Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura
Kentaro Miura 1966-2021
A one-shot tribute
This was not the first visit the Prime Minister received, and he doubted that it would be the last. By this point, he felt himself far too accustomed to the overall… well, the strangeness of it all. It really all began that night four years ago when he was personally appointed to his position.
The painting which hung in his office, and apparently could not be removed for whatever reason, had spoken to him on that particularly long night. The portrait of the man had announced to him that a certain Minister of Magic would be arriving shortly to properly congratulate and inform him of his duties. The Prime Minister had chalked it up to him just being too overworked for the day. Raising Elize alone had cost him most of his hair before he decided to just go completely bald. But much to his surprise, and fear, someone did arrive that night.
They came not by door, as any respectable person would, they came from his fireplace; an almost perverse twist on the old tales of St. Nicholas. A wall of green flame had erupted to life and stepping out without so much as a single burn was a man in a suit and robes, topped with a lime-green bowler hat. This man introduced himself as being the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.
Fudge's first visit was short and fairly brief. He explained what the Ministry of Magic was and how it operated as the leading government for sects of witches and wizards living throughout the country. The royal family apparently also had knowledge of this society's existence due to some pact of sorts that went back generations. Fudge expressed that they would hardly see one another again as the magical society was largely traditional and kept their matters to themselves.
That was until later that year on Halloween.
When Fudge came out of the fire, he seemed entirely over-the-moon, twirling his bowler hat with a finger as he then shook his hand without ever slowing down. "Good news! Jolly good news, old Chap! He's gone! You-Know-Who is gone at last!"
He didn't know who. He asked. "Wha- is - who has gone? What is the meaning of this?!"
"The Dark Lord!" Fudge said, in a rather obvious yet excited tone. "Gone for good!"
After shaking his hand some more, Fudge managed to explain that this dark wizard who had been a scourge of their society was apparently dead, and at the hands of a baby no less! Fudge shook his hand some more before exiting as he had come before.
That night, fireworks erupted in the air, comets soared across the sky, constellations rearranged and danced. The next morning, he had to inform the press that it was all just a natural phenomenon. He didn't see Fudge until years after that.
"Good evening, Minister Foss," Fudge said rather grimly. "I'm afraid that I'm not here on the best of news this time."
He informed him that a highly dangerous criminal by the name of Sirius Black had escaped a high security prison and was now on the loose. Black was apparently responsible for killing over a dozen civilians twelve years prior after the defeat of his master, the Dark Lord. Now, he was loose in the country and after the very boy that had survived that fateful Halloween night.
After some persuading, Minister Foss agreed to send word to all mundane authorities to join the search for Black, even putting out a call to the "special" task force of the royal militia, the Black Dogs. They were led by a man called Wyald and largely kept at an isolated base for "additional protection."
Foss knew the real reason why. Under Wyald's command, the Black Dogs were anything but safe. How Wyald ever became employed was beyond him other than that he must have had friends in high places to become employed, let alone promoted. The captain was also said to have an unsettling appearance that hardly put anyone at ease, hence why they were kept out of public sight. Foss didn't know if he wished for Black to be caught by Wyald, or if Black would do him a favor and add one more body to his count.
The next visit was in regards to a couple of people having to have their memories altered after an attack from apparent followers of this Dark Lord at some magical sporting event. Fudge also informed him that a tournament of sorts would be hosted at that school up in Scotland.
And now, now they were meeting once again.
"Is this something to worry about?" Foss asked as the other minister paced around the office.
"Hm? Oh! Oh, no! No, nothing to worry about at all. These are rumors, just rumors, I assure you."
"Rumors about this Dark Lord returning?" Foss inquired. Dead men couldn't just come back to life… could they?
Fudge gave a dismissive wave. "A mere cry for attention. The one responsible for starting this is an underaged boy who had his name entered in a restricted tournament and backed by a man who is after my job. You can surely relate?"
Foss felt his bottom lid twitch. "I'd certainly hope not."
"Well, yes, anyway, I thought to inform you of such news before you heard from any other source. Rumors are a nasty business. I wish you and His Majesty good health. I'll take my leave."
"You are quite sure that those are just rumors?" Foss stopped Fudge before he could take a handful of that powder and disappear in green flames.
"Well… yes, of course!" Fudge nodded. "What have you heard?"
"Aside from your seemingly annual checkup, a great many things." Foss folded his hands behind his back. "I was certain that you would be able to shed some light on these occurrences."
"Such as…?"
"What is going on in the East?"
"The Kushans? What about them?"
"Our ministry received word from their Emperor Ganishka that he believes his empire is destined to expand and he shall do so with divine powers given to him by God."
"Oh posh!" Fudge dismissed. "You report to a monarch yourself, you know how fickle they can be. Besides, the Kushan Empire has largely been in conflict with your nation since the assination of that Gandhi fellow way back when."
Ah, yes, still a bitter wound in their country's history. If that idol hadn't been killed, perhaps the subcontinent could have been reasoned with. Who would have expected a monarchy to emerge and wind up conquering much of Southeast Asia as well as the Middle East up to parts of Turkey. Many Western nations had since grown weary of the ever-expanding Kushan might and the current ruler of the dynasty had since been coined the Dread Emperor Ganishka.
"That's not all," Foss continued. "There have been strange sightings, disappearances."
"And what sightings would that be?" Fudge asked.
"Beasts, cryptids, monsters. They've been popping up all around the country. A crystal dragon up north, a giant snake near the Forest of Dean, the list goes on."
"Ah, yes, our department for magical creatures has gotten word of those sightings. We've since sent several obliviator squads out to modify any witnesses' memories."
"Yes, but what are they?" Foss further inquired. "If your people are handling it, wouldn't I have been informed that it was resolved?"
"That is exactly what we are trying to discern," Fudge puffed a bit. "So far, these creatures have been elusive, no doubt returning to their nest or whatever cave they inhabit. As long as they stay away from populous areas, there really is no cause for concern."
"And what happens if one of these creatures is abducting people?" Foss then asked. "There are troubling reports from Little Whington in Surrey, very near to where this icon of yours resides."
"Yes, yes, that hasn't gone unnoticed. As deranged as the boy is, he hasn't performed any magic that we can directly trace back to him unless he has figured some way around that through Dumbledore. There were faint trails of some kind of magic near each of the uh, abduction scenes. This is most likely the work of Sirius Black or some other Death Eater in hiding, or possibly even just a mundane human trafficker."
Oh, those reports were always a hassle to read through. It all began a few years ago with the disappearance of one Rosine Fae. The young girl had barely entered her teenage years before she and her parents vanished one night without a trace. The story made national headlines and a manhunt was sent out scouring the Surrey area but found nothing.
Ever since then, children have been steadily disappearing, all of which are located around Little Whington, Surrey. What was once an isolated case now seemed the work of a serial abductor. Perhaps these disappearances were attempts to get at this troublesome Potter boy. The youth did seem to be a hub of misfortune. Foss had looked into the boy's past files before he was shipped off to that school of his. There was nothing criminal, yet, but the boy did seem to have odd ways of getting in trouble around his previous school such as suddenly appearing on the roof of the building. Foss supposed anything strange with the boy could be simply chalked up to being magical and therefore beyond his understanding. Still, keeping an eye on the boy would be something he would bring up to his Majesty, the King, especially if these disappearances were directed towards the boy's person.
"Do you truly believe it to be just a human trafficker? Especially when you admitted that traces of something else were left behind. Perhaps it could be something… more than a mere escaped convict?"
Fudge actually blustered at his jowls while his face grew red. "Prime Minister! Don't tell me that you believe the nonsense that I just relayed to you of what Potter said. The boy's delusional! The fame has finally gotten to his head, I'd wager! He's even blacked out in several classes! He's-!"
"I do not refer to the return of this menace, Minister Fudge," Foss quietly interrupted the miniature rant. "I reference something else entirely."
"Oh?" Fudge asked, deflating. "And what might that be?"
Foss' lids grew heavy. "Perhaps just an old urban legend, nothing more than an old wives tale." He took a sip of the tea he had. "For your… expansive mythology, does any record indicate a phantom horseman?"
"A horseman? The Headless Hunt, perhaps. What of it?"
"Not headless, one with a skull."
"I… we've heard rumors of such, but no concrete proof. This… Knight of Skeleton, for lack of a better title, has been a myth of the magical world since the end of the Dreaded Skull King."
Ah, yes, Supreme King Gaiseric.
Even wizards were aware of the deeds of the king of old. It was Gaiseric who built his army from the Germannic tribes, the Vandals, the Alans, and even some from Northern Africa. He toppled the Roman powers and established an expansive kingdom of his own. During his reign, he united all of Europe, as well as Britain, Ireland, Iceland, parts of North Africa, and a great part of Asia. And in a single day and night, the wrath of God tore he had built to the depths of hell. The only surviving blood of Gaiseric today sat in Wyndham Palace here in London.
"Even those wizards know the name of Gaiseric," the King had told him after his first meeting from Fudge. "During his rule, even those with magic were subjects in his kingdom. Why do you think their minister met with you? He is obliged to do so."
"Hm." Foss set his tea down and closed his eyes. "A legend even amongst your people."
"Yes, a legend," Fudge lightly scowled. "The Dreaded Skull King has long since past. All that remains of him is but a memory."
"Dead men are dead men, or however that saying goes," Foss walked over to the other minister. Fudge stepped into the fireplace as green flames grew from the embers. "And for all of our sakes, let us hope that it stays that way."
Fudge was gone as suddenly as he appeared. Foss simply sighed and wiped some sweat from his egghead. He went back to his desk and pulled out a bottle he had been gifted over the holiday and poured some into his tea. As the dark drink flowed into him, he thought back to that boy: Harry Potter.
There seemed little that could be done for the youth aside from allowing him to be sent back to that school of his where upon the end of the semester the other Minister would likely come back for a visit to tell him of some other development in their community. Yes, much of what happened did seem to revolve around that boy. Foss' prayers would go out to the boy and perhaps God would work some miracle.
And yet so many miracles went from dreams to nightmares.
…
It was a hot day, maybe the hottest it had been all summer. Sitting out in the heat like he was probably wasn't the best solution, but compared to some of the alternatives, this was preferable. Before coming to this playground on Magnolia Crescent, he had been content to enjoy the shade the bush in front of his relatives had provided as he listened in to the news.
Two more kids had gone missing this last week and a mere three blocks away from Privet Drive, too. There was no doubt that was the reason why the playground was so deserted now. Parents weren't about to let their kids out and about with some maniac on the loose. And if something were to happen to him, he had no doubt that the Dursley's wouldn't even bat an eye. Hell, they might even throw a party.
Dudley hardly went anywhere without at least two of his little gang members present. Aside from the additional protection, it also added intimidation when they tormented a nine-year-old. If Harry didn't know Dudley better, he would have assumed he was the one making these kids vanish. Thankfully, his larger cousin was far too incompetent to pull off something without leaving a trace. Although, the Dursley's would probably cover any heinous acts he might commit, God knows that they look past anything that might be wrong with their "Little Dudders."
Harry lightly rocked himself on the swing which he sat on. He hadn't heard much of the news until that car had backfired which caused him to being found out by his uncle. One argument later and here he was, alone. No news about the abductor and not a single letter from any of his friends.
He kicked some wood chips with his feet as they swayed just above the ground. So much for "keeping in touch" over the summer. But why would his friends want to know how he was doing? None of them had witnessed Cedric Diggory get murdered. They hadn't been tied to a gravestone while their blood was stolen to help resurrect what was little more than a corpse. They hadn't seen him return. They never had to fight him alone with a broken leg and-!
"Um, H-Harry?"
The voice was enough to shock him into stopping. A rut had formed from where he had been kicking. Turning so the chains of the swing crossed, he was able to see who had approached him from behind.
"Oh." Resentment boiled away to mild embarrassment. "Hi, uh, Jill."
He mentally smacked himself for almost forgetting the girl's name. She had been a resident in this neighborhood for almost as long as he had, and just about one of the few who didn't ostracize him when he had attended public school. She was about two years his junior, her light brown hair was done in two ponytail styles and she observed him with curious eyes.
"Are you, um, doing alright?" she asked, crossing the fence to the playground.
His eyes went down to his recently made rut. "I'm fine." He discretely moved some chips to fill the void. "Uh, how're you?"
Her eyes went back across the street before settling back on him. "I'm fine."
Neither of them said anything after that. Harry could only guess who she was looking out for.
Harry gave a light cough, ending the awkward silence. "Did you want to sit down?" He gestured over to the only other swing that wasn't broken from Dudley and his gang.
She gave a small, close-lipped smile and a nod as she took the swing next to him. The sound of ungreased chains creaked to life.
"I'm surprised you remembered who I was," Jill broke the silence this time.
"Why wouldn't I?" Harry then asked. "You were one of two people who never listened to what my cousin had to say."
"That's because your cousin is an idiot," she bluntly admitted before looking bashful. "No offense."
"There isn't any. He is an idiot." Harry agreed full heartedly. That elicited a small laugh from the girl.
"I'm glad that he goes to that private school," she admitted. "Public school became a bit more bearable after he left."
"I'll bet. Him and Piers, both."
"Hm." She was silent until, "They sent you to a private school, too, right? St. Brutus?"
"Oh, yeah, that's the one. The one for troubled youth."
"And they didn't send your cousin there, either."
"Khh!" Harry elicited a small chuckle. "He'd never get into my school, believe me. His parents would roll over in their graves before that happened."
"I suppose so," she concluded. "Although, you don't really look like you want to talk about your relatives right now."
"Or ever, really," Harry casually stated.
"That's fair," she simply nodded. "I don't blame you."
"I actually came here to get away from their house," he confessed. "Not really too many places to go around here."
"Yeah," she agreed.
"So what are you doing out here?" Harry asked her.
Jill gave a lazy shrug. "I just had to get out for a bit, too. I wanted to get out before it got dark."
"Oh, right; the disappearances."
"You don't sound too afraid," she noted. "I'm pretty sure you still qualify for the age range."
"Not as much as you do." Plus Dudley's oversized shirt helped to conceal the wand tucked away in his pocket. "You're what, two years younger than me?"
"A year-and-a-half, actually," she proudly corrected. "We've lived in the same area all our lives and you didn't know that?"
"Sorry, sorry," Harry apologized. "It's strange."
"What is?"
"Like you said; we've lived here all our lives basically and this might actually be the first time we've talked one-on-one."
"That's not true. Um… oh, what about that one time we walked past each other in school and I said 'hi,' and you said it back?"
"That was elementary school."
"That was something," she insisted. "And I used to wave to you if I saw you working in your front yard."
"You did? I never saw you."
"Oh. Well, I did."
"Mm." Harry nodded, not really too sure what to say to sudden appearance of dark clouds in the sky briefly caught his attention. But, there was one thing that came to mind.
"Hey, Jill."
"Hm?"
Thanks. Uh, thank you."
She cocked her head. "For what?"
"Just for… being here now, I suppose." After going weeks without so much as a single letter of what was going on outside of Privet Drive, just a small little moment like this was enough.
Jill blinked twice, quickly turning her head and doing a good job of stopping any red from showing. "W-well, welcome, Harry."
And, of course, it came to an end, but not from the rather sudden change in the weather above.
"Jill!" a man's voice yelled out. "Jill!" he called again.
The girl next to him gripped the chain of the swing tighter as the owner of the voice came hobbling along the sidewalk. His cane made a distinct thump with every other step he took. He was a shorter man with loose jowls, uneven scruff on his face, and constant bloodshot eyes. It was Jill's father.
Aunt Petunia and the rest of the gossip circle loved berating Mr. Zepek behind his back. His rugged appearance and reputation as being the neighborhood drunkard always provided fresh material to critique. Because of it, the rest of the Zepek household was treated as a plague in the community as well as in school.
"What are you doing here, Jill?" Mr. Zepek called from the otherside of the fence. "Aren't ya too old to be playing around here? And what are ya doing around him?!" He pointed his cane in Harry's direction. Harry felt his grip tighten.
"I said I was going out for a little while, Father," Jill hopped off the swing. "And I was just sitting, that's all."
Mr. Zepek spat on the pavement. "And you came here? What are ya, four? And what's he doing here?" he pointed at Harry with a gnarled finger.
"He was here first, we were just talking."
"'Just talking,' eh?" Mr. Zepek scrutinized. "What does he have to talk about with you, huh? Talking about how you don't go to some private school? Talking about how tough he thinks he is that he goes to that delinquent center?" His beady eyes narrowed. "Or maybe he was sweet talking you; telling you all sorts of things that can make you feel like some cheap piece of trash."
Harry stood up so fast and sudden that the wing seat actually broke free from the movement. A cold wind passed by with another dark cloud.
"Why don't you shut up?" Harry then asked the man, ignoring the pleading look from Jill.
"Oh ho!" Mr. Zepek adopted a challenging look. "I wouldn't be acting so high and mighty, boy. You think just because I have a bad leg that I can't put you in your place? Heh! You're welcome to try your luck, you little punk! I'll beat you harder than that school of yours ever could!" He raised his cane, gripping the fence for support.
"Beat me in a drinking contest, maybe," Harry took a few challenging steps forward, noticing that he was quite taller than the man whom his aunt gossiped with the neighbors.
"Don't you talk down to me, boy! You're talking to a former policeman." He snarled. "If I still had my badge, I'd ship you off to juvenile detention right now."
"Yeah, no surprise as to why they let you go."
"Harry…" Jill spoke, now off behind his side. "Don't…"
"You've got some nerve, ya know that?" Mr. Zepek leered at him. "Your parents never taught you any proper respect. How can they when they're gone and dead?"
"Father! You can't just-!"
"Shut up, Jill!" the man told his daughter. "The boy wants to act like a man, let him hear the truth like one."
"You don't know anything about my parents, you old sod," Harry countered. In years previous, he would have just walked away and shrugged it off. But listening to Mr. Zepek now was reminding him of the last time Aunt Marge came to visit and all the things she had said.
"Oh, I don't know nothing, do I?" Mr. Zepek mocked. "It's a small community around here, I know the gossip that goes on. You call me a drunkard, well, how about your mommy and daddy? Unemployed and drunk even before you popped out into this world, I heard."
"Shut up," Harry warned. Mr. Zepek smiled, knowing he was getting under skin.
"And then they went and died in some car crash, plastered out of their wits. Probably for the best. There's enough idiots and harlots already."
The encroaching darkness above wrapped its twisted claws around Harry's mind as he pulled his wand free of his pocket and aimed it straight at the man. Mr. Zepek recoiled at first, thinking Harry had went for a possible knife or gun. Seeing only wood, he laughed.
"A stick? You really are the offspring of a couple of loons!" He raised his cane, ready to strike.
Harry didn't know if Mr. Zepek was worth it. Probably not, but he found himself not really caring that much. Seeing the cane raised for an attack, he thought back to the third task and the duel that had happened in that graveyard. This time, instead of some apparitions coming to his side, it was very much flesh and blood.
"Stop!" Jill yelled, running forward and grabbing her father's cane. Mr. Zepek nearly lost his balance.
"What are ya doing? Scram!" he hollered.
"Think about what you're doing!" she pleaded.
"Scram, girl!"
"Think! You have friends coming over tonight. Do you really want to ruin your game night by spending it in a holding cell?" Mr. Zepek focused on his daughter.
"I'll come home," Jill relented. "I'll help mother get the food ready for when your guests come over. Please. Please just let it go."
Mr. Zepek's jowls quivered a bit, torn between continuing the conflict or returning home to a warm meal and fresh beverage. "Gah!" he yanked his arm free from Jill's grasp and began hobbling back in the direction he came.
"Come on home, Jill," he called back to the girl. "You're still in trouble." Jill hung her head. "And say whatever goodbye you have for that boy. It's the last time you'll ever see him, ya hear me?"
"I hear you, Father," she remorsefully said. Her soft eyes drifted over to Harry. "I-,"
"Jill!" Mr. Zepek shouted, his impatience growing.
"...Goodbye, Harry." And with the arrival of another dark cloud, she followed after her father.
Harry stood there, watching until both of their forms had vanished from sight. He pocketed his wand and aimed a kick at the fence which made a portion of the chain-link come loose.
Returning to Privet Drive for the summer had always been something that had felt a chore to do after every school year, but now it felt more akin to a punishment than anything else. And after that exchange just now, Harry thought that he might have just figured it out, and it wasn't even that hard.
Here, he was useless.
All the magic he learned over the years, illegal to perform outside of Hogwarts. His friends, not being able to see them and gather information from them. And for as much as he detested the fame his name carried, it was only slightly better than being viewed as some vagrant.
He just wanted - no, needed for something to happen. After that graveyard, there was no way he could go back to idly sitting around his aunt and uncle's house until September came around. With Voldemort back, there was so much more that they could be doing - that he could be doing. And yet, there wasn't.
No news from his friends, no news from Dumbledore or Sirius, and just front-page nonsense from the prophet. Harry shuddered at the next passing breeze, the heat all but gone from this summer's day. He looked up at the now cloudy overcast and saw… something.
It wasn't a bird, that much was clear. Maybe it was some sort of bat. It was huge, whatever it was. Whatever small rays of sunlight managed to peek through the clouds helped to outline this winged creature.
Looking at it now, the only resemblance this thing had to be a bat was by the wings alone. Large, leathery, and silent. They propelled the body of the thing forward which seemed an abomination of its own. Harry was able to discern the shape of a long tail and legs in the form of a goat's. The body was large and dark, with two large, clawed arms. The head was trickier to decipher, but it almost resembled a lion's with… horns? Actually, just one horn, and a stump where a second would have been.
Entranced by the sight of this chimera, Harry made a move to reach for his wand again. The beating of those massive wings stirred not a sound, but gusts that Harry swore he could feel from here on the ground. And from above, the shape of the lionel head began to turn. It turned to look straight down at him.
Fear gripped his heart. Harry ran.
In a few strides he edited the park on Magnolia Crescent, practically leapt across the street and ran for the alleyway that he knew ran between streets. He didn't slow down, he didn't stop. Looking over his shoulder meant seeing the source for the iron grip around his heart.
He nearly tripped over his own feet as he basically slid to make it to the opening of the alley, not even waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light as he raced for where he knew the exit to be and-,
"Oof!"
"Ghah!" The mass he had impacted elicited a scream.
Feeling around for his glasses, Harry quickly put them back in place to see he was not alone in the alley.
"D-dudley?!"
The larger boy looked down at where his cousin lay. "You?!"
"Yeah, me. Listen, we need to get out of here and-,"
"You're the one who was doing it," Dudley pointed a porky finger at him.
"Doing what? Dudley we have to-,"
"You're the one changing the weather. I started to feel all cold all of a sudden and… I'm trying to get back home before you do another freakish thing."
"I haven't done any magic," Harry defended himself. "I thought you knew that. And we need to get back to your house right now. There's something flying overhead that's-,"
"What is?" Dudley asked. "What've you done?"
"Will you shut up?" Harry basically roared to his cousin. "We need to get out of here right… now."
He paused when he noticed he could see the breath leaving his mouth. Similar whisps could be seen coming from Dudley as well. A clammy chill snaked its way up his spine in an all too familiar manner.
Harry pulled his wand out. Dudley eyed him cautiously.
"What are you doing?"
"Sssh! Be quiet." Harry advised, his eyes trying to discern which way the attack would come.
"Stop! Whatever you're doing, stop it!"
"Dudley, will you just-!"
One of Dudley's fists came swinging, hitting Harry square in the jaw. As Harry fell to the ground Dudley ran towards the exit of the alley, shaking the chain-link fence which appeared to be locked. "Let me out! Someone, let me out!"
"Dudley, you idiot!" Harry could no longer pretend to be calm. "You have to… oh no."
Dudley was crouched down on his knees, holding both sides of his head as a cloaked figure levitated down towards him. A ragged, wheezing breath emanated from the mouth that was located just under that hood.
"S-stop… make it stop…" Dudley curled into a fetal position as the dementor drew nearer.
"Expecto Patronum!" Harry didn't think twice as he pointed his wand towards the dementor. The glowing spectral form of a stag burst to life from the tip of his wand and charged the dementor with its antlers.
The Patronus reared its head, kicking at the dementor with its hooves, driving the malicious creature away from the limp body of his cousin. Not able to combat the full might of his Patronus, the dementor fled, gliding over the fence of the alley and off into the darkness.
Hurrying over to where Dudley lay, the light produced from his Patronus began to fade as he examined his cousin. It was a struggle to get Dudley over onto his back, but he eventually managed to do so. Before he could go check Dudley's pulse, he felt another shiver.
Harry turned around but wasn't fast enough for the second dementor.
He felt his head go dizzy as he heard a voice shout, "Kill the spare!" and Cedric's body landed at his feet.
He tried to raise his wand, but his arm would not move. He could have been tied to that gravestone all over again, unable to move as Wormtail's knife sliced him and drew his blood. A head was rising from that cauldron.
A woman was shouting, "Not Harry! Please, not Harry!"
He would… he would be seeing that woman very soon. Or, maybe not. What good was a body without a soul?
"Grruughghsshhh!"
Harry felt the air return to his lungs as a fit of coughing overtook him. What just happened? Had his soul been ripped from out his mouth? No. No, he couldn't be gone! He still felt. He was still here. So what…?
He got his answer as he saw a pile of ragged robes lying limp on the ground in front of him. The hooves of the horse clipped and- wait. A horse?
Indeed. There was a mighty horse in the narrow alley. The steed was clad in decorative armor that also partially resembled that of a skeletal mount. And by the look of the red-eye, it very well could have been an undead stallion. But it also paled compared to the rider that sat astride such a beast.
It was a large figure clad from head to foot in matching armor. A tattered dark cape hung from the shoulder clips, a glowing sword was held firm in a metallic bony grasp. A shield with the symbol of a rose and thorns was fastened to the side of his mount. But the most startling feature was the glowing orbs of red light that illuminated the sockets of the skull helm. Green met swirling red. The rider dismounted.
Fumbling to raise his wand to defend himself, Harry was surprised when this… Skull Knight, for lack of a better term, walked past him and over to where Dudley lay. The fingers of those bony gauntlets examined the larger boy. Then, it spoke.
"This one will live." That skull helm pivoted to focus on Harry, captivating him with that swirling glow. "As will you, if you so choose."
With seemingly zero effort, the Skull Knight hauled Dudley over his shoulder and carried him over to lay him across the back of his steed.
"Who are- what are you?" Harry demanded. "What are you doing?!"
"You may stay your wand, Wizard. I come only to interfere where another saw fit to meddle."
The Skull Knight then easily lifted Harry to his feet, allowing him to gain his balance. Harry got a loser look at that glowing sword which provided a much needed light for the alley. Aside from the glow, the sword seemed to be covered with various facial features from eyes, noses, and mouths. He looked back at the crumpled form of the dementor.
"You… killed it. You killed a dementor."
"Not many a weapon can," Skull Knight concurred. "That Patronus you conjured would have been strong enough to do so if needed. Pride may be deadly, but its embrace can be well earned."
"You know what a Patronus is?" that sounded like a stupid question. He reverted to, "What are you, exactly?"
"Indeed. The knowledge of magic is not lost to a being such as I. An old acquaintance told me much of it and the hidden word you belong." Those glowing sockets betrayed no emotion or intent. "What you see before you is but a shell occupied by a mere memory."
The way he said that, a memory; it vaguely reminded Harry of Riddle from the diary and how the memory of his sixteen-year-old self had been preserved inside of it. But, unlike the memory Riddle, the Skull Knight seemed far less human and vaguely more animated. It was almost like a robotic or something trying its best to be human while not trying to deny it at all. If for nothing else, it did save both him and Dudley.
"You can ride a broom, can you not?" the Skull Knight then asked.
"What? Uh, yeah. What does that have to do with-?"
Skull Knight grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and easily lifted him up so he was straddling the saddle as well. The sudden action jarred Harry into pointing his wand at him.
"Fret not," Skull Knight dismissed the action. "We shan't be long."
With a swing of his sword, Skull Knight cut the air in front of them. As the sword cleaved down, it seemed to have cut a rift through space itself. A tear filled with spiraling madness opened before them. The horse clopped forward to the portal.
Harry shut his eyes as they entered, feeling invisible hands of wind slap across his body. A horrible howling assaulted his ears. His heartbeat seemingly becoming synchronized to the turbulent chaos.
And as soon as it happened, it stopped.
Opening his eyes, Harry saw they were at the end of Privet Drive, the Dursley home within sight.
The bone gauntlet hefted him up and off the saddle, doing the same with Dudley. Harry hoisted one of Dudley's arms over his shoulder to support the other boy's weight. Dudley's eyes crossed and closed, focusing on everything and nothing.
"Wha- wha's go-? Wh-wha-," he rambled incoherently.
"Return him to his dwelling," the Knight of Skeleton instructed. "That residence has protection to keep unwanted beings astray. I go no further."
It wasn't a far walk, but doing so while supporting Dudley would prove a task.
"Safety awaits you. Farewell, Wizard."
The spectral steed began a slow clop away before Harry shouted, "Wait!" Blazing sockets locked onto him. "Why'd you save me? You said you were stopping someone's meddling; who? What's going on?!"
All the questions he had been craving to ask this entire summer raged inside his head, finally with some outlet to express them to, even if he had no idea what this being actually was. This ghostly figure obviously knew about the wizarding world and some secret plot; what else did it know?
"Your questions have much validity. Most are not my place to answer. I will tell you this: my assistance was no blessing. Forces are always at play, be they driven by delusion or sinister causality. For whatever it is that is to come, I suspect that you still have a part to play. The same with the other."
"Who?"
"One with whom you may relate. One who seeks their own path in a world governed by the flow. A fish who seeks to leap from the river. He is who I seek next." The skull helm pivoted away from him. "And take heed; your choice is far greater than you may value. Farewell."
With another clean slash of his sword, the Skull Knight tore open another rift in thin air. His skeletal mount galloped through, disappearing with a single leap. No sooner had the rider gone through than the shimmering portal closed behind them leaving not a trace.
"Ugh!" Harry grunted as more of Dudley's weight shifted on him, leaving him no time to analyze the cryptic words the Skull Knight had left him with. "Dudley, if you can move your legs at all, now's the time."
Dudley's feet limply fumbled at the ground. Harry groaned again. Of course.
Basically hauling his cousin along the street, Harry stopped on more than one occasion to adjust so Dudley wouldn't fall to the ground. On one such break, something caught Harry's eye in the dark sky above. At first he feared that it was that same creature from earlier, but he soon realized that was not the case.
While this thing still flew in the air, it seemed much smaller than that winged beast. This one was probably only the size of a child. It flew silently and with a rather carefree demeanor, twisting and turning as it saw fit. There was also some sort of green bioluminescent glow that radiated off of its body to resemble some sort of human firefly.
It circled for a few passes before shooting off, leaving only a faint green trail in its wake along with little green sprinkles of dust from its wings. What was even going on today? Harry had to wonder as he quickly dragged Dudley the rest of the way to the Dursley household.
…
The night seemed to have fallen rather quickly on Privet Drive today. No sooner had he gotten back than Aunt Petunia had swooped in and began inquiring what had happened. A false accusation and a flurry of owls later relaying various information about expulsion, false alarms, and an insistence to not leave the house at all costs, Harry lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling.
He was currently the sole occupant as the Dursleys had left to take Dudley to be examined by a doctor after the attack. Uncle Vernon had been prepared to kick him out for good after the incident until a letter arrived for his aunt that convinced her to go against such an action. She had kept him around solely out of fear without an ounce of gratitude for saving her son's life. Although, he suspected that would be asking way too much from his relatives.
Now he was left alone again, completely in the dark while some unseen events happened around him.
Tink!
Didn't anyone bother to think about how he was dealing with all of this?
Tink!
What was so hard about just giving him a straight answer for once?
Tink!
He could help. He could fight! He could-,
Tink! Tink!
What was that stupid noise?
Getting up from his bed, Harry looked around, listening for the next, tink! There! At his window. Going over to it, Harry peered through, looking for the next tink!
A pebble. Someone was throwing a pebble at his window. And looking down at the sidewalk he spotted who. He opened his window.
"Jill?" he called down. "What are you doing?"
The girl he had been talking with just a few hours earlier was outside the house with a few pebbles in hand.
"Harry!" she called up to him. "I'm glad you're here."
"Yeah, where else would I be?" Although, anywhere else but here would be nice. "And why are you tossing stones at my window? Why don't you just knock or ring the doorbell?"
"I… didn't know if your relatives or cousin were home. I'd rather not talk with them." Fair enough.
"Did you need something?" Harry asked. Perhaps she needed to just get away from her house for a bit again. "I can let you in."
"Can you come outside?" she asked in return.
"What? Why?" he thought back to all those letters that had come in, all explicitly telling him not to leave the house. "Can't you just tell me from there?"
"I… this isn't just about me," Jill said. "She said that she-,"
"She? She who?" What was she even talking about?
"Look, this will be something you'll want to see alright," Jill insisted, sounding a bit desperate. "She wanted me to come talk to you since she can't for some reason. Just… Please trust me on this."
Trust. She wanted him to trust her. That was asking a lot since nobody apparently wanted to trust him with anything. Whatever you do, don't leave the house, those words from all those letters played over in his mind.
"Your choice is far greater than you may value." The words of the Knight of Skeleton played right after.
Trust.
Harry grabbed his wand for extra measure and made his way outside.
He took a cautious look around before walking down the drive and over to where Jill was.
"Hey, Harry," she greeted.
He was going to say hello back when he noticed that she had a mark on the side of her face. She caught him staring.
"I'm fine. At least, I will be."
"Do you want to come inside?" Harry offered again. "My aunt has things in her medicine cabinet that can-,"
"No, really, that isn't why I'm here."
"Then what is?" Harry asked. "What's so important? Who is this 'she' you mentioned?"
"Why don't you look up?" A new voice called out.
There, perched perfectly atop the chimney of the next house over was the owner. It was mostly humanoid with the body of a young girl that was on shameless display. The head held a rounded crest with a curled stinger and antennae. Bulbous insectoid eyes expressed the same emotion as the smirk it wore. The hair made up the large pair of butterfly-like wings that shimmered with a powdery substance. And the bioluminescent glow the body radiated let him know instantly this was the same thing he had spotted earlier.
The bug girl swooped downward towards where they stood. Harry drew his wand, moving to stand in front of Jill. The bug girl laughed as she flew circles around them before extending her wings to stop and touched down next to them.
"Oh, you've grown nicely," the insectoid examined him with a sly smile. "Still a bit scrawny, but, oh well."
"What the hell are you?" Harry asked for not the first time today. Jill tried stepping out from behind him. "Stay behind me!"
"Harry this is-,"
"Uh, uh, uh, Jill." the other "girl" waved a finger. "I can introduce myself just fine. And for you, mister, maybe try asking who I am before what I am."
Keeping his wand trained on his inhuman, he asked, "Alright, who the hell are you, then?"
She put a hand to her chest in mock surprise. "You mean, you don't recognize me, Harry?" She wiped away a fake tear. "Fair enough, I suppose. How about… now?"
Her features began to change. The bug eyes cleared away to reveal a human set of blue iris'. The crest along her head cleared away to let blonde tresses flow to her wings. Her ears were still pointed but were more defined. Moreover, he recognized this face.
"R-Rosine?"
"Charmed, aren't ya?" the girl flashed a bright smile.
"What are… how are you… you're supposed to be dead."
Her smile only grew. "Just a part of me."
Even though he had been away at Hogwarts during the time, he had still heard the news when he returned. She was the first of the children to go missing and later presumed to be dead along with her parents after they were never found. Rosine had been two years older than him and Dudley while at school, but here she looked the same as when she had gone missing. And aside from Jill, Rosine was just about the only other kid who ever tried being nice to him. She was an outcast due to gossip as well after word got around that she might not have been her father's child. It hadn't been uncommon for her to show up to class with bruises.
"You… you look so…"
"Cute? Adorable? Like a Fairy Queen? Thank you very much!" She gave a mock bow.
"Different," Harry landed on. Rosine tilted her head to the side.
"Eh, I guess that works, too," she shrugged. "And look at you, basically all grown up." Her tone carried a hint of disappointment. "I was just saying to Jill how she's the same age I was when I last saw her."
"And yet you still look the same," Harry observed how she didn't seem to have aged a day.
"I thought you said I looked different," Rosine teased. "But I can't really complain about eternal youth. I have the Angels to thank for that."
"Angels?" Harry asked.
"Mm-hmm!" Rosine nodded. "I owe this…" she spread her wings, "to the Angels."
"Angels did this to you?" Harry didn't know how much he believed that. "So what does that make you, a prophet?"
"More like an Apostle," she gave a coy smile. "And you'd be surprised by just who else might have been chosen. Big people go big places."
"Okay…" Harry just nodded along.
"Rosine," Jill stepped forward. "Tell him. Tell him what you told me."
"Hm? Oh, yeah!" Rosine's eyes sparkled. "I saw you earlier. You were with that fat lump of a cousin of yours, Dumply."
"Dudley."
"That's what I said. Dumply. Anyway, I was going to approach you, but I saw you with that… monster with a horse and you were heading back to your house, I don't know if I'd rather deal with him or that other one. For some reason, I can't get too close to it. Even being right here feels pretty uncomfortable."
"And so you had Jill get me to come out," Harry surmised.
"I couldn't believe it was her at first," Jill expressed to the both of them. "I thought that I was seeing things, or someone was trying to pull some sort of prank on me, but it's really her! She said she's really been looking forward to meeting with us again and that we can become just like her, too!"
"Kinda like me," Rosine corrected. "I have that power. And you wouldn't be the first to agree."
"You made this offer to other people, too?"
"Well, not adults, they ruin everything. Just the ones who I think deserve a bit of fun and adventure. Those who never really got to in the first place."
"You mean… like kids?" and it all fell into place. His wand pointed directly between Rosine's eyes. She followed his movement with them.
"Oh! It all makes sense now!" Rosine playfully smacked the side of her head. "That's where you disappeared off to that school year."
"You know about it?" Harry asked while a very confused Jill watched their back and forth.
"I know more than you think, Harry Potter." Her bright eyes shone with delightful contempt. Her eyes traveled up to his forehead. "You know, I always heard you had that scar, but this might be my first time seeing it up close. Hm. It's different from the brand that I was shown."
"Brand?" Harry questioned. "What? Did the Angels show that to you, too?"
"As a matter of fact, they did," Rosine plainly stated.
"What are you two talking about?" Jill finally asked. "What's going on?"
Rosine looked between the two of them. Her eyes began to soften. "Nothing that involves you, Jill. Don't worry." Her hair wings glided her closer to the confused brunette.
"Get away from her!" Harry demanded, his wand following her every move.
"Relax," Rosine assured him. "I'm not going to whisk either of you away to my little kingdom, but I wouldn't deny you if you decided to come." Her insectoid features began to emerge once again.
"I'll be around, Jill. Maybe not as often as I've been. Big things are about to happen. And, Harry," she spun round in the air to face him. "I know the traits when I see them. I'm surprised the Angels haven't sent you a calling card. But if you really want to do as you please, come to the Forest of Dean. That's where we'll all be. And who knows, maybe you'll even get to meet one of the Angels."
Before either could further question her, Rosine shot up into the sky, a trail of green dust flying off her wings. "Ta ta, my lovelies!" And with that, she zipped off into the night sky.
…
Not long after that little encounter, an escort arrived for him. They consisted of familiar faces such as his dad's friend Remus Lupin, and the would-be DADA Professor, Mad-Eye Moody. There was also a wizard named Kingsley, and a younger witch with spiky pink hair called Tonks.
Thankfully, Jill had left before they had arrived, but they had caught him just as he was about to head back in. Mad-Eye had hounded him instantly, thinking he might be some intruder disguised with polyjuice. Tension hadn't exactly lessened when it was revealed he was no imposter as he got an earful telling him how irresponsible it was for him to have left the house when he was told to stay put.
With his stuff packed, Harry was allotted his Firebolt and told to stick close to the center of their escort as they went to a place known as "headquarters." And when they got up in the air, Harry felt the freest he had been all summer.
They went high, far out of sight from any muggle residence or buildings. A layer of clouds acted as an additional cover. Harry actually had to slow his pace down more than once as the other brooms struggled to keep pace with a Firebolt model. The thrill of being able to fly again almost distracted him from the fact that all his escorts had their wands at the ready as they flew.
And he saw it again.
From a flash of lightning, the shape was illuminated amongst the clouds. The bat-like wings protruding from the back, the immense bulk, the horned head; it was all there and so much larger than it had been from the ground. A second flash revealed that the shape was listing over to the left, closer to where they flew their brooms.
Harry wasn't sure if it was the wind in his ears, or what flew beside them, but he could feel the beating of the wings. His heartbeat quickened. And from somewhere within that cloud, the horned head seemed to turn. Specs of red held a reflective glow.
"Evasive maneuvers!" Mad-Eye yelled. His magical eye no doubt providing him full glimpse of the beast. "Dive! Dive! Potter, with me!"
The guard each flew in a different direction, each headed for the ground. Harry stayed by Mad-Eye's side, his magical eye showing all white as he observed any movement from up above.
They eventually landed in a small field, a farmhouse overlooking in the distance. His shoes took on mud as Harry dismounted his broom. Mad-Eye held up a grizzled hand.
"Hold it." Both his eyes were trained to the sky. Harry did his best to follow his line of sight. Not equipped with a magical eye, he had to wait for the next few flashes of lightning to illuminate the sky above.
The winged beast was still distinguishable amongst the clouds, but unlike the guard, it did not land. Without breaking its pace, it continued on flying. It flew until it was lost in the darkness above. The beating of wings dissipated to a mere pulse from within.
"It's heading Northwest," Moody observed. "Good. It'll be far away from where we're headed."
"Professor, what was that thing?" Harry had to ask.
"I'm not sure," Moody admitted, which was a bit concerning given his background. "I've seen all types of magical creatures, none really resembling that one. Maybe that crackpot newspaper is right about those crumple-horned whatever they're called."
"And it headed Northwest?"
"Aye. Maybe looking for a secluded spot to nest or hide. Maybe it'll blend in with some wildlife."
Northwest…
"...the Forest of Dean. That's where we'll be."
…
This was not the first time Minister Foss had called an audience with her father at such an hour, but they were never done without validation. The bald man was under enough stress as is, he had no need to jeopardize. Then again, this might be her first time joining in on such a meeting.
"All set, Your Highness." Her handmaiden, Anna, finished styling the last of her curls.
"Thank you. It looks wonderful." Charlotte stood from her vanity and slipped a pair of more casual shoes onto her feet.
"As is expected. I saw several other noblemen enter your father's meeting chamber. Perhaps a betrothal is on the horizon."
Charlotte shook her head. "That doesn't sound like my father's intention. Besides, I saw Count Wormstrom arrive and he's nearly as old as my father and without a male heir."
"Oh, I only jest, Your Highness," Anna dismissed the notion. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it will be explained in time. Perhaps it pertains to your coronation."
"My father is still in good health," Charlotte reminded. "And he has yet to father any child with my stepmother that I know of before she passed." Only time would tell.
Anna followed in her wake as they neared the council chambers. The guards stationed outside opened the doors instantly at her approach.
"Ah, Charlotte, you've arrived." Her father greeted from the head of the table. A seat was saved for her at his left side. She seated herself, but not before greeting each assembled nobleman.
"Lord Laban, Lord Owen, it is always a pleasure to see familiar faces."
The bearded brunette and clean shaved blonde smiled and bowed their heads. Lord Laban was the Lord of Arklow and a respected knight as well. He had been a comforting shoulder for when her biological mother had passed and Lord Owen was always interested to know what she had learned as she grew throughout the years.
Some other nobles she racked her brain to remember, but found the right names all the same. There was one she had not seen at the palace for sometime that she inquired about.
"Count Wormstrom, it is a pleasure to see you once more. How is Theresa faring?"
The Count had been a regular visitor to the palace years prior. His daughter was a few years her junior, but Charlotte always got along with Theresa. When the Count's wife had been killed in an assassination attempt, he had stopped frequenting the palace with Theresa and it wasn't uncommon to see pure contempt in his eyes when he did visit alone.
The bald, pudgy Count offered a smile. "It has been far too long, Your Majesty. Your beauty grows as years pass. Thank you for inquiring about my daughter, she does miss visiting you." The veil of contempt across his eyes briefly vanished as he mentioned Theresa. "I'll be sure to inform her that you inquired."
Lastly at her father's right was her Uncle, Prince Julius. His perpetual scowl was still in place, but he did offer a small smile when she greeted.
"Now then, what is this meeting about, Minister?" her father asked the smaller man seated at the other end of the table. Foss cleared his throat.
"As I informed you earlier, Your Highness, earlier this month I was paid a visit from the Minister of Magic."
"Yes, you've informed me of such meetings before." Her father managed to sound calm, conditioned over the years to do so. It had been a shock to learn of that hidden world when she was old enough to understand.
Charlotte had always felt… cautious towards it. The idea that magic was real and could do a great number of things sounded like a fantasy, but could easily turn to a nightmare. She had actually had one in which a spell was put on her into falling in love with the wrong person. The idea that such a power like that could exist terrified her.
"I was paid another visit just a few hours earlier," Foss continued. "It appears that a case of magic was performed in front of one of our citizens."
Julius scoffed. "Nothing more than commoners with cheap tricks. Emperor Gaiseric should have crushed their society underfoot when he had the chance."
"It would have saved many a headache, indeed," Foss's eye twitched.
Lord Laban politely raised his hand. "Pardon me, Minister, but doesn't the other ministry handle matters when it comes to covering the exposure of their world? Wouldn't this person's memory be modified to forget?"
Yet another fearsome aspect. If a wizard wanted, a person could lose their entire memory or sense of self. How cruel a punishment that would be.
"That is correct," Foss confirmed. "However, this particular citizen is a relative of the one who performed the spell."
"Well, problem solved, then!" Owen stated. "It is allowed for the direct family to know about the magical world." As was for the royal family and who they chose to disclose the information with.
"Perhaps under normal circumstances," Foss surmised. "It appears this particular wizard is still underage. On top of that, the wizard in question is one Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter…" Charlotte repeated. She had heard that name before.
"The icon of their community?" Laban recalled. "If that's the case, then all the more reason for this to be dismissed."
Ah, yes, she remembered now. Hearing the reports Foss gave, a great number of them seemed to revolve around this boy who was just a few years her junior. Losing his parents to a wizard, being hunted by a maniac killer, and entering into a cruel tournament, she would want nothing to do with magic if she were in his position. Her heart went out to the poor boy for all the loss he had endured. And, perhaps some admiration for doing what she never could.
"Perhaps it is not so simple," Foss elaborated. "It appears their golden boy has fallen out of favor since the end of their tournament. My counterpart is under the impression that the boy's head is filled with delusion and a need for attention and admiration. He believes this incident is yet another stunt to impress those less than gifted. Moreover, the boy is a resident where the largest number of missing children have been reported."
"Count Wormstrom, Surrey is your jurisdiction, are there any leads on the cases?" Lord Owen inquired.
The Count shook his head. "I'm afraid not, my Lord. I fear for my own child's disappearance, as well. There have been no leads as to the whereabouts of those missing. Perhaps we ought to assume the worst."
"That is rather pessimistic of you, Count," Lord Laban stated. "What inquiries have been made to make you propose that notion."
"All the necessary ones. I've personally overseen them on occasion." The Count replied. "But perhaps there is a solution staring us all in the face; that boy, Mr. Potter."
"Count, you believe a mere teenager is responsible for child abduction?" Lord Laban asked, skeptical. "Regardless if his head is inflated, have the reports also not listed him as being heroic in spirit?"
"I can only believe the evidence I see before me," the Count offered. "The boy is clearly troubled in a number of ways, egotism perhaps being the least bit worrisome. The fact remains that his cousin was recently admitted to a hospital following his little stunt. The doctors noted the boy was almost in a sort of trance. Perhaps Potter meant to lure him off before deciding against it."
"That is a rather broad accusation," Owen backed Laban's reasoning. "There is no proof that was Mr. Potter's intention. Let us not forget that these vanishings have occurred when he was off and accounted for at that school up north."
"Yes, all valid points," Minister Foss stepped back into speaking. "Any involvement Mr. Potter may have in these kidnappings is inconsequential given the evidence. My counterpart informed me that Mr. Porter has been promptly expelled and blacklisted from their society. Whatever legal action we choose to pursue is entirely in our jurisdiction to do so."
"If that is the case, I can trial Potter for the assault on his cousin, they are in my jurisdiction," the Count offered.
"No need," the King spoke. "The matter has been settled on their end as far as I'm concerned and the evidence is lacking in other regards. Mr. Potter can continue his education elsewhere. If there are no objections then-,"
"Excuse me, Your Majesty," Charlotte said, "but would that not be cruel?"
"How so?" her father asked.
"For the past four years now, Mr. Potter has been attending schooling not compatible with our own. Attending now would likely only inhibit him in many fields."
"A fixable issue if he applies himself," her uncle stated. "Even vagrants can muster passing grades in a public school."
"That may be true, but to have endured what he has at his school, I do not believe it just to categorize him with the likes of vagrants," she defended. "All these accusations, there is still so much that is unknown to us."
"My Princess, what is it you are suggesting?" the King asked.
Yes, what was she suggesting?
…
Headquarters bore the title of 12 Grimmauld Place. They had arrived later than anticipated after encountering that flying behemoth, but the guard had regrouped and continued on as planned. Now, he was in the kitchen surrounded by a plethora of familiar faces. It was needed after he had blown up at Ron and Hermione for their lack of contact which apparently came at Dumbledore's behest.
If there was a bright side, it was that Sirius was looking much healthier than when he had last seen him, if not a little moody that they were apparently in his mother's house. And it was Sirius who seemed to be the only one willing to share any information with him.
"You really haven't been reading the Daily Prophet at all?" Sirius asked him as Mrs. Weasley put more food on his plate.
"No," Harry admitted. "I figured any news about Voldemort being back-," the table shuttered at the name, "would be on the front page."
"And it would be if reporting the truth was the Prophet's intention," Sirius said. Lupin nodded in agreement.
"Instead they've been smearing yours and Dumbledore's name since the end of the tournament."
"That's insane!" Harry couldn't comprehend the logic. "Fudge has got to be out of his mind."
"Precisely," Lupin agreed. "His mind has been twisted and warped by fear. Any rational man would look at the signs and realize what is happening."
"Even the muggles are starting to notice strange happenings," Sirius added.
"Sirius," Mrs. Weasley shot him a quick look. "You know what Dumbledore said, about telling him too much."
"I'm telling him general knowledge, Dumbledore didn't say anything against that," Sirius countered, sending a discreet wink toward his godson.
"So what's been happening?" Harry asked. "What's been going on?"
"Signs, mostly," Sirius explained. "The same as last time. People are disappearing, old laws are being emphasized harder, people are moving around trying to find out information."
"Information on what? Like a weapon of some kind?"
Mrs. Weasley interrupted before Sirius could even get his next words out. "No. Enough, he's just a boy, Sirius! You're not going to induct him into the Order."
"Why not?" Harry asked. "I want to help, I want to fight!"
"Yeah!" "And we're of age!" Fred and George each chimed in.
Sirius raised his hands, calming the scene. "Asking to join the Order is not a light decision. There are still so many unknowns out there."
"Like what?"
"Do you know what is happening in the East with the Kushan Empire?" Lupin asked. "Emperor Ganishka is not responding to any foreign diplomat, his army is gathering, marshaling on the westernmost border. Dementors are so far away from Azkaban and in Surrey, even muggles are noticing unexplained sightings. A phantom rider in the night."
"You mean like one dressed in skeletal armor?" Harry guessed.
"In some accounts, yes," Sirius confirmed. "Every society has its legends, I'm sure Hermione knows all about that one." The bushy brunette went into her classroom mode.
"The Knight of Skeleton is said to be a curse from a bygone era," she began. "It dates back to the time of Supreme Emperor Gaiseric's fall. It is said to be a vengeful spirit bound only by hatred. That fear is what helped keep the wizarding society bound to an oath to the ruling Wyndham family."
"It doesn't take much to notice something is largely out of place here," Sirius said. "And, there was also this." He slid a page from an earlier edition of the Prophet over to Harry that held a small picture that was largely blurry. From what he could see, it appeared to be of a man from a distance that was clad in what looked like tribal furs. Even by wizard standards, it was outdated.
"Return of Nosferatu?" Harry read the column. "The Prophet agrees people can return from the dead now?" No one laughed.
"It's no joke," Ron stopped eating his meal.
"You have heard of the myth of Nosferatu Zodd, haven't you?" Hermione asked.
"Of course, I have," Harry admitted. "He was some legendary warrior that was supposed to scare mothers from letting their sons join the army."
"And he was a real figure in history," Hermione reminded. "He's probably the most legendary warrior throughout history. Cultures from all around the world claim to have had him fight in their wars."
Ron nodded. "But the crazy thing is that he always seemed to pop up in a new battle when people thought he was dead! That's why he's called Nosferatu, he couldn't be killed."
Hermione crossed her arms. "Kill enough people and even the magical society knows your name."
Yeah, it seemed like someone Voldemort would want around and- "Wait, if that myth is true, do you think this is who Voldemort is after? He could be trying to figure out true immortality."
No one was too keen to answer that. Sirius broke the silence.
"Perhaps. Dumbledore has reason to suspect other players may yet be involved."
"And Voldemort thinks they'd help him?"
"That remains unknown. But Dumbledore has reached out to a Swiss-Italian family known as the Vandimions," Sirius explained. "Their only daughter, Farnese, I believe her name is, is the only witch in the family."
"Was she with Beauxbatons last year?" Hermione inquired.
"No," Sirius shook her head. "Apparently she had her training from a private teacher, one who has a connection to someone who might be of some aid."
"Like another Order of the Phoenix?" Ron guessed.
"Not exactly," Moody answered. "A group of people, ones who have had a more… direct approach with a different aspect of the magical world."
"One man in particular," Sirius added. "His name is Guts."
Ron stifled a snort. Hermione swatted his arm. "Sorry!" Ron apologized. "It's just… that isn't actually his name, is it? Mad-Eye is just a nickname, afterall."
"Yes, Guts is his actual name," Sirius confirmed. "I suspect that the man who named him would have thought it some sort of joke, too. I guess I would know."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "You knew his father?"
"Not exactly. Why don't I just show you?" Before Mrs. Weasley could object, Sirius said, "I'm just showing them the family tree, Molly, relax."
He led them out the kitchen and to the parlor room where the wall was decorated to resemble an actual family tree. Sirius ran his hand across a burn over the paint. "My mother wasted no time in doing this to mine after I left the house. He pointed over to another. "And my cousin, Andromeda." He pointed over to a third. "And that's the man who would have been my uncle."
The name beneath the burn read: Gambino Black.
"The first-ever squib to be born to the pureblooded Blacks," Sirius said, mimicking a woman's voice. "Yep, Gambino was the black sheep of the family, until I came along, of course."
"What happened to him?" Harry asked.
"He left the family, went on to join a muggle mercenary group when he was old enough," Sirius explained. "I guess he met a woman along the way, but after some misfortune, they lost the child they were going to have together and she was never the same mentally after. They must have adopted as Gambino showed up one family gathering as spite to show them off. He said: 'Shizu found this kid. I guess we're keeping it.'"
"He said that?"
"He said that, waited for a reaction, and then left. We got word that he and Shizu died a few years later. Guts was left to fend for himself after that."
"That's awful," Hermione expressed.
"Some could argue against it," Sirius said. "Even in the few times I saw my uncle, I can say he wasn't fit to be a father in any sense of the word."
"Still, a child having to raise itself, that's just wrong." Harry looked away from her.
"Harry!" Mr. Weasley came running into the room. "A letter has just arrived concerning you."
Heading back down to the kitchen, Harry saw the Order members reading over what had just arrived. Sirius grabbed it next. Harry watched as his godfather's face slowly began to grow into a smile.
"Well, good news Harry; you're not expelled from Hogwarts." The Weasley twins cheered, Ron patted his back and both Hermione and Ginny gave a hug.
"What happened?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore?"
"Not this time." Sirius handed him the letter. "Read for yourself."
Seeing his friends gather around, Harry decided to read out loud. "Dear, Mr. Potter, It has come to our attention that the evidence concerning your use of magic was premature and has since gone under further examination. While you still performed the action of underaged magic in the presence of a muggle, a sanctioned hearing will take place to ascertain the truth. However, in place of the standard Wizengamont, your hearing will instead be held before…" Harry blinked to make sure we was reading this right. "... be held before the Royal Wyndham Family, as per Princess Charlotte's request, with a representative from our Ministry present. The Crown will have final word in your guilt or innocence. You will arrive at Wyndham Palace on the 30th of July before 8'o clock."
"There you go!" Sirius exclaimed. "We knew they wouldn't be able to expel you. You just have to plead your case and you'll be cleared."
"I have to defend myself before the King and Princess," Harry said. "I'm as good as done."
"Not necessarily," Hermione interjected. "Even the Ministry has to obey a crown order, that dates back to the times of Emperor Gaiseric. Besides, it was Princess Charlotte that's advocating for you, that alone counts for something."
Harry hoped she was July 30th, he would need all the luck he could get or he could look forward to the worst birthday the day after.
…
Today was the day that they would be arriving. The group that could possibly offer some insight as to what was going on with some of these unexplained happenings. Until they arrived Mrs. Weasley had the teens cleaning just about every nook and cranny of the dusted house. They all shared the same mentality that their arriving guests wouldn't exactly care how dirty the house was since the dust would just settle again.
Mrs. Weasley was busying herself in the kitchen, preparing a full meal for later, something Ron was salvinating for. Harry dusted aside yet another cobweb from the parlor room. His attention was drawn to the burned patches in the family tree. His eyes sought out the one for Gambino.
The man that would be arriving today was probably the closest the man ever had to a son, and from what Sirius had told him, Gambino was far from deserving of holding that title.
There was a knock on the door, a cry of, "they're here!" the screeching of Mrs. Black before her curtains were closed. Harry looked over to his two friends and they set their dusters to the side as they went to the main hall to see these new arrivals.
Moody and Tonks escorted them in, the first being a pair of blonds, a girl and male perhaps a year or two older than Hogwarts age. The male appeared to carry the girls luggage as Sirius went to greet her.
"Farnese de Vandimion, I presume?"
She gave a polite bow. "You are correct, Mr. Black. I am Farnese and this is my manservant, Serpico."
"A pleasure," Serpico offered a closed-eyed smile accompanied with a bow as well. "Forgive my suddenness, but is there a place I may place the lady's luggage? I would rather organize before-,"
"Whoa! Check out this house!" a bratty voice shouted out.
Serpico sighed. "Too late."
"Hey, let's keep the line moving, alright?"
"Quiet!" a new voice silenced the other. "This isn't how first impressions should go."
A rusty-haired boy came walking in with a bowlegged fashion, followed by a girl with a purple hat and robe, a staff, and she appeared to be similar to Tonks with hair that was colored light green.
"Those two at it again?" a pink pixie fluttered in.
"My apprentice grows in his mastery," a blue pixie followed suit.
"A master brat, maybe," the pink dismissed.
"I apologize in advance," a new woman was coming through. "This was a bit sudden for all of us." She had silky dark hair and appeared to be of mixed Kushan and Polynesian heritage. And then, the last of them.
It was hard to properly see him as he stood in the doorway, sunlight pouring in behind him contrasting to the dark lighting from inside. Still, he was the tallest amongst them, with some sort of sword sheathed on his back.
No, it was far too big to be called a sword. Massive, thick, heavy, and far too rough. Indeed, it was a heap of raw iron. And the man who carried that burden took a seemingly impossible step forward.
AN: So, if anyone remembers, before posting my first Berserk/HP crossover, I posted a little challenge story of sorts. One of the suggestions I got was to have the Berserk cast in the HP world. And when I officially started the story, I said that I might eventually do a one-shot of that idea. Well, here it is.
And for anyone wondering why I haven't updated my current SnK/HP story, this lengthy one-shot is the reason why. As I said in the description and up above, this is my tribute of sorts to the legendary manga creator, Kentaro Miura. When I learned of Miura's death, I found it hard to work on my other crossover as this just kept growing on my mind until I eventually got around to writing it, because I felt that I couldn't focus on anything else until I did.
For anyone who read my other Berserk/HP crossover, you know that Berserk is my favorite manga of all time and Miura is a huge influence to me in another project of mine. And as I was writing this one-shot, I was reminded of all the things that made me love the series the way I did, I wanted to see this continue. And while I am busy as is with my other crossover and another project, that doesn't mean that this has to just be a one-shot.
If anyone is interested in picking this concept of a story up and see it continue, just reach out and let me know; I'd be happy to provide input into helping it grow.
And to finish, a quote from Guts himself. "He died doing what he loved. I bet he was happy."
Thank you for reading.