Falls the Shadow
A/N: Surrealism ahead. Disclaimer from chapter one still applies.
Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
~T.S. Eliot, 'The Hollow Men'
"Why?" Harry repeated for at least the tenth time, his voice weak and plaintive. "Why me?"
He felt absurdly small and vulnerable, curled up in his patched and oversized pajamas. Across from him, at the foot of the infirmary cot, the pearl-black shadow of Thanatos' wings loomed. He could hear the myriad eyes blinking in the dark.
"Because I cannot. Voldemort's hold on me is strong. The only thing that will break it is the alteration of his memory. And you are the best possible person to produce that."
"You're crazy," the young wizard blurted, forgetting his fear for the moment. "I'm only a student, I don't know any memory charms powerful enough to use against Voldemort!"
Death looked amused. "While he is no longer fully human, he is far from invincible. But that is beside the point. You will not use a charm, nor will you require your wand. The truest magic is in the battle of that which is versus that which shall be. You need only match his will to dominate with your own will to resist him."
"How?"
"You have a pathway to his mind." A silken feather brushed across the scar, making Harry shiver. "You will enter his thoughts and bend them to your command."
"You want me to go into his head?? Is that even possible? And what if he notices me there?"
"Yes, I do. Yes, it is. And he cannot destroy your body through a mindlink, though he could damage your sanity."
Harry gulped, "And why can't you do it? You made everyone in this school think you were a student."
"I did no such thing. I am forbidden to enter the minds of mortals without invitation. To do so would be a Possession."
"Then how…?"
Thanatos waved his hand impatiently, "A minor alteration of reality. I will restore it to its original form shortly."
Harry was quiet a moment, digesting this. "And if I don't agree to do this…?"
"Why would you not? It is in your best interest that he lose his power to cast the Avada Kedavra." Thanatos sounded genuinely puzzled.
"Yeah, well…maybe I don't feel like risking my sanity for it."
Death was silent for several moments. Harry fidgeted. At last, the quiet, muted voice said, "It would be foolish to refuse me."
Harry looked into the ebon eyes defiantly.
"No, no, that was not a threat," Thanatos chuckled, "Merely an opinion. It is not your time yet, and I do not kill for vengeance. But as I said, the results would benefit you, your friends, your world."
"I never asked for this," Harry said angrily, pointing to his scar, "And I'm sick of it! All I did was survive because I was lucky, and because of my Mum. Half the wizarding world thinks I'm some kind of messiah, and the other half thinks I'm a dark wizard worse than Voldemort! I'm not either, and I don't want to be either. I'm just a boy. Why can't I ever be just a boy?!" To his intense embarrassment, Harry started to cry.
A dark wing enfolded him, and he tensed with fear, but all the eyes were closed, and the touch was somehow comforting. "Many children in this world are not permitted to be what they are. Some must grow up too quickly, as you have. Others, I have taken young. Some have had their steps haunted by my shadow from the day of their birth. The world is harsh, and it deals unfairly with the vulnerable. But you have a chance now to make it less harsh and fearsome. While he commands me, Voldemort will never be defeated. Do this for me, and your friends and their children will have a chance at the innocence that has been stolen from you."
Harry took several deep breaths, forcing back the tears and straightening slowly. Dark eyes regarded him thoughtfully, "And while you work, you will have access to as much of my power as your mind can handle. I will not be idle."
The young wizard nodded slowly. "What exactly do I have to do?"
"Dream, as you often have, of your nemesis. Then follow the dream-formed path to him. I will slow time here, so you will not be interrupted, and I will make my power available to you, and guide you from afar as I may. You will make your way through the interiors of his mind, and somewhere within, you will find the knowledge of the spell. I will tell you what to do with it."
"If this works, though, can't he just relearn it?"
"Not if our work is accomplished properly."
"And if something goes wrong?"
"I will attempt to retrieve you."
"And if I can't be retrieved?"
"What would you have me do? If your mind is broken, I can take you, if you so desire. But you must give me your permission now."
Harry rested his chin on his knees a moment, thinking of AHMS. He shuddered slightly, then whispered, "Yeah…Only if there's no possibility of coming back…then, yes, go ahead and take me."
Death nodded calmly, but there was a glimmer of sorrow in his eyes.
"And Ron can have Hedwig. If that happens, I mean. She gets along okay with Pig now that he's calmed down a bit. Or maybe he'd give him to Ginny…" Harry stopped as he realized he was stalling. "Right. Are we doing this now?"
"If you are prepared."
Harry blinked at the familiar phrasing. "I'm…yes…I guess I'm ready."
"Sleep, then."
The young wizard's limbs grew abruptly heavy, and he sank back onto the pillows reluctantly. The black wings rested blanketlike across his body, warming him. His eyes closed.
"I will owe you for this," Thanatos said softly, watching. "And I never fail to repay my debts."
Harry was in the graveyard again, wand out, next to a wide-eyed, apprehensive Cedric. It was dark and light all at once, and gravestones loomed over him, stone angels staring at him with cold, empty eyes. A shadowy shape approached, and a horribly familiar voice said, "Kill the spare."
No! Harry cried out silently, Not this again! Not again! Cedric, look out!
But this time, green light did not emanate from the wand. Instead, a familiar pallid figure with shadowy wings sprang forth, white-hot chains encircling his throat and wrists. Swiftly, Thanatos leaped at Cedric, long fingers outstretched, but his face was contorted with anguish.
"It's not his time," he snarled hoarsely, even as he enfolded Cedric in his wings, "Not his time yet…it isn't fair…"
Harry watched in fascinated horror as Thanatos cradled Cedric's body like a baby and planted a gentle, regretful kiss on his forehead.
"I'm sorry," Death whispered, and Cedric's corpse crumbled to dust.
Harry turned and tried to run, but the sound of wings pursued him.
Harry, the muted voice screamed at him, Harry! Stop! Don't run!
Tense and shaking, the young wizard froze in his tracks.
Voldemort. He is here. Don't run from him. Go toward him.
"He'll kill me!"
This is a dream, Harry. Only a dream.
With an effort, Harry forced himself to turn and walk back through the tombstones. Wormtail was writhing and whimpering, handless and bleeding by the cauldron. Gathering his courage, Harry stepped over him and approached the fire. The bubbling liquid within smelled of sulphur and incense. Red eyes peered up out of the cauldron at him.
Then a bony, clawed hand shot out and grasped his throat, dragging him into the foul, boiling water. Harry struggled and tried to scream, but his mouth filled with the bilious potion, and he gagged instead. Voldemort's bony limbs entangled him, and he tried to kick his way free. The potion scalded his skin and eyes.
Don't fight him, Harry. It's only a dream.
With an effort, the boy stopped struggling. The water seared through his skin, deadening his nerves. Voldemort laughed and tightened his grip on Harry's throat, choking him slowly. He needn't have bothered. His head fully beneath the filthy water, Harry couldn't breathe anyway. He started to black out.
And then it was all gone, and he was alone in the dark. All around him he could see nothing but pitch-blackness. Then a watery white light shivered into existence, dripping from an unseen source and illuminating a trail of blood in front of his feet.
"Thanatos?" Harry whispered softly, after rubbing his throat to make sure the flesh wasn't torn.
I'm listening. Follow the blood. It will take you into his mind.
Obediently, Harry began to walk forward. "What will it look like?"
Your own mind will resolve it into something familiar.
He nodded, but said nothing.
The blood trail went on and on. It seemed like miles, and the darkness was eerie. It pressed inward upon Harry's eyelids and whispered threats into his ears. He shivered. Then he stopped short as he thought he saw something move in the pitch black.
Do not stop. And do not look.
Reluctantly, he resumed walking, "What is it? There are things out there…"
You are on the astral plane. There are creatures here. Some are friendly, some are not.
"Will they attack me?"
Silence.
"Thanatos? Will they??"
Perhaps. I will help you fight them, if they do.
Harry clenched his fists nervously and focused his eyes on the blood trail before him. He thought he heard a child laughing off to his left, but he didn't dare to look. He heard the high whistling of night-birds and the buzzing of insects' wings. At length a stream stretched before him, narrow, but swift and rocky and dark. A wizened old woman was bent beside it, humming out of tune as she rinsed bloody clothes in the water. She looked up as he approached.
"Wha' are you seeking, leanabh?"
Harry said nothing.
The Bean Nighe, the Washer at the Ford, Thanatos' voice said, She is a type of fae, Harry. She knows me. You may speak to her.
"I'm…looking for Voldemort," Harry said quietly.
The old woman nodded, grinning toothlessly, "Ye're on th' right track, then. Ye'll need to cross th' stream."
"Can you help me?" He asked.
"Sha. For a price."
"What price?"
She flung a red-stained shirt at him, "Scrub th' stain out."
Do what she says. She's a powerful ally to a mortal.
Harry knelt on a rough rock and plunged the shirt into the water. "Is there soap?" He had done laundry plenty of times at the Dursleys', but it had involved machines and stain-removing gels, not rocks and icy, running water.
"Nihaer," the washer replied, "You use your elbow grease." She laughed loudly at her own joke.
The young wizard scrubbed at the bloodstain with his fingers, holding the shirt underwater, but the red stain seemed to spread instead of shrink. In frustration, he beat the shirt on the rocks.
Harry…ask her whose shirt it is.
"Why?"
Because she is a harbinger. In the same way that a Bean Sidhe screams to warn of impending death, the Bean Nighe washes the clothes of someone destined to die soon.
Harry gulped. "Um…Ma'am?"
"Yes, leanabh?"
"Whose shirt is this?"
The Bean Nighe paused in her work and sniffled softly, "So sad, that…poor woman. And wha' her children will do without a mother, I'm sure I don't know…" She stared into space distractedly, wringing out the skirt she'd been scrubbing.
Keep her talking. Ask about the children.
"How many children are there?" Harry asked after a moment's thought.
"Six," the Washerwoman replied querulously, a muffled sob in her voice, "Four girls and two boys."
"Can't their father take care of them?"
"No," she rubbed her eyes, "he died of a car accident a few years ago…they're all alone in th' world, poor little things…" And with that, she began to bawl loudly.
Now, Harry! Catch her tears with the shirt!
The young wizard jumped, then leaned forward and held the dripping shirt under the weeping fae-woman's face. A few tears hit the bloodstain, hissing and steaming, and suddenly the shirt was dry and clean. Harry stared, then stifled a triumphant grin. "It worked!"
"Ciod?" She looked up, then blinked tearily at the shirt. "Oh…aah…" She turned slowly and frowned at him, "That was sneaky, that was."
"Sorry…?" He answered warily.
She sighed, shaking her head, then waved a hand at him dismissingly, "A promise is a promise. Up!"
Harry felt himself rise into the air, levitated gently up and over the stream. The Bean Nighe set him on his feet on the other side, right where the blood trail resumed. Despite her care, it took him a moment to recover.
Thank her.
"Oh! Right! Thank you, ma'am!" Harry shouted across the stream.
"Luck be with you, boy," she replied casually as she resumed her work.
The young wizard went on his way, keeping his eyes glued to the trail. He heard howls and snarls now, and once he thought he heard a dragon roar. Remembering the Hungarian Horntail, he wrapped his arms around himself defensively.
He felt relief at first when the sounds died away, but it wasn't long before the silence became as oppressive as the dark. "Thanatos…" he whispered, "Where are you?"
Ssssh! came the reply, They'll hear you!
Unnerved, Harry bit his lip. A faint, wet, rhythmic noise echoed out of the darkness ahead of him. He paused for several moments as the sound continued, listening and wondering apprehensively what it was. At length, he inched forward cautiously, and almost laughed with relief as the source of the sound came into view. It was a small white kitten crouched by the trail, lapping delicately at the blood.
Go around it quietly, Harry. Thanatos sounded tense.
"It's just a kitten," he said, incredulous.
Then the tiny cat looked up at him. Its eyes were an opaque pale blue, without pupils, and its mouth and whiskers were red with blood. It hissed at him fiercely, rising and bristling. To Harry's horror, its mouth stretched wider and wider as thick, spiky red serpentine necks erupted from it, each of them hissing and striking at him in turn. He leaped back with a cry of fear as fangs sliced through the hem of his robes. The serpent-heads growled at him, and the little feline body behind them crouched and wriggled, ready to pounce.
"Thanatos!" Harry cried in a plea for instruction, but before Death could answer him, he heard the sound of thundering hooves.
A great, shaggy, black, horselike creature plunged into the circle of light. Its eyes were very round and glowed pale green, and it pawed the ground with a cloven hoof. The snake-tongued kitten whirled to face its new foe hissing again. In response, the equine creature bent its head, from which two twisting horns sprang, and plunged forward, driving the feline out of the light and away.
The hunt is on, it seems, Thanatos mused after a moment.
"What *was* that??" Harry asked, stepping forward again hurriedly in the hopes of getting away from the marauding creatures.
The dark thing was a phooka. What the other was, I do not know. However…the blood trail you are following is only a visual metaphor set up by your own mind. In reality it is a pathway of mental energy…
"Then it was…feeding off my energy?"
Merely tasting, I think. Getting the scent of your mind, so to speak. For a later hunt of its own.
Harry shivered, "Will it come back?"
Not if the phooka catches it.
The young wizard was silent for several moments. "Am I nearly there yet?"
Almost.
As he went on, the darkness around Harry began to lighten until he realized he was on a country road, lit only by stars. The blood trail was harder to follow here, as it moved over rocks and puddles and patches of dirt, and Harry was so intent on it he didn't notice he was being followed until he felt the warm breath on his hand. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a vast, canine shape, jet black and shaggy, like Sirius' dog form, but nowhere near as friendly looking.
"What is it…?" he whispered under his breath to Death, not daring to turn and focus fully on this new danger.
Don't look at it, Death instructed, And don't speak to it. It's Black Dog. You might know it as the Grim.
Harry clenched his fists, saying nothing.
It is only curious. Pretend not to notice it, and it will not harm you.
Skeptical but obedient, Harry continued to follow the trail, trying to ignore his massive escort. For its own part, the Grim trotted along companionably enough on silent paws. Whenever Harry stopped to get a closer look at the trail, Black Dog sniffed at the blood curiously, or at Harry's feet. Its mouth, when it panted, was very red, and it had very white, sharp teeth. At length it seemed to grow bored with him and followed farther and farther behind until at last it gave one deep, rolling bark and bounded away into the fields.
"That was a Grim?" Harry said when he'd recovered.
Yes.
"Isn't it a death omen, too?"
To some. To most it is simply a rather nosy creature of the fae persuasion. Black Dog is what you think it is. But look! You are nearly at the end of your journey.
Harry looked ahead of him and saw a high bluff upon which a large house loomed. It might have been a fine home once, but it was dilapidated and crumbling now. The garden was overgrown with thorns, and the fence around it looked like broken teeth. There were no lights on in the house. It all looked uncannily familiar, and Harry felt a twinge in his scar.
"Am I still in the astral plane?" he asked Death.
Yes, came the answer, but up ahead is your destination; Voldemort's mind.
"But it's a house…is he inside it?"
No. He *is* the house. You are inexperienced in mind-magic, Harry. It would be too difficult for you to reach into Voldemort's mind, undetected, and untangle the threads of thought and energy there in an abstract form. Instead, your mind has interpreted your efforts to link to Voldemort's mind as a walking journey, following a trail.
"Then those things I passed…they weren't real?"
They were very real. Fae are creatures of mind and spirit. One is liable to encounter them on any journey of the psyche.
Harry didn't quite understand this, but decided not to press the point. He began to climb the bluff, panting a little in the chill night air. As he neared the top, the sense of familiarity grew, as did the burning sensation in his scar. "I know this place," he said, half to himself.
Indeed you do, answered Thanatos, You have been here in dreams. This is Voldemort's mind, but you seem to have chosen to reinterpret it as the Riddle Mansion.
Author's Note: At least three more chapters to come! I know where I'm going, I just need to fill in the details.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
Legion: Ships? Hmm… 'Unwittingly, Hermione flirts with Death…' Heehee…no, no smoochy-face for Thanatos. I suppose the way he relates to Harry could be interpreted as mildly slashy, for people who like that sort of thing, but it's vague enough that people who don't can ignore it.
Confesser Kahlan: Thanks! I will.
Quoth the Raven: You get 100 cool points for understanding that Mateo really was there, rather than just messing with the minds of everyone in the school. Yes, four years isn't that long to wait, and a little alteration of the local reality isn't difficult for Death at all. I'm glad you appreciated the section with AHMS as well.
Kandra: *grin * I was wondering if anyone would think that about Thanatos. I have to admit, he's the sort of character I'm drawn to myself. I'm glad you like him, and thank you for the reassurance about the AHMS section.
Thall: Umm…okay. o_O
Ozma: I think AHMS is probably fairly rare, but the effects are pretty devastating. I enjoyed writing everyone's reaction to Poppy's suggestion that it was a possibility. I don't think Snape hates Harry as much as he wants to pretend he does, but with his reaction I was mostly going for a sort of 'I-wouldn't-wish-that-on-my-worst-enemy' sort of thing. I suspect, though, that Harry would be pretty well immune to it, since both his parents were wizards and he lived with them until he was a year or so old. That ought to be enough to inoculate him against high magic levels, even though he spent the next ten years with Muggles.
Stormyfire: Thank you! I hope you continue to love it. I always look forward to your reviews, just so you know. J
Moon Kitten, Koneko-chan: Kittens shouldn't have too much sugar, it makes them break things. ;-) Glad you liked the story.
Windflower: Your idea sounds interesting; I'll be sure to check out your story when I get a chance to do some reading. You'll probably like the next few chapters; though they don't deal with the four elements literally, I'll be using a lot of elemental imagery and metaphors. The next chapter will be 'The Death of Earth'.
Smitha-r: Yes, this is a fifth year fic. I'm trying to crank out all my 5th-year ideas before the next book comes out, but I don't know if I'll make it. I guess they can always be AU. Revelationary…I like that. Thank you!