Chapter 8 - Une Petite Surprise
The library of Beauxbaton was open and airy, and filled with green plants that crawled up the shelves. It felt more like a garden then some grand repository of knowledge. Natural light pooled in through heavy crystal panes that made up much of the walls and ceilings. Harry could feel gentle beads of sweat dotting across his skin. With each passing day of Spring the sun grew hotter, and the body of Alic was not accustomed to these warmer temperatures. He'd taken to carrying around a small handkerchief to wipe at his brow, and at times he reminded himself of Professor Slughorn.
The words and letters in front of him blurred. His eyes were tired, and he'd already given up trying to read near an hour ago. It didn't bother him all that much, given he could only understand half of what was written on the old parchment. Flamel never told me it would be even harder to read. He snapped the book shut. Harry's French had gradually improved, but piecing together lines of text and the strange accents that went along with it, with the sounds that left people's mouths was an entirely different challenge. And one he found equally as frustrating, if not more so. Would it kill Maxime to stock the shelves with a few more books in English? Harry liked to complain, though he understood it wouldn't have made much a difference. He wasn't in the library for pleasure, and the tomes he searched for likely wouldn't have been translated for some light afternoon reading. And my partner in crime has given up on me…
Asleep across from him, and looking like a little angel, was Gabrielle. Her hair formed a silver pillow around her head, each puff of breath sending it fluttering in front of her nose and mouth. Ever since their run-in at the stables a month back she had taken a liking to Alic. Merlin knows why… I made her run away crying. But that was Harry, not Alic, and Gabrielle could not tell the difference. It was a shy stalking at first, peeping at him curiously but too afraid to speak. Six days passed before she gathered the courage to talk to him again, and now she followed him around like a pet. Or am I the pet? It was hard to tell the difference at times. The girl was spoiled and sweet, bratty as well, but undeniably cute all the same.
Harry had taken her on as Alic's personal translator (not for the darker texts obviously). The girl seemed to enjoy their time together, and she proved to be a wealth of knowledge… as well as a much better French teacher than Flamel. But still, she wasn't yet even a teenager, and her attention span had its limits. A soft snore escaped her lips in that moment.
Harry chuckled under his breath, and waved his wand sending several of the books stacked in front of him back to their shelves. He'd had enough reading about earthen charms, and so had Gabrielle from the looks of things. The small folded corner of a book could be seen sticking out beneath her arm. She must have been even more bored than usual, he felt almost sorry for taking advantage of her time. Clearing away the rest of the desk, his eyes kept flicking back to her book, and curiosity got the better of him. Slipping it out beneath her sleeping form, and doing his best not to disturb her, Harry saw a colorfully draw rabbit hopping up and down and across the page. It was a children's book. Flicking through, simply enjoying the illustrations that danced before his eyes, Harry stopped on a page near the end of the book.
"L'histoire des Trois Frères." It read across the top in black ink that dripped from the letters like blood. Clearly it was meant to frighten children. Settling in his seat, and shooting another glance to the still sleeping Gabrielle, Harry read it through – forgetting that it was written in French. The story pulled him in, even though he'd heard it once before. The eeriness behind the words and the way the tale was masterfully crafted by someone talented with the pen was far better than the bone-dry breakdown Grindelwald had given him. Reading this now, with all the embellishment that made it so enjoyable, Harry could see how it was thought to only be a fantasy meant to teach children a lesson. But they were real. I have all three. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
The Hallows bestowed by Death. Harry was unsure over the truth of their origin – it was likely to have been built up as legend through the foggy lens of time. But the story spoke of other truths: the bloody history of the elder wand, the tragedy of the stone, and the wisdom of the cloak passed down through generations. The power behind them was real. He'd felt it the moment he first touched the cloak, and the wand was now as much a part of him as he was of it. It was the stone he knew the least about. Three turns of the stone, is that really all it needs? With it he could see his parents again, and Sirius. He wouldn't have to be alone. He could ask Dumbledore what all of this meant. But it says they would suffer… It was the thought that stilled him. Could he pull them back only to cause them more pain? Those who had done so much for him. Would I be able to stop after doing it once? Harry's mind went back to Dumbledore's box of memories, and the countless times he'd entered the pensieve just to catch a glimpse of their smiling faces. I'd go mad… and madness might just be worse than death.
"Alic?" Harry turned to see Gabrielle looking at him through dazed and half-lidded eyes. His hand was hovering near the mokeskin pouch around his neck, and quickly shot to his side. "Deed you lose my page?"
It took Harry a moment to understand what she was asking. Then it clicked. "Oh," he let out a breathy, awkward laugh. "Here, I saved it for you." Indeed, he had. Harry made sure to keep his finger in place until Gabrielle had it back in her grasp.
She shot him a curious look. "I do not like zat story."
"The three brothers?"
"Oui." Gabrielle wrinkled her nose. "Eet eez too sad, and Death eez… eez…" She was struggling to find the right word.
"Creepy?" Harry supplied. Gabrielle nodded, and went back to reading the story with the bouncing rabbit. He watched her in silence for a period. "Which gift would you have chosen?" Harry asked, unsure as to why the question felt so important.
The little girl grabbed at her chin as she thought, staring off into nothing particular. Seconds stretched into minutes, and a small frown was budding across her brow as time passed. A smile suddenly sprouted on her face as she reached what seemed to be a satisfying answer. "I would peek ze cloak." She bounced in her seat and giggled. "Zat way I could sneak les bonbons wizzout Maman and Papa knowing, and I would not 'ave to blame eet on Fleur."
Harry shook his head, unsure of what else he possibly could have been expecting from a child. Did you really think she would say the stone or the wand, and make you feel any better? He felt a fool.
A clock rang deep and loud, echoing between the bookshelves, and signalling the start of lunch. Gabrielle quickly scurried off with her tangled silver hair trailing behind her like a cape, but not before she made him promise to join her in a few minutes. The library was largely empty as he returned the rest of his books, most of which turned out to be useless, and he wondered why he decided to come here in the first place. If he wanted anything of substance, he could have simply looked through Flamel's extensive collection. It's because of Gabrielle. He knew the truth of it, but didn't want to accept it. She reminds me of Fleur. Gabrielle was the last connection he had with her.
He could hear the chatter of students before he even entered the dining hall. Students were clumped together, speaking in hushed voices that were both too loud and too animated to be considered whispers. It reminded him of when an exciting piece of gossip reached the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Searching through the sea of blue uniforms for Gabrielle, Harry noticed that Madame Maxime's seat remained unoccupied. Between bowed heads, and hidden partially by crowded shoulders, Harry could just barely glimpse what had caught the attention of Beauxbatons – newspapers. A strange pressure bore down on his shoulders. It no longer reminded him of Hogwarts gossip, but something much darker. It was all too similar to the heart wrenching mornings where students would wait in fear for the Daily Prophet to break its news.
He saw Gabrielle before she did him, the little girl practically crawling on top of a platter of sandwiches to see the paper. It was an older student, likely his own age, who was holding the paper and talking to his friends with wide eyes and a hint of fear. Finally, being able to catch sight of the front page, Harry decrypted the article underneath. No. Was his first thought. No, no, no. He skimmed it over again. I must have read that wrong. Surely. His stomach was lodged in his throat, making every breath a queasy one. "He didn't…"
"He deed!" Harry was caught off guard, not realising he'd spoken out loud. It was the older boy holding the paper who spoke, looking up at him with big brown eyes. "It says zat he broke into Durmstrang. Zey do not know eef any are dead, but many are injured."
Harry wanted to slap his boyish face and scream at him that he was wrong, but he couldn't. The truth was staring directly at him. Grey-blue pits sitting in a young man's face that managed to look both handsome and ugly at the same time. The snarl spread across his lips and the blood speckling his right side might have had something to do with that. He might not look like this now, but Harry had spent enough time with the man to know this was Grindelwald. And if that wasn't enough, the name spelt across in bold black print told him the rest. Though the school itself was not photographed, even in tragedy sticking to its strict privacy.
He attacked Durmstrang. Why? It made no sense to Harry. He vanishes without a trace in the night, with no word for over a month… and then he does this? The first stirrings of rage could be felt waking within him. And then it was washed out with guilt. I did this. The realization hit him like a train. I freed him. These people were hurt because of me. He felt sick.
The doors to the dining area snapped open, catching the attention of every individual in the room. Tall and elegant, and oddly beautiful, Madame Maxine walked in with a face that looked to be chipped from ice. Filing in behind her were a mass of witches and wizards dressed in familiar green-robes. Harry's grip tightened around his wand. There were twelve of them, he counted, and Maxime stood at the center towering over them all. "I am under the impression that you all have heard the news." A rich, deep blast of French filled every corner of the room. "The escaped Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald attacked Durmstrang Institute of Magic sometime yesterday morning." Maxime paused as if she herself couldn't believe what she was saying. The entirety of the dining hall was dead silent. "The reason for his attack is unknown, as is the extent of the damage done, but the ICW is currently investigating the matter." She gestured to a well-muscled wizard standing to her side, who wore the harshest scowl Harry had ever seen in his life. "The ICW insisted," she stressed the word, clearly not pleased with their interference, "on preventative action in the case Grindelwald turns his attention on our fine institution. Classes will continue as scheduled."
The hall burst into fevered discussions as Maxime swiftly turned and exited the hall. All of the ICW officers followed, save one. The wizard with the scowl stood still as stone, scouring the hall with hawk-like eyes as black as pitch. His gaze stopped where Harry stood, and the man marched steadily in his direction. The blue sea of students parted in front of him, and Harry readjusted the grip on his wand. He stopped several feet in front of Harry, before abruptly dropping to his knees. "Vell, little one, I told you I vould visit one day." His voice was thick and hard and familiar. And he was speaking to Gabrielle.
"Viktor!" She squeaked, throwing her thin arms around his shoulders. Viktor Krum? The man in question let out a rumbling laugh that sounded like boulders rolling down a cliff.
"It has been a very long time since ve have seen eachother." His smile looked strange on his face, almost as if it didn't belong. That was when Harry knew it was him. Viktor was taller now, stretched out of his stocky body, and surer of foot on solid land than ever before. But he wore the same scowl, and had the same aquiline nose. He looked older, much older. It's because of Grindelwald, he knew. The news of his escape must have hit him hard. And here I am. The man who let him free.
"I have a surprise for you," he said in a low voice. "But you must vait until I am done with vork first, before I bring it to you."
Gabrielle could hardly contain her excitement, bouncing on the spot as if it were physically hurting her to wait. Viktor patted her lightly on the head, before standing back up with his characteristic frown. Students were gaping at him from all directions. They've never seen Viktor Krum before. Harry remembered Viktor getting the same treatment at Hogwarts, and had to stifle a laugh knowing how much the Bulgarian hated it all.
Looking up, Harry saw Krum staring at him curiously. A long second passed, before he turned his gaze and marched out of the room.
Gabrielle came rushing over to him with that infectious smile of hers. "Deed you 'ear? Veektor said zat zere is a surprise for me?" The words came out of her mouth in a babbling stream. "Do you zink eet eez a broom? I 'ope eet eez a broom. Maybe Veektor can teach me 'ow to fly so zat I can race un dragon like 'Arry. I can show 'im my snitch and 'ow I can catch eet almost all ze time."
Harry nodded along, though his mind was miles elsewhere. What did Grindelwald want with Durmstrang? It had been important enough for him that he broke into a fortress of a school, if rumours were to be believed.
"You weel tell 'im won't you?" Gabrielle was looking up at him with pleading blue eyes.
"Tell him what?" Harry had missed what she said.
"Tell Veektor zat I can catch ze snitch. You saw me doing eet."
"Oh… yes. If he asks I will." Harry doubted Viktor would bother asking him.
For the remainder of the lunch hour, Gabrielle chattered on endlessly about Viktor and flying and her snitch and whatever surprise was waiting for her. It was as if Maxime hadn't said anything. But to the rest of the school, it weighed heavily on their minds. Harry could see it in their tensed posture, and in the way not a single student left the hall without the company of another. Travelling in numbers won't be enough to save you from him.
He was alone again now. The majority of students had trudged away to their classes, and those who hadn't were a subdued bunch. Harry was used to this type of silence. It was a quiet that came along in only extraordinary circumstances, where students could feel the icy hold of fear circle their throats: the escape of Sirius Black, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, the return of Lord Voldemort.
Worming through the dark passages, he made his way back to Flamel's laboratory. After weeks of the purifying flames burning day and night, the lab suddenly felt much colder and sent goosebumps up his skin. The flames had been quenched days earlier, and three blood-red stones sat amongst the ashes. He could see them now, sitting in the center of a white stone basin beside the alchemist, ever hard at work. "Ah, just in time Alic," he called from his hunched position. "Come here please." He lifted the stone basin and sat in on the desk in front of Harry. "Pick up the stones and tell me what you feel."
Looking down upon them, the stones were of such deep crimson that at times they looked black. Even simply hovering his hand over them, he could feel the alchemical creations pulse with life. Reaching down and gripping the first stone, he had the sudden urge to retch. It was cold and wet and sticky in his hand, sending a sickening rush of dread down his spine. "It feels… almost evil," Harry said, seeing the expectant look on Flamel's face.
"Then I feel it is best suited for the horcrux." With soft white gloves that matched his snowy robes, he gently picked up the stone and placed it in a jet-black bowl.
Reaching for the second, he could feel it pull towards him with a force of attractiveness. The stone filled him with a warmth that left him smiling. "It feels familiar," he said, never wanting to let it go.
"A stone best suited for yourself." With gentle fingers, Flamel managed to coax the stone away from Harry and into a bowl of white marble.
He took the last in his hand, and felt nothing. No warmth, no chill, no sensation other than a heaviness from its weight. It was as if a void had opened within his fist. "What is this one for?" Harry asked, putting the strange stone back down.
Flamel stored it in a bowl of plain grey stone. "I had to adapt the idea of using a single stone to sustain your life force." He started, setting the three bowls off to the side. "A single stone would never have been sufficient given the complexity of your case, and the complications that come with it. As such, I have expanded to three stones, each with their own purpose though ultimately related to that of the original stone. One is to tether the shard of Voldemort that attached itself to your scar, and another is meant to tether to your own soul."
"And the third stone?" The third, which had given him no feeling.
"The final stone is what complicates matters. It is both the problem and the solution." Flamel took a seat, and invited Harry to do the same. "It is the problem, in that the identity of its tethered partner remains unknown."
"Then how can we possibly use it, if we don't know what it is?" It seemed a rather significant problem to Harry.
"Think, Alic. The solution is known to you." Flamel never gave him a chance to answer before continuing himself. "The nature of a horcrux is to pervert its host, leaching itself like a parasite. Only a magical object of significant power can hold a Horcrux, and only something even stronger can destroy one."
"Basilisk venom," Harry said. "I used it to destroy one of them in the past."
"Precisely." Flamel pulled from the desk a stack of papers that he skimmed over briefly. "Or perhaps Fiendfyre could work, as well as the killing curse. Those methods would all be satisfactory when destroying a physical host, but we are working beyond that. The splintered soul does not reside in something so simple. We are dealing with matters of the spirit, a realm of magic only I am intimately familiar with." He passed Harry one of the papers. Its surface was stained and wrinkled, and marred by ugly scratches of shorthand that Harry could not hope to understand. Flamel tapped his finger lower down the page where a crude drawing of a man lay at the center of three stones. "Voldemort's soul lurks around your very own, searching tirelessly for the slightest flaw in your mother's protection, in the hopes it can slip past and overcome your being. Whatever magic your mother invoked to save you, over time it has become linked with the foreign soul."
Harry looked at Flamel almost disbelieving. "His soul is anchored to my mother's protection?" He could feel his heart racing against his chest. "It's not attached to me?" I'm not the horcrux… The silent question hung between them.
"As I said, we are dealing with matters of spirit. You were once, and still are a vessel, but no longer the host. The horcrux Voldemort accidentally made is in you, but not of you. The soul feeds on your mother's magic, and together they make a horcrux that doesn't exist in the physical plane. Your soul must be tethered separately from Voldemort's, and it comes to the third stone to tether something powerful enough to destroy both your mother's protection and Voldemort's corrupted soul."
"So the third stone is almost like a doorway between the physical and the spirit." Harry said out loud, trying to piece together all he had just learned.
Flamel quirked his head to the side, and looked at Harry with dark penetrating eyes. "Yes…" His voice trailed off and his head nodded almost in agreement. "That would be an appropriate way to describe it. Well done, Alic."
Oh, a compliment, Harry wanted to laugh, scarcely believing what he'd just been given. Though it didn't serve to make him feel any better. I doubt he has one of those just lying around in his pocket. "Do you have any ideas?" He had to repeat his question a second time, as the ancient man was too busy scribbling away and pulling out tomes with a new zeal about him.
"No… no… I have research to do, leave me Alic." Flamel brushed him away without sparing him a look. He probably didn't even listen to what I said.
Harry was at a loss over what to do. Time sometimes seemed to crawl to a halt around him. Days blurred together but each one stretched on for an eternity. He longed for the lazy afternoons at Hogwarts, where hours would slip away like seconds while flying through the air or playing chess with Ron or simply talking to his friends by the warm hearth of the common room. What would Hogwarts have been like if there was no war? Would it have been as full and bustling as Beauxbatons? How many more Gryffindors would there have been, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, Slytherins? Peace… It was a pleasant thought. A world that knew peace. Where blood didn't matter, and house rivalries were nothing more than chirps of banter over the House and Quidditch Cup. Maybe then I could have been more open with Daphne, and she wouldn't have had to leave. What Daphne had done to him… it hurt almost as much as Fleur's betrayal. It was the war and her family that forced her to leave, he knew that much, but still it left his heart raw and aching. At times his mind wandered back into that horrible mist, and he remembered the feeling of her warmth wrapped around his own. I could have forgiven her, he told himself, we could have been happy.
A stab to his head nearly took him to the floor. Grabbing at a nearby shelve, he caught himself, sending metallic instruments clanking to the ground in the process. Blood filled his mouth. Why am I so angry? Hot rage pulsed through every vein in his body, feeding him a twisted pleasure over the murder he wanted to commit. Murder? This time it felt as though his skull had shattered, and Harry could taste the cold stone against his skin. Opening his eyes, Harry's hand was extended outwards holding a bone-white wand. What is that sound? It was a horrific shrieking that could shatter glass, and it took a moment for Harry to realize it came from a huddled figure on the ground. "Enough," he snapped, tearing his wand away. The man before him was sobbing. "You let the girl get away Mulciber."
"M-m-m-my L-l-l-lord… it w-wasn't m-m-m-me." He sputtered almost incoherently on the floor, a complete wreck.
"Speak clearly Mulciber, or has the drink still addled your wits." Harry could feel a rush of satisfaction that wasn't his, and his head turned in the direction of sallow faced man with a greasy curtain of hair.
"I can speak on my own behalf Severus…" He hissed, and Snape bowed his head. An ugly frenzy built in his core as he turned back to the pathetic wizard before him. "The girl was an essential part in our plans to draw in Potter and you lost her. It is a failure that I cannot sit back and tolerate."
"M-my L-l-lord. I… I n-never d-d-did…"
"Silence!" Oh how he wanted to kill the man slowly, strip away his skin and leave the meat for Nagini. "Severus entered the dungeons to find you passed out from drink and wandless, it was your negligence that allowed her to escape!" The air snapped before him, and tossed Mulciber a dozen feet through the air. "You will be left to Travers' mercy." Mulciber was already unconscious.
He turned his attention to his right, and saw Snape slink up before him and bow. "Rise," he commanded, and he did. "I have need of you Severus."
"Anything for my Lord." Voldemort smiled over the obedience of his servant. Black eyes stared into his own, and for a fleeting moment he considered tearing into his mind. But he restrained himself, having done so on countless occasions when he was still Dumbledore's pet.
"The Ministry has been crumbling ever since our claim of Potter's death. It will fall. When it does, I will have you put in as the Headmaster of Hogwarts."
Snape's eyes widened and he bowed his head again. "My Lord is too generous."
"Hogwarts and her secrets are dear to me… In truth it was to go to Bellatrix, but she must be punished for her failure in treating with the goblins."
"Perhaps Bellatrix was unaware that threatening goblins with mutilation was not a proper form of negotiation." Snape spoke with his head still facing the ground. He might have cursed Snape for that, but he was a merciful Lord, and allowed his insolence to pass.
"The goblins are becoming more and more of a hindrance. I would have threatened worse. But you are correct, she was wrong to speak so carelessly to them. That is why I will have you speak to them as well. You are a cunning man Severus, this is a task of utmost importance, and I will not tolerate any further failure."
"It will be done, My Lord." His servant vanished into the shadows.
In front of him, he could still see Mulciber spread grotesquely across the floor. The taste of blood had yet to leave his mouth, and the rage of his failure still ran fresh. "Crucio." Even from his high seat, he could see the whites of the man's eyes as he screamed. Something burst from his throat, and soon he was cackling along to the familiar tune of suffering.
The floor was wet, and Harry woke to find himself lying beside a puddle of his own sick. The fading remnants of laughter and agony echoed in the dark recesses of his mind. I was Voldemort. Harry retched again. He could almost feel the horcrux coming to life within him. It took me into his mind… but did he know I was in there? The thought of being tricked by the connection again was like a knife to the gut. But it didn't feel the same. Voldemort hadn't goaded him with anything. It was as if he were peering in unawares through the window of Voldemort's soul, feeling his every emotion and thought. He was furious. Harry could still feel some of it left over inside of him. The Ministry is falling. Snape is to be Headmaster. The goblins are causing problems. He forced himself to remember, the vision was fading away quickly like a dream.
The rush of emotions and sickness, and the feeling of Voldemort inside him was proving to be too much. Stumbling up the dark steps of the dungeons, he retched a third time and then a fourth. Acid burned his throat, forcing him to spit as he no longer could swallow. He blasted his mouth with a jet of water, clearing it of sick and making breath come easier. Taking the cloak out of his mokeskin pouch, he threw it over his shoulders. It wouldn't do for the students to see Alic in such a terrible state. He could feel his fine blonde hair plastered against his skull, and globs of vomit and spittle had crusted upon his neck, cheeks, and clothing.
The cool evening air filled his lungs with fresh life. A moon, full and glowing, hung high and spilt its silver pools across the grounds. For a moment Harry thought of Remus, and Isla, and baby James. Stars sprinkled the sky like floating orbs, and the Dog Star shined brightest of them all. The rage and fear and sickness were slowly leaking away. And the horcrux within him was nothing more than a dull pounding against the spot where his scar should be. It was late, Harry noticed. The calm of night having fully settled in. The mountains surrounding the school were great waves of shadow, cresting far above them all. Statues stood sleeping, and hedge rows were shivering with the breeze. He'd put the cloak away, basking in the feel of nature on his skin. His thoughts were lost, but his feet carried him onwards.
The scuffing of brick turned to the kicking of stones, and now he could hear the soft patter of feet on dirt and grass. He was following a familiar, twisting path that led away from the foot of the mountains. Shimmering in the moonlight and crouched to the soft ground below, the Abraxans looked like mounds of pilled snow. They were sleeping, which came as no surprise to him, but Harry stood watching their still forms, leaning himself against the fence. Maybe if I brought a golden apple I could have fed them. He still didn't know where Grindelwald had managed to find one. He'd asked Gabrielle about feeding the horses, but she said she wasn't allowed to know yet. It's a shame… maybe I could have convinced one to let me ride it. It would have earned him a crack over the head from both Hedwig and Buckbeak, but there wasn't an animal more majestic in the sky.
A soft stroke of wind brushed over him from behind, carrying a scent that stilled his beating heart. It disappeared when he sniffed again, as though teasing him. It's just a trick of my mind. The world stood motionless around him, and a strange feeling in his chest twisted violently. The horses lay as calm as when he'd found them, but Harry was agitated. He could hear a gust whooshing from the east, and felt it a second later. The scent came with it. His grip tightened painfully around the wooden bar in front of him, his knuckles almost as white as the Abraxans. A trick of my mind… just a trick, he continued to tell himself. But as the wind continued to whistle overhead, the fragrance grew only stronger. It's not. It can't be. Something flooded over him, though he wasn't sure what it was exactly. Panic? Anger? Fear? Elation? He was drowning in their confusing feelings. Footsteps could be heard now from down the path. There wasn't a doubt in his mind anymore. No more denial. I can't turn around. He wouldn't. Her essence was almost overwhelming at this point, weakening his knees. She won't know who I am. The sudden realization made him feel wrong. He could turn around and be Alic and go on pretending this never happened. And that was exactly what he planned to do.
Gathering up his remaining strength, Harry rounded on his unwelcome visitor. Rippling in the gentle breeze was a gleaming cape of pale blue, where gems of silver twinkled, mirroring the stars above. It was exquisite on its own, but on her it was a masterpiece. Her hair streamed down to her waist like luminous strands of pure moonlight, and her eyes were pale blue diamonds reflecting broken shards of sadness. The sight of her nearly broke his resolve. She looked him up and down, her gaze never changing, but stopped at a spot around his neck. She'd been searching for something, and now she found it. "'Arry…"
AN:
I hope you all enjoyed this latest update! It's quite a big one in terms of the events within it, and leads very nicely into the next one (which I am stilling working on).
If read closely enough, there are a few hints scattered here and there. One of them is quite important for something coming soon.
Thank you all for the reviews. Please do leave some more on the events of this chapter, and your thoughts on all that happened. Your feedback is invaluable.