Author's Note: Two readers asked if there will be rape in this story: There will be no rape in this story. I'll be transparent: nothing turns me off from a story quicker than rape in the plot, so rest assured this story will be completely devoid of that sort of thing. So yeah…we're not doing that. We square? Excellent!
And we're off!
ECOTS
"The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."
~ G.K. Chesterton
Chapter 66 ~ The Fifth Horcrux
ECOTS
April 23rd, 1997 – 12:18 a.m.
Harry heard her scream before he actually saw her.
The moon slid behind clouds.
The thestral burst out of the forest, Harry's head jerking up from where it'd remained bowed against the low hanging branches, protecting himself and the owl. Now the thestral's reptilian-like hair smacked him full in the mouth, the wizard hacking on it as he took in the dark, dark castle grounds.
Madame Pomfrey, Black, McGonagall, and Tonks were already there.
The latter three were holding Kaylens down.
His heart jerked as if it'd just been hit with a bat.
Tonks was flat out sitting, cross legged on Kally's legs, the currently black-haired Auror looking up at the sight of him. "Wotcher Harry," she greeted, pointing a gleeful finger down at Kaylens. "Look who I found!"
She then proceeded to make 'smoochy faces' at him.
Harry about choked, the thestral sliding to a halt directly in front of them.
"Ignore her, Potter," Black growled, voice rough, "woman's sustained a recent head injury."
Tonks feigned a mock pout. "I'll have you know that everything in my head is still in the right place."
Black made such a sound of derision that it was remarkable his nose didn't blast off then and there.
It was all Harry could do to slide off the thestral without dropping the owl, the wizard moving carefully, eyes glued to his girlfriend. "Madame Pomfrey, is she…"
"You did not undersell the situation, Mister Potter," the school nurse clipped back, jabbing a long needle into the vial of phoenix tears, the ones Fawkes had cried for them earlier that same night. She pulled back expertly on the syringe, before waving her wand, it glowing a vicious red over Kaylens' lower ribs, along the left side of her body in one particular spot...
It was like he couldn't look away.
His eyes trailed across Kally's ordinarily smooth skin, it now bruised with a sickly silver-red color, her abdomen distended unevenly. A primal part of him recoiled instinctually at the sight, years of human evolution setting off alarm bells within his mind that that was not normal.
It was only then, standing there, legs ready to buckle, that Harry realized that Kaylens was missing her shirt. It lay torn and dirty, off to the side, fluttering each time the wind blew.
They'd cut it off her.
Harry's mouth went dry. He wanted to grab her, fix her.
But he couldn't.
He just stood there, holding the broken remains of the Great Horned owl, the clump of feathers limp in his arms. Every so often it seized, beak opening to feebly screech, Harry helpless to prevent it.
Kally didn't seem to notice he was there.
"Where's Avery?" he asked numbly.
"That particularly lovely specimen of humanity disapparated the second Albus aimed a wand in his general vicinity," McGonagall stated crisply, not looking up but obviously having seen him. "Another went with him."
Harry nodded, glancing at the tree line as if expecting someone to come running out. No one did.
Regulus and McGonagall abruptly rolled Kaylens just a bit to the side, Tonks making a gleeful sound as if she were riding a Muggle roller coaster. Pomfrey took that same, long needle he'd seen within her supply stash, earlier in Hagrid's Hut, and positioned it between two of Kaylens' ribs.
Then she stabbed her with it.
Kaylens might not have noticed him arrive, but she noticed that.
The needle's end sunk into Kally's flesh, directly over the vividly red area, and his girlfriend tried to buck, whimpering. The sound on her lips was foreign to him, Harry's throat reflexively spasming. Pomfrey bore the utmost look of concentration as she injected the phoenix tears into his girlfriend, muttering something about the 'spleen' to McGonagall, the stoic Transfiguration Professor pursing her lips in silent response.
Pinpricks of silver-red blood welled around the sharp needle's entry as it sunk deeper. Kally whimpered, sounding nothing like herself. The sound was so, so quiet, like she was too exhausted, harboring nothing left that'd allow her to scream. Harry's left knee buckled. His legs…they weren't working right.
Kally lay there, sprawled across the ground in the damp grass and dirt, getting stabbed to save her life. Viridian eyes locked onto the needle, Harry horrified, knowing what every centimeter of her skin currently being stabbed ordinarily felt like. He knew the feel, taste of her skin. He'd run his fingers, lips along her often enough…
After everything, after Carrow, after Bellatrix, after Carrow again, after Voldemort, seeing Kaylens like this…
His girlfriend made a crying sound, making a sudden, desperate move to get Pomfrey away-
By jerking she practically stabbed herself, Black's grip on her redoubling. It was like watching a frightened animal about to be put down. Harry stared, helpless. "Can't you…can't you immobilize her, or-"
"Immobilizing someone with this degree of internal bleeding," Pomfrey relayed crisply, "could have disastrous consequences, Mr. Potter." The school healer did not once glance up, slowly withdrawing the needle. "Sterilus!" was cast at it, the healer once again filling it with phoenix tears.
Harry could only stare, watching Kally's chest shallowly rise up and down, up and down, far too swiftly to really be breathing right. "You're hurting her," he growled. His voice sounded drawn, the argument pathetic even to his own ears, yet he the temptation to hex Pomfrey to within an inch of her life was rising…
"The fact that she can feel pain at all given the circumstances I'd consider a win, wouldn't you agree, Mister Potter?" Pomfrey bit back.
Kally leaned her head back and groaned, the way her neck was revealed reminding Harry too much of how she leaned it back whenever he was taking her, claiming her body as his. Her head would tilt back as she tried to reclaim needed oxygen after…
Well…after.
"At what point," Black caustically demanded, "did you think war time healing was gentle, ward?"
Harry jerked his eyes from Kally's sweat-covered face, only then noticing the shape that Regulus was actually in.
Sirius' shadow was pale, collapsed on the ground, his leg still bent at an unnatural angle. Makeshift bandages were wrapped around the clearly broken leg, the cloth soaked with drying blood, skin almost green.
The wizard was only helping pin Kaylens to the ground by sprawling awkwardly on it himself, sweat and pain dripping from his face.
He looked like he was near death himself.
"Harry," McGonagall said, far more gently than she usually spoke, the professor eyeing Kalliandra with concern, "perhaps you shouldn't be seeing-"
"No!" he instantly protested, sounding ragged. "I'm staying." He wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't going to leave her. Harry didn't know what would happen next. He didn't know if this was going to work, if she was going to be okay, but he wouldn't leave her.
Spotting the look McGonagall threw him, his jaw set determinedly. "Seen her," he grated, "look a lot worse, Professor. Hasn't scared me off yet."
Kally made an upset, grumbling sound. It sounded distinctly like ass.
Harry could have laughed in relief.
Whether she heard him or not though….it didn't change the fact that she lay there, shallowly panting, unable to open her eyes. She made no other sound to acknowledge she'd heard him.
But she'd still heard him.
He sincerely hoped he'd get to pay for his comment later.
A rustling and loud flap of wings against air cut through the night, Fawkes landing alongside the group with a thud. The phoenix was missing a sizeable chunk of feathers, ruffling his wings as if pissed.
'Dumbledore and Moody are helping the centaurs with the fire. Some arachnids wanted to say hi.' Fawkes plucked a spindly, white string off his leg, it clearly webbing.
Harry about choked.
The owl in his arms made a rasping sound, Fawkes' bedraggled head swiveling towards them as if he were hunting. Calm, black, unreadable eyes stared him down.
'Put him down fledgling.'
Harry didn't need telling twice. He'd had no clue what to do with a broken owl. He did just that, carefully setting it down in the grass, afraid he'd break the Great Horned owl in two if he moved too fast. The reddish brown wings melted onto the dirt, its highly pointed ears flopping over, propped up only by the tall grass blades.
Harry crouched there, awkwardly, attention diverted from Kaylens for but a moment as he stared at the owl that had quite literally saved his life. It'd attacked Voldemort mid-air, stealing the wizard's wand. Now its wings lay there, sprawled motionlessly out, its feathers ruffling uncontrolled in the night's cold breeze.
"Er…thank you?" Harry told the owl, damn well meaning it. "You did good." His hand inelegantly hovered over the owl's beak for but a second, before he drug a finger carefully over it. Hedwig liked to be rubbed there. "Better than good."
The owl tried to nuzzle his hand, letting out an impossibly pained trill.
It was dying.
Slowly.
Fawkes padded over across the ground, one claw at a time crushing dead and dried leaves in the dirt. The phoenix stopped to hover, Harry felt like his throat was tight as he spoke. "Fawkes…can you…"
Fawkes ignored him, bending over the bird, knocking Harry's hand out of the way before tapping the owl's beak pointedly.
Fawkes began to cry in the owl's mouth, like a mother bird feeding a fledgling. Harry stared, hearing the odd choking sounds the owl made…
Had this been Hedwig he'd be a mess. It wasn't though, and Harry's attention turned back onto Kaylens. Pomfrey was extracting the needle from Kaylens' side again, his girlfriend looking – if possible – slightly less ashen.
She was pale, but she wasn't gray.
Harry's heart leapt.
McGonagall and Black released Kally's arms, the mediwitch waving her wand over Kally's torso one final time, a green glow speckled with only pink spots emitting.
It wasn't red.
It was green.
"Madame Pomfrey?" he asked, desperate.
In the thick cloak of night he stared at Kalliandra, his witch seeming to sink into the ground, the tall grass blades nearly swallowing her.
"She's still bleeding internally, Mister Potter," Madame Pomfrey told, her severe eyes cutting through the dark, "but it has slowed." The witch stood, brushing her hands on her robes, walking briskly to her healing bag. "So long as she takes her potions and isn't as obstinate as you've proven to be, she should survive, thanks to that phoenix of yours. Had we not had a ready, fresh supply of tears for this somewhat…unorthodox method of healing…"
Pomfrey trailed off, leaving the word dead unsaid.
He'd known he'd almost lost her.
He'd not known how close it'd been.
Harry felt like a hand that had been shoved directly into his chest suddenly unclenched. "But you got to her in time…she's alri-"
"She," Kally weakly hissed, voice barely audible, "can hear you."
Her voice had been so quiet Harry thought he'd hallucinated.
He hadn't.
Kaylens was sending a pained, exhausted glare at Tonks, the metamorphmagus still sitting on her legs.
Harry choked on a half-laugh, relieved. He fucking crawled to her. The knees of his jeans were soaked from where he'd knelt in the dewy-grass, but he barely noticed. Instead Harry dropped down alongside her, his hands physically on her face, feeling her cool, clammy skin beneath his palms. The severe heat of the forest fire and the sheer pain she'd been under had dampened her skin in a way that would have been appealing as hell had the circumstances been different.
Harry looked at her, just looked. Green eyes roamed over every centimeter.
Her eyes had closed at his touch, lips slightly parted to take in tiny gasps of air. The slight sheen of sweat on her brow, the tangled and golden mess that was her hair, the rising and falling of her exposed chest…
Were it not for the blood smeared across one of her smooth cheeks and her brow, she would have been a striking image to when Harry had first gathered her body against his own, claiming her as fully and completely his for the first time.
Even covered in sweat and dirt and blood, a twig and pieces of dead grass stuck in her hair, Kaylens was still appealing as hell to him.
Instantly Harry's fingers were smoothing sweat-soaked tendrils of hair carefully out of her eyes, away from her mouth…
Kaylens' eyes fluttered open, weakly shooting him an exasperated look.
Harry barked out a laugh.
Tonks took that as her queue, rolling off Kally's legs to collapse in the grass.
Later Harry would send her a thank you note. Much later. For now he drank in the sight of Kaylens, aware that he'd gone back in time. Aware that he'd torn Bellatrix Lestrange to fucking pieces. Aware that he'd torn Carrow's heart out of his still living chest. Aware that he'd obliviated Umbridge and the female Carrow to within an inch of their lives.
Harry was aware of everything he'd just done, and he'd do again in an instant.
There was nothing particularly pivotal about the moment. There was nothing even passably romantic about it. There was just the cruel, hard knowledge that he'd kill anyone that got in his way, that got between him and her, and Harry Potter didn't give a damn about anything else.
He'd had enough bad things in his life; he wasn't losing the one good thing left.
For the past eighty hours Harry hadn't cared about anything else. Not Tonks. Not Mad Eye. Not even himself. It ought to have terrified him.
It hadn't.
Harry felt more than saw her shiver. It sent his chest rumbling in an out of place laugh. "Can take on Voldemort," he dryly accused, "yet can't handle just a little cold?" Images of Voldemort pressing near her, speaking lowly to her, Kaylens all but spitting at him came unbidden to his mind, his stomach wrenching. "Really Kaylens," he croaked, "not getting soft on me are ya?"
That same infuriating, impossible, risk-taking non-witch grumbled indecipherably.
She sounded annoyed.
Harry's nose smashed against hers, the wizard bending over low and pressing his face as close to hers as he could possibly get, choking on another relieved laugh. "Okay, fine," he growled. "Though let the record reflect that I liked this outfit." Torn off shirt, jeans and only a friggin' bra…no red blooded male wouldn't.
Kaylens was alive.
So was he.
Kaylens' teeth chattered around a growl.
He drug his mouth against her ear and muttered, "And you call me impatient…" Slowly, gently one of his hands fell from her face, sliding down her neck, finding her chest. The feel of her smooth, unmarred skin sent his heart pumping furiously, his fingers flexing with an ill-concealed need upon her. Harry was almost afraid to touch her anywhere else, out of fear he'd hurt her…her sides, abdomen…they hadn't looked good.
The Deputy Headmistress saw where his hand was and her voice cracked like a whip. "Twenty points! Mr. Potter, now is not the time to be gro-"
Harry ignored McGonagall, his gaze firmly fixated on Kally. "Cutis," he stated roughly, holding her eyes, "calidum."
As the wandless warming charm poured out of his hand, sweeping into his girlfriend's torso, penetrating directly over her heart, he watched her entire form give a miniscule shiver. Kaylens' eyes fluttered closed, her head falling back against the damp grass as if finally relaxed. Harry could only watch as her breaths began to come a little easier, his own breath catching as reality slowly settled in…
She was alive.
It took everything he had to not clutch her to him then and there. But Kally was bleeding…she was bleeding internally and he couldn't fix her. He had to wait for Pomfrey.
Maybe it was that she hadn't turned him in. Maybe it was that she hadn't rushed off and gotten Dumbledore early. Maybe it was the fact that she'd sat there, tied to the chair for hours helping him work out his plan. Whatever the reason, he trusted the mediwitch.
Harry dropped his head over Kaylens, carefully cupping her face. He was content to just breathe her in, her scent inexplicably calming. He looked at the backs of her very near eyelids, impossibly long eyelashes cloaking them, for a long, long moment before the fearful admission finally fell from his throat.
"I thought you were dead."
Her eyes shot open in clear surprise, those same long eyelashes brushing against his face.
He grimaced, swallowing. "I did."
Harry had been afraid, and he didn't care if she knew. Hell, he needed her to know.
Kally's full lips parted, an impossibly quiet reassurance falling forth, "I'm not."
His thumbs traced the angles of her cheekbones. "Good," he croaked, voice hoarse with inhaled smoke. If he lost Kaylens…
He couldn't even think about it. His throat clenched, mouth dry, falsely humored words forced as he held her eyes firmly with his own. "Good," he reiterated, practically on top of where she lay in the grass, "because I would have had a helluva time sneaking necromancy books past Hermione." Threading his fingers through her hair, he drawled, "Not to mention…you might have been a bit pissed I interrupted your prolonged nap."
Kaylens' gaze flashed worriedly, concern for him and him alone even in her current state, yet her eyes began to drift closed.
A stab of panic speared him. "Just think," he pressed, desperate to keep her awake with him, "of the undead demon children we could have had."
Despite her clear exhaustion Harry watched as a weak, wane smile tugged at the corners of her lips. The vice on his chest, the unadulterated panic within him abated only slightly.
Unable to do anything for her, Harry looked at her, just looked….
Then he clenched his gaze shut. He breathed slowly, forcing a calm he did not feel into the life-necessitated action. Kally was going to be fine. Just fine. She-
A hand fell against the side of his face, the startling touch causing him to jerk. He'd not expected it, she'd looked too frail to move much, but when his eyes shot back open Kally's fingers weakly rested there.
Then they began to tappointedly, as if irritated.
She was going to be just fine.
Harry couldn't help it; he grinned.
"What?" he asked with feigned nonchalance, his hand rising to cover hers. "Zombie children are a foolproof plan Kaylens. They couldn't possibly get themselves killed when they go to Hogwarts."
Kally snorted skeptically.
Harry's hand tightened within her hair, his other hand squeezing her fingers needingly. "Fair point," he conceded, carrying the conversation for her. "Our kids…they'd probably find a way to raise the dead and start a zombie apocalypse all on their own before it was even Christmas. Hell, they'd probably experiment with basilisk juice to see which would off their least favorite professors first." He wasn't making sense and he didn't care. Just the thought of a fucking future with her…it had his chest squirming.
This wasn't his Kally, but she was. It was just early, so early in his timeline…
Somehow it didn't matter. His non-witch cracked her eyes, irises of impossible gold peering up at him in an infinitesimal glare.
He was getting silently scolded.
He grinned, unable to speak, the flecks of brown and green within the gold of her eyes freaking entrancing. Hell, he made an upset sound when her long lashes fluttered exhaustedly closed over them.
She murmured an amused, sleepy sound in response.
"Good to see," he grated lowly, "I amuse you." His hand got lost in her hair. He didn't care that it was blood encrusted. He just cared that it was attached to the witch he was in love with, and that she was alive.
She hadn't been.
He'd changed that.
"Mr. Potter, if you are quite finished?" The stern, no-nonsense voice sent his eyes clenching closed against Kaylens for a swift second, and then…
Harry looked up to find Madame Pomfrey standing there, silhouetted against the night sky, holding two rather disgusting looking bottles of potions that he recognized all too well: Skelegrow and blood replenishing serum.
The mediwitch just shot him an impatient look. "I assumed given the past three days events you would be rather eager to ensure she is healed as opposed to plotting desecrating acts with a reanimated corpse. To that vein…" She gave the potions a pointed clink together. "You will make sure she takes these or I will castrate you myself to prevent the ensuing demon spawn from taking over my hospital wing." With that she shoved them both at him, Harry left with no choice but to grab them with one hand.
Like hell was he letting go of Kaylens' hand.
Kally tiredly snorted, wincing and immediately looking as if she regretted it.
"Think it's safe to say," he drawled in sarcastic question, watching Pomfrey storm off, "that Pomfrey's over the moon and exited to plan our demon spawn's corpse shower then?"
"You reanimate me," Kally faintly muttered in quiet threat, "and your brains," wincing as if in pain, "are the first I'm coming for."
Ah, so Kaylens wasn't on board with the whole demon spawn idea. A ridiculously warm sensation spread through him. "You say that," he quipped, "but all I'm hearing is you like the way I taste."
Once again Kaylens cracked her spectacular eyes to glare.
Harry smirked.
She tiredly dug her fingernails into his palm to cause him pain.
Harry just flipped their entwined hands over, kissing the back of her hand.
She let out a sigh.
Harry outright grinned.
Right then Pomfrey reached where McGonagall sat on the ground, somewhat undignified looking as she tried to sterilize Black's leg, despite the potion's master's loud protests that he could, "Damn well do it himself!" in between shouts of, "Unhand me woman!"
"Mister Black," Madame Pomfrey all but shouted, "you will not yell at Minerva when she is trying to help you. Though Merlin knows why she bothers!"
Black tried to swat her too. "Collusion. The both of you!"
While those three dealt with the relative chaos caused by Black's bloodied, but not life-threatening injury, Tonks, on the other hand, was unusually quiet. She lay off in the grass on her own, a dreamy, confused look on her face.
The Auror stared up into the night sky, squinting. "Does anyone else," she asked no one in particular, "see the alien space ship?"
Madame Pomfrey and McGonagall stopped trying to force-fix Black and jerked around to look at her.
Black just blinked once, twice.
Tonks cocked her head like a dog, as if studiously scrutinizing something of interest. "I like the neon flare they added to the back. Do you think it was a custom job?"
Harry and Kaylens both squinted, trying to see what she was talking about.
Madame Pomfrey just heaved a sigh. "I hate concussions. It makes the person utterly useless." She slammed a vial of Skelegrw onto the ground, sending leaves scattering as she told Black, "You will drink these or I will castrate you personally too."
Harry about choked.
Regulus just propped himself up with a grunt, fixing him with a glare. "Just had to make 'screwing the dead' comments didn't you, ward? Now you've got our only mobile healer all hexing-off-manhoods happy."
"It's a medical procedure to render you sterile and I would enjoy it far less than you!" Pomfrey called out.
Black snorted derisively. "If that was your end goal," he bit, "there's a far less painful procedure Muggles do called a vasectomy. Really, you're a healer. Ought to look into it."
"I am perfectly aware of what a vasectomy is Mr. Black," the mediwitch clipped calmly, "however, if it didn't cause you any discomfort then I wouldn't enjoy it all."
Harry reminded himself to never, ever piss off Madame Pomfrey again. Apparently she chose medical procedures based on the patient's pain level, for her own enjoyment.
Black just scoffed, but had the good sense to not argue. He snatched up the Skelegrow, bit off the cork, and spat it out directly at McGonagall.
As Black made a disgusted face, chugging the bone-healing potion, Minerva McGonagall looked like she was rather planning to kill something.
Instead of committing Black-a-cide she simply, coolly stated, "Mr. Potter…after these…illuminating conversations regarding future misuse of the dead, I'm revoking your access to the restricted section." She calmly wiped off Regulus' spittle and casually flicked the cork off her robes. "I'm sure you can understand why I can't have you reanimating corpses. Really, it would scar the first years. Now, if you'd kindly inform me of the Headmaster's whereabouts as we were separated, and of what exactly happened prior to our arrival…?"
Harry gaped.
Then he choked on a laugh.
He felt fucking giddy. Kaylens' warm hand was in his, and itwas downright distracting.
"He and Moody are getting the fire under control," he told, interlacing his fingers with Kally's. Turning back to his girlfriend, finding her looking pained and pale, he added, "Death Eaters are gone. Voldemort's gone too."
McGonagall made a clucking sound with her tongue. "And I suppose you had something to do with that?"
"Nah," he remarked, "it was this random gang of hinkypinks. Apparently Riddle accidentally stepped on their clan leader. Really pissed them off. Turns out they do really great work with twig spears, did you know?"
The Deputy Headmistress stared as if he'd lost his mind, then let out a long sigh. "Mr. Potter," she began, ignoring his concocted fantasy, "what precisely do you mean by gone?"
Kally's fingers squeezed his, her eyes studying him intently. Harry locked eyes with her, wetting his lips. Voldemort might be gone, but he wasn't dead. He'd be back. He'd be planning, regaining his strength, whilst having a vacation stay on the back of whatever poor bastard's head he could con into it.
If the imbeciles in the Ministry ever got word they'd probably throw another premature party.
His voice clipped out, tense. "I hit him with the killing curse, Professor. Ole Riddle's body didn't exactly get back up."
It was a bit hard to miss McGonagall's sharp intake of breath.
The joy Harry once thought he'd felt at uttering those words fell flat. It fell flat because it wasn't over, and he was pissed.
Harry fought the anger back down, his thumb rubbing gently against the back of Kaylens' hand, even as his words turned caustic enough to corrode finely forged steel. "Try not to get too excited, Professor," he drawled. "Given his soul-toys are still intact, bastard's not actually dead, but he sure as hell is going to need a new bipedal model to get around in." Kaylens, despite her state, arched an eyebrow, Harry's mouth actually twitching in response.
McGonagall made a concerning, stammering sound.
Harry, once again, responded with sarcasm. "What do you reckon, Professor? Think he'll choose a younger model or go full-fledged gray-skinned snake spell again?" He paused, wind rustling the forest's high branches. "Personally I'll be counting down the days until I get a personalized and embossed invite for his next graveyard-coming-out-ceremony. Given I was the guest of honor at the last one, reckon it's the least the bastard can do." Really, getting tied to Riddle Senior's tombstone and seeing Cedric killed had been so fun after all…
Kally's fingers weakly tightened around his, her touch doing more for him than he could possibly utter.
"Mr. Potter…" McGonagall sounded stunned. "You mean to tell me that you used an Unforgivable Curse?"
Until that moment he hadn't thought about it; he hadn't cared. He could go to Azkaban for what he'd done. Dementors would feed on him, just like they had on Sirius. Then Kaylens would be alone.
Never before had he hated the Ministry of Magic so acutely. "Yeah well," he bit coldly, "given the snake's not dead, does it really count?"
McGonagall was eerily silent, needing a moment to process it.
Black grunted.
Harry had better things to do with his time. He held tight onto Kaylens, flipping their intertwined hands around. He kissed the back of her hand, his mouth lingering against her skin. Her knuckles remained pressed against his lips as he looked at her. Just looked.
He didn't have to ask if she'd judge him.
He already knew she wouldn't.
Kally's gaze glinted, startled, but there was no revulsion there. After all, she was just as much a killer as he was.
"What do you reckon?" he asked her, lips turning against her knuckles, voice sneakily lowered. "Think we'll need counseling for my tendency to off random snake lords, or that we'll get past it if the sex is good enough?"
Kaylens tiredly shook her head at him, but a smile teased her pale lips.
Considering they hadn't had sex yet in her timeline, she was being a real sport.
Madame Pomfrey, as usual, took it all in stride. Amidst talk of one of her students potentially landing themselves in Azkaban and propositioning her patient, the mediwitch continued arguing with the rather concussed Tonks.
The concerning phrase,'there's no need to run off to gather man-eating-sized Venus-fly-traps for a welcome to Earth bouquet for the aliens,' got tossed out.
Later Harry would wonder where exactly one even got such a thing, before questioning why in the hell Tonks would contemplate giving such a thing to extraterrestrials to begin with. If they were hostile it'd either arm them or piss them off when it inevitably tried to eat them, and if they were full of benevolence and had come in peace, they would just wind up getting eaten alive by the things.
Neither of these glaring issues appeared to have occurred to the metamorphamagus.
No.
Instead, she voiced, rather adamantly, that they had to set a good example for the human race, what with ole 'smelly vort' running around, leading Pomfrey to finally sigh and cease trying to reason with her.
Instead Pomfrey quite seriously informed the head-injured Auror that she couldn't run off to collect such a thing for the space-visitors, because they were actually deathly allergic to the fly-traps' pollen, and they couldn't risk making their visitors sneeze, now could they?
Tonks gasped. "That's why they didn't settle here!"
"Yes…" Pomfrey drew the word out incredulously. "That's exactly right. Now be a dear and drink this for me…"
Had circumstances been different Harry might have laughed at the two.
He didn't.
He turned back to McGonagall, the woman's shrewd eyes narrowed in thought. She was studying him, clearly thinking.
He met her gaze unyieldingly. "I might have used that curse, Professor," he told bluntly, "but it was to slow him down. If the wizengamut needs proof that he's not dead, they're welcome to take a casual stroll out there." He tilted his head towards the forest so quick his neck actually cracked. It still glowed red in the distance. "Reckon his pissed off spirit's probably still flying around tormenting unicorns. But just in case they have questions about whether or not I'm safe for society, feel free to let them know that I sure as hell intend to use it again."
Voldemort deserved a slow death.
Harry wasn't stupid enough to give him one. The second he got another shot, a real shot, he was using that curse again, and this time he'd make sure the bastard stayed dead.
He'd have fun with the bastard's underlings in the meantime.
"Perhaps it would be best," McGonagall stated firmly, "if you are asked again about tonight's events, you state a falling tree did it."
Harry frowned.
McGonagall's green eyes flashed in the night. "Don't give me that look, Mr. Potter. You know as well as I do that our government is rather lacking in rationality. I'm amazed it can even function. Let's not give them a reason to make your life more difficult than it already is." Her head whipped to look at the others gathered. "Is that understood?"
The implied threat was met with several affirmative grunts. Tonks just clapped. Kaylens managed a weak thumb's up.
Harry swallowed, at a loss. Here they were, ready to lie for him to keep him out of trouble with the Ministry. "Thanks…" he muttered, not sure how to react.
McGonagall snorted dismissively. "I will not have them locking away my house's only chance of bringing home another Quidditch Cup."
Despite himself, he smirked.
Then Harry abruptly turned his attention back to his girlfriend, blinking at her over the back of her hand, it still held against his lips
The exhausted look she returned was practically smoldering. "Utterly," she murmured, "impossible. But you won…"
"Try," he drawled, "to not sound so surprised." The reality settled in, his expression growing strained, drawn. "And no, I didn't. Nowhere near winning. Just bought us an unscheduled intermission." Speaking of intermissions…he needed one from this discussion.
Squeezing her fingers, he glanced at the potions Pomfrey had given him and then back to Kaylens. "Think you can sit up?"
For a second Kaylens stared blankly at him, then she nodded weakly, Harry carefully sliding an arm underneath her back. He took a second, making sure she was okay with those slight, small movements, then…
Harry gathered her into his arms, helping her sit up.
It backfired. Halfway up Kaylens cried out. Harry halted, her broken whimper like a knife through the heart. "Kal…"
The non-witch whimpered, one hand splayed against the soft dirt, her fingertips disappearing beneath the dirt as she clawed it. Her other hand clutched at him hard.
McGonagall moved as if to help, Harry quickly shaking his head. "It's okay…"
"Like hell it is," Kaylens gasped. "Feel like…my stomach's…being slashed."
Harry didn't lower her. He let her carefully fall against him, propped up enough to not choke. "Yeah well," he drawled, "it sorta was." Tears to internal organs from an explosion definitely constituted a slash.
She made an upset sound, Harry wandlessly summoning the blood replenishing potion and holding it to her lips. "Drink," he ordered.
Her expression contorted, but she actually listened.
It didn't take long before he was lowering her back to the ground, the two potions consumed. Kally's familiar countenance was screwed up in pain, the fact that she looked good, appealing even like this…
Harry's heart pounded hard enough to fucking hear it. What Voldemort had said to him, about his reasons for choosing her, about how he and him were alike in even their tastes in women...
His initial, immediate attraction to her, back in Madame Maulkin's shop, whilst Ron had seemed completely and utterly uninterested suddenly made sense.
Brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, Harry grimaced.
He couldn't think about that now.
"Harry…"
Her voice was weak, quiet, but she had turned her head ever-so-slightly, peering across the ground towards where a pile of reddish-brown feathers lay, currently being tended to by Madame Pomfrey and Fawkes.
"I'm here," he promised.
"Is that…" her brow furrowed, almost artfully. "Is that my owl?"
Harry instantly frowned, worry stabbing him. If she'd been hurt worse than he'd thought, not remembering things right… "Kaylens," he muttered nervously, "you don't have an owl."
Kally squinted, as if suddenly having trouble seeing in the dark. "No," she weakly argued, "I do."
Harry's heart clenched. "The things," he reminded her, "hate you." Even Hedwig wasn't overtly fond of her. They needed Madame Pomfrey back. Kally's head…
Kaylens squirmed slightly, her eyes narrowing exasperatedly onto him. "I didn't hit my head, Harry."
Had it not been for the actual wound on her head, courtesy of the killing curse's explosion, he might have laughed at the way she'd so calmly scolded him. "That gash on your forehead," he told humorlessly, "begs to differ."
Even in her current state she managed to scowl. "The owl from Diagon, Harry," she calmly whispered, "from when we first met."
Harry's hand went still on her ear, his chest lurching as he looked to where he'd left the owl that had saved his life. Its eyes remained closed, but the pathetic ooo, ooo from its beak indicated it was indeed, alive.
His mouth went dry. "You remember-"
"I'm hurt, not senile."
The corner of his mouth subtly twitched, trying to recall the owl that had nipped at him, nearly a year ago. "Does look like him," he conceded. "But then again, so does every other Great Horned owl in existence." He fixed her with a wry look.
Kally hissed a breath. "He had," she said irritatedly, "a spot, on his ear."
Instantly Harry frowned. The owl did have a spot.
Great Horned owls typically didn't have that sort of spot.
"Is he okay?"
Harry's expression grew strained. He didn't want to lie to her. "Fawkes has got him."
She nodded weakly, accepting that as an answer, eyes closing for a second, trying to relax.
It didn't look easy.
Harry may have lain Kaylens down, but he'd kept her close. He'd remained bowed over her, keeping his arm comfortingly beneath her back, his free hand smoothing damp strands of hair out of her eyes as she breathed, just breathed.
Harry's stomach wrenched as he watched her struggling; he knew what severe pain was like. If his shield charm had been better then maybe her injuries would have been less, maybe-
"I'm sorry," he confessed, "that I couldn't keep this from happening to you." Harry looked into her eyes with a solemn resolve, a silent promise to never allow this again. Never. "That bastard…he's never touching you again."
Confusion flickered within her crystalline gaze, not understanding. "Potter," she managed, sounding strained, "how…how is any of this…" Her voice broke off in clear discomfort. It took her another second before she reclaimed enough breath to weakly, stubbornly force, "What are you talking about?"
He didn't answer. Harry just gazed at her, one hand clenching against her back, the other dropping from her face to snare her fingers within the confines of his own as he drunk in the sight of her. A fierce intensity blazed within his green gaze, Kally noticing.
Hazel irises flickered across his face, her familiar lips parting in silent, sudden trepidation. "How…how were you even out here, Harry?" she breathed, fingers warm in his. "I thought you were in the dorms…"
Harry shook his head, his face bowed low over hers. "I was…am. It's complicated."Great, now he sounded like he'd sustained a head injury. "If you only knew, Kaylens…" he muttered darkly, thumb running along the back of her hand, the tender gesture not bellying the kinds of things his hands had done the past few days.
When it came to explaining it, Harry had no fucking clue where to even start. Somehow, 'Good to see you're alive, luv. I've torn a couple of people limb-from-literal-fucking-limb because they looked at you the wrong way and left a couple others with brains that are all but mush. Oh yeah, and I think the darkest fucking wizard alive might have the hots for you, and the horcrux in my head may be why I snogged you in the first place. So everything's grand. How have you been?' didn't seem to quite cover it.
Assuming he actually survived that portion of the conversation, he'd probably need the better part of an entire afternoon just to cover all the laws he'd broken on top of that. Were Hermione here she'd be twitching in her sleep and already in the library planning his legal defense, well on her way to a permanent anxiety disorder.
Really, he worried about her.
Kaylens was eyeing him oddly, Harry only just then realizing how ragged, rough his breathing had gotten. He swallowed, croaking, "Sorry."
The non-witch, his non-witch, weakly smiled. Then she tilted her face, pressing her brow more firmly against his, the effort from that alone seeming to take it out of her. "Was planning," she whispered, "to go for a jog, but…" wincing, "think I could reschedule if you need to talk..."
It took him a second to realize she was joking. He stared at her in wonderment. "Kal…"
"Harry," she hoarsely whispered, "try me."
Try me…
In the background Tonks could still be heard babbling about crop circles, Harry nearly laughing at the absurdity.
He squeezed and released her hand, his freed fingers once again sliding along the side of her face. "Would you believe," he muttered dryly, "space aliens tipped me off?" A cavalier glint was in his eyes. "Big-eyed things told me to sod off revisions and come outside for a little walk on account you and Black were stirring things up?"
"Dunno," she managed, it clearly hurting her to talk, "how badly injured does my head actually look to you?" A miniscule smile touched her lips.
Harry outright snorted, shaking his head against hers with a wry smirk. "Your head," he drawled, "looks like you got in a brawl with one of Hagrid's nifflers and lost."
Now it was Kaylens turn to snort.
"Really Kaylens, things like gold." He gave her hair a pointed tweak. "Should have thought of that before walking into their den."
Kally laughed quietly, her light breaths ghosting across his lips.
"Seriously," he told, "you're like a walking niffler treat."
He felt her cool fingertips touch the side of his face, Kaylens looking at him with a slight smile. Despite her pain, despite the cold, despite the fact that she'd just been attacked, despite the fact that her shirt was laying torn and flapping in the night breeze, she was smiling.
Harry shifted, pressing his lips chastely to hers. One hand flexed against her back, the other caressing her face as he deepened the kiss for but a second, Harry murmuring another warming charm against her lips. It poured out from his fingers, moving against her spine so as to combat the night's sharp chill.
Kaylens shuddered against him, things in him quite literally hardening at her slight ministration. Shit. Now was not the time.
"Potter," she whispered, "please, will you just talk to me?"
Something in him clenched. Since the moment he'd gone back, Harry had known it'd come to this. She'd want to know, and given things…in his timeline she hadn't remembered.
He had to obliviate her.
He wasn't ready.
His mouth went dry. "You're terribly stubborn," he muttered, "you do know that?"
Kaylens sent him a pained, exasperated look. She wanted to know. He'd never lie to her. Not drawing his wand, not yet, he grimaced. "Would you believe," he finally, truthfully uttered, "time travel?"
Harry pulled back, just enough to see her reaction, heart pounding. He watched as her brow furrowed, something like confusion touching her expression. Her familiar, intoxicating eyes flickered wordlessly across his face, Harry only able to offer her a pained grimace.
He didn't want to do this.
He had to.
Abruptly Kally tried to sit up, her lips parted, clearly intending to ask something-
She didn't make it far. The second she'd moved her entire form tensed, a cry escaping her lips. Her hand slipped from the ground, Kaylens nearly collapsing back onto it. Harry snared her, startled, preventing that, Kally's warm form clutched to him as she let out another uncharacteristic whimper.
In his arms Harry held her, a cold coil curling within his gut. She was still hurt, yet had been moving around...
His head jerked, green eyes flying across her form, spotting the bruise on her abdomen. Harry's stomach dropped. He couldn't tell if it had spread, or if it was the same as it had been before. It was blood, forming beneath the smooth skin he'd run his lips over countless times.
Panic seized him.
"Madame Pomfrey!" he tried to shout it, but the words came out choked, ragged. Smoke damage was a real bitch when you tried to yell.
Kally swore in a way that'd have lost them the House Cup if the race were actually going on.
Harry could have laughed at the absurdity if every sound she made wasn't completely and utterly scaring him. Slowly he shifted, holding Kally to him, his form bent awkwardly over hers as he waited for her pain to either pass or for Pomfrey to get the hell to them.
He cursed beneath his own breath, echoing Kaylens' previous sentiment. "Really," he revealed lowly, only for her to hear, "have to work on my shield charms." When defending himself they worked perfect, but when cast over someone else…
"Now might be," she managed to gasp, "a good time to," she made an upset sound, grabbing her side, "explain what the hell you're talking about."
Harry responded by pressing his brow to hers, their noses bumping up against one another. "Wouldn't want to lose the sense of mystery," he grated in poor jest. A tremor of fear had crept into his voice, Harry choking it back, pressing, "Damn Kaylens, what's next? Signed permission forms from ya before I sneak out to do inadvisable things in the dark?"
It was a mark of how much pain she was in that she didn't even snarl at him. Harry could feel her frantic, pained breaths against his unshaven chin. She wet her lips practically against his own, it taking every single ounce of restraint he possessed to avoid claiming them then and there.
He couldn't. He might not be able to stop, and this Kally…this version of her, so early in his timeline…
They hadn't done that yet.
The Kally laying beneath him didn't even know he loved her.
She'd nearly died not knowing.
His chest wrenched.
Then there was also that small, trivial fact that she might be bleeding internally again.
"Kaylens?" His hand clenched within her hair, eyes wide open, raking across her incredibly close features at the sheer thought.
Kally responded by clutching against the first part of him she found – his side.
Harry didn't give a damn that it physically hurt, her fingers digging between his ribs. All he cared about was her. "Madame Pomfrey?" This time his voice came out as a proper shout, and Harry did not move.
Madame Pomfrey dropped down alongside them both, potions rattling. "Patience Mister Potter," she chided in her 'far too calm' voice, "you know how I require toys." The potions clanked, her meaning clear.
Harry swallowed dryly, hearing Pomfrey begin to cast spells, the mediwitch clucking in a decidedly McGonagall-like fashion.
Then Pomfrey tutted.
She tutted in such a way that it sent Harry's hair standing on end. He recognized that tut.
Whatever the fuck was going on, whatever injury it was, it was clearly bad.
Harry clutched Kally to him, his face bent over hers as Pomfrey worked, ordering him to lay her flat and hold her still as she brandished that phoenix tear-filled needle again. Harry hadn't needed that directive though. His arms had already wound tightly around Kaylens' poorly clad upper body as he lowered her back into the grass, feeling every centimeter of her tremble.
"Just had to move, didn't you?" he muttered dourly against her hair.
She made an upset, disgruntled kind of sound, Harry's lips pressing to her forehead.
Harry didn't move. He didn't get out of the way. He stayed. He stayed to be physically close to Kally, so his girlfriend would know she wasn't alone.
Harry needed Kaylens to know she wasn't alone with this.
And she knew.
Harry knew she knew because as the needle sank into her side, Kally took the pain out on him.
Kaylens seized his lips with a whimper, the kiss anything but gentle. Her teeth bit down on his lip so hard she drew blood, Harry groaning. Kaylens lay there, limp on the ground, tall blades of grass tickling his arms as he knelt alongside her, bent over her, kissing her back. His fist shifted within her tangled, bloodied, dirtied hair, clumps of dirt coming out between his fingers.
Harry kissed her like a man scared to lose.
Tonight, he nearly had.
Harry kissed her, and held her down as she screamed into his mouth at whatever it was Pomfrey was doing to her.
He heard Pomfrey hiss that she'd re-torn something when she'd moved, probably a fairly major blood vessel courtesy of a broken rib lancing it, the witch ordering him to keep her awake. Then Pomfrey resumed swearing about how this was exactly why patients needed to listen to her when she told them to stay laying down.
A torn blood vessel…
Harry wasn't stupid. He knew that wasn't good.
In the dark the mediwitch cast another spell at Kaylens' abdomen, the purple flash lighting up the night. Kally bucked, whimpering-
Harry's mouth crushed against hers, needing her to think of anything but the pain she felt.
Kally gasped against him, Harry clutching her to him as much as he could without moving her body, without hurting her worse.
That was when her fingers loosened from where they'd been coiling within his shirt, as if she suddenly lacked the energy to dig them into his side…
Kally had stopped fighting Pomfrey.
Kally had stopped whimpering.
Harry's stomach dropped to his knees.
In a panic, with a need to keep her awake while Pomfrey worked, Harry seized onto the first and only idea that entered his mind. He clutched onto the side of her face as he kissed her harder, before releasing her, snaring his wand, ignoring Madame Pomfrey's demand to know 'what exactly did he think he was doing?'
Harry shoved the wand into Kally's hand, his fingers wrapping firmly around hers, tapping her face urgently all the while. "Kal…Kal!"
His girlfriend looked weakly up at him, as if trying to focus and having trouble.
Magic…she couldn't do it, but he could.
He slammed his mouth against hers, seizing her in a searing kiss, before roughly nudging his nose up against hers. "I love you," he whispered.
He never saw her reaction.
It was the first time, for her, that he'd ever told her that.
He still remembered how the first first time hadn't exactly gone well.
Harry's eyes shot open, looking straight into hers.
Then Harry curled his fingers tighter around her smaller ones, aiming his own wand, held within her hand, at himself.
In that moment it was the only thing he could think of to keep her attention, it a desperate fucking maneuver as the words came from his lips: "Legilimens."
Harry hadn't been certain it would work.
It did.
It was like being assaulted, with a beater's bat, directly against the back of the head.
Everything was suddenly gone. The edge of the Forbidden Forest, the Hogwarts' grounds, Madame Pomfrey, McGonagall, the delirious Tonks and Regulus…they were all gone. Harry found himself standing amidst the silvery wisp of memory, Kaylens by his side, looking more startled at where they suddenly were.
Harry breathed hard, never averting his gaze from her suddenly upright form. "Kaylens," he croaked, forcing himself calm. He held out a hand. "I…I have to show you something."
Kaylens' head jerked towards him, looking like a frightened, startled animal. For a second she simply stared at him, sounds and images swirling in a mighty silver vortex around them, Harry aware that she would have no concept of what it was like to be willingly let into someone else's mind.
His hand hung in empty space, fearfully waiting. "Kaylens?"
Her eyes stirred with something he recognized, something he'd come to see a lot of in the upcoming months, whether Kaylens knew it or not. Only then, in that second, did Harry recognize it for what it was: love.
Harry stood there, on a metaphorical ledge, silently begging Kaylens to not leave him, to not succumb to her injuries he'd worked so hard to lessen, to not leave the memory spell that would keep her conscious whether she liked it or not.
Kalliandra Kaylens reached out, taking his hand.
The memories snapped into place like a whip.
The past eighty hours flew past them, Harry recalling them one-by-one. Highlights of it bared naked for Kaylens to see, so she could understand, so she would be distracted and not feel the pain of what she was going through, so she could stay conscious.
Harry concentrated, memory by memory playing as he thought of animagus training, the sudden sounds from the forest, barreling into it with Tonks only to find Kaylens and Black already there, the Death Eaters….
Harry showed Kaylens how she'd died. He showed her what he'd done. To Carrow. To Bellatrix. To the other Carrow. To Umbridge. To Pomfrey. To Voldemort. He felt Kaylens' presence, felt her there with him, felt her fingers within his hand.
An undeterminable time later he fell back out and into himself, breathing hard, staring at Kaylens' open, familiar eyes. She lay beneath him, panting, her chest rising and falling in short, truncated gasps. His wand remained sandwiched uncomfortably between their chests, their hands tangled together even in the throes of legilimency.
Madame Pomfrey was no longer directly alongside them, whatever she'd done to fix Kaylens clearly accomplished given his girlfriend's eyes were still open. Kaylens was still alive, conscious. Harry felt cold, as if he'd been kneeling there for a long, long time, and Kaylens was shivering beneath him.
Harry's gaze raked over her features. Her lips seemed less pale, her coloring better. She said nothing, lips parting as if wanting to speak, yet failing.
It was only then that he saw the magical IV in Kally's arm. It hovered there, just above the grass, blood in it and draining down into her.
"Do not move her, ward!" Regulus snarled. "If it wasn't for that pyromaniac-loving turkey of yours you'd be cuddling with a corpse. Do not make us put her back together a third time."
Harry swallowed, blinking in a daze between the out-of-place medical equipment, the sight of his witch still alive, and Black's angered demand. A corpse…it felt like his heart had leapt into his throat, strangling him. "Kal," he breathed, urgency blatant. "Kally, are you…"
He couldn't finish.
He was scared to finish.
She looked exhausted, weak, but managed an infinitesimal nod.
Harry could have laughed in relief, wanting to clutch her to him but not daring to move. He felt like she was a delicate crystal sculpture that's glass hadn't quite yet cooled, that she'd break if so much as touched. Judging from Black's snarled threat, he wasn't far off in feeling that way.
Kally stared up at him, as if in seeming and literal shock. Her eyelashes fluttered, golden irises barely visible beneath half-closed eyelids.
Of all the things to notice in that moment, in the middle of the night, laying there on the dirt and grass on the threshold of the Forbidden Forest and castle grounds, soaked in sweat and blood, Harry Potter noticed her eyelids.
They were fucking exquisite.
He'd shown her everything.
Harry stared at her, desperate. He clung to her hand, repressing the urge to shake her, to force her to fully open her eyes and look at him.
She didn't.
His heart sank.
Perhaps Black had been right.
He'd done more than kill; he'd butchered. He'd torn Bellatrix Lestrange limb from limb, and had no regrets. He was just as bad as the Death Eaters were, and the hell of it was he didn't care. The only thing he gave a damn about was Kaylens' lack of reaction, about the way she was determinedly not looking at him, about the fact that she must now hate him, or worse…fear him.
Her barely clothed form continued to tremble.
Harry immediately tried to move, pulling back to sit up, to put distance between he and her-
Kaylens didn't let him.
With an upset sound she'd grabbed onto his sleeve, tugging him down. He nearly fell on her, nearly re-injuring her and only just avoiding. Not once did she open her eyes. Harry, however, did open his mouth to protest, to say…he didn't know what, but he didn't get the chance.
Kally's mouth was on him, kissing him, her hand sliding to the back of his head, grabbing weakly at his hair.
It took him a full three seconds to kiss her back, but when he did…
Harry kissed her and kissed her hard.
"That is certainly an unorthodox method of keeping my patient awake, Mister Potter," Madame Pomfrey called in the distance, "though I do admire the efficacy."
Harry heard her. He heard her loud and clear. He also ignored her, right up until he heard Professor Dumbledore laugh deeply.
"Why Poppy, if the students only knew you condoned such techniques I'm sure you'd have students lining up to help with the hospital wing cleanings you so loathe. Just think…this could solve all your junior healing deficit complaints."
Harry's lips jerked abruptly away at the sound of the Headmaster's voice, the Seeker left staring at his girlfriend's slightly swollen, bloodied lower lip. Harry sucked in a breath, still clutching at Kaylens' face, his hand sliding desperately over her cheek as he sought any, any sign of revulsion, horror…
There was none.
Only a pained, tired witch lay beneath him, gazing at him as if she'd rather like to pass out and was only just managing to not.
Harry wet his lips, seeking silent permission.
Kaylens silently understood, nodding.
With a muttered warming charm to sustain her, Harry tugged his attention from her to the others, finding the Headmaster and Mad Eye returned, both versions of Fawkes resting on Dumbledore's shoulders. Harry kept a protective hand on Kaylens' arm, as if afraid to relinquish all contact, out of fear it'd relinquish her.
He'd nearly lost her. Harry's green eyes practically burned towards Moody and Dumbledore, the two far too calm looking for this. They'd nearly died waiting.
"Where in the hell were you?" he demanded, not giving a shit which one of them he was talking to. Both. Hell, he shifted his gaze towards McGonagall. Might as well throw her in too.
Moody glanced at him, chuckling dangerously. McGonagall pursed her lips and scowled. Dumbledore merely inclined a bushy eyebrow that had once been white. Now it looked gray from smoke. "It appears, Harry, that the forest has a sizeable accromantula problem, one we were quite unaware of, that has gotten somewhat close to the school."
Moody thunked a broken off branch against the ground, using it as an improvised cane. "Yeah Potter," he growled, "eight-legged-freaks didn't want to negotiate passage. Had to blast our way through."
"What's the matter, Mad Eye," Black drawled, glancing pointedly at the ex-Auror's one remaining leg, "jealous?"
Moody snarled, Madame Pomfrey having to point her wand in the general direction of both parties nether regions to prevent full on warfare from erupting.
Harry's hand tightened against Kaylens' skin, his voice practically vibrating. "We were out there," he growled, "for nearly an hour." He paused. "Kaylens and Black could have died."
A look of abject apology crossed the Headmaster's face. "Ah Kalliandra, how is she?"
Harry sputtered angrily, Kally merely moaning, "Been better."
"Ah yes, that explains the indecency that was just," Black waved his hand about, "going on."
Harry snarled like a rabid dog. Then his green gaze locked onto Dumbledore like lasers, an explanation silently demanded.
Dumbledore saw and simply sighed. "I apologize for the delay Harry, but even with magic we are limited to the constraints of age and space. While I can travel with Fawkes on Hogwarts' grounds," both birds trilled, "Minerva could not. It took several minutes to arrive here since, as I'm certain you have noticed, the castle grounds are quite expansive." The Headmaster paused, his half-moon spectacles clearly missing a lens. "Upon arrival Harry, we then had to cast obscuring spells upon the castle-"
"Why?" Harry cut in. He wanted to know exactly how in the hell that mattered. "You do know Voldemort was in the forest, right? Decided to pay his old pals a visit. We could have used some help."
Dumbledore appeared to age on the spot. "That is precisely why the obscuring spell needed cast, Harry. It works both ways." He gestured towards the castle, Harry realizing with a shock that he couldn't see it. "They cannot find us, just as we cannot find them. With his followers so close, ensuring the protection of the other students was of prime importance."
McGonagall sighed dejectedly. "The students are all but unsupervised now…"
Harry still hadn't gotten past the fact that the castle could disappear into thin freaking air. "Call me dumb-"
"Troglodyte!' Regulus threw helpfully out.
"-but Voldemort went to school here. Surely he'd figure out that if he just walked straight long enough he'd run into it."
"It does not work that way, ," McGonagall cut in primly, wiping her hands on her dressing robes. "This is an ancient magic. Walking into the obscuring spell will only land the magician in the middle of the Sahara."
Tonks let out a low whistle.
"It is quite," McGonagall continued, an evil glint in her eye, "inhospitable this time of year."
Dumbledore proffered him a weary smile. "It is quite a complex spell, Harry. We barely had enough time to cast it. But with Tom so near…we could not risk the students…"
"How in the hell did you know Riddle made an appearance?" he asked tensely. "Unless Trelawney learned how to actually teach and imparted divination knowledge there's no way for you to have known that."
Dumbledore uttered only one syllable that explained everything: "Fawkes."
Suddenly Harry understood. Time travel. Fawkes had known, and could communicate with Dumbledore.
Harry swallowed, anger dissipating.
Dumbledore smiled fondly at him. "All of that aside," Dumbledore stated, "once Minerva and I had met up with Alastor, there was still a considerable amount of-"
Moody cut in, "Hexing off those spindly bastards' skinny legs."
"Less-than-peacefully-spirited negotiations with the accromantulas regarding their territory boundaries," Dumbledore corrected. "I'm amazed none of you were initially attacked on your way in, but I am rather afraid that a great deal of fighting with the forest's inhabitants was involved simply to get to you, Harry. The fires appear to have woken up a great number of the forest's residents, and they were less than pleased with your redecorating techniques…"
The Headmaster spoke calmly, clearly. He did not sound at all like a man standing there in tattered and burnt robes.
The fires…that sure as hell explained why they'd heard so much growling around the clearing now. The fires had attracted dark creatures.
It struck him that things could have gone a lot worse than they actually had.
Harry blindly found Kaylens' hand, squeezing it.
She squeezed back.
Dumbledore smiled around the soot covering his face. "By the time we reached you, Harry, thestrals were already on their way back to the castle. A quite ingenious solution, if I may say. However, it left us with the forest fire to contend with."
Harry glanced towards the tree line, the red-orange glow of prior conspicuously absent in the night. The fires had been put out, and all that remained was a black, black night lit only by the silver-spectrum of the full moon. "Oh," he said dully.
"Did I see," McGonagall questioned sternly, "Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes products littering the ground, Harry?"
Harry winced. "What kind of answer," he asked, "would make you the least likely to kick me off the Quidditch team?"
McGonagall scowled. "We will be having a discussion about this. I simply cannot believe that you have to be taught to not set the forest on fire."
"To be fair," Harry stated calmly, "the Death Eaters set it on fire. I just…added to it."
Before McGonagall could begin removing house points, a voice cut in.
"Not to break up this little tutelage session on conservation," Regulus drawled, "but given the obscuring spell is still in place on the castle, how exactly do we plan to get back inside?"
"We wait," Dumbledore stated, "for it to run its course." And with that the Headmaster conjured a chair, sitting down within it to look at the starry sky. "It is quite the night for star gazing, Regulus. The moon is particularly sickle-like."
"Wait you say," Pomfrey echoed humorlessly. "I have three patients, Albus."
"Then I would suggest Hagrid's quarters? I am certain he would be happy to lend it to the cause, Poppy."
Harry distinctly saw Madame Pomfrey close her eyes and pray outwardly for patience against eccentric baffoons. Dumbledore, clearly hearing, merely smiled.
To the casual observer it may have looked like Dumbledore was sitting down on the job, relaxing.
Harry wasn't fooled. He noted the position of the conjured chair, the fact that Dumbledore was facing the Forbidden Forest head on, and the fact that the wizard's wand was in hand, as if taking up guard post.
Harry also noticed the slight shake to the older man's hand.
"Mister Potter," Madame Pomfrey practically barked, "if you could tear yourself away from Miss Kaylens and stop the indecent acts for a moment – my nightmare banks are already quite full – and be so kind as to come over here and make yourself useful, there are some additional potions that I am in need of that one to drink…"
Harry's lips twitched. He ran his thumb over Kaylens' hand, before giving it one last squeeze, slowly extricating himself from her.
Then he dropped a kiss on the top of her head, promising, "Be right back," before heading over to Pomfrey.
"Well isn't this all just saccharine?" Black bit, tossing his bloodied cloak away. "You people handle failure far too well."
"On the contrary, Regulus," Dumbledore declared, "we merely learn from it." He paused, kindly blue eyes still shrewdly fixed on the tree line. "Later, Harry, we will have to discuss what happened to Tom in there. Minerva has been kind enough to fill me in on your stated highlights, however I feel…additional details may be needed."
"Sure thing, Professor," he responded. Harry was crouched down amongst Pomfrey's potion bags, looking for blood replenishing potion. The potions were good, when a person was both conscious and had time for them to be effective. Their lack of fast-acting properties were why Kaylens currently had an IV in her arm, and given what Pomfrey had taught him, he thought he'd start there.
Despite what had happened, despite the fact that Voldemort had made an appearance, despite the fact that half of them were injured – Black's broken leg looked a right mess – Harry couldn't help but finally start to relax.
He'd fought. He'd fought to save what he loved, and it'd worked.
Voldemort, Avery and that other Death Eater might have gotten away, but things could have gone a lot worse.
Naturally, as soon as he thought that, the universe decided to rear back its ungodly hand and bitch slap him across the fucking face.
The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up.
Primal alarms went off deep inside him. Slowly, very slowly, Harry looked up, as if afraid to move too fast for fear of drawing its attention.
But Harry found he already had its attention. His scar began to burn…
A black shadow loomed at the forest's edge, as if summoned to them by some unseen element, and it was staring at him.
The shadow hissed.
Harry froze, recognizing it.
Behind him something rustled, like a small object being drug across leaves.
The shadow's gleaming red eyes slid off Harry, looking directly past him, as if drawn towards that strange sound. The burning in his head stopped.
Dumbledore rose so fast that the chair went clattering to the ground, the wizard's wand drawn, summoning spell half-formed-
The air around Harry grew suddenly thick.
Harry knew that sensation.
A spell lashed out from Dumbledore's wand and towards the forest, McGonagall and Pomfrey's spells close behind.
Harry's wand was in hand, but he didn't attack.
Instead he spun around.
His brain processed four things in short order.
One: Black's cloak had been tossed fairly far off to the side. It lay very near Kaylens.
Two: Kaylens was staring at it, recognition flickering within her eyes.
Three: Black suddenly swore, as if just remembering something that had escaped his attention amidst the overall chaos of Madame Pomfrey saving both his and Kaylens' lives.
Four: A severed, bloodless hand was crawling across the dirt and trampled grass towards Kaylens. Its blood red fingernails first sunk into the dirt, before bending, dragging the rest of the stump behind them.
Everything fell silent to Harry's ears, even though spell fire was erupting around him.
Each tug of the fingers sent the stump rustling through the grass.
The hair on Harry's arms stood straight up, a golden glitter beginning to spark within Kaylens' eyes.
Regulus shouted that it was a horcrux to Dumbledore.
Harry dropped the potion, taking a sudden step towards her, knowing what Kaylens was about to do.
McGonagall had also seen and shouted at Kalliandra to stop.
Dumbledore moved with preternatural speed, a single spell sending the earth in front of Voldemort's specter exploding.
Mad Eye had outright charged the forest.
Pomfrey threw a protective spell around Regulus.
Tonks snorted herself awake with a particularly loud snore.
Everything happened fast.
Voldemort was faster.
Kaylens was closer.
Kally weakly reached out and snared the cut off hand of Bellatrix Lestrange as it crawled towards her throat, wrapping her fingers around the dead witch's, as if intimately holding the woman's hand.
A green curse blazed out, lighting up the night. It shot straight at Kaylens, Dumbledore's wand flipping and throwing his chair between the two.
The chair exploded into a hundred pieces, a second fierce and fast shielding charm from Dumbledore sending the shrapnel bouncing harmlessly away. Only one broke through, it slicing the bag of blood that had been dripping into Kaylen's arm, the transfusion exploding and raining red.
Another green curse shot out, directly at Dumbledore himself this time. The older Fawkes screeched, launching himself in front of it.
Fawkes Senior burst into an array of dead feathers, landing at Dumbledore's feet in a pile of ash. A fledgling immediately emerged, shaking itself off, the phoenix once more brand new and featherless.
"He's here for his horcrux!" Mad Eye shouted, Dumbledore calmly nodding and stepping over the remains of his phoenix to continue the fight.
Another attack flew.
The full moon slipped out from behind the clouds, casting silvery shafts of light down upon the grounds, the shadow's sleeve illuminated in one as it ran.
The shadow in the forest was not a shadow.
It was a person: a very real and solid person, with a wand, inhabited by the fucking specter of Lord Voldemort.
The onslaught of spells from Regulus, McGonagall, Dumbledore and Moody sent the specter darting back into the shadows, it only emerging closer to Kaylens.
Kally.
At some point Harry had begun to run, wand out, hexes of his own being blindly thrown towards the tree line. The combination of the six of them in coordinated attack was enough to keep Voldemort at bay, to keep him back, in the woods, away from Kaylens.
Harry knew it wasn't Kaylens he'd come for though; Kaylens was just in the way. Harry knew this because had the bastard come for Kally, he wouldn't have just tried to kill her.
He'd tried to kill her!
A powerful spell from Dumbledore sent the trees curling in to attack Voldemort, but not before the specter hissed, "Accccciooo!"
Lestrange's hand jerked, attempting to fly towards the forest-
Kaylens had unfortunately been holding on.
Harry dove, slamming into the ground, reaching-
He wasn't fast enough.
"KAYLENS!" Harry screamed as it physically tore her across the ground, over the dirt, yanking her away and out of his grasp. It drug her as if she'd been tied to the back of a car just before the engine had fired up for a backstreet drag race.
Kally screamed as she was torn towards the forest, the uneven ground attacking her already severely injured form, rocks and twigs jabbing deep. Harry was on his feet, running for her as McGonagall enchanted the grass to grow. It rose up to snare around Kally's legs, trying to halt her.
It worked, his girlfriend's forward motion suddenly stopped. Now she was being tugged in two different directions, being stretched out like the witches who'd been drawn and quartered in ancient times. Kally let out another scream, crying.
"LET GO OF IT!" Black bellowed.
Kaylens refused.
It was a horcrux.
Suddenly Harry knew what she'd been so desperately trying to tell him back in the clearing.
Something flew at him from the forest, a fucking rock the size of his head. Harry hit the ground and rolled, the thing missing him by mere centimeters. He got a mouthful of dirt as his reward. He lay there, staring as the grass holding her in place was noisily uprooted…
His arm shot out across the ground. "Finite incantatem!" he shouted, the red spell lancing out, slamming into Kally and Bellatrix's intertwined hands.
The summoning spell lifted, the hand and Kaylens' entire arm, which had been suspended mid-air as it was pulled, dropping heavily to the ground.
From the forest's dark shadows came an enraged roar, the trees starting to scuffle…
Mad Eye disappeared into them, snarling and bellowing like an enraged rhino. There was an explosion of spell-fire, followed by a thunk.
Then Mad Eye's body was launched brutally out of the forest and across the grounds, the ex-Auror landing just past where Tonks sat, blearily staring at the ongoings like a small child. She had her wand in hand, but didn't look quite right, on account she wasn't doing anything.
When Mad Eye landed she didn't even yelp. She just poked him with her 'stick' and inquired if he was dead.
McGonagall and Dumbledore launched another attack at the forest, Dumbledore calmly walking towards the periphery. "I thought possession was beneath you, Tom," he called, calmly enchanting trees to bend over, blocking his exit from the forest. "I wonder…why the change of heart."
Voldemort ignored the only wizard he'd ever feared.
Instead another cold, cruel, "Accio!" hissed into the night.
The spell flew out from the forest's canopy, Voldemort clearly up in the freaking branches, once again going straight for where Kally lay, desperately trying to hold onto the horcrux, tears streaming down her face from the pain.
No!
Harry'd rolled over, shouting at the same time as Voldemort. "Finite incantatem!"
His red spell hit Voldemort's mid-air, directly in front of Kally's face, the two spells locking, glowing. For a tense second they illuminated her bloodied face. Some of it was hers, some of it not. She'd been literally covered in blood from the transfusion's explosion, a limp tube hanging out of her arm, trailing behind where she lay. Thick clumps, already coagulating in the cool night air, dripped down her face, staining her ordinarily golden hair almost burgundy.
Silvery moonlight fell across her pale skin, his girlfriend looking for all the world like the Bloody Baron's daughter as the spells flashed above her.
Harry screamed, clambering to his knees, holding onto his wand as he fought.
Dumbledore threw a spell towards the canopy, McGonagall following suit. Madame Pomfrey had run back to where Mad Eye had landed, shouting at Tonks. Black had begun slashing severing spells at the bottoms of the nearest trunks, clearly intending to topple Voldemort's current host from his perch.
There was something about the host that was making it hard to actually hit him. The host was hidden within the forest, and they couldn't see him, yet somehow seemed to move with impossible speed from tree to tree. Even following the connecting line of the priori incantatem wasn't helping. Everyone's spells could not quite land.
Laying there, on the ground, wand outstretched, Harry saw the wand clenched in his fist to be pale.
With a terrifying realization Harry knew, acutely knew this wasn't priori incantatem.
He realized it wasn't, because he'd taken Voldemort's wand.
And he was using it.
In his rush he'd grabbed the wrong wand from his pocket…
The hair on Harry's arms suddenly stood straight up.
He hovered there, locked in another duel with Voldemort, his arms shaking. He didn't understand this. He didn't know what the fuck was happening, but the light between the wands blazed a fiery red, crackling like a raging fire, roaring.
Kaylens had rolled over, onto her side, her wand having fallen out of her jean's pocket to land in front of her. Her jeans were torn, bloodied scratches visible across every centimeter of her exposed flesh from her tumultuous drag. A twig stuck out of her leg. Yet even at ten paces Harry still saw Kally's gaze squeeze determinedly shut, her countenance screwing into one of complete concentration and unveiled pain. Her fingers remained interlaced with Bellatrix's, the evil bitch's crimson red nails sinking into the back of Kally's hand, digging into her flesh, red-silver blood welling thickly up.
Harry saw all of this as he screamed, "Kaylens! STOP!" He tried desperately to get up, to get to her, staggering.
The line between his and Voldemort's spells began to glow brighter, just like the beads of light rolling across Kally's hand.
The air grew thicker around him.
The Seeker stumbled.
So did the specter in the woods.
Abruptly the priori incantatem look-alike sputtered out, dying, Voldemort screaming…
Around them the others were becoming affected, struggling, slowing…
Harry was knocked back to his knees, Kaylens' uncontrolled drawing making it hard to even breathe. She hadn't drawn like this since they'd first met, the training with McGonagall having helped, having made her better at it.
She'd done this at Grimmauld when Remus had transformed.
It'd nearly killed her.
Harry knew what she was doing, and it terrified him. Kaylens was hurt. Injured. She couldn't.
Golden pinpricks of light sparked at the end of a wand.
Kally's other hand, the one Harry hadn't seen, had weakly moved. She'd taken ahold of her newly acquired, pale-yew wand, and she'd just jabbed the end directly into the severed meat of Lestrange's wrist with a sickening squelch.
Harry staggered to his feet, stumbling towards her, shouting-
Golden light exploded from the wand's tip.
A black cloud exploded.
The specter in the forest screamed.
None of them expected the shockwave, but Harry saw it. He saw it explode from where the horcrux and Kaylens had been, racing out in all directions at impossible speed.
It hit him like a battering ram.
A blur of red and gold feathers shot past.
Then he knew no more.
