Note: the Quidditch commentary is taken almost verbatim from the book; some changes have been made.
Chapter 11
Allen woke early and came down to the Great Hall to find the room buzzing with anticipation for the match. Finding Luna proved to be easier than normal, for she was wearing on her head a large, life-like lion's head. He watched with amusement as the Slytherin table cheered at the sight of their players coming in for breakfast, and then booed and jeered as the Gryffindor team members came down, which was drowned out by an enthusiastic greeting from the Gryffindors. Everyone was in shades of either red and gold or silver and green, and Allen felt more out of place then usual.
"A bit of a rivalry, huh?" he said to Luna, who smiled back.
"A bit."
"So we're cheering for…uh, Gryffindor, right?" he said, motioning at the lion's head with a smile.
A little while later they made their way down to the pitch with the rest of the school. Allen was jostled around for walking slowly, but Luna stuck with him, explaining the rules of the game, and before long they had seats in the Ravenclaw section of stands. Allen was surrounded by people in equal parts green and gold, though a few, like him, were dressed in neutral colors.
The game started and Allen had to cover his ears as the lion on Luna's head literally roared to life. His ears were still ringing as the players started whirling around the pitch.
"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Potter's put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley's patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help…"
The rest of the commentary was drowned out by cheering and jeering from the green end of the bleachers, and Allen frowned in the general direction of the announcer's box. Turning his attention back to the game, he watched as one of the Slytherin players went flying down the field, red ball in hand, toward the Gryffindor goal posts.
"Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, it's Urquhart streaking down the pitch and—" Allen grinned as the Gryffindor Keeper managed to block the ball and threw the ball to another player in red.
"—Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose…" Allen frowned at the announcer's box again and began to cheer heartily for Gryffindor in spite of him.
A half hour later the Gryffindors were sixty points ahead, and the announcer had stopped his snide comments about the Keeper's abilities and had changed targets to the Beaters, two younger players. The Gryffindor captain, who Allen recognized as Harry Potter, Hermione's friend, yelled at one of them and pointed toward the box. The boy aimed a Bludger toward the announcer, and a satisfying thunk rung across the field that caused Allen to grin stupidly and cheer loudly in approval.
If asked to describe the game Allen probably could have done it, but it would never have given the match justice. He got pulled into it as much as the others around him, cheering and yelling and gasping with anticipation and forgetting for just a little while all the anxiety that had been building inside him. He screamed loud, beat at the air, Luna cheering right along with him. He hadn't felt this light in ages.
Singing carried over from the Gryffindor bleachers, the wind bringing lyrics over to Allen, and he could hear the words, "Weasley is our King!" and laughed at the sight of said Weasley conducting them from his spot in front of the goal posts, a big grin on his face. His blocks and what Allen could only see as good playing had made the boy go from supremely nervous at the start of the game to downright jolly—and Allen was glad for him.
"And I think Harper of Slytherin's seen the Snitch!" the announcer suddenly cried out, and Allen clasped his hands together as green and red streaked down the field, chasing something that he saw immediately as a flash of gold.
Both Seekers rushed after the thing, and Allen watched as it zoomed and twisted and made direction changes in the blink of an eye. Allen leaned over, watching the action with barely reined-in anticipation, before frowning as he focused harder on the golden ball. It looked awfully familiar.
"Tim?" he muttered, eyes widening, as the golden Snitch came closer to the Ravenclaw stands, zipping past. But it was long enough for Allen to catch a glimpse at a small white cross and the strange tail, and he cried out, lunging forward at it.
"Timcanpy!" he cried out over the roar of the crowd, and the golem switched direction, flying through Potter's fingertips and launching toward Allen.
The boy rose to his toes and launched toward Tim, and the golden golem collided with Allen seconds before Potter and Harper rushed over Allen, knocking him over the side of the stands.
Shouts of horror went up as Allen tumbled, clutching at Tim, and instinctively he screamed out, "Innocence, activate!" Bright white light flashed from the Ravenclaw side.
Allen launched his left hand into the stand, gritting his teeth as he rode his way down the side, splintering wood and canvas and jarring his whole body, clutching Tim to his chest. Finally, he hit a solid piece of timber and his claws caught, jarring his shoulder with a painful yank. Allen shook his head, clearing off wood splinters, dust, and bits of blue and grey canvas from his hair.
The stadium was a madhouse—Potter and Harper and everyone else trying to figure out what happened, the announcer shouting a play-by-play, the referee blowing a whistle to pause the game. Allen looked around to see how far he was from the ground; twenty feet. A fall, yeah, but one he could handle.
He tried to pull his arm back, but it was stuck well into the wood. He propped his feet up and shoved, trying to using the force to loosen his hand. Tim wriggled in his grip. Allen let the golem go, and Tim zoomed in a tight circle around him, nuzzling into his hair.
"Hey Timcanpy," Allen said affectionately, and that was all before Potter flew down to see what he could do, followed by several of his teammates. Harper and a few others from the Slytherin team hung back a few feet above, watching and waiting to see what would happen.
"Hey, you alright?" Potter called, and Allen looked up at him.
Allen smiled reassuringly at him. "Yeah, just a little stuck."
"Why did the Snitch fly at you?" a redheaded girl said, eyeing Allen's white cloak with interest, wand in her hand.
"This is Timcanpy, my golem," Allen said, and then pressed, "Think one of you could help me out?"
Harry took out his wand from the holder in his gloves and waved it at the timber, blasting the wood and freeing Allen's hand. He fell, the white cloak fluttering around him, and Allen landed with a gymnastic flip to the ground, steady on his feet for a only moment before collapsing to his knees, hitting the ground hard, and gritting his teeth so he wouldn't cry out. Pain flooded up his still-recovering legs.
Potter flew down, meeting him on the ground, staring at the clawed arm and white cloak warily before asking, "You alright?" one hand gripping his wand tightly, ready at his side, the other holding his broom steady under him.
Allen grunted, coming shakily to his feet, determined to stand and keep his balance. He sighed heavily and quietly deactivated his Innocence, the cloak vanishing and his hands returning to normal, though his shoulder and legs still ached. "I'm fine," he said to Harry with a strained smile, before falling forward on his knees again. He grunted in pain, but stayed down.
Just then an adult wizard in blue robes joined Harry and the others from his team on the ground, wand out and pointed at Allen, the look on her face a mix of panic and determination. "Who are you?" she cried out at Allen, and Allen glanced up, noting that others were joining the surrounding crowd, more wands being drawn. He sighed heavily and glanced at Tim, hovering near his ear.
"You had to be flashy…didn't you?" he muttered darkly to the golem, who purred. He continued quietly, "Where have you been? I've been worried sick."
Tim nodded and opened his mouth, projecting in front of Allen a small scene. Harry and the others watched curiously, hands gripping their wands, unsure what they should do next.
Tim's lens showed he was inside some kind of bird cage, fluttering madly in an effort to get out. The camera finally steadied at the sound of footsteps and Allen felt his gut squeeze when Dumbledore walked into view, a man coming behind him with a cruel grin on his face.
"Found it in the rafters, sir," the voice said jovially. "Saved it from Mrs. Norris, figured you'd want to take a look…"
"Thank you, Mr. Filch. That will be all." Mr. Filch hesitated for a moment and then turned away, and Tim watched Dumbledore, the old wizard staring down curiously at him.
Allen frowned at the images, and realized that maybe he didn't want an audience for this.
"Tim, show it to me later," he said, and the golem shut the screen down.
Allen heard a stirring in the crowd and looked up to see that Professor McGonagall had joined the crowd, followed by several members of the staff, and was staring Allen down, wand in hand but not yet pointed at him. "Mr. Walker, what is going on here? Why did you throw yourself at the Snitch? What was that white cloak?"
Allen glanced at Tim and then said, "That's not a Snitch. That's my golem, Timcanpy. He came in with me, but was missing until now." Allen was bursting with questions; why had Dumbledore not told him he'd found Tim? What was going on?
"Are you hurt?" McGonagall went on, ignoring the mutterings of people around them.
Allen came to his feet, carefully balancing and then said quietly to Tim, "I need you to get bigger."
Tim complied, expanding, allowing Allen to catch the beach ball-sized golem under his arm. With Tim helping to support Allen's weight, he took a few steps forward, wincing at the pain in his knees. Damn, but he was really out of it.
"That was a twenty-foot high drop, how are you walking?" called one of the Beaters, and Allen smiled bitterly.
"I'm fine," he said.
"What the hell was that white cloak?"
"Where did that claw come from?"
"What—"
"How—"
"Everybody, calm down. It's over, let the boy breathe," called Madame Hooch, breaking through the crowd, her stern voice carrying over the small crowd. Allen walked on, the crowd parting for him as he walked toward the stadium exit.
McGonagall followed after reassuring her colleagues that she could handle him, and as he left the stadium, he could hear the whistle blowing and shouting for the players to get back on their brooms and into the air, Madame Hooch restoring order.
Luna met Allen and McGonagall at the outside gate, having just got through to the ground, and came to Allen's other side, wordlessly helping to support him. He resisted the urge to push her away; frankly the fall had hurt worse than he'd expected.
"I'll get him to the castle, professor," she said to McGonagall.
"Absolutely not, Ms. Lovegood. I'll accompany you and Walker to the wing."
Allen wanted to argue, but Luna beat him to it and said, "Alright, professor." He glanced at Luna, who seemed to be having a hard time holding his weight. He leaned further into Timcanpy, trying to help.
"Allen, what happened?" Luna asked, still helping him as they climbed up the stairs. McGonagall lead the two, a few feet in front, but Allen still wasn't comfortable with talking about all this in front of the teacher.
"Luna, meet Timcanpy, my golem," he replied instead, and Tim flew out of Allen's hair and around Luna.
She smiled despite her worries for Allen and said, "He's cute. Looks a lot like a Snitch, though; no wonder the players were confused."
Allen said nothing to that. "I'm starving," he mumbled.
"Want to go to the kitchens after the hospital wing?"
Allen glanced at her, perking up in interest. "You can do that?"
She nodded, her lips twitching into a small smile. "Madame Pomfrey first, though. And after you tell me what that cloak was all about." Allen grimaced at that, but Luna wouldn't budge. "It's not a secret anymore, Allen. You might as well. Though I imagine the rumors on Monday will be interesting." She smiled at that, trying to get Allen to lighten up.
"Fine," he grumbled.
xox
He kept his promise, and so did Luna.
After having Madame Pomfrey cast spells and give him potions for his aching shoulder, the two were free to go. McGonagall returned to the game, satisfied that Allen wouldn't destroy any more of the castle and informing him to stick to his room until the commotion died down. On the way to the kitchens, Allen talked.
He gave her the simple version of what Innocence was and how he and only a few other people in the world could use it. He told her that the cloak and the claw were his Innocence and that it was used to fight monsters, and he gave her the simple and clean story of what Akuma were. She didn't interrupt as he talked except to ask one or two detail questions, and when he finished, she was silent for a while.
"Will you leave, when you're done healing up?" she asked quietly. Allen was momentarily speechless, surprised that that was her first reaction.
He didn't have a chance to answer, because they'd reached a corridor lined with paintings of food. Luna walked ahead to a painting with a green pear, reaching up to tickle it.
The door to the kitchens opened, and Allen nearly drooled at the heavenly aroma that wafted through the hall. Luna laughed, leading him inside, where they spent a good hour in the company of some very eager house elves, missing the end of the Quidditch game and the student body returning to the castle.
xox
Later, in the safety and privacy of his room, Allen had Tim show him the rest of the footage.
The screen opened with Dumbledore staring down curiously at Tim. Finally the old man spoke. "You must be Mr. Walker's companion. He asked after you."
Tim bobbed around. Dumbledore seemed to understand what the golem was after, continuing, "He is fine, your friend. He needs to recover from his injuries, of course, but it won't be long until he's up and about."
Tim chirped in the film; Allen glanced at the golem and smiled in spite of his worries. Dumbledore spoke on screen and he turned back to watch.
"Now, what are you, if I may ask? Mr. Walker said you were a golem, but you're not much like any other golem I've seen or used. Perhaps you could give me some information on your master."
Tim didn't move in the screen, and so Dumbledore continued to speak. "I don't want to harm your friend. I would very much like to help him, actually. He seems like a good person."
And so on it went, Dumbledore speaking to try and convince Tim to reveal his secrets. He didn't use magic, which Allen found interesting. But Tim remained unyielding and eventually Dumbledore let him go. The recording ended and Allen peered at Timcanpy, thinking.
So Dumbledore had let Tim go only after he realized he couldn't get anything out of him. Allen wasn't sure whether he should be surprised or not. After all, he himself was suspicious of the generosity of Dumbledore's offer to let him stay. The man had been openly curious about Akuma…and the mention of a war going on didn't help matters much. But why did a school teacher care so much?
Alright, sure, he'd want to protect his students, make sure they didn't come to harm. But the way Dumbledore had talked about—Voldemort, that was it—the way he'd spoken about Voldemort had almost been like someone in-the-know, someone in the thick of the fight.
Maybe Dumbledore was more than just a teacher.
And maybe Allen should get a move on before Dumbledore got a clue what he was capable of, and try to find a way to stop the Fourteenth on his own.
xox
Sunday morning was awkward.
Allen went down to breakfast as usual, which was much emptier than on a weekday, as usual. He hadn't run into anyone in the halls, but as soon as he entered the Great Hall he felt the atmosphere shift and every eye in the room fell on him.
He walked on and took his place at the end of the Ravenclaw table, pretending not to notice. An assortment of toast, jams, eggs, sausage, bacon, and thick oatmeal appeared, and Allen ladled a couple spoonfuls of oatmeal and mixed in blackberry jam, swirling it around and focusing unnecessarily hard on the task.
He heard the whispers first, when the students got their fill of looking at him and began to talk quietly among themselves, and Allen began humming to drown them out.
Not easy to have everyone think you're a monster, is it?
Allen stilled, eyes widening, before he dropped his knife, the utensil clattering against the wooden table as he clutched his temple, fighting the pressure building, building, painful and sharp, in his head.
Didn't really think I was gone, did you?
"Go away," Allen growled under his breath, and Neah's laughter echoed around in his head.
Allen struck out against the table and shot to his feet—only to blink and stare in a panic at the ripped curtains of his four-poster bed lying on the floor, sheets stained with sweat and the weak early winter sunlight peeking through the window.
Panting heavily, Allen swallowed several times, his throat horribly dry, a drop of sweat rolling in his eyes. When at last he realized it had been a nightmare, he dropped his head in his hands and sighed heavily, letting loose a deep, long breath.
Throwing the sheets off, he came to his feet, his footfalls silent in the carpet as he walked to the bathroom. Turning on the faucet he splashed water in his face, reaching blindly for a towel before patting his face and neck down, aching for a shower.
A glance up at the mirror caused him to freeze again, eyes widening in alarm. His skin was a pale gray, retreating fast to white as he watched.
He splashed his face and neck with water again, shaking his head and humming loudly to drown the mocking laughter in his head, just at the edge of his mind.
He stripped and turned on the shower, letting the cold water smack him as it warmed up, not bothering with soap as the water cascaded over him.
"My name is Allen Walker," he muttered, familiar lines falling from his lips like a prayer. "My father was Mana Walker. He loved me. My master was Cross Marian, and he was a bastard. My home is the Black Order which will one day welcome me back. I have friends waiting for me and they are named Lenalee, Lavi, Kanda—" Allen's voice caught, as it always did lately when he remembered Kanda's fate—"Johnny, Krory, Miranda, Marie, Komui…"
The names fell from his lips, their faces flashing in his mind as he centered himself, needing to believe in this identity of Allen Walker, needing more than ever to believe his life had meaning and it was not to be anyone's puppet.
He got out of the shower when his hands became pruny and he'd exhausted the names of everyone he'd ever met, and spent the day in his room with Timcanpy, watching footage of his travels with everyone at the Order, before the Fourteenth showed up in his life and fucked up everything.
A/N: Finally finished House of Hades. What a roller coaster ride of feels...
Considering they're wizards, sudden transformations and flashes of light won't freak the Hogwarts kids out as much as, say, Muggles. And except for the folks who know Allen's a Muggle, most are assuming he's a wizard, just like McGonagall and the trio did. So Innocence is just some freakish weird magic they've never seen before. Dumbledore and golems: seeing as golems are just animated clay figures and a very old concept, headcanon that wizards can use/create golems and that Dumbledore, being accomplished, probably has. Not gonna feature in the story, just some thoughts I had while writing this.