Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize
I do not own the poem at the end, or Shakespeare's writing
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.
~Chapters will be coming out once a week, every Monday, unless my muse fails me and it takes a bit longer.~
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miles militis ab perditio: Aren't they great? They're definitely one of my most favorite Vampire books. Everything else diminishes in comparison. You hated Queen of the Damned too? All I had to say for it was that it had a decent soundtrack ^^;; And isnt Lestat a blond?? Why did they put a brunette as the lead character?? [I think Tom Cruise should have made the movie again..even if he is older..he still looks the same] It was so confusing! If I hadn't read the books before, I would have be so horribly confused that I probably would have thrown popcorn at the screen. As it is, I had to retell the whole bloody story to my friends who hadn't read the book and didn't understand! :(
legion1: And I'd love to love you for loving me for loving you! :) or not...] ..they aren't. And it makes me sad... But I can still do it anyway!!! Cause this is my fanfic dammit! ........
Hermione had to tell Harry that she loved him, because he needed to know it! By telling him of her love, Hermione made it known to Harry, (even though he tried to deny it) that he was cared for. And so, he can't hate her and think horrid things of her and distance her from him in his mind, because it's now confirmed that she's a presence in his life whether he wants her there or not.
Yay to being spoiled!!!! Spoil me all you want :D And Stripes need not give Remii a wonderful intelligent conversation that goes for hours...all Stripes needs to do is read and review so Remii knows Stripes is out there!
Hm..Maybe he'll get better...or..MAYBE HE'LL DIE A HORRID DEATH AND BE TRAPT IN THE PITS OF DESPAIR ALONG SIDE BARNEY!!!! But...maybe he'll get better.
-returns Stripy hug 10x!- Hugs are great! We like hugs (muse and I) And we like cookies. And baking cookies, dont we? Have a cookie for being cool and writing long reviews and..shhhhh...being one of Remii's favorites!
:)
fyre: A new reviewer! Aaaaaa :) Welcome to Aeternus Noctem [do you know how many times I just spelled my stories name wrong?] Sorry to not be able to answer and of your questions of what? who? when? huh? but, if I did, you wouldn't need to read this anymore, now would you? I've read so many stories with snakes in them..and I've always wanted to write one a bit more indepth..where the snake has a greater relationship with Harry than just being a pet communucating with him. I had to make something more dramatic..more tying...
Eh..Dumbledore being blamed? Not so much, but more of his role in the 'incident' will be revealed later on. But Surrey is sure as hell distroyed. Harry has wings, which was sort of explained, but not in full detail.. and his scar and mysterious connections to others have everything to do the day of his fight with Voldemort. Mwahahaha. What power! Having the bull by the balls. Aaaaaaand, I'll reveal little by little of Harry's powers, though some will suck, and others will be very fun.
Harry is alone. I can't really explain why. I may write him, but it's his brain. ^^;; I'll try though, and I hope you'll understand.
Er, I have no idea. I just decided to write this. He's not 15, but older, so I guess you could say post 5?
Here's more.
fyre: Dumbledore might have brought Harry to his current state, but he surely didn't intend for it to happen. Why everyone though Harry was dead will be explained a bit later...[when I finally feel like writing it in..or find the opportunity] but there is a good reason! Eadem..I love the name! I wanted something different, and I just so happened to look through my old latin dictionary..and Bam! Eadem=same. So..since he has such a strong connection to Harry, I figured I'd name him 'Same', and his name for Harry is 'Different'. [Differo]
I tried to make it clear with the "flashback" that when Draco mentioned Harry's cloak, Harry's thoughts automatically went to the time he spent with the old man. I hate the *flashback* *end flashback*. It takes away from the mood of the story, and I wantd to get around that. Sorry if I wasnt clear.
Eadem..is connected to Harry. You dont know how yet, and sorry, but I cant elaborate. He can though, sense, [if not know] what is going through Harry's head, and he then picked up the name Voldemort. [Do you remember how he said Harry Potter was a familiar name to him?]
Keep reading. All will be explained.
fyre: I had hoped it was beautiful! Was it hard to understand? His positions and wing movements, and such?
You caught it! One hurrah to fyre for really noticing the intense moment of Harry kissing the earth beneath him.
Eadem's great, aint he? I wanted to let everyone know that Harry is still human [embarrasment] though he tries to hide it.
People leaving him will play into a big part of the story, and into the ending scene! [evil cackle]
Not really immortal, per say, but..not human either. What kills him about himself, is that his mind is so disconnected to his body, that he sees himself as an imortal, yet his body is mortal and capable of dying. [that is better explained in this chapter]
He didn't die! Though he's close. So close.
More it is!
ProfessorZ: Better be getting better! I hope my writing is improving with each chapter, and easier to understand. I dont think I've ever made anyone cry...[except in elementary school when I broke a friend's arm..or middle school when I broke a friend's finger... ^^;;] But with a passionate emotion for crying..not pain. Ee gatz..I didnt pain you, did I?
Even though this is completely OOC and AU type story, I didn't want to completely change the characters from Harry Potter. So I'm happy you caught on that it's still Draco, Draco. Not just my version of him.
Chappie here for loyal Yahoo!Groups fangirl!
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Chapter Four: Bounds of Mortality
Æternus Noctem
Dust covered the bound array of reading as a second skin, suffocating their brilliant colors and casting them into a dull void. Nothing had been taken care of over the summer, no one giving a second thought to the knowledge the papers held. All the more evident was the absence of the one who's work was to care, her being probably off in some office brooding about the school's start and those ignorant little children who destroy her collection; hypocritical thoughts making her the one at fault. But Harry had no overwhelming thoughts to lend to the absence of Madam Pince, his attention preoccupied by the astounding collection of books lining the shelves. Never before had he realized there were so many, never until he had to go through all them to find what he sought.
All he knew was that to start he needed to seek the Restricted Section, his focus on the combining of power to morph spells. Any book would do, just something to start him, point him on his direction so that he may know his way to go. Easily was it for him to open the gate holding the books from his grasp, such a trivial spell that he wondered how he never thought to break it before. But he discarding his amusement, intent on hunting down a title that called to him.
It had been a sure disaster from the start, and after an hour of searching, Harry sat on the floor, dust rising from its displacement as he sat. Only one book had he found. Only one out of millions had caught his eyes, it's bindings hardly holding it together, leather peeling from it's face, hiding the title from view. It was nothing, and yet everything. His only source of information, and Harry hoped that it provided him some.
The library was dark, clouds covering the sun and preventing light from entering through the windows. Though it did not hinder him from reading, his eyes able to see well enough in pitch black, it strained him so that he daren't use it to just read. With barely any acknowledgment in doing so, Harry called all candles around him to light, using too much power by mistake and setting them aflame, burning the wax till it was half way gone, oozing around the holder.
Seating himself at a small table in the corner, weary to be fully exposed if said hypocritical librarian decided to do her job and discover him there, and not in class, Harry opened his book. He doubted that she would make a scene of it, having most likely talked with Dumbledore about his circumstances in the school, knowing to avoid him, but he had learned that precaution was best. No one really knew when an enemy would attack, rendering Harry to his current position: looking for ways to best Voldemort. It would be tricky, he knew, but the separation and combination of Voldemort to himself had to work to his advantage somehow. And if not..
Well. Harry was prepared to end himself in such a way that would take all around with him. Damned be innocent who fought along his side. Damned be those who thought they could conquer the boy who stood against them. But, if there was a way to save everyone and instead relinquish what seldom little power Voldemort held, Harry would gladly sacrifice himself to see the other's end, letting the rest live their lives in peace, no needs to worry of who would or would not come home.
Harry opened the face of the book, running his fingers along the title. It was old, he could feel it in his bones, the faint pulse of the book pounding in his ears. Long had it been since anyone had held it in such an embrace as he had. He rested the book on the table, not comfortable knowing that it was feeding partially off the energy he presented to it with his slight touch. The pages of the book quivered slightly, a silent wind felt only by the book turned it's pages till it reached a chapter, exactly what Harry was searching for. Grateful for it's help, Harry fondly traced the words on the page, giving a gift for the one he just received. Short lived was it though, that the book took his energy, for it needed little to last a long time.
The chapter outline described the consequences of a Power Merge. To what it meant Harry had a small idea, himself being stronger since his fight gone wrong with Voldemort, than ever before. The book, he felt, was eager to leave his person, having been replenished of strength and wanting to be left alone in the ever-present gloom of the Restricted Section. Quickly, as not to displease it any further, Harry brought his hand to the page of the chapter, pressing it against the book until every part of his flesh was in touch with the paper. Carefully, as not to steal anything, Harry close his eyes and stretched his magic out to duplicate the words of the chapter. As he saw his magic encircle the writing in his mind, he slowly eased the words off the page, careful not to rip them off and completely take them out of the book. Successfully the words hung in the air above the book, perfectly duplicated, and Harry pulled them with great force away from the book's own magical binding. It was a difficult task, but Harry had practiced hard, and the words flowed into his fingers, up his arm, and into his mind, fully imprinted in his memory for him to use over and over again.
"Thanks be to your patience," Harry whispered to the book. He cradled it in his arms as he walked silently to the area he of the restricted section he had taken it from. He placed it back in it's shelf, understanding it's glee to be back in it's safety. Harry ran one finger down the books spine, smiling when it shivered, then left. The Library was no good to him now that he had his information, and his room was the only place he felt safe enough to examine the information he gathered more carefully.
He felt, rather than saw, Madam Pinch enter the Library as he slipped around the corner, hiding himself in the hallway's forever dark corners. The new information floated about his mind, confirming and amazing him to what exactly happened the day of Voldemort's attack. Fleeting images wracked his memory. Flashes of green light lit in front of his eyes, a laugh accompanied by a silent moment of despair welling inside him. It was so fast, rushing by him in a whirl of wind, crashing him to the ground, pelting him with memories so far pressed in his mind. Siruis' eyes boring into his mind, his accusations. Remus' despair. Lord Voldemort's utter joy in stripping him of his magic while absorbing it into his own body. His hawk, a guardian angel sent from the wisps of cloud and sun, created to protect him against worldly death, instead, flinging himself as a last resort into it's protecté. Voldemort's utter surprise to once again have his magic turned against himself. The feel of magic so powerful rolling into his scar, it sealing closed behind the last of the absorbed magic that once was Voldemort's. Blaring pain accompanied the diminish of his scar, the feeling of his mind ripping from his body, his soul, to replace itself, imbed itself, into Voldemort. And there was blood. Seas of red blood crashing from the sky and raining upon his body, barely still kept in the sky, the green light that held him fading from sight. Voldemort, the attacker, the animal attacking his prey, bled from an opened wound on his forehead, jagged in shape and harsh in sight. His glasses did nothing to protect his eyes from the rain pelting his head, dripping onto his face and into his eyes, burning them away. His feelings of horror at his lost sight, only to be flung back against the open sky by a shock wave of his own power, accompanied by the new pain of eyes created again. The blood swirled against his healing magic, tainting his completed eyes a bloody reminder, perfection at its most.
Harry dropped to his knees in the hallway. It was too much. Oh so much to take on. How had it all happened? He was unlocked, he knew all. He knew how to destroy Voldemort.
His legs trembled as he stood, his hands grasping the stones of the wall to steady his movements. He needed to get to his room, quickly, before he dropped from sheer exhaustion and numbing pain. Through his clouded sight and fogged mind, he knew that he would have to once again see that book. Once again read it's pages and imprint it's information into his mind. Curses to the pain it brought upon his mortal body, he knew no other way. He gasped and shuddered, appalled that this frail body dare give out from his weight. And what weight it was? He was nothing, food not appealing, reeking of burnt flesh. A dry chuckle met his ears. Was that his own voice? Daring to speak when he noticed not? Not only was he loosing his body to those memories that corroded it so, he was loosing his mind to them, those who wouldn't leave, his hunters. Fate was a tricky player, Harry realized. Giving him the solace of Eadem, then grasping his sole in repayment. But not yet. He couldn't give in now.
With all his strength he fought off the black haze covering his eyes; it would do no good for him to loose consciousness in the halls of Dumbledore's school. He cast his hand in front of himself, forming beings of another worldly plane to help him in his walk. His Sending were composed of hundreds of spell symbols, their features clearly masked against gender, the only inkling to their human nature was the shapes of arms and legs protruding from the square flesh in the center, if flesh be the right word to describe them. Harry could clearly make out the circles, squares, triangles, and other shapes of his spell dancing along his Sending's body; signs of order, formation, intelligence and the directions of his current position to his room several floors down. Three in all were made, already gathering Harry in their arms and carrying him down the dank halls of Hogwart's School. One silently drifted ahead of the other, it's body fading in and out of sight, the candles of the hall casting a shine upon it, the dark masking it from sight except for a pale silver tint.
They brought him soundlessly to his room all the while crooning over their master and adjusting to his greatest comfort, Harry himself trying not to fall asleep to their tender caring. The red snake of the portrait hissed his annoyance at the ghost like figures passing mindlessly through his painting, headless of his commands to stop, leaving Harry to speak the password, awaiting him inside.
"Persephone," was whispered through a tired mouth, Harry's mind fuzzy and wanting only to sleep; not dream. For his dreams were plagued with eyes he never saw, lands he never walked, storms he never felt, worlds he never experienced. He longed to dive into his dreams once and forever, completely immersing himself in the fake lullaby of visions that he longed for, yet never truly knew. Not that he would ever voice his wants to anyone, least of all himself. For what could happen to a mind so fragile it finally admitted to itself of longing one should never experience? He wasn't free. Not able to give in yet. Still bound in this god forsaken mortality that no amount of power could hinder; his body just that, a body. No Other Worldly Temple to be praised for it's impeccable attributes. Not a shrine to balance the peace of death beyond it's barriers, only afraid for the movement of one place to another, no consideration cast towards it downfall. One day, Harry knew. One day his human frailty would be the end of him.
The Sendings gazed at him mournfully before the last of their strength left them, sending them fading into the background of nothing, gone until he sent for them again. They couldn't watch for him now; no one could. Eadem was gone, Harry having left him at breakfast with another, not able to look upon his own eyes, knowing his body would betray him and he would cry at last. He couldn't afford that weakness. Once his body knew the feelings, it would overtake him. He turned about his bed, tired, exhausted, yet not ready to sleep, and having no energy to fly and break away. He wished, for once, that he hadn't cast away his friends, tied himself to this forlorn room away from prying eyes, was at classes blowing up potions and casting charms. Just as he had thought the night before...Just as his thoughts had betrayed him, yet again...
Hermione and Ron sat side by side in class, gazing remorsefully at their brewing potion, wishing for all the world that the next five minutes would fly by, casting them from the stuffy room and out into the refreshing wind. They worried so of Harry, softly comforted by his gesture earlier, yet still uneasy when looking at the whole. They felt Draco and Blaise's eyes on them, as it had been the whole class, and they knew it would continue on. Time crept slowly, toying with it's prey, not yet ready to relinquish it's hold onto such a bounty as these tiresome children were. As it trickled by carrying the weight of their thoughts on it's back, so had Hermione added the last ingredient necessary for her potion to become perfect, carefully mixing it in with several strokes clockwise, several strokes counterclockwise. It shimmered a pale blue, somehow reminding her of Harry, yet knowing not why; only that his presence radiated in her head at the current time, the blue drawing her into it's color, gasping out Harry's name.
"I have to find Harry." Hermione looked to Ron, showing him the urgentness of her proclamation, hoping he would understand. Harry was dancing in the back of her mind, holding onto the waves of her thoughts, tickling them to a standstill and holding them to his simulacrum, his mien spewing guilt, trouble, madness almost. Ron nodded in understanding, his thought also directed to Harry, knowing no way around him, bearing into his being and knowing no other. He saw movement around him; gazing out of the corner of his eye showed Draco and Blaise to be walking to his side.
"We need to speak." Draco's tone left no questions, and Hermione and Ron found themselves nodding in consent. "You've felt him. We," he gestured to Blaise at his side, "have also felt him. You know what we speak of, and we have many things to discuss." With that he left, walking to the front of the classroom and out the door, Blaise following behind him; Snape ignoring the students leaving early, knowing they were his.
Hermione hoped time would be kind for once, sparing her mind the assault of her thoughts carousing about it, leading swiftly to a headache. Ron fared no better, his first action wanting to be anger, yet knowing that the Slytherin was right in his presumputation; he was thinking of Harry constantly, his stomach knotting with something akin to anticipation. Yet he couldn't identify his feelings, only he knew that he needed to get to the bottom of it, and if his renowned enemy knew the answers, he would willingly comply.
"Dismissed." Snape simply stated, not sparing a glance to those students that were startled out of their thoughts, yet his eyes sought out Hermione from the crowd, beckoning her over. She rose, hesitantly at first, her mind in turmoil. Harry had shunned every professor around him, had Snape felt remorse at this? "Give this to Potter. It will help him, he knows."
She merely nodded. So. That's what it was. Snape was wracked with guilt, Harry also being on his mind; a far cry from the help that he had needed for what had occurred the summer passed, yet trying to console his mind now. It was strangely pathetic to watch her professor grope for some resolve from his current mind affliction. She watched him through amused eyes, preferably casting a spell upon him to remain in pain for longer, knowing his experience would hardly merit to half of what Harry had known and went through.
Draco and Blaise awaited her and Ron outside the classroom, directing them to follow with a mere look down the hall. They walked over the stones of the ground, through several corridor's and down many flights of stairs before walking to a small hall Hermione hadn't known existed. It was black, no light strong enough to pierce through it's course ebony shadow, hiding it from any eye grazing over it. Here Draco halted while Blaise continued on, soon lost to Hermione's eye in the dark of his surroundings.
"You're here, because Harry is here." Draco waved his hand carelessly, indicating that Harry was through the shadows that Blaise had ventured forth into. "Blaise and I have felt him for a few days now, his presence constantly pulling at our minds and bodies. And now you've felt it too."
"Why do you feel him?" Ron looked Draco in the eyes, his curiosity and annoyance getting the better of him. How could Harry reach out to anyone but himself and Hermione? Draco of all to be held, the one who could ruin him at any moment; his wrath too heavy a burden for Harry to handle.
"Because I was there. I was there the day Harry reached into every heart and mind around him. You both were too far from his reach, but I know you've heard about it now. That was Harry." He nodded when Hermione gasped and Ron's eyes widened. So they had both heard of the mystery of Diagon Alley. So much the better. He had no want of catering to their ignorance, presently happy that they needed no explanation. "Blaise and I were both there, Harry somehow identifying us amongst the crowd. We've binded ourselves to him."
Ron turned a deathly white, his body trembling with anger. "You did what?" he demanded to Draco; him being none the surprised from this outburst.
"Binded. Ourselves to him. I'll have you know that no longer will I bow to Voldemort, but to my Harry." Draco's eyes softened and he turned his head to peer into the dark. A small yet well hidden smile graced his features momentarily, expressing his loss of hate for Hermione and Ron's friend.
"Your...Harry?" Ron sagged to the floor, his mind flooded with thoughts. So he was to be comrades with the one person he despised most, have to enjoy their little affair for Harry's behalf; a person whom he realized he would gladly die for. Catching Draco's look, he found his thoughts to be not only his own, but shared amongst the hall's persons. All of them. They all would do anything for Harry, their leader. He let a chuckle float from his lips, breaking through the air caught with tension and to the ears of Hermione and Draco.
Blaise entered into the hall unexpectedly, drawing a gasp from Hermione, herself startled by his appearance. He smiled to them, drawing Hermione's hand in his own and bringing her into the dark. She held back gently, unsure if she was comfortable as she could be with Blaise, but thought naught on the subject when he halted in front of a portrait. Draco followed absently behind, a smirk implanted on his face, features light instead of troubled, yet unsure if he should remain happy when he met the man of his thoughts. Harry had drawn him and Blaise here, crying for something in their heads; hastening Draco and Blaise through Potions Class and in search of his hideaway. He was sure it was behind this portrait, yet knew not how to enter.
Eadem revealed himself to Hermione and Ron, coming out of Draco's robe and looking into the eyes of the portrait's snake. He locked eyes for moments, years, what felt like eternity, before hissing out a lone syllable, the painting swinging open. The four hastened inside, then reeled in the energy contained within the small room. Harry stood in the center, his eyes ablaze, his hands covered in fresh blood which could only be his own. He stared past his friends, his eyes unfocused and troubled, not those to which belong to Harry Potter; insane. Blood flowed down his body from hundreds of wounds he inflicted upon himself; his nails tearing at his flesh, trying to grasp bone; not knowing what they did, yet carrying out their owner's orders.
Blaise threw himself at Harry only to be caught in a web, halted in his movements, unable to free himself. Ron grasped the back of his robe and pulled, Blaise easily slipping out of the spell Harry erected, falling into Ron's arms. They looked to Hermione who stood staring at Harry, a frown graced her features, her eyebrow drawn in concentration. She noticed Draco make his way to Harry, but pulled at his arm, stopping him from walking into the trap she couldn't see. It wasn't right. They couldn't get in. Harry had them watch from a distance as he killed himself piece by piece. Eadem caught her attention as he lifted himself in the air, balanced on Draco's shoulder; intent on seeing the spells which Harry used to banish them.
Without a seconds pause, Hermione grabbed at Eadem, not caring that he snapped at her exposed arm; throwing him with all her might into the barrier holding them from Harry. As she thought, Eadem passed right through and hit the ground beside Harry.
"Stop him! Somehow!" Hermione hoped that sound also wasn't stopped from entering; sighing in relief when Eadem wrapped himself around Harry's right arm; it being outstretched and channeling magic to keep his shield intact. They all felt, rather than saw, the shield around Harry fall, breaking against the ground, shattering into millions of tiny pieces and imbedding itself into their flesh as glass would to their soft bodies. Blaise rushed to Harry's side, followed by Draco and Ron; all striving to halt his wandering hands that tore through his clothes and skin; demons sick on the smell of blood, their senses hunting for the thrill of killing and the dead.
Harry struggled against his binds his eyes flicking back and forth amongst the ghosts that plagued him, not understanding why they stopped him if they were the ones that encouraged it all along. "It's too weak!! Too weak! Leave me...take my whole and leave..." he begged. "Free me.."
His body shuddered and rocked, not capable of throwing Blaise, Ron, Draco, and Hermione off of it, tremors flying through his muscles, too soon and quickly to stop their usage, cramping with the suddenness of it all. Trying he did not succeed. His body cooled somewhat, the sweat and blood mingling together, fingerings quivering, tearing at nothing. With one last hope, his body gyrated, hips lifting off the ground, trying to shake off his binding, only to be held still did it drop to the floor, defeated.
They four looked to Harry's face, hoping his eyes would clear, which they did after several seconds. The fog that captured him lingered somewhat, not ready to release it's hold on Harry's troubled mind. For the first time since he was left alone in his room, Harry was finally able to see his surroundings. The faces of his companions at breakfast greeted him, though he could not recall their names but felt an immense pain cease his heart when looking upon their battered faces, bodies covered in small cuts where his spell had struck them. Silver, Black, Brown and Hazel eyes looked to him sadly, causing his grief to rise up, guilt clenching his heart knowing he caused them such pain.
Several minutes went by as Harry's ragged breath slowed to smooth intakes of air. No words were spoken as a single ichor left his eyes, fierce red in color, dripping from the oval opening above, the first and promised last of it's kind dripped down his cheek, blending with the blood covering his face from his self-inflicted wounds. Blaise and Ron elevated Harry from the stained carpet he lay upon; no protest of any kind rendering their journey impossible, Harry's onus a thousand weights on his frame, his mind dying inside. Quickly they pulled Harry's clothes from his body; his seemingly cadaver frame slumped over, not helping, not hindering. The cloak they peeled off slowly, it's weight dampened by the blood soaked tinge upon it, firmly latching to his side, the consequences of it's loss know to only Eadem. Try as he might, the humans chose to ignore him, successfully after much struggle, taking the cloak from Harry's shoulder.
Onyx feathers rose to the air, battered and worldly broken as their bearer's mind, dropping to Harry's side lacking all the grace an Angel's death could bring. For centuries of thoughts to carouse their brains the four stood in shock, believing their sight to have failed them after so long, understanding hard to come as they looked upon the charcoal extremities, so long kept from their eyes, their concealment now shattered. Hermione openly wept; sight not needed as she now truly saw, truly understood the pain Harry had kept at bay; finally grasping what her senses were dulled to. She sat by his side, gathering his limp body into her arms, cradling him against her chest as a loving mother to a child, fearing that letting go would loose all.
Harry's eyes fluttered open at the warm contact, his fingers though shaking with suppressed emotion clenched to her robe, the need of contiguity filling his mind. "Please..." he whispered, not raising his head yet burying it farther into her body. "Please remind me...." he gently lifted his face to look into her eyes. "Speak what thou once said to me. Save me..."
Hermione's sob echoed in the room; it filled with sadness incomprehensible to those in it, such sorrow filling their hearts; the light so far from reach, the dark offering it's comfort of everlasting rest and peace. "I love you...I love you, Harry. Don't leave me. Don't leave us..."
"Us.." he repeated, unsure of himself.
"Yes, us." Ron sat by Harry's leg, his hand dropping to rest lightly against the broken skin; trying to express his own love by the simple motion. The others gathering as close as they dare to Harry, reaching their hands to delicately come in contact with his body, hoping against all doubts in their hearts that he would hear their song, see their love, feel the faint magic run against his body, soothing him.
"Us." Harry smiled faintly before his eyes drifted closed, a soft breath leaving his mouth as his body relaxed under their tender embrace; finally free. "Saved me..." and he slept. Night and day meant no difference to his wondering soul; his spirit encountering those worlds he only dreamed of being part of, the serene lands grasping the remaining wisps of hatred from his being, letting them blow peacefully in the wind till they were stripped of their desires and returned to him whole and complete, his emotions at long last free from taint. Though they fought for hundreds of years upon the hill over looking the ocean, his saviors, his specters, could no more free his heart then they could take his winged curse away from him. He cried mortal tears; his bounds coming undone after such pain staking measures of being built, tearing away from his mind, his defiled soul tearing away from his body. They left him then, venturing back to whence they came, taking his dreams away, leaving him in his own worldly empyrean, his choice alone to return to those who love him; or walk the winding stairs to the unknown, leaving all behind.
Harry blinked up into the night sky, covers pulled tight around his body, heat from his lit fireplace warming his once frozen bones. Eadem lay by his head, face pressed gently against his shoulder. Hermione rested at his feet, sleep over taking her exhausted body as she lay upon Harry's bed studying. He turned his head to gaze about the rest of his room, not remembering how he came to be so comfortable after his Sendings left him, just then realizing Draco asleep on his couch, Blaise curled on the floor and Ron at his desk. How had they come to be in his dwelling? Hardly by chance? He shifted slightly, legs gone numb from their prone position, mistakenly nudging Hermione who awoke at once, looking about for the source of the intrusion into her dreams. Her eyes connected with Harry's sleep filled ones for seconds before a smile spread about her face. She slipped off his bed, walking to rouse Draco, leaving the others to him.
She sat by his side, leaning over him and brushing some bangs from his face, his unbound hair spread about the pillow in ebony waves. Draco quietly walked to the bed, leaning against one of the bedposts, a smile grazing his face, bags under his eyes. Hermione slipped a hand behind his head, leaning is back under her gentile ministrations. She spoke softly to him, his eyes asking questions his mouth couldn't form. Slowly, to show him what was going on, Hermione lifted a vial from her pocket, holding it in the light so that Harry may make out it's violet translucent color, swirling at the bottom of the vial, shining off the light reflected into it.
Draco unstopped it, letting Hermione hold Harry's head at the proper angle whilst he administered the potion. Not once did Harry struggle among their workings, submitting himself to those who seemed to care, not worried for once whether he would live to see the next sun rise; the potion be his doom. In small amounts did Draco pour the potion into Harry's slightly opened mouth, letting him swallow before any more came. Once all of the potion was gone, Hermione rested Harry's head against the pillow, it swarming around his weight, a comfort around him. His eyes slowly drifted close, the potion working to it's full effect, sending Harry to a dreamless sleep while he recovered from the previous night's tidings.
For Hermione, Draco, Ron and Blaise had yet to leave Harry's chambers, a full day of school taunting them to leave and learn; Hermione herself adamant about staying by Harry's side. No food reached their hunger driven stomach's, Dumbledore's knowledge of the room still unknown, and they craved a morsel of nourishment to replenish their energy. Ron was woken by Draco, Blaise still sleeping contentedly on the floor, the radiance of the fire a blanket enough to keep him warm. Once his eyes sweeped his surroundings, Ron felt the pang of an empty stomach and arose to his feet. He nodded to Draco, then signaled to Hermione he was to leave and be back soon. She understood immediately, motioning Ron to bring enough food to last them more days, enough until Harry was fully recovered.
Hermione's eyes saddened as she took on her friend's form. Harry was weak, his body too small, bones protruding from his sides. It had a heavenly glow, blue from the workings of the potion, but Hermione knew that once it was finished, Harry's skin would turn a sickly white, death creeping upon his frame. She had seen it, when they had cleaned Harry's wounds. He was dying. Draco had denied it when she spoke to him, his eyes betraying the pleadings of his mind.
Their Harry was dying, and they couldn't save him. From what they witnessed earlier, Hermione came to the conclusion that he was warring against himself, his mind too strong for his body to control, loosing life as Harry lost himself to his emptiness. His fight was his own, and he would no more win than live forever.
Where once was Harry, a golden orb amongst his chest, now was darkness. Where once was love, Harry had forsaken it to rid himself of such frailties; Voldemort the only consistency he reached out to anymore. Voldemort who he was sworn to defeat, slowly killing him. Voldemort who devastated Harry by the mere obsession and consistency in his mind. How long until Harry's body couldn't last anymore? Before his power was gone, wasted in the wind; until his wings no longer stretched amongst the clouds, moon kissed in flight?
They had all spend hours researching any ways to save him. Inevitable, it was, when they found no answer, no consolation to their tidings. Harry's Guardian Magic was dying, his body following behind, and soon his mind. Such pain he experienced, day and night, agonizing in the slow lacerations made upon his soul, his life slipping through his fingers. And Harry had given up. He hadn't come to them! Hadn't searched with his friends for a way to live: seeking death and eternal sleep. Counting only that he would last until the defeat of his foe.
A tear streamed down Hermione's cheek; a diamond shining among the carnage of the tide....counting only that he would last until his mind overcame his all.
BOUNDS OF MORTALITY
Tis the night I speak to.. tis the dreams I ask.
Forlorn in my own reality seeking that which is another.
For time is of the essence and dreams of nothing.
Where do time space and dreams come to converge.
That is the heaven I seek and the hell which keeps me here.
Reality is a shapeless void coused to being by us. All things are
possible. Tis not raw reality that stops us from acheiving that which we
want. It is the reality that someone else has that fights against us.
So tis to be said that if we are strong of will perhaps we may overcome
want. It is the reality that someone else has that fights against us.
So tis to be said that if we are strong of will perhaps we may overcome
our bounds of mortality and rigid self.
For we are the dreamers.
For we are the makers.
For we are the gods.
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize
I do not own the poem at the end, or Shakespeare's writing
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.
~Chapters will be coming out once a week, every Monday, unless my muse fails me and it takes a bit longer.~
***
miles militis ab perditio: Aren't they great? They're definitely one of my most favorite Vampire books. Everything else diminishes in comparison. You hated Queen of the Damned too? All I had to say for it was that it had a decent soundtrack ^^;; And isnt Lestat a blond?? Why did they put a brunette as the lead character?? [I think Tom Cruise should have made the movie again..even if he is older..he still looks the same] It was so confusing! If I hadn't read the books before, I would have be so horribly confused that I probably would have thrown popcorn at the screen. As it is, I had to retell the whole bloody story to my friends who hadn't read the book and didn't understand! :(
legion1: And I'd love to love you for loving me for loving you! :) or not...] ..they aren't. And it makes me sad... But I can still do it anyway!!! Cause this is my fanfic dammit! ........
Hermione had to tell Harry that she loved him, because he needed to know it! By telling him of her love, Hermione made it known to Harry, (even though he tried to deny it) that he was cared for. And so, he can't hate her and think horrid things of her and distance her from him in his mind, because it's now confirmed that she's a presence in his life whether he wants her there or not.
Yay to being spoiled!!!! Spoil me all you want :D And Stripes need not give Remii a wonderful intelligent conversation that goes for hours...all Stripes needs to do is read and review so Remii knows Stripes is out there!
Hm..Maybe he'll get better...or..MAYBE HE'LL DIE A HORRID DEATH AND BE TRAPT IN THE PITS OF DESPAIR ALONG SIDE BARNEY!!!! But...maybe he'll get better.
-returns Stripy hug 10x!- Hugs are great! We like hugs (muse and I) And we like cookies. And baking cookies, dont we? Have a cookie for being cool and writing long reviews and..shhhhh...being one of Remii's favorites!
:)
fyre: A new reviewer! Aaaaaa :) Welcome to Aeternus Noctem [do you know how many times I just spelled my stories name wrong?] Sorry to not be able to answer and of your questions of what? who? when? huh? but, if I did, you wouldn't need to read this anymore, now would you? I've read so many stories with snakes in them..and I've always wanted to write one a bit more indepth..where the snake has a greater relationship with Harry than just being a pet communucating with him. I had to make something more dramatic..more tying...
Eh..Dumbledore being blamed? Not so much, but more of his role in the 'incident' will be revealed later on. But Surrey is sure as hell distroyed. Harry has wings, which was sort of explained, but not in full detail.. and his scar and mysterious connections to others have everything to do the day of his fight with Voldemort. Mwahahaha. What power! Having the bull by the balls. Aaaaaaand, I'll reveal little by little of Harry's powers, though some will suck, and others will be very fun.
Harry is alone. I can't really explain why. I may write him, but it's his brain. ^^;; I'll try though, and I hope you'll understand.
Er, I have no idea. I just decided to write this. He's not 15, but older, so I guess you could say post 5?
Here's more.
fyre: Dumbledore might have brought Harry to his current state, but he surely didn't intend for it to happen. Why everyone though Harry was dead will be explained a bit later...[when I finally feel like writing it in..or find the opportunity] but there is a good reason! Eadem..I love the name! I wanted something different, and I just so happened to look through my old latin dictionary..and Bam! Eadem=same. So..since he has such a strong connection to Harry, I figured I'd name him 'Same', and his name for Harry is 'Different'. [Differo]
I tried to make it clear with the "flashback" that when Draco mentioned Harry's cloak, Harry's thoughts automatically went to the time he spent with the old man. I hate the *flashback* *end flashback*. It takes away from the mood of the story, and I wantd to get around that. Sorry if I wasnt clear.
Eadem..is connected to Harry. You dont know how yet, and sorry, but I cant elaborate. He can though, sense, [if not know] what is going through Harry's head, and he then picked up the name Voldemort. [Do you remember how he said Harry Potter was a familiar name to him?]
Keep reading. All will be explained.
fyre: I had hoped it was beautiful! Was it hard to understand? His positions and wing movements, and such?
You caught it! One hurrah to fyre for really noticing the intense moment of Harry kissing the earth beneath him.
Eadem's great, aint he? I wanted to let everyone know that Harry is still human [embarrasment] though he tries to hide it.
People leaving him will play into a big part of the story, and into the ending scene! [evil cackle]
Not really immortal, per say, but..not human either. What kills him about himself, is that his mind is so disconnected to his body, that he sees himself as an imortal, yet his body is mortal and capable of dying. [that is better explained in this chapter]
He didn't die! Though he's close. So close.
More it is!
ProfessorZ: Better be getting better! I hope my writing is improving with each chapter, and easier to understand. I dont think I've ever made anyone cry...[except in elementary school when I broke a friend's arm..or middle school when I broke a friend's finger... ^^;;] But with a passionate emotion for crying..not pain. Ee gatz..I didnt pain you, did I?
Even though this is completely OOC and AU type story, I didn't want to completely change the characters from Harry Potter. So I'm happy you caught on that it's still Draco, Draco. Not just my version of him.
Chappie here for loyal Yahoo!Groups fangirl!
***
Chapter Four: Bounds of Mortality
Æternus Noctem
Dust covered the bound array of reading as a second skin, suffocating their brilliant colors and casting them into a dull void. Nothing had been taken care of over the summer, no one giving a second thought to the knowledge the papers held. All the more evident was the absence of the one who's work was to care, her being probably off in some office brooding about the school's start and those ignorant little children who destroy her collection; hypocritical thoughts making her the one at fault. But Harry had no overwhelming thoughts to lend to the absence of Madam Pince, his attention preoccupied by the astounding collection of books lining the shelves. Never before had he realized there were so many, never until he had to go through all them to find what he sought.
All he knew was that to start he needed to seek the Restricted Section, his focus on the combining of power to morph spells. Any book would do, just something to start him, point him on his direction so that he may know his way to go. Easily was it for him to open the gate holding the books from his grasp, such a trivial spell that he wondered how he never thought to break it before. But he discarding his amusement, intent on hunting down a title that called to him.
It had been a sure disaster from the start, and after an hour of searching, Harry sat on the floor, dust rising from its displacement as he sat. Only one book had he found. Only one out of millions had caught his eyes, it's bindings hardly holding it together, leather peeling from it's face, hiding the title from view. It was nothing, and yet everything. His only source of information, and Harry hoped that it provided him some.
The library was dark, clouds covering the sun and preventing light from entering through the windows. Though it did not hinder him from reading, his eyes able to see well enough in pitch black, it strained him so that he daren't use it to just read. With barely any acknowledgment in doing so, Harry called all candles around him to light, using too much power by mistake and setting them aflame, burning the wax till it was half way gone, oozing around the holder.
Seating himself at a small table in the corner, weary to be fully exposed if said hypocritical librarian decided to do her job and discover him there, and not in class, Harry opened his book. He doubted that she would make a scene of it, having most likely talked with Dumbledore about his circumstances in the school, knowing to avoid him, but he had learned that precaution was best. No one really knew when an enemy would attack, rendering Harry to his current position: looking for ways to best Voldemort. It would be tricky, he knew, but the separation and combination of Voldemort to himself had to work to his advantage somehow. And if not..
Well. Harry was prepared to end himself in such a way that would take all around with him. Damned be innocent who fought along his side. Damned be those who thought they could conquer the boy who stood against them. But, if there was a way to save everyone and instead relinquish what seldom little power Voldemort held, Harry would gladly sacrifice himself to see the other's end, letting the rest live their lives in peace, no needs to worry of who would or would not come home.
Harry opened the face of the book, running his fingers along the title. It was old, he could feel it in his bones, the faint pulse of the book pounding in his ears. Long had it been since anyone had held it in such an embrace as he had. He rested the book on the table, not comfortable knowing that it was feeding partially off the energy he presented to it with his slight touch. The pages of the book quivered slightly, a silent wind felt only by the book turned it's pages till it reached a chapter, exactly what Harry was searching for. Grateful for it's help, Harry fondly traced the words on the page, giving a gift for the one he just received. Short lived was it though, that the book took his energy, for it needed little to last a long time.
The chapter outline described the consequences of a Power Merge. To what it meant Harry had a small idea, himself being stronger since his fight gone wrong with Voldemort, than ever before. The book, he felt, was eager to leave his person, having been replenished of strength and wanting to be left alone in the ever-present gloom of the Restricted Section. Quickly, as not to displease it any further, Harry brought his hand to the page of the chapter, pressing it against the book until every part of his flesh was in touch with the paper. Carefully, as not to steal anything, Harry close his eyes and stretched his magic out to duplicate the words of the chapter. As he saw his magic encircle the writing in his mind, he slowly eased the words off the page, careful not to rip them off and completely take them out of the book. Successfully the words hung in the air above the book, perfectly duplicated, and Harry pulled them with great force away from the book's own magical binding. It was a difficult task, but Harry had practiced hard, and the words flowed into his fingers, up his arm, and into his mind, fully imprinted in his memory for him to use over and over again.
"Thanks be to your patience," Harry whispered to the book. He cradled it in his arms as he walked silently to the area he of the restricted section he had taken it from. He placed it back in it's shelf, understanding it's glee to be back in it's safety. Harry ran one finger down the books spine, smiling when it shivered, then left. The Library was no good to him now that he had his information, and his room was the only place he felt safe enough to examine the information he gathered more carefully.
He felt, rather than saw, Madam Pinch enter the Library as he slipped around the corner, hiding himself in the hallway's forever dark corners. The new information floated about his mind, confirming and amazing him to what exactly happened the day of Voldemort's attack. Fleeting images wracked his memory. Flashes of green light lit in front of his eyes, a laugh accompanied by a silent moment of despair welling inside him. It was so fast, rushing by him in a whirl of wind, crashing him to the ground, pelting him with memories so far pressed in his mind. Siruis' eyes boring into his mind, his accusations. Remus' despair. Lord Voldemort's utter joy in stripping him of his magic while absorbing it into his own body. His hawk, a guardian angel sent from the wisps of cloud and sun, created to protect him against worldly death, instead, flinging himself as a last resort into it's protecté. Voldemort's utter surprise to once again have his magic turned against himself. The feel of magic so powerful rolling into his scar, it sealing closed behind the last of the absorbed magic that once was Voldemort's. Blaring pain accompanied the diminish of his scar, the feeling of his mind ripping from his body, his soul, to replace itself, imbed itself, into Voldemort. And there was blood. Seas of red blood crashing from the sky and raining upon his body, barely still kept in the sky, the green light that held him fading from sight. Voldemort, the attacker, the animal attacking his prey, bled from an opened wound on his forehead, jagged in shape and harsh in sight. His glasses did nothing to protect his eyes from the rain pelting his head, dripping onto his face and into his eyes, burning them away. His feelings of horror at his lost sight, only to be flung back against the open sky by a shock wave of his own power, accompanied by the new pain of eyes created again. The blood swirled against his healing magic, tainting his completed eyes a bloody reminder, perfection at its most.
Harry dropped to his knees in the hallway. It was too much. Oh so much to take on. How had it all happened? He was unlocked, he knew all. He knew how to destroy Voldemort.
His legs trembled as he stood, his hands grasping the stones of the wall to steady his movements. He needed to get to his room, quickly, before he dropped from sheer exhaustion and numbing pain. Through his clouded sight and fogged mind, he knew that he would have to once again see that book. Once again read it's pages and imprint it's information into his mind. Curses to the pain it brought upon his mortal body, he knew no other way. He gasped and shuddered, appalled that this frail body dare give out from his weight. And what weight it was? He was nothing, food not appealing, reeking of burnt flesh. A dry chuckle met his ears. Was that his own voice? Daring to speak when he noticed not? Not only was he loosing his body to those memories that corroded it so, he was loosing his mind to them, those who wouldn't leave, his hunters. Fate was a tricky player, Harry realized. Giving him the solace of Eadem, then grasping his sole in repayment. But not yet. He couldn't give in now.
With all his strength he fought off the black haze covering his eyes; it would do no good for him to loose consciousness in the halls of Dumbledore's school. He cast his hand in front of himself, forming beings of another worldly plane to help him in his walk. His Sending were composed of hundreds of spell symbols, their features clearly masked against gender, the only inkling to their human nature was the shapes of arms and legs protruding from the square flesh in the center, if flesh be the right word to describe them. Harry could clearly make out the circles, squares, triangles, and other shapes of his spell dancing along his Sending's body; signs of order, formation, intelligence and the directions of his current position to his room several floors down. Three in all were made, already gathering Harry in their arms and carrying him down the dank halls of Hogwart's School. One silently drifted ahead of the other, it's body fading in and out of sight, the candles of the hall casting a shine upon it, the dark masking it from sight except for a pale silver tint.
They brought him soundlessly to his room all the while crooning over their master and adjusting to his greatest comfort, Harry himself trying not to fall asleep to their tender caring. The red snake of the portrait hissed his annoyance at the ghost like figures passing mindlessly through his painting, headless of his commands to stop, leaving Harry to speak the password, awaiting him inside.
"Persephone," was whispered through a tired mouth, Harry's mind fuzzy and wanting only to sleep; not dream. For his dreams were plagued with eyes he never saw, lands he never walked, storms he never felt, worlds he never experienced. He longed to dive into his dreams once and forever, completely immersing himself in the fake lullaby of visions that he longed for, yet never truly knew. Not that he would ever voice his wants to anyone, least of all himself. For what could happen to a mind so fragile it finally admitted to itself of longing one should never experience? He wasn't free. Not able to give in yet. Still bound in this god forsaken mortality that no amount of power could hinder; his body just that, a body. No Other Worldly Temple to be praised for it's impeccable attributes. Not a shrine to balance the peace of death beyond it's barriers, only afraid for the movement of one place to another, no consideration cast towards it downfall. One day, Harry knew. One day his human frailty would be the end of him.
The Sendings gazed at him mournfully before the last of their strength left them, sending them fading into the background of nothing, gone until he sent for them again. They couldn't watch for him now; no one could. Eadem was gone, Harry having left him at breakfast with another, not able to look upon his own eyes, knowing his body would betray him and he would cry at last. He couldn't afford that weakness. Once his body knew the feelings, it would overtake him. He turned about his bed, tired, exhausted, yet not ready to sleep, and having no energy to fly and break away. He wished, for once, that he hadn't cast away his friends, tied himself to this forlorn room away from prying eyes, was at classes blowing up potions and casting charms. Just as he had thought the night before...Just as his thoughts had betrayed him, yet again...
Hermione and Ron sat side by side in class, gazing remorsefully at their brewing potion, wishing for all the world that the next five minutes would fly by, casting them from the stuffy room and out into the refreshing wind. They worried so of Harry, softly comforted by his gesture earlier, yet still uneasy when looking at the whole. They felt Draco and Blaise's eyes on them, as it had been the whole class, and they knew it would continue on. Time crept slowly, toying with it's prey, not yet ready to relinquish it's hold onto such a bounty as these tiresome children were. As it trickled by carrying the weight of their thoughts on it's back, so had Hermione added the last ingredient necessary for her potion to become perfect, carefully mixing it in with several strokes clockwise, several strokes counterclockwise. It shimmered a pale blue, somehow reminding her of Harry, yet knowing not why; only that his presence radiated in her head at the current time, the blue drawing her into it's color, gasping out Harry's name.
"I have to find Harry." Hermione looked to Ron, showing him the urgentness of her proclamation, hoping he would understand. Harry was dancing in the back of her mind, holding onto the waves of her thoughts, tickling them to a standstill and holding them to his simulacrum, his mien spewing guilt, trouble, madness almost. Ron nodded in understanding, his thought also directed to Harry, knowing no way around him, bearing into his being and knowing no other. He saw movement around him; gazing out of the corner of his eye showed Draco and Blaise to be walking to his side.
"We need to speak." Draco's tone left no questions, and Hermione and Ron found themselves nodding in consent. "You've felt him. We," he gestured to Blaise at his side, "have also felt him. You know what we speak of, and we have many things to discuss." With that he left, walking to the front of the classroom and out the door, Blaise following behind him; Snape ignoring the students leaving early, knowing they were his.
Hermione hoped time would be kind for once, sparing her mind the assault of her thoughts carousing about it, leading swiftly to a headache. Ron fared no better, his first action wanting to be anger, yet knowing that the Slytherin was right in his presumputation; he was thinking of Harry constantly, his stomach knotting with something akin to anticipation. Yet he couldn't identify his feelings, only he knew that he needed to get to the bottom of it, and if his renowned enemy knew the answers, he would willingly comply.
"Dismissed." Snape simply stated, not sparing a glance to those students that were startled out of their thoughts, yet his eyes sought out Hermione from the crowd, beckoning her over. She rose, hesitantly at first, her mind in turmoil. Harry had shunned every professor around him, had Snape felt remorse at this? "Give this to Potter. It will help him, he knows."
She merely nodded. So. That's what it was. Snape was wracked with guilt, Harry also being on his mind; a far cry from the help that he had needed for what had occurred the summer passed, yet trying to console his mind now. It was strangely pathetic to watch her professor grope for some resolve from his current mind affliction. She watched him through amused eyes, preferably casting a spell upon him to remain in pain for longer, knowing his experience would hardly merit to half of what Harry had known and went through.
Draco and Blaise awaited her and Ron outside the classroom, directing them to follow with a mere look down the hall. They walked over the stones of the ground, through several corridor's and down many flights of stairs before walking to a small hall Hermione hadn't known existed. It was black, no light strong enough to pierce through it's course ebony shadow, hiding it from any eye grazing over it. Here Draco halted while Blaise continued on, soon lost to Hermione's eye in the dark of his surroundings.
"You're here, because Harry is here." Draco waved his hand carelessly, indicating that Harry was through the shadows that Blaise had ventured forth into. "Blaise and I have felt him for a few days now, his presence constantly pulling at our minds and bodies. And now you've felt it too."
"Why do you feel him?" Ron looked Draco in the eyes, his curiosity and annoyance getting the better of him. How could Harry reach out to anyone but himself and Hermione? Draco of all to be held, the one who could ruin him at any moment; his wrath too heavy a burden for Harry to handle.
"Because I was there. I was there the day Harry reached into every heart and mind around him. You both were too far from his reach, but I know you've heard about it now. That was Harry." He nodded when Hermione gasped and Ron's eyes widened. So they had both heard of the mystery of Diagon Alley. So much the better. He had no want of catering to their ignorance, presently happy that they needed no explanation. "Blaise and I were both there, Harry somehow identifying us amongst the crowd. We've binded ourselves to him."
Ron turned a deathly white, his body trembling with anger. "You did what?" he demanded to Draco; him being none the surprised from this outburst.
"Binded. Ourselves to him. I'll have you know that no longer will I bow to Voldemort, but to my Harry." Draco's eyes softened and he turned his head to peer into the dark. A small yet well hidden smile graced his features momentarily, expressing his loss of hate for Hermione and Ron's friend.
"Your...Harry?" Ron sagged to the floor, his mind flooded with thoughts. So he was to be comrades with the one person he despised most, have to enjoy their little affair for Harry's behalf; a person whom he realized he would gladly die for. Catching Draco's look, he found his thoughts to be not only his own, but shared amongst the hall's persons. All of them. They all would do anything for Harry, their leader. He let a chuckle float from his lips, breaking through the air caught with tension and to the ears of Hermione and Draco.
Blaise entered into the hall unexpectedly, drawing a gasp from Hermione, herself startled by his appearance. He smiled to them, drawing Hermione's hand in his own and bringing her into the dark. She held back gently, unsure if she was comfortable as she could be with Blaise, but thought naught on the subject when he halted in front of a portrait. Draco followed absently behind, a smirk implanted on his face, features light instead of troubled, yet unsure if he should remain happy when he met the man of his thoughts. Harry had drawn him and Blaise here, crying for something in their heads; hastening Draco and Blaise through Potions Class and in search of his hideaway. He was sure it was behind this portrait, yet knew not how to enter.
Eadem revealed himself to Hermione and Ron, coming out of Draco's robe and looking into the eyes of the portrait's snake. He locked eyes for moments, years, what felt like eternity, before hissing out a lone syllable, the painting swinging open. The four hastened inside, then reeled in the energy contained within the small room. Harry stood in the center, his eyes ablaze, his hands covered in fresh blood which could only be his own. He stared past his friends, his eyes unfocused and troubled, not those to which belong to Harry Potter; insane. Blood flowed down his body from hundreds of wounds he inflicted upon himself; his nails tearing at his flesh, trying to grasp bone; not knowing what they did, yet carrying out their owner's orders.
Blaise threw himself at Harry only to be caught in a web, halted in his movements, unable to free himself. Ron grasped the back of his robe and pulled, Blaise easily slipping out of the spell Harry erected, falling into Ron's arms. They looked to Hermione who stood staring at Harry, a frown graced her features, her eyebrow drawn in concentration. She noticed Draco make his way to Harry, but pulled at his arm, stopping him from walking into the trap she couldn't see. It wasn't right. They couldn't get in. Harry had them watch from a distance as he killed himself piece by piece. Eadem caught her attention as he lifted himself in the air, balanced on Draco's shoulder; intent on seeing the spells which Harry used to banish them.
Without a seconds pause, Hermione grabbed at Eadem, not caring that he snapped at her exposed arm; throwing him with all her might into the barrier holding them from Harry. As she thought, Eadem passed right through and hit the ground beside Harry.
"Stop him! Somehow!" Hermione hoped that sound also wasn't stopped from entering; sighing in relief when Eadem wrapped himself around Harry's right arm; it being outstretched and channeling magic to keep his shield intact. They all felt, rather than saw, the shield around Harry fall, breaking against the ground, shattering into millions of tiny pieces and imbedding itself into their flesh as glass would to their soft bodies. Blaise rushed to Harry's side, followed by Draco and Ron; all striving to halt his wandering hands that tore through his clothes and skin; demons sick on the smell of blood, their senses hunting for the thrill of killing and the dead.
Harry struggled against his binds his eyes flicking back and forth amongst the ghosts that plagued him, not understanding why they stopped him if they were the ones that encouraged it all along. "It's too weak!! Too weak! Leave me...take my whole and leave..." he begged. "Free me.."
His body shuddered and rocked, not capable of throwing Blaise, Ron, Draco, and Hermione off of it, tremors flying through his muscles, too soon and quickly to stop their usage, cramping with the suddenness of it all. Trying he did not succeed. His body cooled somewhat, the sweat and blood mingling together, fingerings quivering, tearing at nothing. With one last hope, his body gyrated, hips lifting off the ground, trying to shake off his binding, only to be held still did it drop to the floor, defeated.
They four looked to Harry's face, hoping his eyes would clear, which they did after several seconds. The fog that captured him lingered somewhat, not ready to release it's hold on Harry's troubled mind. For the first time since he was left alone in his room, Harry was finally able to see his surroundings. The faces of his companions at breakfast greeted him, though he could not recall their names but felt an immense pain cease his heart when looking upon their battered faces, bodies covered in small cuts where his spell had struck them. Silver, Black, Brown and Hazel eyes looked to him sadly, causing his grief to rise up, guilt clenching his heart knowing he caused them such pain.
Several minutes went by as Harry's ragged breath slowed to smooth intakes of air. No words were spoken as a single ichor left his eyes, fierce red in color, dripping from the oval opening above, the first and promised last of it's kind dripped down his cheek, blending with the blood covering his face from his self-inflicted wounds. Blaise and Ron elevated Harry from the stained carpet he lay upon; no protest of any kind rendering their journey impossible, Harry's onus a thousand weights on his frame, his mind dying inside. Quickly they pulled Harry's clothes from his body; his seemingly cadaver frame slumped over, not helping, not hindering. The cloak they peeled off slowly, it's weight dampened by the blood soaked tinge upon it, firmly latching to his side, the consequences of it's loss know to only Eadem. Try as he might, the humans chose to ignore him, successfully after much struggle, taking the cloak from Harry's shoulder.
Onyx feathers rose to the air, battered and worldly broken as their bearer's mind, dropping to Harry's side lacking all the grace an Angel's death could bring. For centuries of thoughts to carouse their brains the four stood in shock, believing their sight to have failed them after so long, understanding hard to come as they looked upon the charcoal extremities, so long kept from their eyes, their concealment now shattered. Hermione openly wept; sight not needed as she now truly saw, truly understood the pain Harry had kept at bay; finally grasping what her senses were dulled to. She sat by his side, gathering his limp body into her arms, cradling him against her chest as a loving mother to a child, fearing that letting go would loose all.
Harry's eyes fluttered open at the warm contact, his fingers though shaking with suppressed emotion clenched to her robe, the need of contiguity filling his mind. "Please..." he whispered, not raising his head yet burying it farther into her body. "Please remind me...." he gently lifted his face to look into her eyes. "Speak what thou once said to me. Save me..."
Hermione's sob echoed in the room; it filled with sadness incomprehensible to those in it, such sorrow filling their hearts; the light so far from reach, the dark offering it's comfort of everlasting rest and peace. "I love you...I love you, Harry. Don't leave me. Don't leave us..."
"Us.." he repeated, unsure of himself.
"Yes, us." Ron sat by Harry's leg, his hand dropping to rest lightly against the broken skin; trying to express his own love by the simple motion. The others gathering as close as they dare to Harry, reaching their hands to delicately come in contact with his body, hoping against all doubts in their hearts that he would hear their song, see their love, feel the faint magic run against his body, soothing him.
"Us." Harry smiled faintly before his eyes drifted closed, a soft breath leaving his mouth as his body relaxed under their tender embrace; finally free. "Saved me..." and he slept. Night and day meant no difference to his wondering soul; his spirit encountering those worlds he only dreamed of being part of, the serene lands grasping the remaining wisps of hatred from his being, letting them blow peacefully in the wind till they were stripped of their desires and returned to him whole and complete, his emotions at long last free from taint. Though they fought for hundreds of years upon the hill over looking the ocean, his saviors, his specters, could no more free his heart then they could take his winged curse away from him. He cried mortal tears; his bounds coming undone after such pain staking measures of being built, tearing away from his mind, his defiled soul tearing away from his body. They left him then, venturing back to whence they came, taking his dreams away, leaving him in his own worldly empyrean, his choice alone to return to those who love him; or walk the winding stairs to the unknown, leaving all behind.
Harry blinked up into the night sky, covers pulled tight around his body, heat from his lit fireplace warming his once frozen bones. Eadem lay by his head, face pressed gently against his shoulder. Hermione rested at his feet, sleep over taking her exhausted body as she lay upon Harry's bed studying. He turned his head to gaze about the rest of his room, not remembering how he came to be so comfortable after his Sendings left him, just then realizing Draco asleep on his couch, Blaise curled on the floor and Ron at his desk. How had they come to be in his dwelling? Hardly by chance? He shifted slightly, legs gone numb from their prone position, mistakenly nudging Hermione who awoke at once, looking about for the source of the intrusion into her dreams. Her eyes connected with Harry's sleep filled ones for seconds before a smile spread about her face. She slipped off his bed, walking to rouse Draco, leaving the others to him.
She sat by his side, leaning over him and brushing some bangs from his face, his unbound hair spread about the pillow in ebony waves. Draco quietly walked to the bed, leaning against one of the bedposts, a smile grazing his face, bags under his eyes. Hermione slipped a hand behind his head, leaning is back under her gentile ministrations. She spoke softly to him, his eyes asking questions his mouth couldn't form. Slowly, to show him what was going on, Hermione lifted a vial from her pocket, holding it in the light so that Harry may make out it's violet translucent color, swirling at the bottom of the vial, shining off the light reflected into it.
Draco unstopped it, letting Hermione hold Harry's head at the proper angle whilst he administered the potion. Not once did Harry struggle among their workings, submitting himself to those who seemed to care, not worried for once whether he would live to see the next sun rise; the potion be his doom. In small amounts did Draco pour the potion into Harry's slightly opened mouth, letting him swallow before any more came. Once all of the potion was gone, Hermione rested Harry's head against the pillow, it swarming around his weight, a comfort around him. His eyes slowly drifted close, the potion working to it's full effect, sending Harry to a dreamless sleep while he recovered from the previous night's tidings.
For Hermione, Draco, Ron and Blaise had yet to leave Harry's chambers, a full day of school taunting them to leave and learn; Hermione herself adamant about staying by Harry's side. No food reached their hunger driven stomach's, Dumbledore's knowledge of the room still unknown, and they craved a morsel of nourishment to replenish their energy. Ron was woken by Draco, Blaise still sleeping contentedly on the floor, the radiance of the fire a blanket enough to keep him warm. Once his eyes sweeped his surroundings, Ron felt the pang of an empty stomach and arose to his feet. He nodded to Draco, then signaled to Hermione he was to leave and be back soon. She understood immediately, motioning Ron to bring enough food to last them more days, enough until Harry was fully recovered.
Hermione's eyes saddened as she took on her friend's form. Harry was weak, his body too small, bones protruding from his sides. It had a heavenly glow, blue from the workings of the potion, but Hermione knew that once it was finished, Harry's skin would turn a sickly white, death creeping upon his frame. She had seen it, when they had cleaned Harry's wounds. He was dying. Draco had denied it when she spoke to him, his eyes betraying the pleadings of his mind.
Their Harry was dying, and they couldn't save him. From what they witnessed earlier, Hermione came to the conclusion that he was warring against himself, his mind too strong for his body to control, loosing life as Harry lost himself to his emptiness. His fight was his own, and he would no more win than live forever.
Where once was Harry, a golden orb amongst his chest, now was darkness. Where once was love, Harry had forsaken it to rid himself of such frailties; Voldemort the only consistency he reached out to anymore. Voldemort who he was sworn to defeat, slowly killing him. Voldemort who devastated Harry by the mere obsession and consistency in his mind. How long until Harry's body couldn't last anymore? Before his power was gone, wasted in the wind; until his wings no longer stretched amongst the clouds, moon kissed in flight?
They had all spend hours researching any ways to save him. Inevitable, it was, when they found no answer, no consolation to their tidings. Harry's Guardian Magic was dying, his body following behind, and soon his mind. Such pain he experienced, day and night, agonizing in the slow lacerations made upon his soul, his life slipping through his fingers. And Harry had given up. He hadn't come to them! Hadn't searched with his friends for a way to live: seeking death and eternal sleep. Counting only that he would last until the defeat of his foe.
A tear streamed down Hermione's cheek; a diamond shining among the carnage of the tide....counting only that he would last until his mind overcame his all.
BOUNDS OF MORTALITY
Tis the night I speak to.. tis the dreams I ask.
Forlorn in my own reality seeking that which is another.
For time is of the essence and dreams of nothing.
Where do time space and dreams come to converge.
That is the heaven I seek and the hell which keeps me here.
Reality is a shapeless void coused to being by us. All things are
possible. Tis not raw reality that stops us from acheiving that which we
want. It is the reality that someone else has that fights against us.
So tis to be said that if we are strong of will perhaps we may overcome
want. It is the reality that someone else has that fights against us.
So tis to be said that if we are strong of will perhaps we may overcome
our bounds of mortality and rigid self.
For we are the dreamers.
For we are the makers.
For we are the gods.