Act Two Chapter Two: The Moon II

Welcome back, everyone. The new update is here. I think I will be doing shorter chapters from now on rather than 5,000 like in my middle chapters instead in the mid 3,000 range. If you guys want, I could go back to 5K but I am not sure how much longer that would take.

This chapter was odd as it came out to be over 22 pages in word (spacing between paragraphs) but only 3k words.

Dialogue is weird like that.

Speaking of is my dialogue easy to follow?

In other news the finale of Fate/Stay Night was amazing and seeing it in theatres was amazing.

I wore a mask in an empty theatre.

So ya. See Fate/Stay Night Heavens Feel Spring Song if you have seen the other two.

If not watch UBW then the Heavens feel movies than Zero then go nuts with everything else.

On to reviews.

There is one.

Ob5curu5: I hope nothing I do appears from out of nowhere. If you don't understand something I need to do a better job as a writer. Thank you for loving my atmosphere, I work hard for that effect, so seeing it come out makes me feel like I did something right.

On to the normal spiel.

Please review. I do love to get those reviews; they make me feel good. As always, I need a beta, I think this chapter will show that more than most.

Rights are to JK Rowling and Warner brothers. Please write a review, feedback would go a long way to improve my work. I don't care if you want to tell me I am the worst writer ever (if you do please tell me why and what I can improve) just tell me what you think!

The High Priestess had a control of magic Harry would never match. The shadow that engraved onto the servant had knowledge the puppet he wore used. Harrys mind worked, it fought against the desire to follow, but his feet walked. His voice strained to shout, but his mouth would not open. The shadows' influence alone held him in complete control. Unable to put any resistance against it.

The voice that issued instructions was familiar.

It matched a voice he often fought, the whisper in the corner of his mind. The dark thoughts, those are which pulled him now, ever amplified by its matching commander. For the voice was never his. Always belonging to the shadow.

The servant's body deteriorated. Months of absence from performing the evil ritual culminated in a fractured being with fractured magic. Pushing forth and using that magic destroyed the body further. Every trap they waded through had him coughing blood. Each creature which blocked the path they traveled had skin falling to the floor.

The servant lived on borrowed time. The necromantic force of the shadow, the only thing tethering his withering and broken soul. He cried and begged for it to end, but the master's promise always brought him forward.

"You will be whole."

"Your curse removed."

"The world will raise a vast empire for you."

But soon the promise of power no longer sufficed, the pain was too much, no longer the selfish gain could bring him to step.

"I will kill her."

"She will be the next host."

"She is pregnant."

It was enough to get him to continue, enough to keep walking on, despite the body's resistance.

The last chamber stood as massive as The Entrance Hall.

No more traps lay between the room's entrance and the far object. Besides the single other object and the flaming braziers around, the room stood barren.

They walked, and the servant gripped at the object's cover. A familiar cloth fell to the floor.

Before Harry stood Erised. She had returned.

The gripping resistance reentered his being, the overwhelming urge to flee before she took hold again on him. His allies warning her curse.

But yet.

She was beautiful.

The shadow berated his servant; the man appeared incapable of breaking the ultimate trap, for Erised was not the shadow's goal.

How foolish he was.

Erised was greater than any other. Any mortal could not ignore her splendor. Her being was perfect.

Just being near brought warmth, comfort, familiarity. Seeing the mirror would bring the excellent memories of his mother, his father, of home.

The failures of the servant led the shadow to reprimand the man, but no threatening allowed him to complete his task.

Apparently, the shadow expected the failure. Thus, it was time to use him. For he could beat the protections placed.

"Stand before the mirror, look into it."

It spoke a command that brought resistance, the first time he had no desire to fight.

He desired only to see her.

He peered into the endless being before him, and she looked back. She did not reveal her beauty, instead, something far stranger happened.

"Hello, Harry." She spoke with the voice of a summer breeze. She kissed his cheeks, leaving behind wanting burns. "Welcome back."

The kiss welcomed him awake. The comfort of his pillow failed to draw him from his dreams, no, the sun kissing his face did that.

"I really need to shut my shades."

The Moon.

It had been three days since the Auror and Hitwizard saw fit to ruin his night. Each day he peered for the next to arrive. Maybe carrying a warrant for himself? That much never happened. The daily watchman had abandoned their post, and the nights had only blossomed because of their prolonged absence.

The first day the occupants showed caution, perhaps they had taken the necromancer's advice and sent fitter men, but everyone was a regular, each of them without ties to the public officials.

On the second night, leading to his current position, The Head acted rambunctious to an advance degree. The room laughed and joked, free of worry as the constant weight and pressure of security left them. They no longer had to watch their words for upsetting nothings. No longer did the constant threat of an improper arrest hold them down. They smiled and laughed and shared stories, to the point that even Ariana watched on with bright eyes, the flowers of her field forgotten.

The werewolf spoke of before. A family which he lost, a son, a daughter, a wife. He told the tales of their happiness, and of him being forced away.

Why did people hate werewolves, if only they knew how much they hated themselves?

He spoke quiet words with the vampire who feasted on Germans only. The power dynamic between them always stood, though Henri hoped he would forget it.

Turned in Germany by a German, his first taste had been German.

He hated them, for they failed to protect him, and then failed to keep him around.

Vampirism was illegal in Germany, to the sentence of death; Death being staked to the bottom of the Mummelsee and burned by the gradual rising sun.

He pitied the once woodcarver, only a century ago he crafted beautiful statues, now he lived in fear of them. His old devotion had turned into his death. Even in his unlife, he desired for goodness, but the darkness ever suggested otherwise. Mental lapses made people die. H could hardly contain his happiness upon meeting the necromancer, for here was a man who made him a leash. Someone who could choke the concept of evil from him.

That was also a shocking moment.

When he overcame centuries-old Occlumency in a few short minutes of conversation.

It only made the man smile.

The Moon.

His third night was not as lucky.

It started similar to the previous two; the occupants acting free of the burden that normally rested over the hall. The rambunctious nature of the customers flowing into the coffers for the store. This spending and celebration continued until an unfamiliar face entered.

Well, unfamiliar to most.

Harry plainly made out the stoic witch who strode into the celebratory room as if she owned it. Her regal face and strong shoulders pushed people back by her presence alone. Icy blue eyes scanned the room and brought her to Abe behind the counter. She approached with Auror Williamson in tow.

The room had quieted, most members too frightened to move. She had a reputation, one well-earned if previous newspapers would be believed.

"'Lo Amelia." Dumbledore greeted, a forced smile on his wrinkled face.

Amelia Bones before becoming Chief Auror was a subjugator on the battlefield. She was an efficient murderer who eliminated many when she battled in the war against The Dark Lord. Voldemort, that was the name he called himself back then. The boy named Tom would become Voldemort, so the shadow had told him.

Amelia was a destroyer of lives; she took and took with little regard for the circumstance of what she fought.

Her capture rate for humans on the other hand was perfect. It was by her wand that the members of Azkaban without Moody's name belonged to her. The things called dark creatures never had that luck. She wielded light magic very well, her pure nature allowing the light of the world to shine through her wand. Harry guessed it was holly and unicorn hair.

"Back to you, Aberforth." She nodded at him. "I have come to speak with the one called Henri."

The crowd murmured, and he sank into it. Crawling into the pit to avoid any further conflict would get him out, perhaps running?

"Why do you want the kid?"

"Just some questions."

"That it?"

"If you wish I can make it formal." The command was not subtle. Comply or an arrest will occur.

"Can we go to my room?" Henri asked above the crowd, stepping out from the patrons who tried to shelter him. The resistance needed to push past was more than he could have ever hoped.

"Kid just use a private room, try 205."

"Thanks, Abe," he turned his attention to Amelia and stage whispered, "he is mad I forgot to clean my room." With a wink to Dumbledore, he led Amelia to the room in question, flicking his wrist to withdraw his yew and pushing magic into the lock, popping it open. "So, what do you wish to talk about?"

The Moon.

"You can stop that you know." For the first moment, Harry heard the man speak. The bald man wore a serious face, matching that of his companion. His brown eyes saw everything. It peaked at every corner, searching for anything unordinary. His eyes were sharp. Incredibly so.

Harry knew what they said about his eyes, you could not hide from them. They saw into your soul and penetrated any lie, feeling, emotion, or thought you had. They were correct. He could achieve all that and more by peaking with his eyes, thus his schoolmates avoided it.

All but Tracy.

He missed her. So much.

Maybe he could write.

"We know you are Harry Potter; the blonde dye is not fooling anyone." The smile left Harry's face. His eyes saw through, but this man saw everything. Movement could be seen without his focus. Details picked up no matter the size. If Harry saw through this man saw everything. Tells, hideaways, and cover would not aid against the Auror known as Williamson, it's a folly to try.

The balding man must be a fantastic companion for Auror Bones. The scope to her gun. He aimed her where she needed to be and let her finish the fight.

Between the two who is stronger, the fighter without sense or a sense without movement.

"Do you now?" The French façade stayed put. "How did you reach that conclusion?"

"You were not this rude before, you know. I remember how kind you were, how scared. What could have happened to you in that school to make you such a-"

"Enough Williamson." The woman paused him. His eyes still firmly on Harry despite the command. He saw something, he knew of something Harry did. Which part? All of it?

Perhaps none.

Only suspecting what befell him that night with Quirrell, from the shadow.

"Harry, you are not under any investigation right now." Williamson continued to stare, his eyes yet to blink. Harry met them, staving off the need to see. What secrets could he have, what methods made his madness possible?

"Then why are we talking?" His accent lay forgotten. Gone was Henri. Though their business was never with Henri, it always stood with Harry.

"We made this meeting with multiple goals, the first being to check up on your living situation." She began, obviously annoyed. "We were meant to meet up during the school year for these appointments, but it seems that they blocked my attempt."

"Albus and I decided it would be better if we settled the matter." He answered the question unasked.

"Albus?" Her voice cracked; Williamson narrowed his vision. "Strange to call your headmaster by his name."

"It is his name. In a personal setting like discussing my living he is Albus, in a formal setting, he is Headmaster Dumbledore. Are you not Amelia outside of Work to Auror Williamson there?" He pointed to the still focused Auror.

"No, I am not." She joined her coworker in his distasteful appearance.

"And when did you decide on using Headmaster Dumbledore over myself?"

"When I asked?"

"Harry, we only wish to help you."

"Then why are you here? I am perfectly happy right now."

"This place is not safe for you."

"Why is that?"

"There are… dark creatures who live here."

"Yes?"

"You know?"

"It's hard not to."

"And?"

"Why should it matter?"

"They are dark creatures. They have evil in their souls."

"Dark, yes; evil, no."

"Explain."

"Dark is an inclination. The push to bad desertions. But evil is an action. Evil is doing the things that the darkness pushes." Harry leaned onto his knees. "How can you call something evil before it does an evil act?"

"They are dark, it's reason enough."

"So, kill them before they are a problem?"

"Stop." Williamson interrupted their conversation. "He is looking to trap you, Director." She widened her eyes to the boy. "Stop it with the slippery slope arguments, they are dark creatures. Period. That is the end of the discussion."

"After our first meeting, I had wondered how you wound up in Slytherin. I understand now." Her surprise turned into anger. "Was it all an act?"

"No. I am always me."

She flashed papers from within her cloak. "That does not make me feel better. Well, onto the paperwork."

"Paperwork?"

"Your relocation."

"That's surprising."

"Why?"

"Why am I being relocated?"

"The ministry wishes for you to be elsewhere."

"Strange considering how the ministry has no authority for that." From the door, Albus Dumbledore entered the conversation. When it opened or how long he stood there was a mystery.

"Chief Warlock."

"Hello, Amelia. And you, John. Thank you for not ruining my entrance." The headmaster winked while putting a finger up to his mouth. Amelia directed her irate expression to the new man rather than Harry.

"Professor."

"Headmaster."

"So," he waved his old wand and pulled a chair from the aether, "what is this I hear about my ward being relocated?"

"When the ministry learned of his employment here, they knew they needed to step in. Really, Head-" She caught herself. "Chief Warlock, Aberforth. You could not have chosen a worse guardian."

"Amelia, you wound me. My brother would make a great guardian."

"Yet he failed to apply to watch the boy. A blunder on your part. Now within the week, the Ministry will become his guardian."

"But we will be putting an application in."

"Sorry, our office is a little backed up now. I don't think it will clear the channels in time, sorry." Her anger developed into a smug pose of victory.

"Luckily, France does not have such a problem."

"What?"

"Well, young Harry is being adopted by a French native. He is only staying with Aberforth on a temporary."

"But-"

"In fact, I think his paperwork will be done early. So early that you need to pack Harry. Two days and off to France you go."

"But the paperwork."

"I fear that its value is in kindling now. Sorry, Amelia. Can I show you out? I need to speak with a certain young man about treating his elders and authorities with respect."

The Moon.

"Do you listen when I talk or is it just white noise?" Harry opened his mouth to reply, "Do not make a comment about my beard." He sighed into a slouch. "I am disappointed in you, Harry." He pinched the bridge of his nose as his brow wrinkled.

"I am sorry, Albus." And he was. The rush to the building had most likely been very inconvenient and his other work was picking up again. This week Supreme Mugwump, next Chief Warlock. They flip through the remaining days of summer. International travel is difficult on the body, worse as you age.

"I know Harry. I know." He paused and looked Harry over. "What made you react so?"

"The Auror. He called me boy, in the same tone he used too." Harry stated. "I remembered being afraid. Afraid of my weakness, of being alone. Then I remember what she told me. How I was strong. How I was powerful. How I will change the world." He smiled and peered out the window, sharing the same view he would see from his normal room above. "Being Henri, I felt that. Perhaps walking in his shoes for so many uninterrupted days was a mistake. But I knew that I could put him in his place. Wipe that smirk from his face. His insults to the kind people who did not deserve his ire could end his tyranny."

A hint of worry crossed the aged professor's face. "Has she spoken to you again?"

A hint of melancholy responded to his question. "No." He stared through the window as the summer night had begun. "But I did dream again."

"The future."

"The past. The future is difficult. The past is already set. It wanders where it does not need to be."

The headmaster's worry changed. The question of a smile approached.

"Who did you see?"

"Hm." Was the professor's response.

"Last night you saw the past. Was it him or her?"

"Ariana."

"Was it good?"

"Until the end."

"And?"

"I still do not know."

A silence followed. Comfort did not define it, nor by the lack of. It merely was.

"Two days?" The silence broke. Uncertainty. Pain. Hope. All of them bleed into his voice.

"Yes. He will be here in two days."

The Moon.

Alastair was interested.

The small devil bothered Harry before he could try to sleep. The day had been long and mentally straining, and all he wished was to sleep.

His familiar had other ideas.

"C'mon. If you had just told me then you could sleep already." The time had turned past three, and the toad had moved from his head to his chest and back again. "You know you want to."

"But at this point, I can't, just to send a message to your inconvenient arse."

"Harry. Pal. Just tell me." The smooth voice tried to influence his mind.

"How about no, Alastair? I am too tired for this."

"Awe is baby Potter cranky."

"I will cage you."

"Promise." The infernal grin grew evermore.

Harry flicked the creatures' nose.

"Ow."

"If you say it, can you try to mean it?"

"I'm offended that you think that did not hurt."

"And I'm offended by your acting. Two stars. Would not see it again."

"Wow, Harry. Next time just stick a guy where it really hurts."

"Go to sleep, Alastair."

"Goodnight, Harry."

As he turned, he heard the shades open and the window crack. Where the toad once stood a bat crawled instead. Spreading its wings, it leapt from the window and into the warm air.

"Damnit, Alistair. Shut the Shades."

The haunting laughter fell into the now illuminated room.

The Moon.

Hey Tracy,

Long time, no talk.

I had lots of fun with you last year and hope to spend time with you this year as well.

I have good news. I will have a new home as of tomorrow. My guardian is a really nice man, and I hope you get to meet him someday. May perhaps we go shopping for supplies when the list is delivered. If not, I understand. I hope to see you again.

Regards,

Harry Potter

The Moon.

"So, kid. This is it, eh?" The gruff voice of Aberforth spoke in the uncrowded hall. The normal denizens who spent the nights here lorded over their specific tables reading the sewage that The Daily Prophet spewed.

"Looks that way." He sat on his tightly packed trunk. Alastair perched on his shoulder as the triplet sat in silence.

"You are a good kid. You know that right?"

His toad choked back a laugh, earing a confusing stare from Martin across the hall.

Harry stood back with a blank expression. "How Abe. I am directly responsible for four deaths. I have a higher kill count than the Cannons have won in that time period."

"Losing Smidt did hurt them." The grandfatherly man chuckled.

"I am serious, Abe."

"As am I, Harry. You have had it ruff. But you are still a good kid. I wish upon you all the kindness I can offer."

"Thank you, Abe. Really."

"Any time, Harry. Though. I retrieved something more than kindness." He reached behind the counter and grabbed a piece of wrapped cloth just over half a meter long. As Harry unwrapped it Dumbledore told the tale. "It was my father's see. He always enjoyed practicing with it. Brilliant man he was, said it really helped his wand work too."

Harry finally unveiled the package. A dagger with a handle long as the sheath. "He got it from a friend of his who won it from a goblin. How he never managed to say." The base of the blade was thick, and the dagger quickly pointed. A crusader knife? "Draw it."

He did. The blade pulled with ease from its sheath. The blade failed to taper as he overdrew the length of leather. From his shoulder, Alastair hissed and jumped away as if stung. The toad retreated behind the bar. Harry pulled until an arming sword came from the small sheath. "That was my fathers' contribution. The enchantment on there. It cleans the blade as it enters and makes it more manageable for travel."

"Abe."

"Kid, I have no use for a sword. Never did. That there will help you where you are going."

"You mean France?"

"Oh, he didn't tell you. Then I guess it will be a surprise."

The door opened.

The Moon.