"The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."
~ Sun Tzu
Chapter 69 ~ Of Too Much Information, Pugs, and Kneeing the Nads
ECOTS
January 1st, 1997 - Noon
"Would it help," Black enunciated, as if speaking to a dullard, "if I submitted a formal request in the accepted teenage language of troglodytes, or are you simply incapable of grasping five basic words?"
Harry doubled over and tried not to vomit.
Kaylens crouched alongside him, a worried look on her face. Given that his coat sleeve was still sizzling he couldn't blame her.
"Fuck," Harry croaked, "off."
Black merely rolled his eyes. "We have the perfect opportunity to gain a leg up upon him, Potter, and you are squandering it by doubling over like some Muggle collegiate at their first kegger. When else will we have the chance to gain an edge when he is not looking for you to meddle with his precious soul pieces?"
Harry sent him a hand gesture that echoed his thoughts.
"I see your sense of humor remains intact. Now, go knock on the door, ward. We do not have all afternoon."
Harry looked straight down at the snow and thought soothing, non-nauseous thoughts to himself. He still caught the withering glare Kaylens shot Black. "Maybe we would have all day if someone hadn't gotten themselves so pissed that they were unconscious past noon."
"Turn of the year. I was entitled to a celebratory drink."
"You're entitled to a twelve step program and a first meeting chip."
Harry's jacket sparked and caught fire.
Kally scooped up snow with shocking speed and shoved it against his cindering sleeve. It hissed, sending steam coiling into the frigid air. He attempted to groan something akin to 'thanks' but all that came out was a pained moan.
"Maybe you should lay down in the snow," she suggested, eyeing him as if he could spontaneously combust at any moment.
Harry dropped to a knee and wordlessly flopped into the snowbank. His girlfriend sat down alongside him, running her fingers comfortingly over his back.
Black observed their interaction with unveiled annoyance, opening his mouth-
Kaylens cut him off. "You will give him a minute, Black." Not Regulus. Not Reggie. Not Casper. But Black.
Yeah, Black was in deep shit with her. Harry snickered to himself and wondered if he could request a belated Christmas gift from her in the form of Black's electrocution.
Black scowled. "Oh yes, because I forgot this was a casual jaunt. The fate of the world is by no means, at stake. By all means, have a lie down. Take a minute. Make some snow angels. When Death Eaters show I'll kindly ask them to withhold all deadly cursing until you two are quite finished recapturing your truncated childhoods."
Kaylens gaped. "Do you have any idea how contradictory the things that come out of your mouth are? First it's the Death Eaters won't be looking for us here because we're time traveling, then it's they are around every corner. Make up your mind and stick with it why don't you?"
"Both," Black stated evenly, "are equally plausible possibilities."
Kaylens had closed her eyes and appeared to be counting to ten.
Had Harry not felt so awful, he might have asked what would happen when she got to ten. Instead he closed his eyes and willed the world to stop spinning.
They'd apparated to a small wizarding village just North of East Sussex. Or more specifically, Black had ordered him to do his 'fire apparition thing' again, beforegrabbing Kaylens and side-along apparating with her.
Harry hadn't even had a chance to argue that he didn't have a clue how to apparate and that the last time had been a one-off.
Given that Black had looked hungover, that he'd just stolen his girlfriend and left him, and that they had gone to hunt down a horcrux Black knew about, Harry'd about 'lost his shit.' For all he knew Black had just splinched Kaylens.
It'd been just the trigger he'd needed.
Before Fawkes could let out an indignant trill Harry'd disappeared in a swirl of flame, landing right where they were. And just like last time, when he'd apparated to Hogsmeade, he'd caught fire.
Unlike last time he'd promptly thrown up.
Black had been relentless.
"Black," Kaylens said with a forced kind of calm, "did it ever occur to you that Harry can't do magic right now, and you just forced him to apparate?" Harry cracked his eyes and found his girlfriend's eyes flashing angrily in Casper's direction. "You're lucky he didn't splinch himself, so he gets as many minutes as he wants."
Harry lifted a hand and waved it in weary agreement.
Kaylens snagged it, firmly interlacing their gloved fingers before he could injure himself further.
Black merely shook his head. "Albeit his magic may be limited, that does not give him excuse for inaction, Kalliandra. Though…" dark eyes moved in his direction, "he should have been incapable of casting lumos let alone of apparating. It appears we have at least isolated his trigger for impossible magic."
Kaylens' eyebrow raised. "Oh?"
"Yes. You."
"Yeah well, maybe if someone would ever bother to explain to him what is and isn't possible with magic, then he'd stop doing impossible things. But seeing as how everyone is so keen to leave him in the dark all the time…" she trailed off, clearly still pissed that Black hadn't told them about this particular horcrux earlier.
Harry tightened his hold on her hand in hopes she didn't actually try to kill Black. "I'm good, just…packed a punch is all…" He tried to sit up.
Black stared down at him as if he were a brain-eating amoeba on a phase contrast microscope's viewing plate. "What exactly is your plan if you encounter the Dark Lord in your current state, ward? Surely you gave thought to this before pulling your little feat?"
Harry slumped against the snow bank, sitting up. Right. Feats. "Which one?"
Black scowled. "The one that saved your little girlfriend and made you lose access to your magical reservoir." Sirius' ghost paused, as if forgetting something. "You impudent sap."
"Eh," he grunted, feeling snow seeping into his pants, "it'll grow back."
Kally closed her eyes and groaned. Harry patted her hand consolingly. Black did not so much as move. "Yes…" he sneered. "In the meantime it will be my job to coax it back as quickly as possible. Do not be surprised if it involves me exploiting that little connection between the two of you." Black's dark gaze slid onto Kaylens in a way Harry really didn't like. "Apologies, girl, for your ensuing injuries if your little friend here fails to act quick enough to save you." He caressed his wand meaningfully.
Harry fought back the urge to slug him. "Try to touch her," he practically growled, "and she won't be the one getting injured."
Regulus, as usual, ignored him.
"Now," Black stated, inclining his head towards a provincial-looking house, "go knock on the door. We need to find the whereabouts of that girl's necklace before any of his followers show up. I wouldn't put it past him to have any and all areas even passingly associated with his horcruxes under surveillance."
And just like that what they were doing washed over him like an ice bath.
They were horcrux hunting. Five down, eight more to kill, including himself.
None of the others had been easy, and those had been done with entire teams.
Harry heaved a breath and clambered to his feet, leaning only slightly on Kaylens, the two sliding in the snow.
"If we're trying to keep a low profile," Kally questioned, clinging to his arm to balance him, "why would we send Harry to knock? Wouldn't you showing up be better? Or better yet me?" Right now they were concealed behind a small tree-line, but once they stepped outside it they'd be visible to anyone and everyone on the street, and from any windows of any of the many homes lining it.
Black grinned almost evilly. "Because," he said, "Harry will not be the one going."
It took a second for him to grasp what Black meant.
When he did he swore. "Tonks told you."
"Actually," Regulus said, sounding far too pleased, "it was Alastor."
"And what about me puking my brains out screams 'Harry's got it in him?'" Remembering that he turned away from Kaylens for a second to wipe his mouth self-consciously, before turning his scowl back on Black.
He really didn't like the way Black grinned. "Because, if you don't, she gets hurt, and we will need her besides you to ensure her mother opens the door."
Kally's head jerked around so fast that she smacked herself in the face with the ear pulls of her rabbit-hat. "What?"
But Black's wand was already pointing directly at her chest, Harry's wand leveled at Black's throat. He'd been slow, too slow to react. He'd still been disoriented from that fire-apparation-thing he'd done while his magical reserves were low, so hadn't gotten in front of her in time. So there they stood, on the threshold of some small town's woods, in a wand-standoff.
Kally, to her credit, seemed entirely unconcerned about being threatened by a dark wizard. She simply huffed a breath, then defiantly lifted her chin, meeting Black's eyes. "Harry," she said, "aim for the balls. He'll miss them more."
Had Harry not been so annoyed and saddled with vomit-breath he'd have snogged her then and there for that.
But he was annoyed, and he had just expelled his breakfast. "Drop," he ordered, "the wand, Black." He didn't think the bastard would hurt her, but Regulus Black wasn't an ex-Death Eater for nothing.
"Soon as your appearance changes, ward, I will." Kally's eyes flickered to Harry with a questioning frown, Harry unable to do anything more than shrug with one shoulder, his other hand preoccupied with shoving the end of his wand very near Black's jugular.
Black simply cast a disdainful look at it. "Pathetic. You always have to be so pathetically Gryffindor about these things. Stop taking offense and change, or you have precisely ten seconds before I reacquaint her with Verpletterend Adem." Black eyes narrowed, the wizard turning his head like a curious dog as he stared directly down the shaft of his wand at Kaylens, a cruel smile touching his face.
The crushing hex. Harry's heart dropped. Kaylens had nearly died from one, back in Hogsmeade. It crushed the air from its victim's lungs, killing them slowly. He still remembered the way she'd gone limp beneath him, Harry straddling her waist, pinning her arms to keep her from fighting him as he'd worked the counter cure.
"You fucking touch her," he promised coldly, "and your throat won't stay intact."
"Wouldn't it be nice, Kalliandra" Black posed as if they were having a calm chat, "if he could gain self-control enough to ration his emotions?" He tisked. "Shame. No great wizard ever came from one who couldn't self-assess."
Harry snarled, but Black merely chided, "You cannot do magic, Potter. What exactly are you going to do with that?"
As if in response the wand's end sparked.
Strange how Black, the one it was aimed at, seemed pleased by that. "Good, Potter. Now you're actually using your anger for something productive."
Harry's mouth flew open to hiss something, but Kaylens' quiet tone beat him to it. "Harry," she sounded resigned, "just do what he says so we can drop this?" Her eyes flickered to him. "Please?"
Harry could have growled. "You know it's you I'm trying to defend here, right?"
She sighed, fixing Black with an annoyed look. "Yes, but I'd rather not attract the attention of every villager in a kilometer radius because the two of you got into a hexing fight. Besides…" her eyes narrowed, "I kind of see Casper's point, even if he is being an ass about it."
With that her words shifted, clearly directed at Black. "Seriously, can't you see he's stressed enough?
Black scoffed. "Yes, most of it relating to you."
Even though a wand was aimed at her heart Kaylens still managed to make an indignant sound that would have been funny in any other situation.
"You think this is a game?" Black questioned calmly. "Whilst you were busy impersonating one of those sleeping princesses from a children's tale, he all but stopped eating. He refused to move. He lost his desire to fight, and in case it has escaped your notice his uncanny ability to do so is the only thing that has kept him alive thus far." Sirius' shadow's lips curled into a sneer. "But instead of mobilizing his upset into something useful he locked himself away with you and wallowed. I am fairly certain had you expired that he would have curled up in the grave with you and summoned the dirt to cover himself. Despite the peace and quiet that would have given me we are regrettably short on wizarding saviors so that would have proven somewhat ill-timed given there is still the trivial matter of a Dark Lord to attend to."
Kally remained absolutely motionless, but her breathing changed. Harry heard it. "Harry," she said, "did you seriously-"
"Yes." He made no apologies for it. "Thought you'd have realized by now, Kaylens, I'm invested in keeping you around." His wand arm began to shake, and it was only then that he realized that he'd drawn Riddle's wand.
The fact that he'd drawn Riddle's fucking wand, again, without noticing it made him want to retch all over again.
What made him want to retch even more was that Black was right.
This was a war. Black was on their side. He might actually hex Kaylens but he was also a Healer, and he wouldn't let her die. He had to get control of himself.
Harry abruptly dropped the wand, shoving it back into his pocket and reclaiming his own, actual wand. He breathed hard, letting it hang by his side as he closed his eyes, concentrating. His magic was weak, Harry not certain this would even work, but he had to try.
"Ten seconds," Black stated, "is already up. Verplet-"
Harry's chest wrenched, and with a pull of magic from somewhere deep inside he felt his hair lengthen, falling into his eyes, the cartilage in his nose cracking, shifting into a new formation, his eyes burning for a brief second as the pigments in his irises shifted.
Then his eyes snapped open to glare hatefully onto Black. "There. Happy?"
Black had already lowered his wand, looking pleased.
Kaylens was staring at him as if he'd recently been transfigured into an eel. "Harry….when…what-"
"I may have forgotten to mention I'm a metamorphmagus." Harry held up his hand and eyed it, his skin tone shifting subtly to look far more tan than it usually was. "Piss poor one at that, but I'll take what I can get."
Kaylens stammered something incoherent, her breath misting in front of her face. It was actually cute, Harry suddenly forgetting how pissed he was at Black. "Cat got your tongue, luv?"
Her impersonation of an angry cat was spot on.
Harry only succeeded in biting back a laugh by casting an annoyed look at Black. "Do you always have to threaten her in these object lessons?"
"I'll tell you what, ward," Black drawled, sounding bored. "You begin to respond effectively to another stimulus, any other stimulus, and I will cease threatening her, despite the fun in it for me."
Kaylens' eyes flashed in his direction.
Then she lashed out, kneeing Black in the crotch.
Regulus Black - Death Eater defector, skilled potions master, dark wizard and murderer – had been caught off guard.
As such, it made it all the more shocking when he actually yelped.
The man grunted, collapsing backwards against a pine tree, clutching his nether regions. Harry might have felt bad for the man, but he could just about guarantee the wizard hadn't been using his nads anyway.
Kaylens just glared, hair and winter hat askew, the Reach taking a threatening step forward and pointing her finger into Black's face. "Never threaten me with that spell again, Black. Or I swear-"
Right. Harry remembered right about then that they regrettably needed Black to apparate back, and that his girlfriend was prone to randomly killing things. He grabbed her around the waist and yanked her backwards, tugging her through the snow. "HARRY! Harry what the hell?!" She dug her feet in, heels dragging a line through the white powder, Harry muttering soothing words about cuddles with her owl when they got back.
She abruptly stopped, her hat hanging halfway off her head, the non-witch practically seething. Had they not been in the middle of nowhere with possible Death Eaters nearby it'd have been downright cute.
"So," he asked, "what exactly was your plan if I'd let you kill him? Walk home?" Really, he was genuinely curious.
Unsurprisingly she had ignored him.
"I really," she instead hissed, "hate that spell."
"Gathered that."
Black groaned.
The sound seemed to make her considerably happier. Kaylens finally relaxed against his chest, her lips twitching. Harry took a minute to just enjoy that, before they began doing something asininely stupid: like hunting down a horcrux without magic.
There was also the matter of what Black would do once he got up.
Which he was already doing…
The wizard stood there, awkwardly, making an angered-sort-of-sound. Kally merely nestled against Harry's chest, breaking out into an unapologetic grin.
Then she giggled.
Harry was fairly positive it was the most frightening sound he'd ever heard. "Er….Kaylens?"
She twisted in his arms, burying her face against his coat as her entire body shook with peals of laughter. It wasn't until he saw Black going for his wand, a pinched look on his face, that Harry spun her around, unwisely putting his back to the dark wizard and banking on the bastard not hexing him as he shielded Kaylens.
"I am going," Black seethed, "to kill her."
Harry shot a blue-eyed look backwards, and he swore to undead gods that part of either his father or Sirius or both reared their ugly heads within him. "Don't be a 'dick,' Black," he said, pun intended, glancing pointedly at the wizard's injured nads with a shit-eating grin. "Gonna threaten a chick, then dodge faster."
"I loathe you."
"Gotta work on your 'v' sounds there too," Harry said, patting Kaylens' head as she shook with unrestrained laughter. "Messing them up again. Say it with me now: looovvve."
Black's expression explained why, not twenty seconds later, Harry and Kally found themselves out of the woods and out on the street. They were in full view of anyone who was bored enough to be paying attention, but right now Harry would chance his odds with Death Eaters over Regulus Black.
On the periphery of the woods Harry could still see the man rubbing his junk with a wounded, uncomfortable look.
It was enough to put Harry in a shockingly good mood.
That lasted until he remembered why they were there, his attention jerking to the brickwork of the home in front of him. It was the end unit on a long line of connected village houses, a type of white awning over the front stoop.
He swallowed nervously. "Hey Kaylens," he said, stalling, "what's that awning thing called?" If anyone would know it'd be her, what with his recent discovery of her fondness for architecture and all.
Thing was she didn't respond.
Harry glanced at her, frowning, finding her mutely staring at him as if she were seeing him for the first time.
Harry frowned more. "What?"
"Harry," she said, wide-eyed, "you're blonde."
Instantly he scowled, reaching up automatically to flatten down his hair but only touching one of Dumbledore's old knit hats. "Thanks for reminding me," he said churlishly.
"You look," Kaylens continued, "like a surfer." She said this very quietly, as if afraid saying it too loud would make it unreal.
Harry frowned suspiciously, remembering something. "Wait…you said you like blondes."
Standing on the walkway of a house connected to Voldemort himself, quite exposed and definitely targeted – at least by the dark wizard whose nads Kaylens had recently rearranged – Harry watched in horror as his girlfriend slowly nodded, an awed sort of smile touching her face.
Then she reached up with a gloved hand, pinching his shoulder-length blonde hair between her thumb and pointer fingers, giving it a slight tug.
Upon confirming it was real she looked delighted.
Harry fought back the urge to hex something and swatted her hand away. "You really know how to stroke a man's ego," he muttered.
Kaylens just bit the tip of her glove between her teeth, tugging it off to expose her fingers to the cold air. Her bracelet, the one he'd given her, dangled warmly from her wrist, steaming in that same air.
Then she made a quick grab at the other side of his head, as if she wanted to run her fingers through it.
And that was exactly what she did.
She even purred.
In all their time together Harry had never heard her purr.
The woman he was in love with was petting a man who looked nothing like his usual self. He idly wondered if there were any dating rules against obliviating one's significant other for this sort of indiscretion.
She purred again.
Harry stood there, snow up to his ankles, and fixed her with an impatient look. "Are you about done?"
Biting down on her lower lip, Kally's lips twitched into an impish look, the Reach shaking her head 'no.'
Harry growled and snatched her hand away. "So," he said, "take it you weren't joking about preferring blondes."
To his fucking horror she actually nodded.
Harry mentally ran through every blonde male he knew; there weren't many, but if he ever saw Draco-fucking-Malfoy again he was going to have to kill him on general principle. Kaylens was accident-prone; she could get a head injury and forget that she hated Malfoy by proxy, and the last thing he fucking needed was for her to suddenly jump ship due to a pathetically unimportant thing like hair.
Jake, the American, was also blonde. Jake was also with his Kally, alone at a romantic-as-fuck-French monastery for a chunk of the summer. Jake was also sharing quarters with Kaylens and Fred there.
Jake would have to die.
Luna was also blonde, and judging from the way Kaylens was playing with Harry's somewhat long blonde hair right now, he might have to add her to the list. Damn't. He'd liked Luna.
With a dark oath Harry snared her fingers and started dragging her towards the front door. Kaylens followed like a love-struck puppy, only adding to his ire.
"Harry, I have a birthday coming up…"
He couldn't be sure, but a snarl echoed down the street. "Your birthday," he said humorlessly, "isn't until October."
His woman slipped in the snow in shock. Harry snared her without even looking, up-righting her and continuing their trudge up the brick walkway without even slowing.
"I told you?" She sounded incredulous.
"Yes, you told your boyfriend your birthday." He rolled his eyes. "Shocking, I know."
"Well when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous."
Harry paused about two meters from the front stoop. "Name one thing about that statement that isn't ridiculous."
He'd already lost her. She was staring at his hair again.
Harry swore beneath his breath, Kaylens grinning as he tugged her to the door, raised a fist and knocked. "When exactly," she quietly whispered, "were you going to tell me you were a metamesmess?"
"Metamorphmagus," he corrected, fighting to let go of her hand in irritation. Kaylens, rather annoyingly, snagged it. This resulted in a quick scuffle of hands as if they were small children fighting over the last Bertie Bott's jelly bean, Kaylens inevitably winning and claiming his hand like a prize.
Great. Now she wore a shit-eating grin.
Harry scowled.
She inclined a questioning eyebrow so high it actually disappeared beneath her borrowed winter hat.
With a suffering sigh he hissed, "Tonks. She's been teaching me since we….moved." He didn't want to risk being overheard, and thankfully Kaylens understood that moved meant 'screwed with Chronos himself' because she didn't ask anything further. Harry, instead, cast her a tired look. "You're going to have fun with this, aren't you?"
Kally gave an innocent shrug that had him contemplate hexing her.
Fortunately that was when the door opened.
In that moment, and only in that moment, Harry suddenly understood the phrase 'older than god himself.'
Or 'herself.'
Shit. Even in his thoughts Hermione still somehow managed to correct him.
Framed in the doorway was quite literally the oldest woman Harry had ever seen, and that included McGonagall. She wore a flower-patterned set of dress robes, a lilac-scent wafting off them, her face more wrinkled and cragged than a mountain face. A small, black boxer emerged at the silver-haired woman's ankles, stubby tail wagging psychotically fast, the elderly witch shushing him with a piercing, hazel-eyed look.
Then she smiled apologetically at him, her voice as ancient as Harry had imagined. "I apologize, young man, if he pees on you. He's recently regenerated and that always is so poor for bladder contro-"
Abruptly she stopped talking.
And she was no longer looking at him.
The woman's eyes had fixed onto Kally, Kaylens suddenly shifting closer to him, as if nervous under her scrutinizing gaze.
The three of them stood there, and it occurred to Harry that at some point one of them ought to say something. He opened his mouth to do exactly that, only for her to beat him to the punch.
"I see."
Harry wanted to know exactly what she meant by 'I see,' but the woman stuck her head abruptly out the door and looked both ways down the snow-covered street. What she was looking for Harry didn't know, but he could see the clear deformity in her spine, years of slouching and decades passed having bowed her.
Subconsciously Harry stood a little straighter.
The woman jerked back inside, shoving the boxer back in with a surprisingly nimble move with her foot. Then she looked at Kaylens, that severe gaze softening for a moment, looking…as if she knew her.
Then it disappeared.
Her gaze turned abruptly hawkish. "You best come inside at once." And with that…
The woman swept back inside, a flick of her wand sending the boxer flying up and into her arms.
Harry Potter exchanged a look with his girlfriend and grabbed her hand.
Regulus Black had told them everything he knew about a certain Hazel Scott, because Harry had told him everything he'd known about Hazel from Riddle's diary.
He hadn't quite filled Kaylens in on all of that yet. He might not have to, because, as it turned out, Hazel's mother was still alive.
Harry Potter gulped, then stepped forward into her house.
ECOTS
January 1st, 1997 – 12:30 p.m.
The elderly woman bustled about the sitting area with surprising energy, clanking tea cups and steaming a kettle. Large Christmas ornaments hung, magically suspended, from the ceiling, blinking and moving up and down in time to the wizarding radio, which softly played in the background.
Kally decided then and there that holiday wizarding music was positively horrendous.
She sat on the very old couch, Potter stiffly besides her. He looked tense, like a tautly pulled wire about to snap. It didn't help that the non-house-trained puppy had positioned himself dangerously near his ankle, his pug-nosed snout sniffing suspiciously at his feet.
He also appeared to be staring at several photographs, all of a girl not any older than them. The girl peered beneath a fringe of glistening, golden hair, her brow furrowing as she glanced between them and the elderly woman, as if concerned about why they were there and what they might do to her. Eventually the girl perched herself on the edge of an old-fashioned rope swing, her fingers wrapping around the rope rather tightly, whilst finely shaped eyes the color of cinnamon fixed firmly on them.
It was clear the photograph didn't exactly like having them there.
What made it worse was that looking at the picture was like looking at a sister she'd never had. Kally wanted to ask a thousand questions, but she could ask none of them while there. Instead she felt her heartbeat swiften, Kally elbowing Potter whilst the woman's back was turned. He didn't react, so she elbowed him just a bit harder.
This time she got the space between two of his ribs, her boyfriend grunting in pain. The blonde-haired surfer version of Harry shot her an annoyed look, Kally widening her eyes pointedly between him and the picture, silently asking if he knew anything about who that was.
He just sat there, mere centimeters from her on the couch, saying and doing nothing.
He said and did nothing just a moment too long.
With a breath he looked down, pointedly not answering.
Kally suppressed the urge to kick him; hard. The dog let out a not-at-all-menacing growl, as he was too little for it be anything but humorous, and the girl in the photograph huffed, rolling her eyes.
"Har-" she stopped herself, hissing, "Drake." That was close enough to Draco that it'd piss him off, especially given that he was currently blonde.
It worked. The blue-eyed look Harry shot her from beneath his flaxen fringe of hair promised she'd pay for that comment. It took considerable effort to prevent her mind from wondering exactly how he'd punish her for that. Fortunately, she managed.
She was just about to ask if that was Hazel, someone Harry had told her only brief details on while conveniently neglecting to mention the similarity in appearance, when-
"It's good you came to me." Tea cups clanked loudly down in front of them, alphabet blocks on the coffee table bouncing.
Kally actually jumped, startled. She found herself staring into the wrinkled face of the hazel-eyed woman. The elder had sunk onto a loveseat, directly across from them, her penetrating gaze completely ignoring Harry and once again staring straight at her.
It was almost enough to make her squirm.
Harry shifted alongside her, her boyfriend snaring her hand and clenching it tight. Forgetting her annoyance with him she clutched it right back, like a security blanket, and didn't care what that said about her current mental state.
The old woman just continued to strangely stare. The wizarding wireless song ended, switching to an older, jazzy tune. The moving Christmas baubles overhead whirred.
Harry cleared his throat.
This seemed to snap the silver-haired witch out of it. She blinked, appearing to shake herself, as if she'd just been awoken from a deep sleep. "Forgive me. It has been so long since I've had any type of company. I am Helga." She inclined her head towards the tea and cookies. "Please," she stated, "help yourself."
Kally hesitantly reached out, only for Potter to capture her wrist, jerking that hand back and offering a strained smile. "Thanks, but…she's on a diet. Exceeded standard Seeker weigh-in. Quidditch season and all…"
The look Kally shot him was so withering it was a marvel he didn't burst into ash on the spot. Helga, however, snorted.
To Kally's recollection she had never once heard an old woman snort. She didn't look insulted by their refusal or miffed on her behalf, but instead chuckled. "Ah," she said knowingly, "you are afraid of poison."
Harry tightened his hold onto both of her hands. "Yes."
"You can feed it to the dog if you like." She turned her deeply set eyes to the pup, who was still fixing Harry with a pathetic snarl. Oddly the stubby tail was still wagging. "Though I've tried to tell him this is not good for his regeneration cycle, but he simply loves cookies."
Kally frowned. "Regeneration?"
Potter looked equally confused.
The woman merely smiled, exchanging a private look with the pug. Then she turned her eyes back onto them, deigning not to answer. "I don't know who told you about me," she said. "Anyone who had the sense to figure it out has been dead for decades, and no one else ever had two neurons to rub together. Certainly not enough to deduce what we'd hidden. So who was it? Was it Jamus? Vladimir?" Her matter-of-fact façade had vanished, and she now looked at them eagerly. It was as if she were about to lunge to them, Harry's hand straying towards his wand and Kally wanting to shrink into the couch.
The woman spotted their stricken looks, immediately pulling back and taking a deep breath. "I-I did mention," she said, by way of apology, "that it has been some time since I had visitors?"
Kally parted her lips, not having a clue how to respond. This entire venture suddenly seemed foolish. She glanced at Harry, who looked calculating. "Sorry to disappoint," he said, "but don't know any Jamuses." He paused. "Or Vladimirs."
The woman seemed to deflate, looking – if possible – even older. "Ah," she said, voice once again a blank mask. "I had rather hoped that they…never mind. Whoever it was, it's good that they sent you." She continued to look directly at her, Kally uncomfortable as hell, but at least the witch no longer looked like she wanted to leap across the table at her.
Despite that, Kally didn't feel threatened; instead she felt like the woman might try to lock her away and never permit her to leave again.
She clucked. "I don't expect either of you to share your actual names with me. I also suspect you are both polyjuiced." She shook her gray head. "As you've already found out, child, it doesn't fully work on you."
Kally and Harry quickly exchanged a look. "What do you mean," Kally ventured, "doesn't work?"
The woman's lips pursed. "Why child, go look in the mirror. Over yonder. Go, go. You musen't have looked at yourselves outside. Your hair, your eyes, those will not change. You must be more careful, moving forward." She waved a hand, urging her to go look at her reflection, but the last thing Kally wanted to do was to get up and do so. She wasn't polyjuiced and she already knew exactly what she looked like.
Harry cleared his throat, obviously urging her to play along with whatever the hell was going on. Shooting him an annoyed look she got up, picking her way carefully across the oriental carpet and towards a large, ornately antique mirror mounted over the fireplace.
Given that she saw only herself in it, she did her best to don a slight look of surprise, whilst inspecting the mantel. Three stockings hung from it: one labelled Helga, one Hazel, and one Patrick.
"She's older." Helga was looking at her as if assessing a prized show dog. "How old are you?"
Kally did not even think to lie beneath that penetrating gaze. "Seventeen and a half." That half seemed important right then; that half mattered.
The woman stared at her unblinkingly, then turned briskly to Harry. "You should have brought her to me earlier. We could have saved her so much time."
Instantly Harry's hand was on his side, where one of his two wands was hidden. "What do you mean," he asked, looking ready to spring, "we?"
Helga appeared non-flummoxed. "Why, Patrick and I of course." She inclined her tea cup towards the pug on the floor. "Just because my dear husband is the victim of cursed poison is no reason to dismiss him from the conversation." She smiled vaguely, and Kally instantly wondered if the woman had lost her mind.
Harry clearly was of the same mind, and simply stared at the woman. "Um….oh."
"Do not um oh me, young man. I am not senile." She sat her cup down with a clank and openly glared. "If you do not believe me ask him yourself."
Kally could only stand and watch as he was put on the spot, Harry glancing, startled, between the witch and the dog. "Um…" he said extremely coherently. "Patrick, can you-"
The dog sniffed, hopping first onto the couch alongside Harry, shooting him a snarl, before leaping onto the center table. The impact sent the kettle and tea cups rattling dangerously, warm liquid sloshing over the sides of Kally and Harry's untouched cups, and a cookie was knocked off the plate. Helga afforded the poor behaving dog a fond look, whilst Patrick the pug set about moving the letters on the table around with his paw.
After a full minute passed the dog sniffed in derision and leapt off the table, landing on the loveseat alongside Helga, the blocks rearranged into two distinct words: Ignorant twat.
Helga sighed. "Now Patrick, it's not nice to name call our guests."
The dog merely sniffed, settling down and getting comfortable. He remained attentive, propping his snout on his front-facing paws, his dark eyes fixed onto Harry.
Harry stared at the blocks, then at the 'couple' on the couch. His mouth opened, as if wanting to ask how the hell someone's spouse became a permanent dog, but it snapped shut even quicker. Apparently even Potter realized that there were some things he just really didn't want to know.
Helga had begun to scratch 'Patrick' behind the ear. "Now that our introductions have been made," she said pleasantly enough, "what should we call the two of you?" She fixed Harry with a firm look. "I can only assume you are her boyfriend from your interactions so far. Shall I call you Boy Toy or can we settle on a nice pseudonym, such as Matthew?"
Harry outright gaped, slowly – very slowly – lowering himself back down onto the couch. "Drake," he managed. "You can call me Drake."
It was a mark of the situation that Kally didn't laugh.
Helga seemed satisfied with this. "Drake. And you, my dear?"
"Karen," Harry answered for her. "Her name is Karen."
The dog snorted, spraying snot out its nose onto Harry's jeans.
Helga ignored them both, continuing to stare at her. Her expression had turned far kinder, a faraway look in her eye. The intensity of it though…
Kally shuffled back a step, and it was noticed.
The woman shook herself. "I apologize for staring my dear. Of all those that have come to us, you…with that potion you look the most like her." Her voice quietened, a heartbreaking note within it. "I am afraid that even after all these years…it is still an open wound."
Until that moment Kally hadn't known it was possible for a dog's face to fall, but the pug's did. He immediately turned his glower off Harry, placing a comforting paw onto Helga's knee.
The girl on the swing had leaned forward in her picture, a look of longing on her face she stared sadly at the two.
The pieces fell into place.
"Your daughter," Kally whispered. "I look like your daughter. The girl in the picture?" Suddenly Regulus' comment about needing her so the mother would let them in the door made sense. He'd known. Potter must have too.
They were going to have to have a seriously long talk about pertinent information later.
Helga smiled faintly, her eyes darting to the photograph of the girl on the swing. "Yes." She reached out an old, gnarled finger. "It has been…so very long…"
The pug whined loudly, nuzzling Helga's leg.
This seemed to snap the old woman out of it. "Of course it's not you that actually looks like her. Whomever you chose to use in your polyjuice though…my dear, looks so very much alike my Hazel."
Kally felt like her heart had done a strange leap. She looked like her. It may be only a passing resemblance, but there was no denying the resemblance, and this woman…
She thought it was from polyjuice.
Harry had turned away, staring blankly at the uneaten cookies. Every line of his face looked uneasy, the wizard determinedly not meeting her eyes.
Kally wasn't sure what to make of that.
The song on the wizarding wireless changed, a song entitled 'Frosty the Magic Snowman' coming on.
"Come along dear," the woman said, "sit. We have your training to discuss."
Had this not been one of the most bizarre conversations she'd ever participated in, Kally might have been worried.
"What do you mean, training?" Harry jumped in, Kally hesitantly making her way back to him. The look on his face…. Harry grabbed her by the arm and practically yanked her onto the couch. Not once did he look at her though; no, Harry kept his eyes focused on Helga and Patrick the pug, something fierce in his eyes. "Why exactly do you think we're here?"
Both Helga and the dog looked suddenly confused.
Personally Kally was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the pug was a person, and the fact that there was a song about wizarding children hexing a snowman to life. In the song the snowman proceeded to then attack the Muggle children. The holiday song was actually grisly.
Potter and Helga seemed oblivious.
"To learn how to survive in a world bent on ensuring extermination," Helga said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Your magic does not exactly have a 'how to' course at any of the wizarding schools, now does it? Why else would a Reach possibly come here?"
That got her attention.
Kally stared at the woman in abject shock, Harry's expression similar.
He somehow recovered first.
"Wait…are you saying you train Reaches?"
The old woman's crows' feet deepened as she digested his unanticipated question.
Its implications were apparently too much.
A wand appeared in Helga's hand out of nowhere. She hadn't moved, but it was suddenly pointed at Harry across the coffee table. "If that is not why you are here, then why are you here?" She exchanged a look with the pug. "I assumed…because you had brought a Reach…" She slowly rose to her feet, fire flashing in her eyes. "You're with the Ministry…aren't you?"
Harry didn't flinch. "I'd gnaw off my own arm," he said coldly, "before I ever took up with them."
Helga's wand did not move. In fact, it seemed to be steaming. "The work my Patrick and I do helps people. We do not blindly subscribe to your kill anyone who is different philosophy. You-your sort-"
"At what point," Harry ground, his fingers tightening around her wrist, "did 'I'd rather gnaw off my own arm' come to mean I'm with them?"
The old woman, perhaps as old as Dumbledore or at least close, stared back. Neither was yielding, Kally's heart beating fast. "Ha-Drake," she hissed, "maybe we should just-"
"No," he disagreed. "We came here to talk, and that's exactly what we're going to do." Harry's eyes shifted over the couple; one holding a wand, the other standing on all fours and beginning to snarl. "I'm not with the Ministry. So, do I need to show my 'hating on Fudge fan club' membership card, or will just the hating on the current administration one suffice?"
The witch who had invited them in so briskly, who had been welcoming not ten minutes before, held them hostage with the business end of her wand. "I did not live to be a hundred and thirty three by believing every fool who waltzed into my home professing to be looking for help. The Ministry has been looking for those like me for decades and I have not been caught yet and I certainly will not be caught now." Her voice had risen, almost shrill-like.
Kally winced at the feel of Harry's fingers digging into the soft skin of her wrist. "He's not lying." Grabbing at Harry's hand and loosening it slightly, she locked eyes with the woman. "He has no reason to."
The song about the demonic snowman screeched to an end, light instrumental filling the room.
Eyes that looked every bit as old as the century they claimed to have seen darted her way. The steely resolve and fear in them gave way to something heartbreakingly sad. Her lips moved in a strange way, as if pursing and trying to swallow at the same time. "It would befit their cruelty to send someone looking like you," she said. "They'd have known I'd open my door at once."
Besides her Harry hissed. "She's not polyjuiced. Neither am I."
The woman's eyes snapped back to Harry. "Give me one reason to believe you."
"Oh for fuck's-" Harry flipped his hand around, seizing a seriously painful grip on Kally's fingers as he clenched his gaze. The blonde hair shortened drastically, his tell-tale scar revealed now that his hair wasn't covering it. Messy strands returned, darkening. The shape of his nose shifted, lips changing, and when he was done his eyes opened, narrowing in a glare to reveal the deep green they always were.
"There," he bit. "Happy?"
The woman's mouth had formed a tight 'O.' "Merlin's beard," she whispered, "it's Harry Potter."
"Better known as the Boy-Who-the-Ministry-Loves-to-Hate-On in the flesh. Trusting that'll suffice as proof we're not with the Ministry?"
"Harry Potter…" Helga stared in shock.
Harry made a frustrated noise.
Kally cast him a sidelong glance. "How famous are you exactly?"
He just grunted. "Don't start fangirling on me now, Kaylens."
"Wouldn't dream of it," she murmured, still eyeing Helga warily even though the woman had gone mute. "Was just thinking of trading you in for a nice, low-key mode-"
He growled louder than the actual dog.
Kally's lips twitched, Helga sinking down on the couch and staring at Harry as if he had just burst into her home announcing the apocalypse.
The wand inclined in their direction dropped. "What reason could Harry Potter have for coming to see us, Patrick?" She sounded dazed.
Patrick the pug barked, lips curling back. He looked unimpressed.
Helga reached out and stroked the dog's head absently.
"Right…" Harry said awkwardly. "Given I'd rather not be seen through your windows…" he shifted abruptly back to the blonde haired surfer he'd been when he'd shown up, the change startling. Once more Kally found herself looking at him as if she'd never seen him before.
Potter was a metamorphmagus.
She felt like some internal paradigm of her universe had been shattered and reformed overnight. Harry was skilled in ways she couldn't even fathom.
Even there, with all this new information upon her, Kally couldn't help but think that Harry Potter was sexy as hell.
Everyone went eerily quiet. Only the whirring of the motorized Christmas baubles made any sound. Kally was torn between wanting to drag Potter out of there to snog the life out of him, and kicking him for having so, so many sodding secrets.
"So…" Kally finally said, not sure where they went from here. It wasn't like either Regulus or Harry had fully filled her on things before getting here. That would have been downright logical. Far too logical for either of them.
She made a mental note to hex them both as soon as possible.
Helga's hazel eyes shot up, locking onto her. "Harry Potter's a shape shifter-"
"Metamorphmagus," he said with a frown.
"-so what do you really look like?" Helga was looking at her with something so strangely hopeful that it was chilling.
Kally found herself wanting to shrink away immediately, Potter somehow sensing it and shoving his fingers through hers. Subtlety wasn't his strong suit, and Merlin was she grateful for that. Wetting her lips she managed a weak, "Like this." Glancing at the picture of the dead girl, she quietly added, "Exactly like this."
"So you mean…" The witch's eyes were shifting between her and the pictures, her lips parting in silent shock.
Even the dog had stopped growling.
"Yeah," Harry grunted, sounding thrilled. "Wouldn't happen to have had another kid you misplaced in the Muggle world somewhere along the line by chan-oof."
Kally had elbowed him in the side. "Potter…"
Harry rubbed his side awkwardly, but didn't remove his gaze from the couple. "Well?" he demanded.
The witch, still staring at both of them as if she'd been recently stunned and enervated, shook her head. A wispy strand of gray hair slipped in front of her face, the woman absently shoving it aside in a somewhat familiar gesture. "No," she said. "But my grandparents…they adopted my mother. It could be possible…"
Kally blinked, taking a moment to process that. This witch was older than her own grandparents would have been. "So you think…"
An upset sound resounded from besides her. "She could have been Muggleborn, and no one would have known, is what you're saying," Harry said flatly. "Which means there could have been a Muggle sibling that sired your family, Kally."
Helga's head snapped towards her, seizing upon her name. Yet she still nodded. "That is," she said slowly, "a possibility."
Kally could only stare. "So…so they both could have been carrying the same almost mutation that Hazel and I got…" What had made them both Reaches rather than full blooded witches…
The witch's wand had fallen onto the couch cushion, her face softening. "We could speak to your parents, find out their lineage," she said. "Perhaps find out…"
Kally winced. "They're dead."
Helga's face turned ashen. "Surely your grandpare-"
Kally looked away quickly, staring straight down at her and Potter's intertwined hands. Her free hand traced over his knuckles as she took a deep, steadying breath.
"Oh my dear…"
Hazel eyes shot up, Kally offering a strained smile. "It's okay," she lied. "I'm okay." She wasn't sure she'd ever be okay, but as terrible as it sounded being in the wizarding world had been good for her. Being surrounded by this much chaos, having absolutely no reminders of them anywhere she looked…
It helped her forget.
Kally needed to forget, for awhile at least. Maybe, one day, she wouldn't need that so acutely. But right now? She needed it, and would for awhile.
Besides, she wasn't about to pour her heart out to some witch she didn't even know, just because the woman thought they might be extremely distantly related. They couldn't even confirm it. Not without a blood test, or-
Kally's heart sharply twisted. She might still have family….
"Well," Helga suddenly said, clasping her hands in an almost business-like manner, "Kally is it?" Looking her over, she declared, "It suits you. I rather like it."
Besides her Harry abruptly sank back against the couch cushions, tension he'd been holding released all in one breath. "You could be related," he muttered darkly. His eyes shifted to her. "Told ya."
Kally's brow furrowed, confused. "Told me what?"
"That you were related to her." He nodded at the picture of Hazel, as if it should have been obvious.
Kally frowned, glad for the distraction. "Potter I literally had never heard of her until Casper got unreasonably drunk, and I sure as hell would have remembered if you'd said something like that."
Harry shook his head, thumb rubbing absently over the back of her hand. "Not yet. I tell you later. In May." He shot her an affronted look. "And you argued with me."
She outright gaped at him. She was getting glared at for something that hadn't even happened yet. She fucking hated time travel. With little other choice Kally closed her eyes and let out a sigh. "Potter," she said, "you're impossible."
He paused, frowning as if thinking hard, then told, "I think you told me that then too."
Now Kally just groaned, flopping back against the couch cushions with him.
That served as the signal for everyone to move on, back to what they'd been discussing to begin with. "So…" Helga said, in odd imitation of the way Kally had said the same word minutes earlier, "you aren't here to place us under arrest. So why are you here?"
And just like that the entire conversation changed.
Harry shifted closer on the couch, the gesture a silent sign of solidarity and comfort. "We're here to find out about your daughter. We know she was murdered. We know who killed her, and we think the person who did it gave her something beforehand. Something we need, so that we can kill him."
Helga looked stricken.
An hour passed. The strange sizing-up of one another by both parties had abruptly ended.
Harry demanded an explanation about what they'd meant by training Reaches, Helga pointing out that it was always best for Reaches, as a species, to avoid Ministry detection and an early death from overdrawing, so, on the occasion one cropped up, they were sent her way by well-meaning souls.
Not all reached her in time of course; the mutation wasn't exclusive to the British Isles, even if it had proven to be more common there. Most worrying of all was that the mutation was apparently more common than the Ministry had ever let on. In the past half century alone she'd trained a half-dozen, and those were just the ones that had survived long enough to both hear about and make it to her.
Given the Ministry's 'kill on sight' mandate, advertising her services was of course, a tricky matter.
She'd persisted regardless. She did it because they had all been just like her daughter, in possession of poor or no magical ability, like ticking time bombs about to go off.
Her daughter, Hazel, she'd explained, had been a Reach.
At this point in the conversation that hadn't exactly been a stunning revelation. They'd already known that from Riddle anyway.
At some point Kally had gone numb. Potter had leaned forward, elbows on his knees, actively engaged in the conversation with Helga and the pug. Kally felt like her throat was slowly closing. Only now it was for a whole new reason. It had nothing to do with potential lost family or the threat of hexation. No.
It was because she wasn't alone.
Out of the six Helga and Patrick had trained they thought two might still be alive. Two men. One had disappeared somewhere in Western Europe in the late nineteen sixties and hadn't been seen since. The other had disappeared more recently, not five years prior, and had been headed for Australia. Helga had kept a locator charm for all her students, and theirs had never changed to dead.
Sitting there on that fur-covered couch a silent mantra went through Kally's head. She wasn't alone. She wasn't alone. She wasn't alone.
Helga and Harry seemed to have forgotten she was even there. It wasn't until Hazel literally shook her portrait, gesturing adamantly at her, that the two's attentions snapped back towards where she sat in stunned silence.
"Kal?" Harry was staring at her with open concern. She didn't even glance at him. She just continued to stare at that unlit fireplace, thinking over this new information. One had disappeared in the sixties. If he was still alive…
It meant maybe she didn't have to die from this.
Never once had Kally realized how much she'd accepted death. With Harry it'd always been something easy, so easy to forget. Neither of them ever really expected to survive the war, so longevity had never been an issue to consider. Whenever they asked one another they lied, pretending they'd be fine, that it didn't matter because they'd make it.
All of it was always a lie though.
She wet her lips. "How?" Kally's eyes shot towards Helga. "How did you train them? What did- how could they use magic for so long without overdrawing?"
Kally caught Potter's eyes. They were blue. They did not look the same, but the emotion within them was undeniably familiar.
Kally'd overdrawn. She'd nearly died. It'd almost killed him.
She could still see the anger in Harry's eyes when she'd awoken; he'd looked broken.
Helga's mouth opened in an 'O' of understanding. "I apologize my dear, you seem to have misunderstood my intent." She reached forward and rearranged the alphabet blocks Patrick had used. "I did not train them to use magic. I trained them to live without it. In some cases, where it was needed, I set them up with new identities, and sent them on their way."
It felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. "They gave it up?" She didn't recall her voice sounding so very small…
The old woman merely clasped her hands, her wand held delicately between them. "If they wanted to live, my dear, yes," she said gently. "A Reach can never safely use magic. Eventually they all overdraw. And being around magical people…I'm certain you already know is not safe for one such as yourself. Surely you already can understand why, can't you?"
Kally had never thought about it. She'd never once actually entertained the idea of giving it all up. There was so little magic she could actually do, and she felt so useless all the time. There'd been so many people already who had questioned if she was even safe for Harry to have around because of it, because she couldn't fight like he could, and yet…
She'd wanted to get better at it, to do more, not less.
The idea of being nothing more than dead weight in this war was unfathomable. It made her feel sick.
Harry gave voice to her thoughts, it like a knife to her chest. "Reaches can't do magic. So why do you keep sayin-"
"Their sort of magic, Mister Potter," Helga corrected, not unkindly. "Though you do know, some of them, usually the ones born from wizarding families, can do just a little. My Hazel could. It's why she was able to go to school for so long, able to fake it as well as she had." She glanced towards her. "Their mutation is far more complete than those who are Muggleborn. Judging from your boyfriend's response, Kally, and our earlier discussion, I can only assume you are Muggleborn?"
Kally dully nodded, a lock of hair slipping over her eyes. She didn't bother to move it, Ariana's wool hat long since removed and clutched in her lap.
Helga Scott smiled sympathetically. "I can help you, my dear. Teach you to leave them all behind. It is a blessing, really, because it is always easier for the Muggleborns."
"She isn't going anywhere," Harry ground, sounding somewhat terse.
Helga ignored him. "And as much as it may pain you, my dear, wizards, friends who are a part of this world….you need to leave them behind. Consorting with our sort when you have so much to hide, so much to lose…it is too dangerous." Helga looked completely sincere, almost eager for her to agree, so she could be safe. "You would not have to go alone. You're-you could be our family. We could go with you. Ease your transition."
Kally felt like her heart was twisting violently. The idea of leaving Harry, Dean, everyone else behind…
She didn't have anyone else left; no one.
And here was a complete stranger offering to help her stay alive.
She was so lost in her own world, her own thoughts, that she never saw the panicked look on Harry's face.
There'd been a time when Kally hadn't cared about the idea of dying. She'd expected it soon, so soon. Yet now she didn't want to die. She wanted to live, fiercely so. Fiddling with her wristlet, the twined feathers warm against her skin despite the chill outside, so many things went through her mind.
Yet there was only one that mattered.
Eventually her eyes flickered up, landing upon Helga Scott. There was never a question; Kally didn't need to consider a life with a new family to know it was one she didn't want. "I'm sorry, but…I can't do that."
Besides her Harry Potter began to breathe again. As for Helga…
The woman smiled a smile so full of sadness that Kally wanted to cry for her. "Then you will die." Her eyes moved between the two of them, as if she were seeing a future she lamented. "I would suggest….no, I plead that you spend all the time together that you can." She sounded somewhat broken, her eyes locking onto Harry's face. "You will regret it if you don't, young man, when she is gone. She is already old, for her sort. It's why I try to find her kind when they are young, before the idea of losing all magic becomes intolerable for them. I just-" She stopped, closing her eyes. "I do not want to see her die again."
And with that Kally knew she was no longer talking about her.
Inwardly Kally wanted to weep for the elderly woman who had lost almost everything.
A hand snared hers almost violently, Harry's hard gaze fixed on the woman trying to convince her to leave the wizarding world, for her own good. "I'll spend time with her, but not because she's going to die. She can do magic, and she will live." He said it intractably, leaving no room for argument. His look dared anyone to argue, a look that could incite a riot.
Helga merely afforded him an unhappy smile. "My Hazel thought the same thing once. But…living in the magical world was dangerous. Life…it never plays out the way it's supposed to." Kally felt Harry tightening his fingers, shoving them more firmly between her own as one of their gloves fell to the floor. Neither seemed to care as they simply watched Helga Scott go back decades, no time turner necessary.
The witch looked at them calmly, worrying a quilt with her hands. It had been draped over the couch, showing signs of wear and tearing from puppy pug claws.
Her voice spilled out into the warm room like a fog. "When I say this world is not a safe one for you to remain in, Kally, it is because I know it is not. My Hazel…one day she wandered off in Hogsmeade, and came across something she could not deal with, without a full witch's magic." The woman's face crinkled in pain, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears, words bitter, "She did not survive the encounter."
Against her skin, everywhere Potter's came into contact with her own, a gentle tingling had begun. Kally clung to him as she listened, for this was yet another person reminding her how completely and utterly useless a Reach was. Other Reaches had left the wizarding world behind. They'd left it to stay safe. Kally's eyes closed in silent despair.
Harry's voice cracked like a whip. "Your daughter," he uttered, "didn't die because she wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time. She died because she was targeted by a mad man who fits every Muggle definition of serial killer in the books."
Kally's eyes snapped open, finding Harry staring Helga down. His fingers slid more tightly between hers, sensing her upset, the electric feel of his skin against hers sending her insides twisting.
Both Scotts were staring at them.
"My daughter," Helga stated slowly, "died in an attack."
"Your daughter," Harry corrected, "died because Tom Riddle wanted her dead."
The woman dropped the quilt she'd been fretting. "How do you know of Tom?"
Harry smiled humorlessly. "We're acquainted."
The unshed tears in the woman's eyes were quickly wiped away, the woman's backbone returning. "I don't see how. I haven't heard from Tom in years. No one has. After Hazel died he simply…seemed to disappear into himself. A few odd jobs now and again. We had lunch, when I ran into him in Knockturn, but… he cared for my daughter. They were friends, Mister Potter. Surely you-"
"Yeah well, everyone thinks serial killers are boys next door too, even if they have a slaughterhouse in the cellar."
Helga blinked. "She was killed in an attack, by an animal," she practically whispered, determined to hold on to her delusions. "Even if Tom had somehow…been involved-"
"He was," Harry cut in. "He wasn't broken up about her death, because he liked her, and he couldn't have human emotion like the rest of us, so she had to go. He lured her into Hogsmeade and killed her, Miss-" spotting the dog, he awkwardly corrected, "Er…Mrs. Scott."
The elderly witch aged years in seconds.
"No," she denied, only her eyes told another story.
As fantastical as that sounded, as fantastical as it would be to shift one's entire paradigm about how a loved one died within mere moments, Helga Scott seemed to be taking it pretty well.
What was even more curious was the pug. It'd cocked its head to the side, before standing up on all fours, leaping onto the table, and beginning to move about the alphabet blocks. Kally shook, still unsettled from the way Helga had all but ordered her away from the magical world, and watched.
Harry didn't look at her, but his thumb calmly caressed the back of her hand. "I'm sorry Mrs. Scott, but it's true."
The witch sniffed. "How could you possibly know about a…a tragedy from years before you were born?"
"Like I said," Harry informed, "we're acquainted. In case you weren't aware, Tom Riddle is Voldemort."
The woman gasped. "No…that's not…"
"Tom Marvolo Riddle." Harry glanced down at the alphabet blocks, clearly addressing the pug. "Rearrange the letters: I am Lord Voldemort. It is him." Grimacing, he dryly added, "Hell, he even gave me a nice demonstration of it once. Wrote his name in the air in burning letters, then had them jump around for emphasis." He smiled humorlessly. "Guess he figured a twelve year old wouldn't be skilled enough at anagrams. Wanted to make it easy for me."
Harry said it all very calmly, as if talking about nothing more than a backyard Quidditch match. But he wasn't. He was talking about Voldemort.
He was talking about facing Voldemort at twelve.
Kally hadn't known that.
Inclining her head close to his ear, her own golden hair falling to veil her face from Helga and the dog-husband, she whispered in shaken voice, "Potter, why is it that all your childhood stories horrify me?"
For a moment he said, did nothing.
Then he tilted his head closer to hers, voice lowered for only her to hear. "Because," he conspiratorially drawled, "the more in danger I'm in the more you jump me." The ghost of a smirk touched his mouth, Kally hissing at him. He was already addressing Helga though.
"Tom Riddle is Voldemort -"
"Please," Helga requested, sucking in a breath, "do not say his name."
Harry grimaced, but acceded. This time he didn't argue with the person scared of a name, all trace of humor gone from his voice, face. "He killed your daughter, Mrs. Scott, to make a horcrux, so he wouldn't have to die. Every horcrux was personal to him. Every death someone significant to him, personally. And so far every object has had some type of personal significance, so we doubt he'd deviate where your daughter's was concerned." He waited a tic before pressing, "Every horcrux also seems to have been associated with a personality aspect or emotion in himself that he found undesirable, that he wanted to expunge because he saw it as making him weak. Bla-someone, told us Voldemort had spoken about giving one of his victim's a trinket of his affection before killing her. He let her have it for months before, to power it up with the emotion he wanted to rid himself of, an emotion associated with her. And I think," Harry continued, glancing at her for but a moment, "it was friendship, or love. One of those. But Hazel seemed liked the only person he'd have been remotely capable of having those feelings towards. She was, after all, the closest to him that wasn't one of his Death Eaters. The only one that wasn't under his direct control."
The entire time he'd spoken flatly, as if they were discussing a dire news article rather than the real life making of the apocalypse. Harry squeezed her hand, sliding his fingers out from hers to once more lean forward on his knees, staring Helga straight in the eye. "You want justice for your daughter, Helga, then help me. Help us find what he made it out of."
The air seemed to have grown thick, Kally's hand laying limply on her leg as she studied the poor, old woman whose world paradigm had just been shattered. Her expression was almost unreadable, only a small quiver around her eyes betraying her upset, and-
WOOF!
All three of them jumped, the pug having let loose a bark much larger than its small size seemed capable of. Spotting their looks he smacked a paw on his new message, Kally tilting her head to look around Potter's shoulder.
Never liked Tom.
Across from them Helga let out a shuddering breath. "No one was ever good enough for your baby girl, Patrick," she said sadly, her smile strained.
Patrick woofed again, before going back to the alphabet blocks. This time, having no idea what else to say, they all fell quiet, watching as the dog painstakingly moved letter by letter into position.
"What…what curse did this to him?" Kally eventually asked.
Helga did not even look up. "To this day dear," she told, "even we do not know." She shook her head, long silver hair still regal even with age. "One day we went out for tea, and that evening…this." If possible the woman looked suddenly sadder. "It wasn't long after Hazel passed…"
Harry's mouth drew into an angered line. "It was Voldemort. I don't know how, but it was him."
Helga looked as if she were thinking something over, very carefully and very deeply. "You may be right," she finally conceded.
"Then help us. Help us get him."
Helga nodded, only Patrick barked again, their attentions all returning to the table top.
This time it spelled something unexpected.
Something helpful.
Her locket.
At that Helga's mouth opened in silent understanding, her eyes flickering fiercely up. "Thomas gave her a locket," she said quickly, "for her sixteenth birthday. They'd had a bit of a falling out before…I always thought it was such a sweet apology." Pausing, her eyes moved towards the picture. "They began dating not long after that, and not long after that…she died."
The pug let out a whine, head hung.
Helga's fell as well. "She was so happy with him, you see. She told us…he'd said he'd loved her. We thought he might…once they'd graduated…"
Though Helga did not finish her words, her meaning was clear.
There'd been a time where Voldemort had been in love, and the Scotts thought he might marry their daughter.
Kally's heart fell, her insides twisting.
The clearing, the Forbidden Forest, the way he'd looked at her.
Suddenly so much of it made sense.
Off to the side something snapped. Helga did not so much as move, looking as if she were too lost in her own thoughts to take note of anything else in the world, but Kally noticed.
It was a candle. A burning candle had snapped in half. A newspaper clipping alongside it had caught fire.
Kally hissed, quickly letting go of Harry's hand and jumping up to snag a corner that wasn't already on fire. Dropping it to the floor she stomped it out, a tiny coil of smoke twisting up. Shoving her hair out of her eyes she rounded back around on the two wizards to see why the hell they hadn't helped, only to see Harry's expression.
It was hollow, stiff.
Barely contained rage broiled behind his eyes.
He leaned forward, mouth opening to ask, say something, only a choked noise came out of it.
Helga's head shot up, looking alarmed, but Kally wasn't. She just as quickly moved back to Harry, a hand falling onto his shoulder, her eyes focusing onto the woman that may or may not be some type of very distant great aunt. "Mrs. Scott," she said carefully, softly, already knowing what Harry had been about to ask, "where exactly is the locket?"
Mrs. Scott looked forlornly towards the moving picture of the girl on the tree swing, the girl shying back, a hand rising to cover a golden chain dangling from her neck.
It was a heart shaped locket, the gold a perfect match for the girl's hair.
"I'm afraid, Kally," Helga said sadly, "she was buried with it."
Kally could only stare, stare at the token of apparent love given, that had been nothing more than a meticulously plotted murder. That poor girl…
Harry's hand rose to abruptly fall atop hers, clenching, clutching it against his shoulder as if his life depended on keeping her exactly where she was. "Mrs. Scott," he grated, "where was your daughter buried?"
And just like that, Helga Scott told them the location of the sixth horcrux.
Minutes later, once Helga Scott had demanded a promise for her to return to discuss things further, she and Harry had left, relaying it to Regulus on the forest's threshold. Harry did most of the talking, Kally standing there with her hat and gloves pulled back on, her mittened fingers fiddling with the phoenix bracelet as they'd spoken. Things today had been…strange.
They'd apparated there, spoken to a family whose dead daughter she looked like, might even be distantly related to, and Back and Potter had known and kept that information from her.
The Scotts had offered to take her away from all of this, so she could part ways with magic, so she could live.
Harry had clung to her hand like a lifeline.
When she'd been gone, near death, he'd stopped eating.
He was a metamorphmagus, and now they needed to rob a grave.
She'd found out a lot of information she hadn't expected today. Kally wet her lips, heart racing. Potter's eyes slid back to her every so often, a concerted frown creasing his brow.
Finally Black pinched the bridge of his nose.
Something was apparently wrong with the cemetery Hazel was buried within.
It wasn't until Black spoke that she realized what.
He spoke as if suppressing a headache. "Salazar, I loathe gargoyles."
