A/N: I truly didn't think I would make it this far. I've never written anything nearly this long before. Thank you to anyone who is still here. I hope you enjoy the chapter. I'm posting a little earlier than I planned since I got some lovely messages about last chapter. Expect the next one to be up in a week's time, but it may take longer depending on the editing process. Hope you like this and have a great weekend xx

Chapter Twelve: Lone Soldier

Saturday, May 9, 1998: Early Afternoon

Well, that had not gone according to plan. All he had wanted was to save her from this wretched place, and he failed to understand how that act was unreasonable, incorrect, or some other quality indicative of a misguided fool. He was almost certain that his actions had been the right thing to do. Associating with people like that, people with countless secrets held so close to their chests, would not end well for her. Could not end well. They would only make her into something vile that must be guarded from all others, from him.

She was his wife, his loyal and loving partner in crime. He had protected her, provided for their little family, obediently carried out her orders all these years. And where had it gotten him? Shunned, turned away without hesitation. No tears, no invitations to join her. He would have refused any such thing, but she could have at least given him the opportunity to do so. Even if his body was compatible with magic, or however it worked, he would not side with them. Did wands react like that to anyone? Or did he possess something unique to other humans? In any case, he would definitely have to look into it, even if just thinking about all of that reading made him shudder. Where would he even find that sort of information anyway?

Three little words, she couldn't even give him the three little words that would have at least left him whole. But no, instead he was struggling to maintain their connection as it broke a little more each passing second. She had taken a piece of him and locked it away somewhere deep within herself, and he didn't know how long it would last so far away from him. There would be no light to keep it safe, no wind or warmth to fan the flames of his undying affection. In its place remained only darkness, fear, and an ashy regret that made every breath rasp from his scorched lungs. He felt so alone, rejected by the one person he thought would always be there. What could he do now? Of course he had to get her back, save her from the savages that had taken his beloved captive. Her assuredness that they would not let her go filled him with a sense of trepidation and dread that ate away at his insides, and he wanted nothing more than for the ugly feeling to piss off and let him get on with things.

How could she have done this? To him of all people, the man who had stuck by her through everything. Who would, without a second thought, continue to do so. Even though she had been unfaithful, even though her angry tongue had lashed him on more than one occasion. But she had not returned the favour. She had left him high and dry, and he desperately craved her touch. He was impossibly weak without her. The distance between them increased with every step. His bones had been replaced with concrete, the thick, sticky mess draining his sense of self-preservation. He wanted to turn back, to take her by force right this second. But no, he would have to do something big to rescue her. Something he probably couldn't do alone.

That was if he even wanted her back after what she had done to him. Why should he bother going to the trouble of saving her when she so obviously would rather stay? Leave her to the wolves, he thought. Leave her to lie in the bed she's made for herself. If she had decided to remain there, for it must have been a choice, who was he to deprive her of what she really wanted? She had not been under duress in that moment. There had been no one to stop him from simply leaving with her. So she had lied. That alone made things much clearer.

I love her. The mantra played over and over in his mind, attempting to find lodging in the roiling dark space. He knew it to be true, but the rage and humiliation of being rebuffed was overpowering the logical side of himself. How dare she treat him that way. Fourteen years of marriage practically wasted. Of course he had made mistakes during their time together, but he was in no way alone on that front. Was any couple so unbalanced? They had both screwed up, but they had always been there to support each other. Being tossed away so quickly left him strangely hollow. It felt like he was dead, like he could never get back to his old self. The version of him that wasn't irrevocably broken. Pushed aside and dismissed as if he was nothing… Well, that would leave a sour taste in anyone's mouth.

His mind and body refused to cooperate, making his movements jerky and awkward. He tried to still his shaking hands, but nothing seemed to help. He was not paying attention to where his feet were taking him, so when the little voice piped up from next to his right foot, Cailean's whirling thoughts were extinguished as if doused in cold water.

"Hey, watch where you're going! Getting crushed under some idiot's chunky boot is well beneath my pay grade!"

Pay grade? The little man lying on the grass was hardly in a position to use that tone with him. It was black, and apart from flailing its spindly arms about, seemed unable to move. Its tiny marble body was chipped in several places, making him look rather pathetic. Cailean had half a mind to keep walking, stepping on the thing for good measure on his way. It was obviously magical, and therefore not to be messed with. But like his wand, the creature was evidence, and didn't appear to have any powers beyond human speech, and what it probably thought passed for wit.

Cailean bent over and picked it up, ignoring the shrill protestations hurled at him. "None of that now," he growled, poking a thick finger into its chest. "What are you?"

"I am Preston, a knight of the royal guard of Finch-Fletchley!" it shrieked, bristling with indignation. "How dare you speak to a noble in such a common manner!"

Cailean rolled his eyes, reluctantly amused at its antics. "Shouldn't a knight have a horse? And keep your voice down, I don't want to be caught talking to a statue."

The creature's eyes flashed with offence, but he lowered his voice anyway. "Yes, well…" began Preston, but his little voice trailed off. "There was a series of unfortunate circumstances that resulted in this compromising predicament."

"No more big words," said Cailean, raising his free hand in mock surrender. "You don't need any of that around me. What happened?" He was curious about the little man — Preston — and supposed that politeness would bear better fruit than intimidation.

"Hmph. To answer your first question, I'm a chessman," it said. "Are you familiar with the game? I do not mean to offend, but you do not appear the sort."

"Yes," replied Cailean, scowling good-naturedly at the creature. Perhaps he needed this today, he was already feeling less angry and upset about what had transpired earlier. "But where I'm from, chessmen can't move or talk."

"Well that sounds frightfully dull," drawled Preston, a haughty expression passing over his little face.

"I've got to say that after experiencing both, I much prefer the silent ones." The big man laughed at his companion's obvious outrage.

"Bah!" he spluttered. "You would rather mundanity over partaking in this thrilling dialogue?"

"Well," said Cailean, stroking his beard. "I suppose you have me there."

Preston gave a satisfied grunt and turned his nose up at his captor. "Yes, hmm…" The chessman adopted a vacant expression, far more human than Cailean was comfortable with witnessing from something made of marble. After a moment, he went on. "I suppose you want to know what happened. Right. Well, I was being used for a game in this general area." He gestured around vaguely, as if the location hardly mattered. They were standing near a large lake bordered by lush greenery. Cailean wanted a word with the groundskeeper. Every plant, flower, and blade of grass had been meticulously cared for, and the scorch marks from almost a week ago had disappeared completely. The place looked new again, unmarked and whole.

"But then," continued Preston, oblivious to Cailean's interest in the grounds, "out of nowhere, everyone got sent inside. They packed up in a great haste and left us all to struggle against the elements. My steed and I rode around for a while. We decided that if we were going to be stuck here, we should take the opportunity to observe the scenery. Everything was progressing just fine until the explosions started. They spooked Charles, poor thing, and he went galloping off without me. They must have never thought to enchant my legs because I can only move my arms." He sounded more than a little resentful at his immobility.

"So you've been stuck here since then?" asked Cailean. "How long has it been?"

"At least a week," said the knight sadly. "I miss Charles."

"Well, have I got a deal for you," said Cailean, a wide grin spreading across his face. "You're coming with me."

"And what if I refuse?" Preston did not look all that opposed to the idea, so the question was more out of curiosity than anything else.

"You'll be stuck lying on the ground until something a lot meaner than me decides you look like a nice chew toy." He laughed at the knight's horrified face.

"Indeed. If those are in fact my only options, then companions we must be! Let us fly!"

So much pomposity in such a tiny thing, with a self-righteous attitude to boot. Cailean chuckled as he stowed Preston inside one of the many pockets of his leather jacket. He walked for a while, simply enjoying the natural beauty of his surroundings. He was loathed to admit it, but wizards really knew how to treat the land. His booted feet were almost silent as they made deep depressions in the long grass. He felt strangely at peace. Though Aed would never leave the back of his mind, tugging at his consciousness with a dogged persistence, he had his own problems and things to figure out.

As Cailean made his way around the lake and towards the dense forest, he caught sight of a robed woman standing by an ostentatious white tomb. He cried out in surprise before he could stop himself, flushing a dazzling pink at his recklessness. She was the first person he had seen aside from Aed during his explorations of this wild place. He should have been more careful, more observant of his surroundings, but he had been caught up in his talk with Preston and ruminating on Aed's betrayal. It was demonstrably unwise to assume that he could ever be safe in this world of magic and secrecy. The breath in his lungs expelled in a whoosh of paralysing fear. His heart rate quickened, the cogs in his mind whirring into chaos. Everything around him slowed, almost completely coming to a halt. He had to run, but his legs weren't cooperating. Move, damnit!

She turned to face him, a look of cold indifference settling over her face like a favourite outfit. "Hello? Who are you and why are you here?"

Cailean could not speak. He glanced around the grounds seeking aid, but they were alone amongst the gently lapping waves. Perhaps it was better this way, more magical people would not bode well for him, no matter how nice they pretended to be. It was just her, standing no more than ten feet away. She had appeared out of nowhere, the wand she carried aimed directly at his chest. What could he do? He couldn't run or hide, couldn't attempt to fight with the zero magic he knew.

"Hello there," he said, feigning a casual tone that fell flatter than a sheet of paper.

The robes she wore were black as the night, billowing in the summer breeze like curtains in a storm. She would have been pretty if it weren't for the pronounced frown and lifeless eyes. He took a step back and she followed, slowly closing the distance between them. "Well?" she demanded. Her voice was quiet, but it struck him like an icy whip.

He cleared his throat and gulped, stuttering for several seconds before finally choking out his name.

"Are you a Muggle?" she asked. From the derision evident in her tone, Cailean deduced that being one of these 'Muggles' was definitely a bad thing.

"No," he said. "Of course I'm bloody well not one of those!" He was impressed with how confidently he spoke considering he had no idea what was going on.

"Well then," she said, tilting her head. "Show me your wand."

So nabbing that stick from the grass was definitely the right move earlier. He felt rather pleased with himself at the revelation. He would definitely have to figure out whatever the hell a Muggle was lest he meet another sorcerer unprepared. "Right here, lassie," he replied, smiling wide. From a deep pocket he withdrew the length of wood, making sure to hold her gaze the entire time.

Her eyes widened and she stumbled back a step. "I thought- Well I didn't think you would have one…" She murmured something that Cailean couldn't hear.

"Yep," he said, a triumphant smile spreading across his tired face. "I'm just like you."

She laughed, an unpleasant combination of haughtiness and mirth. "Whether you are a wizard or not, we are nothing alike. I didn't see you at the battle. Just who are you?"

"I'm not from here," said Cailean slowly, completely forgetting his own thick brogue. He was such an idiot.

"Not from here?" she repeated. "You sound Scottish enough…"

She watched him for a moment, her expression inscrutable. Without warning, Cailean felt something poking around in his head. He cried out in shock, pushing ineffectually against the alien presence. He wanted it out of him but nothing he tried had any effect. He screwed up his face in concentration, but wasn't accomplishing anything except a headache. Memories from his life flashed across his vision. Getting tucked in by his mother when he was very young, her long hair spilling over the thin blanket. Playing with his friends at school, he couldn't have been older than eight or nine. Then his wedding day… Red and white flowers, the dozen or so village folk who had come to watch, Aed standing there in that perfect white gown she still looked at sometimes…

The memories stopped flowing, the presence leaving his mind as if it had never been. The woman stared at him, looking nothing short of outraged. "You are a Muggle!" she exclaimed. "From whom did you steal that wand? How did you even get in here?"

Cailean made sparks fly from the tip of his wand to halt her advance. "I— I found this on the ground earlier today."

The woman's eyebrows rose. "I didn't know Muggles could even do that much."

"I suppose that a Muggle is a non-magical person?" Cailean guessed. "And maybe they can't. Maybe I have magic. I got in here, didn't I?"

"Oh, please!" she scoffed. "If you truly are a wizard, you would have gone to Hogwarts. Did you?"

"No," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Where is that anyway? Hogwarts…" The new word felt strange in his mouth, but he tried to make it sound natural, like it had always been part of his vocabulary. Bloody stupid word.

The woman rolled her eyes, somehow managing to make the juvenile gesture look elegant and cold. "That's Hogwarts," she replied, pointing up at the castle with a bony thumb. "It is the most renowned wizarding school in Britain, though not the best if you ask me."

"Maybe there was a mistake," he said, almost desperately. Perhaps he had been magical all along. It would surely explain his strange connection with the place. "Maybe I was supposed to go."

The woman sighed. "In normal circumstances, I would have called you a liar. However," she took a deep breath. "I know now that wizards are not exempt from fucking up."

Her words surprised him, but he didn't say anything.

"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps your name was down for Hogwarts and something happened. I don't know. But why are you here? Why now? How did you come to know about this place?"

"Why does that matter?" Cailean replied. "How can I trust you? You could be working with them for all I know." He pointed up the sloping hills to the massive structure in the distance.

"There was a war here," she said. I was on the losing side, not theirs. I came here to pay my respects. I don't like them any more than you do."

There was no way he was just going to take what she said at face value. They had only just met, but it was already clear to him that she could not be trusted. There had been a battle, that much was obvious. The damage done to the castle and grounds had been quite apparent during his visit earlier in the week. He watched her for a moment, attempting to read her expression. She appeared genuine enough, but schooling one's face was not difficult, especially if they engaged in the practice often.

He had to say something or she might lash out. She definitely did not appear stable in any case. "I'm, er…" he began, scrabbling to think of a way to proceed. "I'm looking for someone in there. They're holding her captive."

Her eyes widened again, and the corner of her mouth twitched into something akin to a smirk. "So you want her back?"

"Of course," he replied. "They're not giving her up, so I'll have to take her."

"You can't do it by yourself." She wasn't wrong, and Cailean knew that he stood no chance alone.

"I've got a plan," he said, perfectly aware that he in fact had nothing of the sort.

"Well, I may be interested in helping you. We should discuss things. Somewhere more private. Shall we meet here again a week from now so that I may escort you?"

Cailean bit back a grunt of shock. That had escalated quickly. Should he trust her? What did he have to lose? He didn't have much to live for without Aed, and it wasn't like he was getting any other offers of help. Maybe she could fix Will. He thought about it for a moment then nodded. He didn't like wizards, but if they were willing to assist him, he really couldn't complain. "Why do you want to do this?" he asked, wary of her acquiescence.

"It has been a difficult week," she said slowly, keeping her expression deliberately neutral. "I've got a score to settle with the people in there. And you know what they say about desperate times. Goodbye, Cailean," she said, turning to leave.

"Wait!" he blurted out. She looked over her shoulder at him, one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow raised. "What do I call you?"

She chuckled. "Narcissa." Before he could say another word, she turned on the spot and vanished with a faint pop.

A/N: And there we have it. Another chapter. I hope you enjoyed Cailean's escapades. I look forward to seeing you all back next time. Where will this strange partnership go? I'd love to know your theories.