Disclaimer: I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.
Chapter 20 – Hand of an Angel"Y'know, knowing when the Thing is going to happen would be very helpful in figuring out how to stop it."
Harry lifted his head to scowl at Draco from underneath a fringe of dark hair. His glasses had slipped partially down his nose, revealing the serpentine eyes just barely. Beside him, Ginny also looked up with a frown.
"Down," commanded Ethan to Harry from further down the table, not even looking up from the large, dusty tome he was flipping through. "And Draco…that Thing is an impossibility to know the exact time of."
"Well if Potter had another dream…"
"No thanks," spat Harry, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "I'm perfectly unhappy having them when they come. Wishing for them is out of the picture."
"Oh c'mon," drawled Draco. "They can't be that bad."
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Ginny, eyes flashing.
"Ah, the young Weasel has a tongue and seeks to protect Potter from the oh-so-nasty dreams…gack!"
"Harry, no!" hissed Ethan as Harry lunged across the table and wrapped his fingers about Draco's throat. He reached over the distance between him and the two other boys, his fingers closing about Harry's closest wrist like a vise. Sharply, he squeezed, relying on what muscles he'd gained from the twins' brutal Quidditch practices.
"What's going on over there?" came Madam Pince's voice sharply from beyond a shelf of old tomes.
"Harry, let go!" hissed Ginny, tugging on his shoulder as Draco gagged.
Ethan pressed his grip tighter but that didn't seem to faze Harry. Finally he placed both hands on Harry's arm, one on his wrist and the other just below his elbow. With a glance heavenward, he gripped the flesh hard and jerked bone in two different directions. Bone snapped and the left arm went limp as Harry fell back into his chair with a cry. By the time Madam Pince rounded the corner to check on the disturbance, Harry was clutching his wounded arm to his chest, Ginny poking at it with her wand whilst Ethan healed the bruises on Draco's neck.
"What is going on here?" demanded the librarian, hands on her hips.
"Nothing," piped Hermione as she returned with a book even larger than the one Ethan had. She then glanced at the four at the table and frowned.
Madam Pince eyed all five of them then turned with a huff and marched back over to her desk. As soon as she was gone, Hermione slammed her book onto the table with as little sound as possible and demanded, "What was that about?"
Draco glared across the table at Harry and growled, "Potter tried to choke me."
Harry scowled right back and sneered, "Malfoy can't keep his bloody mouth shut."
"What, Potter? Are the dreams really that nasty?"
"If I could show you," mumbled Harry, laughing softly. "Oh, Malfoy, if I could show you what I see, you wouldn't be mocking me. You know your father's little Dark Revel? I see worse than that just about every night. And if you don't believe me, come into Gryffindor Tower some night and sleep in the fifth year dorm with me. I assure you it'll change your mind about how pleasant my dreams are!" With that he rose angrily to his feet, shoving Ginny's reaching hand aside as he stormed towards the door, anger flowing about him like a cloak.
As the redhead moved to follow him, Ethan reached out and grasped her upper arm in a firm but gentle grip. Brown eyes turned angrily upon him only to meet cool black ones.
"Leave him be," stated the dark-haired boy, a lock of green hair falling over his left eye. "At least for a little while."
"And if Dumbledore decides to go after him again?" snapped the girl, jerking her arm from his grasp.
Ethan frowned and sank back into his seat, absently wrapping an arm about Hermione's shoulder as the girl reclaimed her seat beside him.
"I'd be more afraid for Albus' safety should he confront Harry now, rather than the other way around."
* * * *
Damn. Fucking. Bloody. Hell.
Harry stormed through the corridors of Hogwarts, so pent up in his anger than he did not sense his magic – ever unstable since Dumbledore had cast that spell upon him – flaring about him in ever growing strength. Those few who did pass him in the corridor were pressed back against the wall by the pressure of his magic until he passed.
He also, in his anger, did not think of what his slowly growing magic would be doing. Such as alerting Dumbledore to the fact that the Heir of Slytherin was out and about. The Headmaster, upon the sensing of this, hurried from his office and set to cut Harry off.
He was setting himself up for a confrontation he might soon regret starting.
The two did not run into each other until they both hit the entrance hall at the same time. Harry halted immediately at the sight of the aged wizard, his eyes burning with sudden hatred. Dumbledore's blue eyes were cold and passionless as he stared the teen down.
"What are you doing, Harry?"
"Nothing that rates you coming for me," spat Harry in return.
"You are disturbing the ghosts. And the portraits," said Dumbledore.
Harry sneered, "Boo-hoo."
"Boy…"
The green eyes darkened at that and Harry snapped, "I have a name!"
Dumbledore frowned.
"Mister Potter…"
"Oh-ho! Off first name basis, are we? Just because of one little morsel of information."
Blue eyes narrowed. "Harry, please…
"Please, what?" demanded Harry. "I haven't done anything. AND I WON'T! YOU HEAR ME! I WON'T!"
A mirror to Harry's left rattled dangerously against the stone wall. The clatter and its surprised cry brought Harry to his senses. Eyes wide as he realized how unstable his magic had gone, he tried desperately to pull it back into rein.
But he didn't have a chance as Dumbledore drew his wand and fired a hex at him. Harry dodged with a Seeker's speed and agility, still trying to get control of the unruly magic. He cursed Dumbledore under his breath for putting him in this position. If the old man had never cast that spell on him, they'd not in this mess! But nooo – he was an Heir of Slytherin, therefore dangerous and not fit to live.
A hex short towards his foot and he spun to the right, sending silent praise to Ethan for the sparse little dueling matches they'd been having since they're arrival back at Hogwarts. Those matches taught him how to dodge attacks, a skill he hadn't really gained in Quidditch. Unlike the Chaser's and Keeper, the Seeker never had too many Bludger's to dodge. Unless, of course, a wayward house-elf charmed one to chase said Seeker off the field…
Another hex ricocheted off of the wall behind him and very nearly clipped his left elbow. Harry cursed harshly and again tried to get control of the wayward magic. He'd set up a shield or at least fire back in defense but with a morsel of his magic in the air about him? It'd be like setting a match to a pile of brushwood.
Harry dodged again then ducked and sprinted for the half-open doors. He shoved them open, spun to his left to avoid another hex, then leapt off the side of the stone steps and took off at a dead run across the grounds towards Hagrid's hut. Dumbledore continued pursuit behind him, firing a hex every once in a while.
Just before he reached the giant's hut, Harry managed to get control of the wayward magic. He drew it back from the air about him, something he had learned to do the second time his magic had gotten out of control since Dumbledore'd cast that spell.
He charged on past Hagrid's hut and towards the Forest. At the edge of it, he saw the skeletal Thestrals, creatures Hagrid had introduced them to in their first lesson with him of the sixth year. One of them blinked at him and snorted, unfurling its huge draconic wings. More white eyes glowed from the forest and one of the creatures made a sort of neigh. Only it sounded more like a growl.
As the edge of the Forest loomed, he began to debate over charging into it or turning to face Dumbledore. With his magic under control now, he'd have no problem putting up a shield.
But he didn't have to make that choice.
Just before he stepped onto the grounds of the Forest, a Thestral stepped in front of him, spreading huge leathery wings as a barrier. "Move!" he cried at the creature, which simply ducked its head and nudged him with its draconic head. Teeth bared, he whirled to face Dumbledore, wand raised but found the way blocked. Three more Thestrals were ranged in front of him, fangs bared and wings furled. He stared at the creatures, absently stroking the head of the one behind him as it placed its head on his shoulder.
Dumbledore halted, frowning at the beasts.
"Move aside," he bade them. But the Thestrals were a misunderstood breed and they sided with a misunderstood teenager. And did not answer to the wishes of a wizard who wished to do harm to said teen.
"I don't think they're going anywhere, sir," said Harry, stroking the silken cheek of the Thestral beside him.
Dumbledore frowned and said, "Very well then. You are off Hogwarts grounds, Mister Potter. I expect you to stay there."
As Dumbledore turned and headed back towards the castle, Harry looked up at that windows and the main doors. Several student faces peered out – as well as those of teachers. He saw McGonagall's furious visage for sure.
Damn it all to hell.
"Why do you fear one Heir of Slytherin and not the other?" said Harry loudly, his voice echoing across the grounds. He saw several gasp. McGonagall turned pale and hurriedly motioned behind her. Ethan, Hermione, and Ginny popped into view, Draco lurking behind them.
Dumbledore slowly turned back towards him and replied, "Because one is stronger than the other."
"And what if one is good?"
"It doesn't matter. I cannot let the other have the one."
"Who says the other wants the stronger one?" questioned Harry, wondering if Dumbledore knew about Voldemort's plans for him, Draco, and Ethan.
"It is simple to presume that He would wish to have the stronger one under his control."
So he didn't know that Ethan and Draco were also involved in Voldemort's plans. Harry nodded to himself then said, "Well, what if the stronger one joined the other? Without being under his control?"
Blue eyes narrowed and Dumbledore hissed, "What are you implying, Harry?"
Harry sneered and reached up to take off his glasses. His fringe of dark hair over shadowed his eyes until he looked up. The emerald pupils swirled about the slitted iris' as the teen threw the useless glasses onto the ground and yelled, "I am implying that by you casting foolish spells upon me and trying to drive me out of the school could very well push me to join Voldemort!"
There. He'd said it for all the world to hear. He, Harry-bloody-Potter, was the stronger of the two Heirs of Slytherin. Let Voldemort twist in his dark little hovel now.
Emerald eyes suddenly widened and the teen cursed vehemently.
He'd just done something he shouldn't have! Voldemort didn't get the three boys because of Draco! That might have been the original cause but the reason Voldemort was after them in the first place was because Harry had told the world he was the stronger Heir of Slytherin.
Damnit! Damn it to the lowest pits of Hell and back again! shrieked Harry in his mind. He'd just damned himself to be hunted.
The three pieces on Voldemort's board had fallen into place. Draco had turned away from the path his father had laid out for him before birth. Harry had declared he was the stronger Heir of Slytherin. All it lacked was Voldemort's discovery of Ethan's true identity and the Dark Lord would stop at nothing to have the three boy's in his iron claws. Though even now He was after Ethan, seeking to claim the 'son' of one of his Death Eater's.
A Death Eater's son, a Death Eater, and an Heir of Slytherin. One raised in Darkness from birth. One who had slipped eagerly into the Dark before backing away. And one in whose veins ran the blood of one of the most powerful wizards of all time.
Three powerful forces that if Voldemort laid his hands upon, he would be unstoppable.
Harry looked between the Thestrals at Dumbledore and saw the old wizard realized at least what Voldemort would do to have Harry now that the news was out.
"Come inside," said Dumbledore to him. "We should talk."
"Maybe later," replied Harry. As the older wizard started to protest, the younger snapped, "I am not yet ready to forgive you for what you did to me, sir. Perhaps I never shall. At the moment, if you want to ask me something, talk to Professor McGonagall. Because neither I nor my friends shall answer any of your questions regarding Voldemort or anything else."
Dumbledore nodded and Harry started to move away from the Thestrals. The one behind him caught his sleeve with its teeth and he half-turned to peer at it.
"Its alright," he said to the beast, stroking the silky neck. "You've no need to protect me now."
The Thestral growled softly then nudged him with its scaly head. From in front of him, the other Thestrals dispersed, turning back towards the Forest. As they vanished into it, the fourth took a step back from Harry then nudged at his right wrist.
Confused, the teen lifted his arm for the creature to inspect. The Thestral sniffed his arm for a moment then snapped its fangs about his wrist. The movement was so fast, Harry had no time to cry out.
McGonagall started to go down onto the grounds but Ethan grabbed her arm and hissed, "No, you mustn't!"
"Its hurting Harry!" cried Ginny, whirling to face the boy.
"No!" hissed Ethan sharply. "Its marking him. As under its protection."
"Protection?" queried Hermione, frowning at her boyfriend. "From what?"
"Dumbledore. Voldemort. Merlin knows…"
On the grounds, the Thestral unclamped its jaw from about Harry's wrist and stepped back. The teen clutched his arm close, hand cupped over his bleeding wrist. He turned confused eyes to the skeletal creature before him and gasped, "Why?"
The white eyes dimmed slightly then brightened and Harry heard a soft voice in his head whisper, "Protection…"
"You can talk," he breathed as the Thestral turned and vanished into the Forest after its fellows. He then looked down at his wrist and found all of the blood gone. His wrist was whole once again – except for the dark scars were the Thestral's fangs had pierced his skin.