Okay, so I just finished reading a shit load of angsty FFVIII SxS fics.
Perfect time to write Chapter Fifteen! *dumbass grin*
Miaka-- I don't have to have someone else draw him. I like to fancy
myself an artist. I've drawn him dozens of times. Now, if I ever got
off me lazy arse and scanned them, they'd be up on my mediaminer
account.
Temptress... I understand what you mean. Isn't it though? *grins*
The Itch _still_ doesn't own Harry Potter
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Fifteen: Tsunami
The Itch
---
"Hey there, oh Bald One."
"You are a dead man, Malfoy. A dead, dead man."
Draco was grinning widely as Virginia stalked past him, to sprawl on
the grass and await their "illustrious" leader. It was only days away
from Halloween, and several weeks since the "incident" in which Draco
and Harry had shaved the youngest Weasley's head.
Hermione had finished translating the first half of the book, between
doing homework, of course. Hopefully, Harry would be able to find the
information he needed in that pile of papers, but it was doubtful. The
dog-eared page that he assumed held all the answers was in the second
half of the book.
Sirius had caught up to the other two would-be Weapons, fighting wise.
Being older, and a former Auror, prior to Azkaban, meant he had a lot
more experience, and it was more like relearning old tricks, and not
being taught from scratch.
Draco had been playing "spy". He snooped in Snape's things-- after all,
Snape wouldn't punish his favorite student, now would he?-- and learned
about Deatheater movements. He snuck through the passages, having
re-liberated the Marauder's Map from Filch, listening in on
Dumbledore's conversations for useful information.
Ginny-- whose hair was now about a centimeter long, and looked kinda
funny-- had delegated herself the Interrogator. Really, all she did was
start rumors in order to get information that might be helpful. Both
Weasley and Malfoy were doing their best to seem helpful in the task of
removing the wards Harry had to wear.
An invisibility cloak was swung off the shoulders of a certain
psychopath, even as a dog that had been mistaken for the Grim more than
once bounded out of the darkness. Soon enough, Sirius Black had joined
the two sixteen year olds, and single fifteen year old. Before Potter
could announce the plans for their practice, Virginia cut in.
"I've been meaning to ask you, Harry, who's 'Weapon'?"
"Weapon?" Harry was taken aback by the question, and tried to recall
ever mentioning his other in front of his "students". He hadn't, not
that he could recall... "Where did you hear that name?"
"Professor Wolfos," she stated calmly, still holding that unconscious
respect for Daemen that was a result of his known violent reactions to
students breaking rules around him.
"Figures," he moaned, "Weapon's... well, he's this guy, right?"
"'He's this guy, right?'" Draco mimicked, "C'mon Potter, that's not an
answer."
"Shut it, you," he smacked his pranking partner upside the head, "Okay,
so Weapon doesn't have a body, so he just kinda... channels himself
through me."
"He channels... are you saying he's a spirit?" wondered his godfather,
looking amazingly confused, "Oh, yeah, I can't stick around any longer,
Harry. Dumbledore has decided to send me and Remus on a mission to
Russia for Merlin knows what reason."
"Don't swear by Merlin. He's an asshole," Harry muttered, "And I guess
you could call him a spirit. Uhm... I'm not even sure if Weapon is
male. He's never said anything on it."
"So how long has Weapon been..." how could she put this? Oh, screw
delicacy. This was Harry! "...been using you?"
"Fifteen years," Harry grinned, swinging the chain he'd been playing
with around him.
"Fifteen years?! You're saying he's been around since Riddle tried to
off you?" Draco was staring at him incredulously, "Shiiiit, why hasn't
anyone noticed?"
"Weapon was kinda trapped until fourth year," he shrugged, "I think
Tommy-boy resurrecting himself with my blood helped to free him."
"Okay, this is hurting my head," Ginny grumbled, "Let's just get to
killing each other, so I can think about this when I should be in
Potions."
The other three grinned at her, and she scowled darkly. Thankfully,
though, Potter agreed, turning to head towards the Forbidden Forest. A
bit hesitantly, Draco followed, still getting a chill every time he
looked at the forest. Sirius and Ginny drifted after him.
"Hurry up, don't want to get lost, do you?" called their instructor,
and the trio raced each other to catch up to Harry before he entered
the darkness of the forest. They edged along after the confident
strides of the lunatic, wondering if he really was going to lead them
to their deaths. The Forbidden Forest was not exactly the best place to
be, especially at three in the morning.
Malfoy opened his mouth to question Potter, but cut himself off as his
eyes widened. They had entered a clearing, and it was obvious Harry had
been there before. There was the remains of the a campfire off to one
side, a couple of sleeping bags, a change of clothing-- including
Gryffindor Robes-- and the entire area was saturated with protecting
wards that rivaled Knockturn Alley in magic detection prevention.
"I've been testing the limits of my wards in here," he said as way of
explanation, "It's why I don't show up for breakfast some days; I'm
passed out here. Any ways! In today's lesson, we start the fun stuff!"
Virginia fingered the holster strapped to her thigh, and the gun there
within, "I thought we were already having fun."
"Maybe you're having fun, Oh Bald Masochist," Draco muttered, "but to
burst your bubble, I _don't_ like trying to dodge the fire from your
AK-47."
"Awww, is Dracy-poo having manliness problems?"
Sirius looked about to burst into laughter at the brewing fight between
the two purebloods, when Harry cut in, fairly annoyed.
"You two better bloody well cut it out before I have to beat you to
death! There is a reason we have to be within my wards," he moved over
to a tree stump, and dumped off a number of his weapons, "Strip off
your arms, you're going to learn how to tap into the power behind the
Weapons."
The trio looked confused, and Draco ventured, "There's a power?"
"Twit," muttered the Weapon, "Of course there's a power! How do you
think muggles manage to be such effective Weapons?"
"I'd forgotten muggles could be Weapons," grumbled the boy who was more
than reluctant to admit that muggles could be something stronger than a
number of wizards.
"Take the bloody weapons off, and I'll explain it better," Harry
grumbled, "you don't want to accidentally destroy them when you first
channel."
That made sense, and the three of them removed the weapons they had
learned to use. This left all of them feeling bereft and naked, so much
so that Draco had crossed his arms over his chest, just so he could
wrap his hands around his forearms, where he'd had the Stallion Blades
strapped for weeks.
"Okay, first, it's really easy to feel the well of power that is the
magic that witches and wizards use. Ignore it," that was easier said
than done. That pool had been the driving force behind the trio of
purebloods for so long, that it was hard not to reach out and immerse
themselves into it. Almost as one, their eyes fell closed in
concentration, and Harry's voice merely became background noise.
"Reach behind it, or across it, or around it, whichever you can
visualize better," his voice was soft and lulling, and they looked for
ways to get past the magic that was so ingrained into their lives--
surprisingly, Draco reached across first, only to be confronted by
empty space. He hovered in nothingness, looking for something,
anything, that could possibly be this power Harry was speaking of.
And then he was hearing Harry in his mind, no longer by his ears, heard
instructions meant only for him, and he had to wonder if Ginny and
Sirius were getting their own special tutoring in finding the Weapon's
power. Then he no longer had time to wonder.
"Feel it, Draco," whispered Harry's voice, "don't try to see it with
your eyes, in darkness it is black, in brilliance it is white. It hides
from your eyes and your ears. Feel for it."
It felt strange to close his mind's eyes, to have mentally closed his
eyes, and tried to feel out the power. And suddenly, he could. It
eluded him, dancing and weaving out of his grasp. It sung with
knowledge, it sung with strength, it sung with insanity. He hesitated
in going after it when he felt that-- insanity? Could he knowledgeably
take that step into madness, merely by taking hold of this power.
"C'mon Draco, you can do it," cajoled Potter's voice, "If I can do it,
certainly someone of your stature can..."
Irritation flashed through him, as years upon years worth of frustrated
attempts at being better than Harry bloody Potter influenced his
actions. He made a grab for the power, but it weaved away from him.
"Make it come to you."
And he knew, understood what he had to do. He began to move with the
power, drawing it closer, but never actually trying to force it to him.
He danced and swayed with every movement of that thread of power.
Closer, and closer it crept-- and suddenly, it wasn't a thread anymore.
It was a wave, a tsunami that crashed into him, and it was drowning
him.
---
Ron rolled over, unable to sleep, "Hey, Harry?"
Nothing. Not even a snore. A bit grumpily, Ron resigned himself to
being stuck staring at the canopy of his four poster bed. No less than
five minutes later, he jerked straight up, eyes wide and unseeing. His
scrabbled at his sheets, trying to find something to hold onto, and yet
unable to. Pain lanced through his chest-- oh dear gods it hurt...!
Finally it faded, leaving him feeling drained and tired, and confused.
What... what was that? There was something wrong, he could feel it.
Someone in his family had just done something... something either
incredibly stupid, or incredibly dangerous, or possibly both. That was
the nature of the bonds of a wizarding family-- that is, if the family
decides to cast the spells to form the bond. His parents had cast the
bonds at the birth of every child.
Panicked, the boy rolled over, crawling out of his sheets, and flew
over to the edge of Harry's bed, "Harry, mate, I think we've--" but he
cut himself off.
Harry wasn't in his bed, and it appeared he hadn't even gone to sleep
that night. He had a sinking feeling that whatever had happened had
involved Harry, and that left only one other member of the Weasley
family to have been involved-- Ginny.
A quick search revealed that Harry's Invisibility Cloak was gone, and a
lump was forming in Ron's throat. He didn't need the cloak to sneak
about, but it certainly helped.
He flew out of the boy's dorm, feeling like there was lead in his
limbs, wondering if his sister and friend were safe.
---
He'd laid the three out in the sleeping bags he'd procured specifically
for this reason. God knew that he'd been insensate like this for a
couple hours. It always took a bit for the body to accustom itself to
the power.
Or, perhaps, Weapon's voice was monotone in the back of his mind, it is
that it takes time for the power to redesign the body to fit it's
specifications.
Maybe, Harry agreed. Do you think they'll be like us?
Who is to say? the other responded calmly, Perhaps, or perhaps not.
Time will tell.
"Do you ever not sound like one of those muggle councillors?" Potter
grumbled out loud, turning his attention to the wards on his arms. He
could recognize a few of the symbols, now that he had read over parts
of the translated rune book. He also knew the counter runes; a fair
sized blade shimmered into existence in his palm, and he scratched the
counters into the air above the original runes. There was a glow,
accompanied by a ringing hum, and he felt the power behind Merlin's
Rune's fade.
It would not last long-- he'd tried, once before. He'd cast the counter
runes, then left the Forest, only to find that the original runes over
powered the counters before he managed to even get to the doors of the
castle. It was frustrating to say the least. However, he could still
practice with this moment of reprieve.
The power hummed in the air as he drew it's volumous waves up within
him, feeling deliriously high on it. Laughter bubbled forth as he
glided about the clearing, fingers trailing through the air, followed
by an array of brilliantly colored sparks. Soon enough, he calmed,
growing used to the power flowing through him, once again. It was so
hard to feel so wonderful for such a short period, before the power was
drained away and sealed.
Just to be on the safe side, he scratched the runes into the air again,
more power behind it this time, but hardly enough to counteract the
original spell. He didn't know _all_ the counter runes, after all.
With that done, he reached out, consciously pulling the power to him,
and the shadows began to congregate on him. They pulled up off the
ground, swirling like smoke about him, ready and willing to do the
bidding of their master. The shadows caressed his cheeks, and he smiled
blissfully. This was why a Weapon never had a romantic relationship.
The power catered to their every need, to keep them from needing
anything but it. It just took time for a Weapon to grow used to the
power, to create a bond with it. Harry James Potter was the exception
to the rule. The shadows had been one with him since the moment he took
a piece of Thomas Marvolo Riddle into himself, and destroyed the
spirit's mortal shell.
They had helped him, hidden him from the rages of a drunken uncle. They
had protected him from the maliciousness of an overweight cousin. They
had empowered him in the face of a bullying aunt. The shadows weren't a
part of him.
They were him.
---
End Chapter
Told ya I'd make up for yesterday's short chapter. :)
Perfect time to write Chapter Fifteen! *dumbass grin*
Miaka-- I don't have to have someone else draw him. I like to fancy
myself an artist. I've drawn him dozens of times. Now, if I ever got
off me lazy arse and scanned them, they'd be up on my mediaminer
account.
Temptress... I understand what you mean. Isn't it though? *grins*
The Itch _still_ doesn't own Harry Potter
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Fifteen: Tsunami
The Itch
---
"Hey there, oh Bald One."
"You are a dead man, Malfoy. A dead, dead man."
Draco was grinning widely as Virginia stalked past him, to sprawl on
the grass and await their "illustrious" leader. It was only days away
from Halloween, and several weeks since the "incident" in which Draco
and Harry had shaved the youngest Weasley's head.
Hermione had finished translating the first half of the book, between
doing homework, of course. Hopefully, Harry would be able to find the
information he needed in that pile of papers, but it was doubtful. The
dog-eared page that he assumed held all the answers was in the second
half of the book.
Sirius had caught up to the other two would-be Weapons, fighting wise.
Being older, and a former Auror, prior to Azkaban, meant he had a lot
more experience, and it was more like relearning old tricks, and not
being taught from scratch.
Draco had been playing "spy". He snooped in Snape's things-- after all,
Snape wouldn't punish his favorite student, now would he?-- and learned
about Deatheater movements. He snuck through the passages, having
re-liberated the Marauder's Map from Filch, listening in on
Dumbledore's conversations for useful information.
Ginny-- whose hair was now about a centimeter long, and looked kinda
funny-- had delegated herself the Interrogator. Really, all she did was
start rumors in order to get information that might be helpful. Both
Weasley and Malfoy were doing their best to seem helpful in the task of
removing the wards Harry had to wear.
An invisibility cloak was swung off the shoulders of a certain
psychopath, even as a dog that had been mistaken for the Grim more than
once bounded out of the darkness. Soon enough, Sirius Black had joined
the two sixteen year olds, and single fifteen year old. Before Potter
could announce the plans for their practice, Virginia cut in.
"I've been meaning to ask you, Harry, who's 'Weapon'?"
"Weapon?" Harry was taken aback by the question, and tried to recall
ever mentioning his other in front of his "students". He hadn't, not
that he could recall... "Where did you hear that name?"
"Professor Wolfos," she stated calmly, still holding that unconscious
respect for Daemen that was a result of his known violent reactions to
students breaking rules around him.
"Figures," he moaned, "Weapon's... well, he's this guy, right?"
"'He's this guy, right?'" Draco mimicked, "C'mon Potter, that's not an
answer."
"Shut it, you," he smacked his pranking partner upside the head, "Okay,
so Weapon doesn't have a body, so he just kinda... channels himself
through me."
"He channels... are you saying he's a spirit?" wondered his godfather,
looking amazingly confused, "Oh, yeah, I can't stick around any longer,
Harry. Dumbledore has decided to send me and Remus on a mission to
Russia for Merlin knows what reason."
"Don't swear by Merlin. He's an asshole," Harry muttered, "And I guess
you could call him a spirit. Uhm... I'm not even sure if Weapon is
male. He's never said anything on it."
"So how long has Weapon been..." how could she put this? Oh, screw
delicacy. This was Harry! "...been using you?"
"Fifteen years," Harry grinned, swinging the chain he'd been playing
with around him.
"Fifteen years?! You're saying he's been around since Riddle tried to
off you?" Draco was staring at him incredulously, "Shiiiit, why hasn't
anyone noticed?"
"Weapon was kinda trapped until fourth year," he shrugged, "I think
Tommy-boy resurrecting himself with my blood helped to free him."
"Okay, this is hurting my head," Ginny grumbled, "Let's just get to
killing each other, so I can think about this when I should be in
Potions."
The other three grinned at her, and she scowled darkly. Thankfully,
though, Potter agreed, turning to head towards the Forbidden Forest. A
bit hesitantly, Draco followed, still getting a chill every time he
looked at the forest. Sirius and Ginny drifted after him.
"Hurry up, don't want to get lost, do you?" called their instructor,
and the trio raced each other to catch up to Harry before he entered
the darkness of the forest. They edged along after the confident
strides of the lunatic, wondering if he really was going to lead them
to their deaths. The Forbidden Forest was not exactly the best place to
be, especially at three in the morning.
Malfoy opened his mouth to question Potter, but cut himself off as his
eyes widened. They had entered a clearing, and it was obvious Harry had
been there before. There was the remains of the a campfire off to one
side, a couple of sleeping bags, a change of clothing-- including
Gryffindor Robes-- and the entire area was saturated with protecting
wards that rivaled Knockturn Alley in magic detection prevention.
"I've been testing the limits of my wards in here," he said as way of
explanation, "It's why I don't show up for breakfast some days; I'm
passed out here. Any ways! In today's lesson, we start the fun stuff!"
Virginia fingered the holster strapped to her thigh, and the gun there
within, "I thought we were already having fun."
"Maybe you're having fun, Oh Bald Masochist," Draco muttered, "but to
burst your bubble, I _don't_ like trying to dodge the fire from your
AK-47."
"Awww, is Dracy-poo having manliness problems?"
Sirius looked about to burst into laughter at the brewing fight between
the two purebloods, when Harry cut in, fairly annoyed.
"You two better bloody well cut it out before I have to beat you to
death! There is a reason we have to be within my wards," he moved over
to a tree stump, and dumped off a number of his weapons, "Strip off
your arms, you're going to learn how to tap into the power behind the
Weapons."
The trio looked confused, and Draco ventured, "There's a power?"
"Twit," muttered the Weapon, "Of course there's a power! How do you
think muggles manage to be such effective Weapons?"
"I'd forgotten muggles could be Weapons," grumbled the boy who was more
than reluctant to admit that muggles could be something stronger than a
number of wizards.
"Take the bloody weapons off, and I'll explain it better," Harry
grumbled, "you don't want to accidentally destroy them when you first
channel."
That made sense, and the three of them removed the weapons they had
learned to use. This left all of them feeling bereft and naked, so much
so that Draco had crossed his arms over his chest, just so he could
wrap his hands around his forearms, where he'd had the Stallion Blades
strapped for weeks.
"Okay, first, it's really easy to feel the well of power that is the
magic that witches and wizards use. Ignore it," that was easier said
than done. That pool had been the driving force behind the trio of
purebloods for so long, that it was hard not to reach out and immerse
themselves into it. Almost as one, their eyes fell closed in
concentration, and Harry's voice merely became background noise.
"Reach behind it, or across it, or around it, whichever you can
visualize better," his voice was soft and lulling, and they looked for
ways to get past the magic that was so ingrained into their lives--
surprisingly, Draco reached across first, only to be confronted by
empty space. He hovered in nothingness, looking for something,
anything, that could possibly be this power Harry was speaking of.
And then he was hearing Harry in his mind, no longer by his ears, heard
instructions meant only for him, and he had to wonder if Ginny and
Sirius were getting their own special tutoring in finding the Weapon's
power. Then he no longer had time to wonder.
"Feel it, Draco," whispered Harry's voice, "don't try to see it with
your eyes, in darkness it is black, in brilliance it is white. It hides
from your eyes and your ears. Feel for it."
It felt strange to close his mind's eyes, to have mentally closed his
eyes, and tried to feel out the power. And suddenly, he could. It
eluded him, dancing and weaving out of his grasp. It sung with
knowledge, it sung with strength, it sung with insanity. He hesitated
in going after it when he felt that-- insanity? Could he knowledgeably
take that step into madness, merely by taking hold of this power.
"C'mon Draco, you can do it," cajoled Potter's voice, "If I can do it,
certainly someone of your stature can..."
Irritation flashed through him, as years upon years worth of frustrated
attempts at being better than Harry bloody Potter influenced his
actions. He made a grab for the power, but it weaved away from him.
"Make it come to you."
And he knew, understood what he had to do. He began to move with the
power, drawing it closer, but never actually trying to force it to him.
He danced and swayed with every movement of that thread of power.
Closer, and closer it crept-- and suddenly, it wasn't a thread anymore.
It was a wave, a tsunami that crashed into him, and it was drowning
him.
---
Ron rolled over, unable to sleep, "Hey, Harry?"
Nothing. Not even a snore. A bit grumpily, Ron resigned himself to
being stuck staring at the canopy of his four poster bed. No less than
five minutes later, he jerked straight up, eyes wide and unseeing. His
scrabbled at his sheets, trying to find something to hold onto, and yet
unable to. Pain lanced through his chest-- oh dear gods it hurt...!
Finally it faded, leaving him feeling drained and tired, and confused.
What... what was that? There was something wrong, he could feel it.
Someone in his family had just done something... something either
incredibly stupid, or incredibly dangerous, or possibly both. That was
the nature of the bonds of a wizarding family-- that is, if the family
decides to cast the spells to form the bond. His parents had cast the
bonds at the birth of every child.
Panicked, the boy rolled over, crawling out of his sheets, and flew
over to the edge of Harry's bed, "Harry, mate, I think we've--" but he
cut himself off.
Harry wasn't in his bed, and it appeared he hadn't even gone to sleep
that night. He had a sinking feeling that whatever had happened had
involved Harry, and that left only one other member of the Weasley
family to have been involved-- Ginny.
A quick search revealed that Harry's Invisibility Cloak was gone, and a
lump was forming in Ron's throat. He didn't need the cloak to sneak
about, but it certainly helped.
He flew out of the boy's dorm, feeling like there was lead in his
limbs, wondering if his sister and friend were safe.
---
He'd laid the three out in the sleeping bags he'd procured specifically
for this reason. God knew that he'd been insensate like this for a
couple hours. It always took a bit for the body to accustom itself to
the power.
Or, perhaps, Weapon's voice was monotone in the back of his mind, it is
that it takes time for the power to redesign the body to fit it's
specifications.
Maybe, Harry agreed. Do you think they'll be like us?
Who is to say? the other responded calmly, Perhaps, or perhaps not.
Time will tell.
"Do you ever not sound like one of those muggle councillors?" Potter
grumbled out loud, turning his attention to the wards on his arms. He
could recognize a few of the symbols, now that he had read over parts
of the translated rune book. He also knew the counter runes; a fair
sized blade shimmered into existence in his palm, and he scratched the
counters into the air above the original runes. There was a glow,
accompanied by a ringing hum, and he felt the power behind Merlin's
Rune's fade.
It would not last long-- he'd tried, once before. He'd cast the counter
runes, then left the Forest, only to find that the original runes over
powered the counters before he managed to even get to the doors of the
castle. It was frustrating to say the least. However, he could still
practice with this moment of reprieve.
The power hummed in the air as he drew it's volumous waves up within
him, feeling deliriously high on it. Laughter bubbled forth as he
glided about the clearing, fingers trailing through the air, followed
by an array of brilliantly colored sparks. Soon enough, he calmed,
growing used to the power flowing through him, once again. It was so
hard to feel so wonderful for such a short period, before the power was
drained away and sealed.
Just to be on the safe side, he scratched the runes into the air again,
more power behind it this time, but hardly enough to counteract the
original spell. He didn't know _all_ the counter runes, after all.
With that done, he reached out, consciously pulling the power to him,
and the shadows began to congregate on him. They pulled up off the
ground, swirling like smoke about him, ready and willing to do the
bidding of their master. The shadows caressed his cheeks, and he smiled
blissfully. This was why a Weapon never had a romantic relationship.
The power catered to their every need, to keep them from needing
anything but it. It just took time for a Weapon to grow used to the
power, to create a bond with it. Harry James Potter was the exception
to the rule. The shadows had been one with him since the moment he took
a piece of Thomas Marvolo Riddle into himself, and destroyed the
spirit's mortal shell.
They had helped him, hidden him from the rages of a drunken uncle. They
had protected him from the maliciousness of an overweight cousin. They
had empowered him in the face of a bullying aunt. The shadows weren't a
part of him.
They were him.
---
End Chapter
Told ya I'd make up for yesterday's short chapter. :)