Chapter Nineteen
Callian watched from his bed as the Ministry officials scrambled about like hens that had seen the fox in the pen. The hospital wing was full almost to the point of bursting, they had been interviewed by countless members of a dozen different departments, yet no one seemed to have a clear indication of just what to do.
The Headmaster, Lucius and his grandfather had been sequestered in meetings with the Minister of Magic and the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement ever since they had arrived. The two figures were as different as night and day, Cornelius Fudge had immediately started blustering, claiming that there could be no Dark Wizard on the rise. He had even called the Headmaster and his Grandfather insane when they had revealed just who it was that had attacked the school.
He had to hold his laughter in when he saw how the fat fool had cowered under the cold glare of Lord Blackwood, his grandfather, unlike the Headmaster, had refused to back down and had nearly sent the Minister running like a misbehaving child.
Amelia Bones on the other hand had taken all the facts as they were presented, and whether or not she was willing to believe it was the Dark Lord returned or not, she had begun to issue orders that had brought some order to the chaos.
But as the hours progressed and the Ministry officials were left without her apparent leadership, things had quickly deteriorated. Without someone to lead them they could not seem to think for themselves, he may have been judging them rather harshly but every time someone had mentioned the Dark Lord or He-who-must-not-be-named they would shriek and throw looks over their shoulders as if Voldemort was a going to appear and begin casting the Killing curses at random.
Although to give them credit that was exactly what Voldemort had been doing, with a shrug of his shoulders he returned to his reading. Harry had yet to wake, but he could not blame his friend. Whatever magic he had utilised was unlike anything he had ever sensed before, it had a certain similarity to his Grandfather's portals but there was something decidedly different about it.
He idly began to practise some simple Weaves, curling delicate threads of power into simple constructs of fire and air. More so for the soothing repetition of it as the words on the page began to blur as his thoughts drifted, he idly began to have the small weaves dance about his hand, something that caused more than one pair of eyes to shoot him wary looks.
He had heard mutterings from several of the white-robed healers that had been assigned to help Madame Pomfrey take care of the wounded. He and Harry had both been poked and prodded a dozen times by these strangers before his mother and Tyrna had chased them away; from then on they had never been left unsupervised and his father had tasked Ironmane with keeping the two of them safe. The surly and stinky dwarf had already tossed one of the supposed healers away by the scruff of their neck when they had gotten too close; he had been sure the old dwarf had been trying to get the women into a tight spin as she had screamed through the air. Callian knew that he and Harry must have aroused the interest of certain parties within the Ministry, he had just not expected for the Unspeakables to have already been snooping about.
He had found he could not remember anything of those unspeakables that had already checked him over but the vaguest of recollections about them. One had been a tall man, another a small round woman, but the others had been completely forgetful and the harder he tried to remember something about them the more it would slip from his mind. He suspected that there was a complex array of spells to ensure their identity remained hidden, but it was unsettling to realise that he had been examined by these strangers and would never know who they were and had not even detected the protections about them.
They had been interested solely in how he had been able to survive something that was a death sentence; he suspected that the Department of Mysteries would find it a very valuable piece of knowledge if they could replicate it.
But the one thought that lingered most within his mind was the interactions with Delvaryn. It still seemed like a dream that he had yet to wake up from, he had spoken with and physically touched an actual deity. The Gods had always just been something that he never truly believed in, he had cursed and sworn by them in the past, and even his interactions with his amulet had never truly convinced him of their existence. But he had met a living God.
Sensed the great power and presence that exuded from Delvaryn and knew it was so far beyond him, he had felt like a speck of dust before a mountain.
They had spoken of things that he had not even known existed and even now he found his hand slipping into his pocket to rest against the hard shell of the acorn, he had yet to tell anyone of what had happened in the forbidden forest as he doubted anyone would believe him. Hells he had not had the time, as soon as Voldemort had fled into the night, the Headmaster and the Aurors had arrived.
They were too late to help as his father had gleefully pointed out their lateness once again, and they had all been bundled back to the castle quickly enough. There they met with the host of ministry officials and the Minister of Magic still clad in his nightclothes. His mother had not left his side for more than a few minutes at a time, he could tell he had terrified her. He had spent hours apologising to her, to all of them, but his words only seemed to make things worse.
She had not screamed at him after she had checked for herself that he was in fact fine, but had spoken in a soft almost hoarse whisper. The memory of it was enough to bring tears to his eyes, and he recalled the way her hands had shaken and slow tears had tracked their way down her face. His foolishness had nearly broken her, it was not a pleasant thought and had left him feeling guilty and ashamed. He had not failed to notice the thin red lines marring her cheeks where she had clawed at her face, she seemed to have forgotten about them amidst the mass of minor scratches, bruises and burns she had gained in her fights with a Cerberus, thirteen dark wizards and the Dark Lord but he could tell they had come from her hands.
With a shake of his head, he buried the guilty emotion under the soothing blankness of the Void of Thought, drawing his focus within he lost himself within that emptiness.
Wrapped in the endless emptiness he lost all track of the material world. It was something he had always done, every time he would practice his occlumency he would lose himself within the nothingness. Each time delving a little deeper until the world disappeared and his problems no longer existed. It was a place where nothing could reach him and over the years he had developed the ability to think within the void. An island of pure thought that was separate from his body and the waking world.
When he was utterly calm, he allowed himself to simply exist in that state. He was not aware of the passage of time but he did become aware of a spear of light that was trying to burrow its way through the void.
He remembered the tainted Shade of the Dark Lord doing the same only recently and a sudden surge of rage bloomed within him at the thought, gathering his Magic he shaped a blade of pure energy that he used to sever the spear of light.
He heard a scream that seemed to come from a great distance, and before the Magic could retreat completely from his mind he seized it and as his mother had taught him, followed the mental attack back to its source.
He found himself within a maelstrom of churning thoughts, but the most significant thing he could sense was the sharp pain that had swallowed the mind he found himself in.
He was beset by a torrent of images, far too many to make sense of and he was forced to flee back to the safety of his own mind, where he could try and piece together some of what he had seen.
The mind felt distinctly feminine and he could recall little more than the name and face of his attacker. Opening his eyes he blinked once as he found several of those cluttering the hospital wing surrounding a white-robed figure upon the floor, he was surprised to find that he could in fact see her face despite the spells that still lingered about her.
She was a woman of middling years and had a face that he could only describe as severe. High cheekbones and an angular jaw, framed by silken strands of inky black hair pulled into a tight knot at the back of her head gave the woman a cold, sharp look that many would find unapproachable. He watched as the woman stirred quickly, all the while holding her head in her hand as she shot him a dark look. He returned it with one of his own and saw her frown when she caught his gaze, he sensed her subtly checking upon the protections about her and her frown only deepened when she found them still intact.
He shot her a grin as he sent her a cheeky wave, unbidden her name came to mind as the continued to hold the woman's gaze.
Elsbeth Jane Moor.
"Ms Moor, may I have a word." His voice cut through the noise of the hospital wing even without the aid of a spell. It was one of the few times he had spoken to any but a member of the Blackwood contingent, and the hard edge to his words made it clear to all that it wasn't a request.
He saw the subtle glance she shot towards her compatriots about the room before she gave a deferential bow of her head "Of course, Master Blackwood."
"Lord Black."
He saw the look of confusion that spread across her face. "My title is Lord Black, after the death of my grandfather I succeeded him as Head of House Black. I thought this would have been known to your office…and the repercussions for an assault upon someone of such a position."
He watched as her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but the buzz of muttering that swept the room seemed like a host of angry bees behind her as she hurried to his side.
Ironmane glared at the woman and he had noticed the Dwarf's hand inch towards his belt knife when he had caught Callian's mention of assault, if he gave the word he knew little would save the woman from the Dwarf's wrath. The Dwarf had been rather protective of him since he had returned from the forest.
"What can I help you with, Lord Black?" Her voice had remained calm and professional, and she appeared every bit like the Healer she was pretending to be, but he could sense the slight turmoil of her Magic as it responded to her emotions.
He found himself staring at her with a frown, despite the attempt she had made to breach his mind he found he had no true feelings regarding the matter. She had merely been doing her job, he had seen the memory of Elsbeth and her companions being tasked to discover the strange Magic energy they had sensed coming from Hogwarts and why something called The Arch had suddenly become active.
He took the time to Weave a spell into being about the two of them, and once he was finished all sound was cut off. It was a spell he had learned from one of the scrolls he had been given as a bribe and effectively incorporated dual-layered shield charms sandwiching a silencing spell, deceptively simple to cast but a pain to break. The protective magic of the shields would do much to stop others from breaching the spell, and give him plenty of time to talk to the woman.
"You are not a Healer are you, Ms Moor." The woman said nothing as she stared at him and Callian could see her wand held tensely in her hand. He offered her a comforting smile as he gestured to the bed; she hesitated only a moment before she took a seat, perching lightly upon the edge of the bed.
"Rest easy my lady, I mean no harm to you or your fellows. I could sense your protections easily enough, but it seems our little tit-for-tat has allowed me to breach them."
"Tit-for-tat?!" A look of grim amusement passed over her face before it once more slipped behind the professional mask she had adopted. "That is a nice way of saying, soundly trounced and humiliated." She shot him an inquisitive look.
"I must say, you are not like any other child I have ever met. Your actions of late have garnered the attention of some very powerful people."
Callian grinned at her, "I aim to please."
Slowly the grin slipped from his face as he continued to hold her gaze. "So just what is this Arch that your colleagues are so worried about? And why do you think it has something to do with me?" His questions seemed to have put the woman on edge once more as she slowly climbed back to her feet.
Within his mind, he was desperately trying to sort through the chaotic mess of memories he had glimpsed from the woman. He could recall the image of a stone arch from Elsbeth's memories; she had been one of those studying the centuries-old structure when the thin scrap of black cloth had suddenly been blown free from the Archway that stood alone upon its dais.
He watched through her eyes as she had moved to look into the archway. Where before there had been nothing within the archway, only the haunting whispers of what she and her colleagues believed to be the voices of the dead, now the very air seemed to twist and heave.
It was like a roiling mist of silver and black, churning and falling back into itself as it filled the stone archway. He could feel an echo of the fear she had felt as she had seen something monstrously large move within the mists, whatever that strange creature was it seemed to sense the potential opening and its great bulk turned and with a roar that had her stumbling backwards in shock it threw itself at the archway.
Again and again, the mist-shrouded monstrosity continued to batter at the opening but to little avail, it was several heartbeats before Elsbeth joined her fellows in layering as many defensive Magics as possible over the arch before fleeing the room.
Callian let the memories go as he focused his gaze back upon Elsbeth, the things he had seen within her memories only reaffirmed the fears his conversation with The Seeker of Secrets had left in his heart. He could see the wand in her hand shaking as her vice-like grip had bleached her knuckles white, and he wondered just how close she was to cursing him. He already knew far too much, and she and her fellows would no doubt fear just who he would tell their secrets to.
A harsh voice broke them out of their staring match as Amerytha grabbed hold of the woman and all but threw her aside.
"What is the meaning of this?!" There was a cold fury behind her words and Elsbeth stumbled backwards as she made to put some distance between herself and his very angry and protective mother.
Quickly he reached out and took his mother's hand in his own. "Mother, it is ok. I asked to speak to Ms Moor, it appears that there are things that I need to explain to everyone." He shot a look about the room, his silencing spell had been ripped apart by his mother in her haste to get to him and the sounds of the hospital wing crashed over them. "But not here, I believe we need to invite Ms Moor and her superiors to the Castle. I can explain everything when we get home."
His mother stared at him for several long moments, before she gave him a slow nod of acceptance. Turning she looked long and hard at the young woman clad in a healer's garb.
He could not help but note the tremble that passed through the woman when the full weight of his mother's presence bore down upon her, Elsbeth seemed to have forgotten about the wand in her hand and he could not blame her.
To his second sight, his mother was magnificent. Tall, and beautiful she radiated light like a second sun, such that he almost found it difficult to look at her. He again felt the twinge of guilt as he saw the delicate Weaves of power that were half-formed protective spells that could be enacted in an instant. It was a testament to her control that she could hold that many Weaves without the slightest hint of effort.
"You will make yourself available in two days. I will send someone to bring you to the Castle, I will allow only one other person to join you." To his sight, he watched as his mother's presence bored down on the woman. "Any more and I will take it as a personal insult, am I understood?"
Elsbeth could only nod her acceptance before hurrying back to her fellows; they quickly fled the hospital wing, no doubt to return to their masters in the bowels of the Ministry. The Department of Mysteries had long been a thorn in the side of his family, they had been desperate to get their hands upon his grandfather's knowledge.
When they were left alone, Callian found himself explaining some of what had transpired while she had been away. When he had explained seeing some of the woman's memories after her failed attack upon his mind, his mother was almost foaming at the mouth in anger. He was sure that should any of the Unspeakables have remained in the room, then their department would have been short a few agents.
Once his mother was calmer he asked. "Are we returning to the Castle soon?"
If he knew his mother she would be chomping at the bit to get them home and away from the school that had been the hunting ground for the Dark Lord.
She gave a nod as she turned to stare at Harry, still unconscious upon the neighbouring bed. "We are leaving as soon as Harry wakes. Draco has already been escorted back home by Narcissa and Lucius, I have spoken to Beverly and Evelyn and they have asked me to bring the girls home as well."
Callian could say nothing to that, the girls had yet to swear fealty so his family was technically not responsible for their education as of yet but it did not seem to matter to his mother at that moment. He knew that Adria and Hermione had made an impression on his mother, and she would not leave them in danger within the castle should the Dark Lord make a reappearance.
Gently he took her hand in his and gave it a strong squeeze, his mother turned to look at him in alarm, her eyes already raking over him looking for some sign of injury.
"Mother, I am safe. We are all safe. It's going to be ok."
Amerytha said nothing but just wrapped him in her arms and held him tightly, he was silent as he held her just as tightly and pretended not to notice as his shirt grew wet with her tears.
The emptiness of the Void surrounded him as he sank ever deeper into his mind. Amerytha's teachings had tried to encourage him to seek this nothingness, but it had always eluded him. Now he worried he would never escape it as he followed the voice of his mother ever deeper into the dark depths of his mind.
Abruptly his sense of descending ceased, it was as if he had run headfirst into a wall. The siren's call of his mother's voice seemed to be coming from beyond this unseen barrier and he felt his frustration rise.
He could hear her on the other side, begging him to turn back.
It only urged him to keep up the hunt. He was so close, that he felt he could almost reach out and grab her.
He drew upon as much Magic as he could in this strange mental void and reached out with his power, driving it into the walls of his mind. he pushed as hard and as far as he could until he felt he was stretched almost to the point of breaking. Suddenly the resistance disappeared and he was staring at a familiar sight.
It was just as it had been at Denevan's Tower. A sudden shift in his perception and it was as if a shroud was removed from his sight, he once more saw the brilliant white flame that represented his soul.
One thing was readily apparent to him as the inky mass that had been there before was now gone, but it seemed as if its departure had not been a clean thing as the golden fires of his mother's soul had moved to fill the tears Voldemort's taint had left in his own.
It was the oddest sensation to stare at one's own soul, and he found the dancing flame mesmerising. With a start, he realised his distracted attention caused his new perception to fade and he had to redouble his efforts.
The remnant of his mother seemed to be aware of him as a wavering thread of power reached out towards him, as soon as it reached him he felt the weak presence of Lily Potter and the pure and unconditional love she held for him. Yet he sensed her weakness, and his mind was assaulted with memories of a decade long struggle to hold back the taint of the Dark Lord from consuming him. He knew in that instant that this was not a mere remnant of his mother's protection, but her actual soul that had sacrificed everything and suffered ten long years of constant torment to keep him safe.
The thought of his parents had always been a point of contention for him, he knew that they had both given their lives to save his own but in the end, it had left him alone and condemned to ten years of hardship at the hands of the Dursleys.
But he quickly realised that had stemmed from his own selfishness. He could feel his mother's love now, and not as just some abstract thing as he could feel his mother's emotions almost as if they were his own. I can't hold on much longer, Harry. I don't have the strength to fix the damage Voldemort left behind. I am so sorry…
His mother's voice grew fainter with each word and her golden light began to dim. He screamed in frustration as her light dimmed to little more than a spark, the love she held for him still lingering in his mind.
He wrapped his mind and power around her. He refused to lose her once again.
Desperately he channelled as much power as he could muster into that spark, willing it into a roaring inferno that could never be extinguished.
He had no idea how long he channelled his Magic into his mother's dying soul, but her gasp and confused sobs alerted him to the fact something was happening.
The golden glow of his mother's soul began to grow, yet now it was intertwined with the white of his own. He became aware of her then in a way he did not think was possible, it was an uncomfortable feeling as his mind suddenly felt too full.
As if he had been doing it all his life he began to manipulate the ragged edges of his soul and slowly they closed, it was unlike any Magic he had ever experienced and he seemed to be drawing upon the power and light of his mother's soul to seal the wounds.
He watched as the last of the rents left behind by the Dark Lord slowly closed under this strange new Magic, once the last traces had vanished he heard the voice of his mother once more, stronger yet noticeably tired.
You have done what should have been impossible, my sweet boy.
Harry gave a little start at the voice, it was far stronger than it had been before, stronger even than when she had helped him to fend off Voldemort only a short while ago.
"Just what did I do?" His question garnered a small bubble of laughter from his mother, and a smile found its way onto his face at the sound.
You saved me. You have unknowingly created a permanent connection to your Reservoir for me to draw upon, it is similar to what we did last night. It allows me to sustain myself by drawing upon your Magic while my own recuperates.
He got the strangest sensation, almost as if he was stretching sore and tired muscles.
It feels so odd not having to ration my Magic, I feel stronger than I can remember being for a long time.
Harry tried to wrap his head around what his mother had just told him, but he was finding it difficult to understand just what was happening.
"So you are, what? Trapped in my head?" He was not sure if he should be panicking at the thought of his mother being stuck within his mind, or seeing everything that he did or saw.
In essence yes, I….We need to talk to Denevan. My Master may be able to help our current situation…but I can't say I have ever heard of something such as this.
She trailed off as he felt a strange sense of probing at his Reservoir.
You need to return to the material world, you nearly drained your Reservoir sealing the tears left by Voldemort, and holding onto this mental state is drawing on more of your Magic as well as keeping me alive will quickly drain you dry.
Harry gave a start at that, but the thought of losing this connection to his mother frightened him more than anything else.
Do not worry, my darling boy. I am not leaving again.
With only a moment of hesitation, Harry let slip his hold on his Magic and it was as if he had been catapulted back into the Void about his thoughts.
Callian tensed in his mother's arms as Harry sat bolt upright on his hospital bed with a ragged gasp of air. Immediately he and his mother were at Harry's bedside, desperate to see if he was alright.
His friend looked at them with a giddy smile, but when he spoke there was something not quite right about it.
"It's good to see you again, Rytha."
His mother jolted as if she had been hit by a pain spell and both he and Harry had to grab hold of her to steady her.
"Lily was the only one to call me that." She breathed the words as she studied Harry's face.
Like a switch had been thrown, Harry's entire disposition seemed to shift.
"I told you that was going to be a bad idea."
With a shake of his head, Harry looked up at them with a lopsided grin that was all him. "So… I have a story to tell."
At Harry's insistence, Amerytha erected a privacy spell that would prevent any unwanted eavesdroppers. Callian found himself staring in open-mouthed shock as he listened to his friend recount what had happened while they thought he had been unconscious, and what a story it turned out to be. If he was not there watching his friend he would not have believed it, hells, seeing it before him now he still struggled to believe it.
The changes between when Harry was talking and when Lily Potter came to the fore would take him a while to get used to, it was more than just the speech pattern that would throw him through a loop. The way he held himself would subtly shift and even the way he sat would alter minutely. When Harry spoke Callian could see his friend in the tense set of his shoulders and the way he tucked his arms in close, a remnant of his upbringing with his muggle relatives. His mother on the other hand was far more relaxed and self-assured, the way she sat was more open and inviting and spoke of confidence and strength.
Callian found himself watching his mother as she held one of Harry's hands in her own, although it appeared to be Lily speaking at the minute.
Callian could tell that she was excited at the thought of her dearest friend still being alive, but she was worried about Harry and the thought of him coming to harm from this strange pseudo-possession.
His mind was still trying to make sense of everything he had heard since Harry had awoken, but one thing certainly caught his attention and had him spinning to face his friend was the mention of his father.
The name of Sirius Black was rarely spoken by him or his family, and to hear it said without the usual undercurrent of hatred was almost unheard of.
"We will have to work quickly to free Sirius. How, I do not yet know but we will need the support of those still loyal to the Potters to ensure we even get it before the Wizengamot."
Callian could not help himself as he got off the bed and moved to position himself with a clear line of sight of Harry. "What are you talking about?! My father betrayed you and your family to the Dark Lord, why by all that is good would you want to free him?!"
Even his mother was staring at Harry in alarm and he felt the tell-tale surge of magic from his mother as she began to prepare spells although what she was preparing he could not tell. Harry or Lily, as it appeared merely offered him a small, sad smile.
"Your father is the bravest man I have ever known, he was as loyal and dedicated a friend as it was possible to be. He would never have betrayed James, myself and most of all he would never have betrayed Harry. The only blame that can be laid at your father's feet is that he acted rashly and chased down the one responsible for betraying us, instead of staying with Harry and taking care of his Godson."
Callian could only stare in horror as he felt one of the foundations he had built his life upon slowly start to crumble, he had long hated the man that had sired him and now he was finding out that he was innocent and had spent the last ten years in one of the vilest places on Earth.
His mother could only stare in open-mouthed shock as she fought to find her voice, but she could do little more than he at that moment.
"If not Black, then who? Who betrayed the Potters?" He managed to ask.
Harry's eyes hardened then, and for once Callian could not tell who it was that was currently in control of his friend's body. His words were laced with a venom that could have bored through steel.
"Peter Pettigrew."
Callian could only stare in bafflement as the name of a dead man, a national hero fell from his friend's lips.
Their exit from the school was met with confusion and no small amount of fear. Many of the younger years had openly gaped at the small hosts of armoured Dwarves that had escorted a worried-looking Adria and Hermione from their respective dormitories. The strongest reactions, however, were among the upper years once word had spread as to just who had attacked the school.
Many had reacted with tears as they recalled the nightmarish memories that had haunted their younger years, and Callian could not blame them.
He had stood before the Dark Lord and felt his terrible power, few would be able to stand before that evil and walk away unscathed. That was not even considering the fact that he had been able to shrug off nearly everything they had thrown at him.
Callian now found himself walking beside Harry as they made their way across the grounds of the Castle, his grandfather had seemed oddly energised by the confrontation with the Dark Lord and even more so when he had learned of the survival of one of his favourite students even if she was co-inhabiting the body of her only child.
He was still trying to wrap his head around everything he had seen, done and learned over the past forty-eight hours. His best friend currently had his own mother's soul rattling around his head, it turns out his father, someone he had grown up despising was in fact innocent of any and all crimes and had been wrongfully imprisoned in a place inhabited by soul-devouring monsters. On top of that, he had killed a fellow student, been propositioned by a Dark Lord, fought said Dark Lord and spoken to an actual God and almost died several times.
Harry seemed in high spirits as his friend all but skipped down the gravelled path that led to the gates of the school. He had had to tell Harry several times when he had caught his friend speaking out loud to himself when talking with Lily, the two of them had spent the majority of their stay in the hospital wing just chatting about anything and everything they could think of.
It had gotten to the point where he had simply silenced his friend much to Harry and Lily's embarrassment.
For now, the thought of home and the security of Castle Blackwood beckoned him and as his grandfather opened up a gateway he gladly stepped through without a backwards glance.
