap of ropes.
"But it was not me you suspected, was it?" Quirrell looked amused, like he knew a secret Harry didn't.
Harry grit his teeth. He had been fooled, they all had been. Mara was the only one who didn't suspect Snape but he hadn't listened to her. He hadn't listened to her for the entire year and each time, he proved to regret it.
"Ah, I see now," Quirrell grinned, maliciously, "Of course you would suspect Snape. His persona was quite useful in diverting attention. Next to the overgrown bat of the dungeons, who would dare suspect p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrel?"
Harry glared at him, as fiercely as he could in this situation.
Quirrell turned his eyes to Mara, who lay motionless on the floor. She was still listening, breathing as evenly as she could in the situation. He knew without a doubt she was as terrified as he was.
"But your sister was not fooled, was she?" Quirrell flicked his eyes to Harry with a smirk. Harry struggled against the ropes, ignoring their tightening around him as Quirrell leaned down to grab Mara's bound hands behind her back and force her to ropes swirled, freeing her legs and mouth so she could walk and speak properly but her hands and arms remained bound tightly.
"Stop! Leave her alone!" Harry's cries went ignored as Quirrell forced Mara down the steps they came in and right in front of the mirror.
Quirrell looked into the mirror, his hands forcefully on her hands as she shook beside him. "This mirror is the key but It won't work for me. I see myself with the stone, giving to my master yet I can't find it."
He turned to Mara, who gulped, not looking at him.
"Maybe you can." He said flippantly.
Mara was breathing heavily now, her eyes wide and terrified as Quirrel shoved her in front of the mirror. She gulped, her eyes down at the floor and instead of the large mirror which loomed in front of her.
"Look at the mirror," Quirrell demanded.
Mara bit her lip, a familiar sting in her eyes as tears filled her eyes. She shook her head.
Breena was a messy ball of snarling fuzz, struggling as the ropes went tighter and tighter against her. Every time she almost got free, they pulled her to the ground as if bound to the stone floor. Harry had seen blood as she struggled against the ropes and winced at the pain she had to be in.
"Look!" Quirrell grabbed Mara's face and forced her head towards the mirror. Mara's eyes fell shut and she refused to look, shaking her head more firmly.
Confusion filled every inch of Harry's being. Mara was never this defiant, especially when in the face of real danger. All she had to do was look at the mirror. He recalled now over the Winter Break when they'd first found the mirror and how startled she had looked.
He had never found out what she had seen in the mirror but seeing her now, it must have shaken her more than he thought.
"LOOK AT IT!" Quirrell snarled, slamming her head forward until it connected with the mirror with a loud Crack. Mara screamed as she collapsed onto the floor.
"MARA!" Harry screamed. Quirrrel snapped his fingers and the ropes bound up Harry's mouth. Harry struggled, trying to get to his sister's collapsed form. He ignored the pain from the ropes binding his legs and arms, growing tighter and tighter with every movement he made. The red spots on the ground where Mara had collapsed were much more important.
Cracks appeared on the mirror where Mara's forehead had hit but it soon smoothed over like a shimmer of water over the silvery surface. It was like nothing had been there at all. Mara sobbed on the ground as blood poured from the wound on her forehead.
Quirrell glared at her, his face transformed into a furious snarl. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than to kill her right on the spot.
Quirrell reached down to grab Mara by her hair. She cried out in pain, and Harry struggled to reach her, begging his mysterious powers to activate but there was nothing. He felt cold, his eyes burning with unshed tears as he watched his sister be manhandled.
Quirrel forced Mara to face the mirror once more, screaming for her to look. Mara stubbornly refused, his grip getting tighter every time. Tears poured from her closed eyes.
Breena was struggling to breathe now, motionless in the mess of ropes that grabbed her. She wheezed in the mess of ropes which gripped her tightly.
"I - I can't…' Breena's wispy voice, filled with pain and without any breath came through his head. 'Help...help her.'
'Can't you transform like before?" He thought, desperately hoping she could hear him.
'No, no energy…' Breena whispered.
'Aura', Harry begged in his mind. Flashes appeared in his mind. His hand, glowing, his eyes, energy flowing through his body, flowing to Aura, her transformed form.
And Harry understood.
Harry dug his fingernails into his hand as he witnessed Quirrell slapping Mara across the face and dropping her harshly to the ground. Right now, he was useless.
"Master, what do I do?" Quirrell muttered to himself. A mad glint in his eyes as he paced back and forth in front of the mirror and where Mara was on her knees, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
A hissing sound traveled through the air, whispering in a low, dark voice that neither twin could make out. Goosebumps ran across their skin. Something was terribly wrong with Quirrell, other than the garlic and attempted theft.
"Of course, Milord," Quirrell replied to himself, a crazed look coming to his eyes. Quirrell sneered down at the trembling form of Mara before turning to the pinned form of Breena. He pointed his wand at the familiar just as Mara looked up at him. Her eyes went wide with terror.
"Please, no," She whimpered.
Harry struggled against his bonds, hoping beyond hope that something he did would get them out of this ropes wound around his hands and he felt something snap in his wrist. He cried out in pain, falling to his knees and then to the floor.
"Look into the Mirror and tell me what you see or she dies," Quirrell threatened, a dark look on his face.
There was no mercy, no compassion, no sympathy on his face. Just cold, hard and unrelenting resolve. He would do whatever it took, that much was clear.
"One," He warned.
A trail of blood ran down her forehead and mixed into the tears flowing from her eyes. She looked up at him, pleadingly, panic and pain in her hazel eyes.
"Please… don't...please…" She begged him.
For a moment, Quirrell's face twisted in hesitance. Fear and guilt took over his expression before the whispering was back. His face became stone once more, determined to follow through on his threats.
Any hesitance he had was gone and in its place was the cruel nature of the man before them.
"Two," He narrowed his eyes threateningly, his face twisting into a snarl.
"Please!" Mara cried.
"Three," Quirrell turned fully to Breena's limp form, with a dark sneer, "Avad-"
"Fine! Just don't hurt her!" Mara got to her feet, panic twisting her features into something unrecognizable.
Quirrell gave a winning smirk, lowering his wand. He sauntered over to Mara's silent sobbing form. He gripped her hair tightly and thrust her in front of the mirror.
Mara winced in pain, swallowing the sob that threatened to rise out of her chest. She slowly, hesitantly looked into the mirror.
Her reflection stared back at her, no longer covered in the sticky blood, sweat and tears her real life version no doubt was. She was older, taller, a vision of beauty and confidence as she looked down at her real life counterpart with pity.
The woman's face, for Mara saw no likeness beyond the color of their hair and the familiar features of her face, were striking and bore, unusually a reddish-pink eye color. Glowing, like she sometimes saw Harry's do, just in a different color.
The woman lazed on a throne, a crown-like object in one hand and leaning her head casually on the other. Her legs were crossed on the throne as if she naturally belonged there. Like a Queen mercifully granting an audience to her subjects.
There was no resemblance, no recognition.
The sight was an uncomfortable one, one that held no presence in the desires and wants of the eleven year old Gryffindor. She didn't understand why the mirror showed her this scene, why it was so certain she wanted nothing more than to be a queen.
Another figure appeared in the mirror, popping into existence behind the gold and gem-lined throne. This one was much more familiar. A tall man with familiar features, a smirk on his aristocratic features, his raven hair just as messy as real life. Only in the mirror, it was less a messy bedhead and more a handsome ruggish look.
His eyes were a familiar glowing green.
Behind the two, a red curtain seemed to rise as Mirror-Harry leaned on the side of the throne Mara's mirror counterpart lazed in. Behind the two, twelve shadows, humanoid in shape but obscured of any details from her wandering eyes appeared behind them.
Her older reflection swung her right leg off of her left and pulled herself into standing, right before where Mara was still kneeling before the mirror, Quirrell's hand gripping her hair tightly enough she worried he would rip it all out.
Her reflection, standing in all her glory, dressed in gorgeous black robes with a blush rose lining on them, seemed like a giant to the eleven year old. Her reflection was an unmovable mountain and she, a simple ant before it's presence.
Suddenly, Mara knew exactly why she had been shown this image.
Her Mirror self winked at her, her eyes still glowing that strange pink color. A chill ran through Mara's blood, freezing every bit inside of her.
It was all wrong. Everything in the mirror was the same, but it wasn't. Like seeing into a funhouse mirror, everything was twisted and reshaped until it was unrecognizable. This person wasn't Mara Potter.
Her reflection suddenly let out a silent laugh, as if responding in delight to Mara's thoughts. Her teeth were perfectly clean, white and brilliant in contrast to her flawless skin and perfect appearance.
"Well?" Quirrell demanded, squeezing his hand into her hair further, "What do you see?"
Mara bit her lip at the influx of pain, as if acknowledging it would make Quirrell's hands rip her skull out of her skin.
Her reflection sent Quirrell nasty glare, a haughty look which claimed as if he dared to touch Mara. Perhaps, it was the mirror responding to the sudden influx of hatred and resentment she had building for Quirrell.
Her reflection played with something in the mirror, tossing a bright red object up and down like a toy. The mirror-Mara met her own eyes with a smirk. Her mouth opened and the version trapped in the mirror said something to her, a silent string of words Mara was barely able to make out.
Mara's eyes opened wide with shock. Her reflection smiled kindly at the eleven-year old, still in the grasp of Quirrell, and placed the red rock-like stone in the pocket of her delicate and ornate dress robes. Incredibly, a weight filled Mara's own pocket.
Mara swallowed heavily, realizing in an instant what had happened.
And then incredibly, the mirror crack'd.
Her mirror counterpart split down the middle, two sides now as it continued to crack and splinter, moving inward to outward as it spread faster than Mara could even blink.
"No!" Quirrell shouted, letting go of Mara's hair and leaping for the mirror.
Mara fell to the floor with a grunt, slamming to the ground.
Quirrell's hand was outstretched as the mirror crackled under the force of it's breaking but right as he touched it, it was too late.
With a pulse of harsh magic, the Mirror shattered, scattering around the chamber in shards of glass.
Mara screamed, tucking her face to the ground as she was pelted with the flying shards. Cuts and slices were the worst of her problems though.
There was silence.
The chamber was settled, eerily quiet as Mara lifted her head, her eyes catching Harry's wide-eyed green gaze for a moment. Incredibly, Mara noticed the ropes binding her arms had disappeared, no longer holding her hostage.
Mara turned to look back at the mirror, hissing in pain as her hands scraped along the ground littered with mirror shards.
She took in a deep gulping breath, shakily getting to her knees, ignoring the cuts from the shards. She was lucky the armor had come in handy,
Quirrell was still. He stared into where the mirror used to be, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. Back to her, Mara knew she only a moment before he reacted, before his shock wore off. Mara looked over at Harry, taking reassurance in his emerald green eyes, so like their mother.
Truthfully, Mara always wished she had their pretty green coloring. She sent Harry a shaky smile, hoping it was at least somewhat reassuring as she prepared to do what was probably the most Gryffindor thing she had ever done.
She gathered every hint of courage inside of her heart, tried to calm her shaking fingers and with a count of three in her head, Mara knew what she had to do.
One.
Harry's eyes went even wider, panic coming across his pale face as he realized exactly what she was about to do seconds before she did it.
Two.
Mara sent comforting waves through her bond with Breena, though it ached to do so. Breena's suffering, her wheezing breaths came in clear through the bond, her aching lungs struggling to breathe from being wrapped so tight by the ropes.
'I can do this,' Mara thought determinedly, nearly stupidly.
Three.
Mara leapt up from the ground, pushing on her legs to get a running start as she fled as fast as she could to the exit, hoping she could at least be able to throw the stone before Quirrell could get his hands on it.
Harry had a front seat to the show. Saw Quirrell as he turned around to face Mara, rage blooming on his face like it was the only thing he knew, just as Mara kicked off from the ground, sprinting towards the exit with all she had.
Stupidity or bad timing, Harry didn't know. But he did know that he heard the moment the words came out of Quirrell's mouth. He watched the blood red spell travel from Quirrell's raised wand through the air right towards his sister's exposed back. He saw the moment it impacted, the way her face twisted up in agony, a scream tearing from her throat involuntarily. The way her muscles seized as she fell to the floor like she weighed nothing.
When Harry was five, he saw his sister's heart stop on the floor of their living room. He thought, after that, there was nothing that could scare him more than her motionless body, her eyes shut as if they never opened again.
He knew in this moment, he had been wrong.
Screams ripped out of her body, not sounding anything like Mara at all as they echoed through the nearly-empty chamber. Her small body arched right off the cold ground, her distant hazel eyes reflecting only the glassy pain from the spell. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, mixing into the blood already coated on her face. Every hint of color had vanished, replaced only with the red of her blood.
His twin, his sister, lay on the floor, screaming, thrashing, convulsing on the floor, held in place by Quirrell's wand. Her screams, ones of true agony, reached his ears and then bounced off the walls so he could hear them over and over again.
And there was Quirrell, standing perfectly still over her spasming body, his face and eyes perfectly blank, almost bored as he tortured Harry's twin.
For the first time in his very short life, Harry understood why people became murderers.
A screech filled with retribution filled the air as Harry's numb body suddenly reacted all at once.
A familiar rage settled underneath his skin, a raging inferno burning him from the inside out. Vaguely, he recognized the green flames engulfing his right hand, burning away the glove Hermione had bought for him. His scar, once hidden, came into view, an emerald against his pale skin, burning brighter than ever before. Harry looked down at the flames curiously. They didn't burn. They didn't scorch his skin like he knew they should've.
Instead, it was cold. Like dipping his hand into ice water, it coated his hand, a direct conflict with the fire his blood was now singing.
All reason was lost in the string of intoxication brought upon by the sudden euphoria of the flames. His head went blank, went fuzzy as if being dunked underwater but he had never felt so clear. Had never felt so…
Powerful.
Harry snarled dangerously, loudly, his lips curling as his eyes, now burning from the power burning inside of them, different from the tears that had slipped out earlier. This was a savage power, ready to devour anything in front of him. His snarl was the only warning he would give the monster torturing his sister. He struggled against the magical ropes binding him, feeling them not as the ropes they were but instead as circles of magic tightly bound around him.
It was dark, a deep color much like the dark magic swirling around the back of Quirrell's head. It was dangerous, it was unnatural, it was wrong.
A bastardized version of magic that Harrys' swirled up to meet instinctively. Quirrell turned to face him, looking much like their old professor as fear flashed across his pale and gaunt looking face.
On the floor in front of the dark wizard, Mara curled into herself, forming a protective ball, hiding her face underneath the layers of her burning red hair. Her whole body trembled, visibly shaking underneath the waves of aftershock from the torture spell.
Protect.
Harry gripped his right hand, glowing and surrounded with the green flames and reached up to grasp the magical ropes around him. All at once, the ropes fell, disappearing under the sheer fire that consumed him. Ashes fell in their place, the dark magic that had conjured them flinching away, screeching as his own consumed it whole.
Quirrell flinched.
Harry, more monster than boy tilted his head, eyeing his prey as all his instincts screamed and raged in his chest to kill. To destroy. To protect.
Harry welcomed it like an old friend, greeted the flames until there was no telling where Harry the boy began and Harry the monster started.
A cry sounded out, a familiar one that promised just as much fury and retribution as Harry himself, emerald green flames appearing behind him. His magic reached out automatically as Aura's empowered magic entwined with him.
She was a flame now more than a bird.
Aura let out a screech, a war cry as she took to the sky, a flaming bird among the dark cavernous chamber.
Harry clenched his phoenix wand in his hand, the magic pouring through the wand, straining the core. He turned his wand onto Quirrell and they began to duel.
Quirrell was frantic, panicked as he pushed spell after spell out of his wand. Harry was more creature as he ducked and dodged the man's dark spells. From Above, Aura dove all of her flaming mass right at the offending man yet Quirrell proved to be more crafty than he let on. He used the shield charm to block Harry's endless stream of spells while conjuring rocks or boulders to throw at Aura. Harry kept his eyes narrowed on his prey, analyzing his movements, his patterns.
The Bond between Aura and Harry was bright, lighter than they had ever felt before as their emotions, their thoughts all became one. They moved in harmony, not letting up on the man once as they ducked and doged, pushed the wizard around as if a cat toying with a mouse.
Bone-crushing spell to his right, Harry ducked, keeping his eyes on the man before him at all times, never losing sight of his prey's panicked gaze. Quirrell's eyes moved frantically between Harry and Aura's flight above. Aura trilled, attracting Quirrell's attention for a millisecond and Harry took advantage of the distraction, shooting out a chain of spells as he weaved to the right, Aura going for an attack on the left.
Quirrell moved backwards, summoning the mirror shards on the floor to attack Aura's path, causing her to take a dive upwards to avoid them while sending a shield charm to protect him from Harry's barrage.
It was a time-consuming battle. Harry had unlimited Magic and power on his side but Quirrell was an experienced wizard, one with control and expertise.
Seamlessly, Harry's eyes tracked Quirrell's spells, each one leaving his wand sloppily as Harry grew closer step by step. Harry's wand protested underneath his fingers, screaming as he pushed the fire in his blood through his arm and into the wood. Aura sang in response to the wand's cry, hearing it's crack underneath the pressure of their magic.
Harry couldn't be bothered to pay attention, instead focused only on the dark wizard before him. His pretty was sloppy, full of openings and mistakes as panic and fatigue took over Quirrell's mind.
Harry sidestepped another dark spell, vaguely hearing the wall behind him explode from the force of the purplish spell. Quirrell staggered back, having exhausted his reserves and energy, his breath coming in heavy wheezing pants.
Harry caught him. He thrust his wand towards Quirrell, pushing the hungry magic through the phoenix wand. The Emerald Green Flames followed his will, bursting out of the end of his wand with a ferocity unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Quirrell's eyes widened as he hastily threw up a shield charm.
The Flames hit the shield in a glory of emerald fire. Harry spotted faint cracks on the shield and planted his feet more firmly on the ground, gritting his teeth harshly enough he could almost feel them crack.
He pulled from the magic now radiating from his right hand and forced every inch of magic into his wand.
From above, a loud screech filled the air as Aura dived for the opening in Quirrell's defense, her flaming body a tornado of emerald as she descended upon the unsuspecting man.
Quirrell couldn't block them both.
Aura's form was lost in the mass of flames as a stone monolith rose from the floor, cutting off Harry's view of Quirrell and his familiar. Screams filled the hair, harrowing wretched pain-filled screechs and for a moment a single moment, Harry lost control.
The flame wavered and the phoenix wand had enough. It exploded in his hand with a harsh force, pushing him backwards onto his back as he lost his grip of the wood. He wheezed as he tried to get air back into his lungs.
His right hand was in pain. A fierce agony and looking at the mangled limb, he could see why. Covered in harsh burns, the top layers of skin had peeled and turned a mixture of reddish-pink with the sides of the wounds all charred. Shards of what looked like wood from his wand and other reddish fragments were embedded into the burned layers of his skin, all the way up his wrist and part of his arm. The back of his hand was still glowing, the weird mark flickering that green glow but compared to the burns, it now looked like child's play. Harry's entire palm was now bright red, blistering beneath his eyes and he squeezed right above where the burns ended on his arm, opening to relief some of the fire in his hand.
Harry was unashamed of the tears flowing from his eyes as the painful burns on his hand. He doubted he could hold a wand anymore.
Aura was in front of him in a flash, her golden feathers no abc to normal as the magic he had been using had once more faded from his system. Aura trilled sadly at his hand, leaning over his hand to let tears drop. He sighed in relief as the cold tear hit his burn, letting the fire in his hand aside.
He was' sure what to do about the fragments in his hand but at the moment, all he cared about was the relief as the phoenix tears healed his burns before his eyes.
Harry looked over at the Stone Monolith, afraid that Quirrell would appear any second now.
"YOU!" Quirrell's voice screeched, rebounding through the room. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"
Quirrell screeched once more, sounding like a mindless banshee than a man as he appeared, holding onto the monolith, doubled over. A hand covered his face as he steadied himself on the stone. His clothes were burnt and still smoking. His turban was practically falling off his head, revealing his bald head below.
"YOU!" Quirrell looked up, his wand in his right hand, leaving his face open for Harry to see. Harry flinched back, unable to help himself as he viewed the horribly burned side of Quirrell's face.
Like he had been hit in one side by a fireball, Quirrell's face was entirely burnt on the left side looking much much worse than Harry's hand even as the red was overtaken by the charred skin. The normal half of his face twisted in agony and fury as he aimed his wand at Harry.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The green jet of magic shot out from the end of Quirrell's wand, heading straight towards Harry's injured form. Harry's heart leapt to his mouth as he saw the killing curse head straight to him. Green filled his vision and he thought 'This is it. I'm going to die.'
Tears burned the corners of his eyes, pleading in his mind for a miracle. He didn't want to die. He wanted to LIVE!
Harry shut his eyes, flinching at the impact.
But there wasn't one. A Screech filled the air and Harry was for only a moment, filled with assurance, hope filling his chest like a balloon.
Then, the bond between him and Aura went deadly silent.
"NO!" Quirrell's voice screamed in outrage.
Harry didn't need to open his eyes to understand what happened. Didn't need to confirm with his own eyes, he just knew.
But he still did.
Eyes wide with disbelief, shock numbing his entire body, he opened his eyes. In front of him was a pile of ashes.
Aura was nowhere to be seen.
"Stupid bird," Quirrell spat out a wab of blood, facing Harry once more.
Harry was cold all over, every inch numb to his very core as he realized that Aura, his companion, his familiar was dead. Killed protecting him.
The anger he had grown accustomed to, the dark swirl of magic that was constantly pulsing from his hand was completely gone. There was nothing left inside of him, just an aching empty hole.
It was quiet, too quiet. Everything was suddenly wrong, the world was tilted on its axis and Harry was left the wrong side up. His skin was too uncomfortable, like it had never belonged to him in the first place.
Harry didn't realize he was shaking until his left hand reached out towards the pile of ashes at his feet. Harry's hand was interrupted by a thick leather boot slamming down on his hand. Harry couldn't even feel it as he looked up at the perpetrator, following the leather boot to the person he knew was standing above him.
Quirrell nastily sneered down at him. Up close, his face looked even worse, like half of his face had been melted away leaving behind the red and black charred tissue. Quirrell's left eye was completely gone, leaving only a black socket in its wake. Normally, Harry would be disgusted, repulsed by his former Professor's appearance.
But Harry didn't feel anything.
Quirrell's wand pointed down at his face, inched away from Harry's nose.
"Now, for you-" Quirrell suddenly cut off, his good eye going wide.
Harry knew why only half a second later when all the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. Like he was choking on nothing, Harry felt a desperate need to breathe as he inhaled as much as he could.
He was sure this was what it was like to be in an air Vacuum.
Magic.
A magic he couldn't describe filled the air, filling him with a sense of danger as all the hair on his arms rose. He felt like a baby gazelle with a lion's gaze on them.
His hands shaking, he cautiously, slowly turned around.
It wasn't a predator. It wasn't a monster or a wild beast. It wasn't a dark creature or a light creature.
Long, red hair framed around a heart-shaped face, dried blood pouring down half her face into unnaturally glowing bright blush colored eyes. Her porcelain face was oddly blank, like a doll without an expression as she looked at them curiously. Her bangs fell to one side as she tilted her head, revealing a glowing mark on the side of her forehead. Much, much darker than the lightning bolt, it was a scar that looked identical to the one on his hand, yet in a different pattern and glowing a rose-pink.
She walked like she was half-drunk, unsteady on her own feet as she approached them, her eyes still glassy like she wasn't all there.
"YOU!" Quirrell shouted, a frenzied look on his face. His wand switched targets faster than Harry could blink and before Harry could even get out a single protest, the spell was flying.
It took only a second.
One second, she was there, across the room with her eerily blank stare and then next, she was in front of Quirrell.
Harry watched in slow motion, his eyes wide as her hand was coated with a pink rose colored magic, swirling like a tornado around her pointed open hand, all fingers in one direction. Like a sword, she plunged her hand straight into Quirrell's side.
All time seemed to stop.
Harry watched with wide eyes, not even breathing as he watched her hand pull back, coated not in the pink magic but the red of Quirrell's blood.
Quirrell fell to the ground with a loud thump.
Harry wasn't sure he was even alive but he didn't particularly care at the moment.
The girl with rose-colored eyes turned to look at him, her head tilted like a cat watching something curiously. Behind him, Magic swirled, forcefully breaking. Harry had only a moment to look.
Breena's form was gone, her heavy wheezing turning to snarls. Her form was much scarier than he had ever seen from her. Her eyes, normally that yellow that cat's had were now the same rose pink.. Breena had grown maybe four times in size, a huge looming full-grown tiger filling up the empty chamber. Her white fur seemed to glow like a ghost, almost see-through as her stripes and spots normally colored black were that same unusual pink.
Her teeth grew, her mouth opening in a roar as her bloodthirsty eyes landed on Harry. There was no recognition, no control, only a beastly devouring in her eyes as she considered the injured boy.
In that moment, Harry was more afraid than he'd ever been in his life.
Breena or whatever she was now, took two leaps across the room, curling around the unnaturally still form of the girl. Breena dwarfed the girl but in this moment, the two were equals.
Rose-colored eyes met his, empty and forlorn.
Only the name of the girl slipped from his lips unwillingly.
"Mara?"
It hurt.
It hurt like nothing else she had known before. Like thousands of needles digging into her flesh, drilling into layer after layer, filling every inch of her body with the painful sparks. Like every nerve had been doused in kerosene and lit on fire. She could feel the flames as they burned her alive yet also froze her from her fingertips to her chest. She could feel the drills hitting her blood stream, releasing the virus that was the torture spell into her very blood. She could feel it carry through her body as her heart pumped the poison through her veins. There was no stopping it now, it consumed her in pain until that was all that remained.
Quirrell's face was twisted in Apathy, emotionless to the fire burning her alive, eating any good part of her and leaving only the darkest, most wretched pieces of her soul. He felt nothing. She felt everything.
And in the moment that her eyes connected with his blank ones, she knew without a doubt that her father had been right. Only monsters could cast such a curse.
Yet, this was not a monster.
This was a man. And that was what truly scared her.
The spell grasped hold of her reason, her sanity, though it was only a few seconds, it felt like years underneath the spell's control as she writhed, she turned, begging for release. Someone was screaming in tune with the pounding forte of pain in her brain. She wanted- no, needed them to stop, for their chorus to cut off.
It wasn't until the spell abruptly ended that Mara realized the screams had been coming from her own lungs.
She heaved on the ground, a foul taste in her mouth from the magic that had violated her every being. She sobbed and gasped, hoping for air to fill her bruised lungs. Her limbs refused to work, laying on the ground as she collapsed instinctively into a small ball, making herself as small as she could be of fear of the pain returning.
Her hands shook, her face soaked with tears and sweat as she sobbed loudly on the ground, unsure of how much time had passed or even what was occurring any longer.
There was only the throbbing pain in her joints, her nerves, every part of her bruised in a way she couldn't describe.
Idly, she saw flashes from underneath the curtain of red hair which protected her from the outside world. Saw the multicolor streams as two figures battled, side-stepping in a dangerous dance. Two partners with the intent to kill.
Her head hurt, it throbbed against the cold floor of the cement ground below her.
She begged, pleaded to anyone listening to her wild, shaking thoughts for the pain to end.
Her forehead grew hotter, a heat overtaking her as it trailed from her temple, like a slow liquid unfolding inside of her. Everything it touched, all at once went numb.
Her headache disappeared, her throbbing, bloodied head was gone. Like trapped in ecstasy, she collapsed in relief as all the pain, the fire was quenched in a bottle of ice.
It flowed down, relieving each part of her silently.
She felt like she was floating, like surrounded by a flurry of icy clouds. This was perfect.
And then, all at once, the ice, the clouds, the relief were gone and it left behind, nothing.
Like a shell without it's core, she was empty. Nothingness washed over her until the person she used to be drained out of her like a bird jumping from a nest.
It rushed through her veins, coating her blood, her nerves, seeping into her very bones until only the girl remained.
She hadn't realized she had gotten to her feet until she saw the flash of magic in her vision. She couldn't remember moving but her hands were now covered in a sickly red. The dark, unnatural magic clung to her hand as if trying to devour her. Disgusted, she allowed her magic to rise through her hands, devouring and cleansing the dark remnants.
Then she saw a green eyed boy in front of her. Kneeling on the ground, one hand horribly wretched open from a strong magic. He stared at her and she realized she liked his eyes.
A second magic flared from across the room and the bond in her chest lit up like a fire. A pull on her magic and she spotted the tiger's rose-colored eyes, mirroring her own. IT's magic reached out, pulling at her own as it joined her across the room. She reached out a tender hand, softly stroking it's ghostly white pelt.
"Mara?" the boy whispered, emotions she couldn't name flickering in his pretty green eyes. He was familiar, and she was sure she had seen him once before but she couldn't place him. She couldn't think with the apathy clouding her ears. He had a name, she knew, but for now she'll just call him 'Green Eyes'.
She likes him, she decides and she tries to smile, tries to remember how to be human. She bares her teeth, her lips crooking into a smile she hoped was non-threatening. He flinched back, almost scrambling away on his hands.
She didn't like that.
She grabbed his chin unsure of when she got so close but wanting him to look at her. His eyes are so pretty, even wide and coated in fear.
Something dark and red smeared his pretty pale face. She frowned, looking at her hand curiously. The red substance was all over her fingers too, dripping down her arm like a poorly spilled ink.
Just a little taste shouldn't hurt.
She licked her finger, curiously as she pondered once more.
Not ink then.
Someone was screaming, shouting.
She thought she vaguely recognized his voice, the child rising up from inside her deeply locked chest to try to remind her.
The girl frowned, forcing the child back underneath the layers of nothing, forcing the drug to pacify her once more.
Why should you fight when the nothingness feels so good?
A hand grabbed her shoulder, landed with a tight grip that the girl knew was going to bruise. She was lucky she couldn't feel it, lucky the apathetic taste in her mouth was too numb to recognize the pain. Her magic rose with his aggression and behind her, the tiger growled warningly at the man but he seemed far too gone to understand.
The Girl looked at the man connected to the hand, seeing his other hand holding a bloody wound on his side. His eye inflamed with rage, the other half of his face coated in a dark green fire, the remnants of a strong, familiar magic.
There was something on the back of his bald head, a creature clinging to life with a dark, nasty unnatural magic.
A Homunculus.
The man was displeased. His face curled into a snarl as he pointed his wooden stick down at her.
How foolish.
The Girl grabbed hold of the stick faster than he could finish his gibberish sentence, snapping it in two with a satisfying crack.
"Eat." she commanded to the familiar by her side.
Her familiar wasted no time now that the girl had the stick coated in magic. Her ghostly tiger leapt to the man, snarling as he fell backward onto the ground, screams coating her ears.
She turned to Green eyes and could feel the ground turn red, the man's magic being absorbed through her bond with the familiar.
She watched, apathetically as the man's life flickered and then faded. As the ground bled red, the Homunculus latching onto the man's body finally forced itself free of the connection, forming a gaseous form. Breena let go of the man, snarling at the Homunculus as it left its host, lost in it's direction. The body beneath it turned into ashes, cremated in front of her eyes as it left only the man's clothes precariously on the floor.
The Homunculus rose from the former man, now a black cloud similar to dust, a face forming in its state as it took off through the walls of the chamber, screeching in pain.
The Girl tilted her head, uncaringly.
She paused, confused as a new magic rose from her own chest, something buried deeply within her.
'Sleep.' A musical voice said in her head. The magic in her chest began to absorb her own rose power and the girl was suddenly very, very tired.
'Sleep now. It's not time yet.' The voice, the child inside of her thought was familiar, echoed back, draining the drug like magic.
Sleep sounded nice all of a sudden. Even though she had just woken up.
"MARA!" Someone shouted, a familiar voice.
The boy from before was in her vision, floating in and out as darkness crept around the corners of her vision. The boy knelt beside her, pleading something or the other.
It didn't really matter did it?
She was suddenly tired.
His green eyes really were pretty.
She hoped she saw them when she woke up.
And the girl slept.
"Mara," Harry said weakly, unsure of what to do. He cradled his burned hand to his chest, kneeling beside his unconscious sister.
Breena had collapsed next to her, the tiger back to her normal form.
Harry still felt sick to his stomach, still couldn't process that he had just seen his sister order her familiar to eat their former professor. And the dark cloud that rose after he was dead.
Harry swallowed, trying to push down the nausea rising in his stomach.
His sister, his kind, pretty, honest sister had just murdered someone. The Girl-Who-Lived was a murderer now.
The same sister which was now unconscious. He was unsure if she was dead or not. The scar on her forehead, the one identical to his own was open now, though no longer glowing.
Harry looked to the dead body of Quirrell, his unconscious sister, the limp form of breena and the pile of ashes that used to be his familiar.
Tears poured down his eyes, uncaring now at being seen as weak. He wanted everything to go back, wanted to rewind before he ever had the stupid idea of coming down here.
Harry leaned over into his sister's limp body, pleading silently for someone, anyone to come help him.
"Help," His hoarse voice, too weak to be heard, wasn't able to carry but a few inches.
As his energy was sapped out of him, Harry collapsed next to his sister, reaching out with his good hand to hold hers. He cried silently, his blurry eyes closing as he fought not to black out.
Right before his eyes closed, he saw a blood red stone sitting innocently on the steps. Before he fell into unconsciousness, he swore he heard the cry of a phoenix.