Chapter Sixteen.

He had closed his eyes to the world as his mother cradled his head in her lap, yet sleep did not come. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts and his guilt would not allow him to escape into the realm of dreams.

So he listened.

He had listened to the words his mother spoke to his Dagün and Tyrna, his heart pounding in his chest as she spoke of the prophecies hanging over his head. How she never felt the thunderclaps of his racing heart, he did not know.

He had never wanted this. Never wanted to be someone cursed with Prophecy, bound to follow some preordained fate without the freedom of choice.

A part of him wanted to run and hide, to bury his head in some ancient book and pretend that the past day had just been a bad dream. A nightmare that he would soon wake from, that everything was the way it had been and his hands would not be stained with the blood of a boy only a few years older than him.

But he had never been one to run from something, and he would not start now.

Upon his breast, he felt the amulet of Delvaryn give a slight pulse to his thoughts. Yet before he could question it he felt a sense of calm settle over him, as the familiar presence of Faenir bloomed at the edges of his mind.

I come.

The small dragon had been off hunting in the forest, having grown bored of the endless waiting he had been subjected to. Now Callian found himself wishing he could join his oldest and dearest friend.

As if sensing his thoughts he heard Faenir's metal voice within his mind once more.

We fly?

He had to school his features as a smile threatened to give him away. He could think of nothing better than to cut through the skies with his Familiar at his side.

Tonight.

He sent the thought racing back along their bond and his mind was suffused with a strong sense of eager anticipation.

A soft scratching at the window alerted his family to the presence of the small dragon as someone let him in, from the heavy footfalls he could guess either his father or Ironmane.

A chirp of thanks issued from the dragon and Callian felt Faenir scurry across the room before his familiar nestled himself into Callian's side.

Drawing deeply upon their bond, Callian allowed himself to revel in the lack of care the small Dragon had for human concerns.

It did much to mute his guilt and with the gentle ministrations of his mother, sleep finally claimed him.


He did not know when someone had placed him into the soft bed that belonged to the chambers, but he found himself sweating profusely when he woke some hours later to find his mother and Tyrna tucked into either side of him. He found that they were both soundly asleep and a glance about the room revealed that neither Belor nor Ironmane were anywhere to be seen.

Slowly he extricated himself from between his mother and Foster-mother, Tyrna gave a grating snore as she turned over in her sleep now that he was no longer in the bed.

Spotting a large comforter heaped in one of the chairs dotted about the room he summoned it to him, and with a flicker of thought had it laid out over the two on the bed.

Holding his arm out to Faenir, the dragon was quick to jump onto his shoulder and soon the two made their way from the room.

Callian found himself staring in awe as he was met with the stern and watchful gazes of a score of Dwarven warriors, each armoured in rune carved plate mail, while their hands rested upon the hilts of swords and axes that hung at their waist.

He stared at them in confusion until he remembered his father saying that he had brought fifty of his finest warriors as his personal guard, he recognised a few faces amidst the dwarves and a few offered him nods of acknowledgement.

"Do you know where my Dagün is?" He asked the group at large.

The Dwarf nearest the door offered him a slight nod. "Aye, Lord Belor took half the guard to aid the Headmaster and yer Grandaddy. Apparently, there was a scuffle with those Dark Wizards of yers and the long'uns were found wantin' once again."

Callian felt his heart begin to race and he had to take a moment to collect himself. "What happened?"

While he may have intended it like a question, the panic in his voice gave it a sharper edge, raising more than one brow among the Dwarves.

Seeing that keeping silent would do nothing to alleviate the worry Callian was feeling the Dwarf quickly explained.

"The Headmaster and the Aurors he was accompanying were attacked as soon as they stepped onto those thrice-damned moving staircases. From what we overheard, quite a few of the Aurors are either dead or injured."

Callian's heart was beating so fast it seemed to be trying to shake itself from his chest, he seized the dwarf's arm as words tumbled from his lips. "My grandfather?! Is he alright?!

The Dwarf was quick to reassure him as he explained the event of the previous night's encounter. Callian found himself letting out a relieved sigh as he learned that his Grandfather had been well away from the fighting.

He knew in his heart that his grandfather was more than capable of handling himself, but the thought of someone he loved dearly standing before the darkness that he had sensed in the Dark Lord filled him with a dread that he doubted would ever truly leave him.

He grasped the Dwarf's thick forearm as he looked at him with eyes that were brimming with unshed tears. "Vagahnzu Rarza."

The Dwarves froze as he spoke and it took Callian a few heartbeats to realise that he had spoken in Dwarvish and the old tongue at that, clasping the amulet under his shirt he thanked the dwarf once more in English before hurrying on his way. He did not note the wide-eyed stares that followed him as he hurried along the corridor.

He found the school oddly quiet, and he welcomed the solitude.

With the rumour mill of Hogwarts, it would not surprise him if he would soon be known as the next Dark Lord or perhaps trying to reclaim his father's position as Voldemort's second.

The shade's words once more repeated within his mind.

Join me and I will set you above all but myself.

He recalled the seductive mental pull the Dark Lord had tried to get him to join him and a traitorous thought flashed through his mind.

Is that how Sirius Black became a pawn of the Dark Lord?

He shook his head at the thought. It did not matter in the slightest, the man who had sired him had betrayed everyone and everything in pursuit of power. He would not try to rationalise his actions, he had long stopped trying to see the good in Black and would not start again now.

Picking up this pace he sped through the halls of the school as he made his way up winding stairways to reach the heights of the tallest tower.

Opening the heavy door of the Astronomy Tower, Callian stepped out onto the flat roof of the tower's top. Over his head, the peaked canopy of the tower's roof hid the dim twilight from view, yet it did nothing to hide the amber glow of the setting sun.

Moving towards the parapet he looked out onto a scene that took his breath away.

The gentle waves of the lake looked as if they were capped with fire, as the setting sun cast its last beautiful dying light upon the waters. Even the foreboding trees of the forest, something that always reminded him of home, looked far more welcoming. Their many-hued canopies waving gently in the warm spring breeze, their green boughs reaching upwards towards the dying light as if bidding goodbye to a dear friend.

Upon his shoulder, Faenir gave his hair a gentle tug as he raised his wings to soak up the last of the sun's warmth.

We Fly?

The thought fluttered through his mind and Calllian began to feel a sense of excitement bubble up as he sent back a silent affirmative along their bond.

He revelled in their shared joy and his horror over the event of the past few days seemed to be a distant thing, preparing his Weaves Callian clambered onto the lip of the parapet as he stared out over the grounds of the school.

"Where are we going first?" He asked leaning his head into Faenir's side.

The small dragon gave a trilling chirp before pulling at Callian's hair once more.

I lead, you follow.

With that Faenir leapt from his shoulder with a cry of joy that made smile widely, behind him he heard the clatter of several feet upon the stairs and the distinctive Scottish burr of Professor McGonagall reached him as she appeared atop the stairway alongside several other professors.

They stopped in alarm as they stared at him standing upon the lip but before they could utter a word of protest he launched himself into the air with a laugh of pure delight.

His Weaves took effect immediately, and he was buffeted back into the air just as the professors reached the parapet to stare in horrified awe as he and Faenir darted through the sky.

Their cries of alarm were lost to the wind as he soared alongside his friend, and they were soon out of his mind as he allowed himself to relax for the first time in days. He gave little thought to the reception that no doubt awaited him on his return, instead he just focused on maintaining his weaves as he and Faenir flew out over the sea of trees that made up the Forbidden Forest.

He could not help but notice the beauty of the forest as he caught a few glimpses of the secret wonders it held as they glided over many clearings and glades, his mouth dropped open in awe as he saw a small herd of unicorns within one such glade.

He saw a tall and proud stallion staring up at him, upon its head was a great horn that seemed to glow in the light of the setting sun and Callian felt the power of the creature even from his position high above the treetops.

He mouthed a silent apology for disturbing the beautiful creatures and felt a sense of amazement, as the great unicorn ducked its head almost as if it had heard his words before he was flying past the clearing and heading deeper over the forest.

His mother had claimed that the forests of their home contained a small herd of the magnificent creatures, yet in all the years he had lived there he had never seen such creatures. He found a strange sense of loss coming over him for never having gotten to witness their beauty so close to his home, yet he knew the legendary creatures had come to fear men after their kind had been hunted in the distant past. Although how any could ever bring themselves to harm such inherently beautiful creatures he could not fathom.

With a shake of his head, he followed after his familiar as Faenir dropped lower over the treetops so that they were only a few feet from the green boughs.

His Weaves would hold for a little longer yet, but he began to prepare spells to halt his flight in an instant should the need arise.

Where are you taking me?

He sent the mental question along their bond, knowing from experience that the wind would steal his words long before they ever reached Faenir.

To the heart of the forest.

Before Callian could say anything, Faenir dropped beneath the canopy. The small dragon's lithe form easily cut through an opening in the trees, and Callian had to quickly dispel his Weave otherwise he would have shot right past where his familiar had disappeared.

Dropping through the canopy with as much grace as a boulder, he picked up several scratches as he enacted his failsafe Weave and halted his descent only a few feet from the ground.

A sense of awe hit him as he hung suspended in the air.

Before him rose a great oak, its immense size dwarfing him so that he felt like an ant before its grandeur.

It would take fifty men standing hand to hand to encircle the trunk of the great oak, yet he doubted any could bring themselves to sully its beauty by standing upon its roots.

He felt the same sense of presence as he normally felt when standing before The Pillar of his within his father's hold, of something so monumentally strong and ancient that it would never fall to the passage of time.

Ending the spell he dropped down to land upon the soft mulch of the forest floor, the strong smell of rot, dampness and soil hitting his nose and a small smile sprouted upon his face as he was reminded of home. Faenir drew his attention as the small dragon gave a low inquisitive chirp, as he perched atop a moss-covered rock staring up at the ancient tree with a questioning tilt to his head.

"What is it?" He asked as he ran his hand over the dragon's head, Faenir leaned into his touch but was silent for several moments and Callian thought that he would not get an answer.

Do you hear it?

Callian closed his eyes as he cocked his head, and tried to catch whatever it was that his familiar could hear.

He strained to listen, but the only thing he could hear was the gentle rustle of leaves about them and the soft squelch of the mulch under his boots.

"What am I meant to be listening for?" He asked with his eyes still closed and he felt a mental tug from Faenir as his familiar sought to pull his attention within.

Callian did so, carefully he reached out to Faenir and allowed their minds to brush against each other. He was always careful not to let the connection between them go too far, wary of harming either of them.

Silence settled over them, as he tried to perceive just what it was that Faenir had spoken of.

The small dragon cocked his head once more and Callian began to hear it, a slow steady heartbeat that was not so much an audible thing as it was a sense that skirted the border between the physical and the Arcane.

The longer he listened the more he began to realise that the heartbeat was coming from the tree itself, yet it felt oddly incomplete. Almost as if he was only hearing one half of what should have been a beautiful rhythm.

Slowly he raised his hand, almost as if he could touch the pulsing beat of Magic within the tree. Reaching out with his Magic he sought to find the source of the strange phenomenon, and in his mind's eye, he followed it back to the tree. Only it was not the tree itself that his mind was pulled to but the very roots themselves.

Opening his eyes, he shared a brief confused look with Faenir before the two of them moved where he had felt the source of the strange Magical heartbeat.

As they neared the base of the tree, Callian found his boots hitting smooth stone and sweeping the leaf litter aside with his boot he found the bright white of worked marble staring back at him.

Drawing on his Magic he Weaved a wave of force into being that swept outwards from him clearing the debris in a wide circle.

He found himself staring at a strange glyph that had been carved into the marble, and while his magic had cleared the surface, the channels of the strange marking were still full of mud and lichen.

Leaning down he began to dig the grime from the stone, uncaring of the small scratches that still marked his hands from his descent through the trees.

Yet as soon as his bloody fingers touched the stone he felt a pull upon his Reservoir.

Such that he tried desperately to halt the draw of power, but he found that it was futile as more and more of his Magic was drawn into the symbol at his feet.

A green glow began to build about him, and Callian found a growing sense of dizziness as the draw of power suddenly ceased.

He fell onto his knees with a gasp as he realised that his Reservoir had nearly been drained completely, slowly he pushed himself upright and he looked blearily at the canopy of dancing leaves overhead. With a jolt of awareness, he realised that the sky had grown dark and only the green glow before him allowed him to see.

Slowly even that eldritch glow began to dim, and Callian felt a sliver of fear creep into his heart as the darkness began to close in about him.

He let a small panicked gasp as the last of the light faded about him and he was left in total darkness.

Desperately reached for his Magic, but his power slipped from him like the morning mist before the sun. In his panicked desperation, he reached out to the Magic of his environment, to the very life force of the forest itself. It was something his grandfather and mother had warned him never to attempt, few Magi if any could ever control the nearly limitless power that filled the world about them.

It felt as if an ocean had crashed into him as he screamed.

His head was filled with the intoxicating pleasure of the rushing Magic, while his body felt like it was about to burst. In an instant, his Reservoir was filled and then some and he sensed that his body was doing its futile best to expel the excess. Yet what was removed was replaced tenfold and with it the intoxicating rush that made him feel invincible and urged him to draw in more.

His screams became laughter, only to return to screams once more. On and on, it went until the passage of time became a strange thing to his mind. A second felt like an eternity and an hour passed in a flutter of heartbeats, and then time seemed to halt entirely as he began to feel something new.

It began with a subtle burning, something so simple yet decidedly odd that it reached even his confused mind. It drew his attention like a moth to a flame and he realised what it was that had focused his mind. He could feel his skin beginning to tear as thin lines of golden light seeped through the rents in his body, yet his fear and pain were washed away by a thrill of pleasure as a sudden surge of Magic coursed through him.

The pain of it brought a sense of clarity to him and he desperately sought to close himself off from the tsunami of energy pouring into him, but his traitorous body refused him at every turn.

He began to desperately Weave spells into being, as a way to burn off the energy but it was futile. As soon as his attention turned away from cutting off the flow of power it would surge through him once more.

The rents in his body grew larger and more of the golden light began to pour forth, and he knew with a certainty that his death was close. However, something caught his eye that might just prove his salvation.

He watched as the symbol at his feet sucked in the escaping Magic like a man dying of thirst.

His blood seemed to have awoken the Magic in the stone and now it was hungry, and he had just what it wanted.

There was no structure or finesse to his working, he merely directed his will into the stone at his feet and shoved everything that he had into the ground beneath him.

Immediately the glow returned to the stone at his feet, and even his own body as he became the conduit for the flood of Magic. He laughed and screamed in equal measure for what seemed an eternity.

The glow continued to grow until his entire body appeared as a column of light, a testament to the amount of Magic he was channelling.

He did not know how long he channelled the wild Magic of the world into the stone beneath him, but eventually, he began to note a lessening of the power surging through him.

It was still enough Magic to burn him to ash in a second if his concentration slipped, but it was noticeably less than what he had been channelling only moments ago.

Knowing it was futile to fight the Magic, he opened himself wider to the flows of power until his mind and body ached as he let it flow through him as freely as he could manage.

A strange humming had begun to sound about him as a slight vibration emanated from the stone at his feet, not enough to threaten his footing but it was growing steadily.

As suddenly as the Magic had come, it stopped until he fell to the ground with a cry as he felt the last trickle of the Wild Magic drawn from his Reservoir.

He was exhausted.

His mind and body were utterly spent, yet his second sight remained to him.

To his horror, it revealed that the Wild Magic of the world was already rushing in. Like a tidal wave of eldritch power flowing over and through the forest to fill what had been taken. He watched in fascination as his senses revealed the smallest specks of arcane light bloom into being, in the ground about him and even within the trunks of the trees about him small embers of magical energy began to emerge. Little nebulae of Arcane energies began to form as small flowers and patches of moss gave off a tiny amount of power while greedily drawing in more from what had come to fill the void he had created.

He shut his mind to it all and lay panting, as he rolled to stare up at the canopy overhead which was lit by the glow that still emanated from the stone.

He idly noted that it had taken on a lighter hue, as he bathed in a strange mix of gold and green light. He pushed himself into a sitting position with a hiss as he looked down at his arms that revealed splits in his skin where the very Magic he had been channelling threatened to tear him apart.

With a cry, he lifted his shirt to reveal another larger split in the skin of his abdomen. He fell back with tears streaming from his eyes as he became aware of more and more of the rents in his body, keeping his eyes shut he tried to block the pain from his mind but it was little use as they felt like burning brands upon his body.

He did not know how long he lay there but eventually, the soft crunch of dead leaves and branches broke through his pain clouded thoughts.

Looking up through the blur of tears he spotted the blurry image of a Dwarf with a beard as white as snow staring down at him, while the amulet upon his chest gave off a stinging warmth as eyes that held an unfathomable depth bored into his own.

"Now we can talk, Child."


He could identify every crack in the fresco above him. It had been all that he had found to occupy his mind for the past day, he had been escorted to Draco's room in the middle of the previous night. Draco had fallen asleep in his mother's arms not long after he had joined the Malfoys and he had barely seen the boy since then, the stress of the situation seeming to have stolen the energy from him. Yet for Harry it seemed as if his mind was in overdrive, he could not switch off if his life depended upon it, it was always the same when it came to threats or dangerous situations.

One of the few good things his altercations with his fat whale of a cousin had instilled in him.

Be on constant alert, even when it looks like the trouble has passed.

He had found himself trying to open the doors that led back to the school from Draco's chambers, but they had been sealed and Lucius Malfoy had nearly sent him running for cover when he had appeared with his wand tip glowing an angry green. The man had berated him under his breath, before all but ordering him into a chair to wait for Amerytha to return.

So between trying to get some sleep and failing drastically at it, he found himself with his legs hanging over the arm of a rather gaudy looking chaise lounge while he stared up at the painted ceiling.

He thought the slightly faded paint revealed The Twelve Labours of Heracles, but he had only briefly perused the books that Callian had gotten for the Blackwoods expedition to Greece in a few months.

With a huff he threw his legs back down to the floor as he swung back to his feet in one smooth motion, if he was going to be left to his own devices then he could at least make an effort to improve his Spellweaving. With a few flicks of his wand, he intoned several spells that moved the furniture to clear a space to work, the ease with which he did it still amazed him. He had never in his wildest dreams imagined that he would ever have such control over his Magic, as he pocketed his wand and began to try and Weave his first spell into being.

He had just conjured a small ember to hover in the air before him, when it felt like a hurricane of raw power seemed to buffet the school. Lucius and Narcissa burst into the room then, each with twin looks of startlement upon their faces as they held their wands at the ready as they searched for the source of the Magic. Harry only shot them a wary look as he followed the path of the wave back to where he thought it had originated from, and could only stare in shock as the night sky was lit with a pulsing aura of golden light.

What was more, the Magic that had swept over him held a distinctive feel to it. Something that had become as common to him as his own Magic and he knew with unwavering certainty that Callian was at the centre of that swelling light.

Harry looked at the senior Malfoys in search of an answer.

"What is that thing?!" He asked in awed disbelief as another pulse swept over them.

Narcissa was silent as she looked at the display in horror, and Callian found himself turning to look into the cold, grey eyes of Lucius, which seemed to shine with a multitude of emotions as a strange grim smile twisted his normally cold features.

"That is the result of someone's stupidity costing them their life. Whoever that is out there has opened themselves to the very Magic of the Earth, it is a death sentence to anyone that tries such a thing."

The door burst open behind them, and he took in the wild eyes and terrified face of Amerytha as the women stumbled into the room. Tyrna was at her side offering her words of comfort as she supported the taller women, yet Amerytha appeared to not be listening as she stared past him to the light show out the window.

Harry moved towards the woman as she fell to her knees with a sob, a wordless cry escaping her as the outpouring of Magic continued unabated.

Narcissa moved to the woman's side, yet she could get no answer from Amerytha as a sob of such heart-wrenching grief tore from the woman that raised the hairs on Harry's arm.

Narcissa looked about the room for an answer and Harry found himself meeting her gaze as he explained in a watery warble.

"I can sense Callian's magic amidst all that…" He trailed off as he pointed into the night.

The outpouring of Magic seemed to pulse once more almost as if it had heard his words.

He found himself falling to the ground beside Amerytha as he wrapped his arms around her, he was not sure who was comforting who as they both sensed the familiar presence upon the wild winds of magic that crashed over them.