Chapter 4: Good Morning


Hi guys! Long time no see, I know. Bad life choices and a bad not-boyfriend (long story) will do that to you. Here's the next chapter. Nothing too exciting, and I haven't really gone through it too much as I finished it yesterday. So if there's any gramar/spelling issues forgive me. I was so excited I got this done I wanted to post it. Now, back to animation homework...

EDIT: Minor grammar and spelling. Some reworking and rewording to make the flow smoother.


Hermione was rushing down the hall, a book clasped in her hand; her mouth was moving but Harry couldn't make out what she was saying. A door opened down the corridor the Gryffindor was running down and Draco stepped out; a carefully neutral look on his aristocratic features, and Harry's heart lurched. That look, his mask that he carefully wore when something slanderous was said against him, was perfect porcelain.

What was going on?

There was a familiar black dog sniffing around what looked like somewhere in Egypt but it could very well be the part of the grounds of Aten ar-Heq-t. Harry watched as he looked up and what could only be a large black wolf sauntered up to him. The shadows of other animals were behind it but Harry couldn't make them out before the scene before him changed to a familiar set of rooms and a familiar toe-headed boy writing on some parchment. He was writing in that scratch and scrawl his father hated so much and every now and then referencing a book. There was a raptor Harry hadn't seen before on a perch that looked like a falcon of some kind.

"Draco!" Harry tried to call. He had read that magic could sometimes do incredible things just by the will of the magician.

The scion of Malfoy glanced up and looked around, made a note, before going back to reading. He was getting ready to try again, bridge a gap in his dreams or wherever he was, when falcon eyes looked directly at him and Green swamped his vision; bleeding in from the sides and windows and consuming the bright places. Everything that he cherished was Green.


Cloud just stared at the sleeping figure on his bed, the teen's words running around in his head. He needed a drink. He didn't want to go downstairs and deal with Tifa, so water from the bathroom was going to have to do.

"I'm sixteen; I haven't had a mother and don't need one now."

He knew the boy —teenager?— was asleep by how he was breathing, but…teenager? Cloud didn't know what to wrap his mind around first; the fact that Harry wasn't used to having a mother, not that his mother had been all there when he was growing up, or the fact that he was sixteen and looked fourteen if he was lucky.

You know sixteen is legal in most parts, especially where we come from, the Zack voice in his head unhelpfully quipped.

"What has that got to do with anything?" Cloud muttered as he got back to checking his invoices and arranging the clutter that had accumulated. He glanced at the clock that happily told him it was 21:45.

Come on, Spike! The Zack voice hedged. You're not going to make me spell it out for you, are you? Cloud could see the nonexistent eyebrow wiggle attached to the end of that statement, and choked on the drink he had taken. He swore in Nibel, which only made the Zack voice in his head laugh and mutter something about the good old times as Cloud made sure that nothing on his desk that had any kind of importance was damaged. He glanced at his bed.

Harry was asleep.

Shaking his head, Cloud went back to his balances, absently wondering about what Harry said. It was then that everything faded to white. His dim, spartan room was replaced with ambient lighting and the scent of flowers. A giggle had him stilling, knowing that if he tried to look Aeris would disappear like the playful wind she was named for.

"I see he found you."

Cloud didn't reply. How was he supposed to reply? "Was he lost?" Cloud finally said after a while, but with how Time worked in this place it was probably half a heartbeat he had paused.

The sadness that rolled off of Aeris could almost be tasted. "He was many things and is still other things."

Cloud sighed. He hated the way she couldn't just say things anymore. He knew that she probably knew he was frustrated, but he also knew that she couldn't do anything; the price of information he supposed.

"Is he okay?" Cloud asked.

A soft breeze picked up, whirling the scent of flowers and dirt and emotion about him as he felt his friend smile, hands squeezing his shoulders. Cloud could feel a presence near his head, hair brushing against his neck.

"Are you okay?" Aeris quipped back.

Cloud blinked and was back at his desk, staring at an invoice. A glance at the clock showed that it was 23:45. Sighing and running his hand through his hair, Cloud set to getting his desk clean by morning. He would sleep tomorrow.

Harry twitched in his sleep.

It was just as Cloud was finishing up, or deemed himself done enough for bed, since the someone had messed with his system and all the invoices were mixed up, that Harry cried out. There was something in that musical, cadenced language…Cloud got up and went to see if Harry was okay, make sure his fever didn't come back, then he was plastered against the far wall of his room.

The Lifestream erupted from the floor of his room and the presence around Harry multiplied tenfold. Cloud watched, helplessly pinned to the wall, unable to do anything. Green roped his arms and legs immobile. Instead of the usual fade Cloud was used to, intense verdant hues devoured what little colour existed. Stuck as he was, the exSoldier followed its ebb and flow and found Harry at its centre. Quite worried when he saw Harry thrashing, Cloud tried once again to free himself from the wall.

"Quinimmo!" Harry veritably screamed. "Per Merlin quinimmo! Cruentus cinis cineris!"

Cloud was going to gather himself for another try when the force about Harry became more…present for lack of a better word as the Lifestream prowled around the teen. It was almost as if the weight about Harry and the ancient knowledge of the Lifestream were sizing each other up before he was swept away in a wash of fire and birdsong.

The blond looked around and found himself in a hollow with what looked like a burned out house. Most of it looked salvageable, but several parts were too burned to accurately evaluate from how far away he was. He was going to head towards the house, when the hair on the back of his neck rose and a tingling ran down his spine.

He wasn't alone.

"We used a phoenix; that's how this is possible," a man's voice said.

Cloud flinched, battle instincts ready, but he remained staring at the house. He knew from experience that if he tried to look everything would disappear and what knowledge the dead worked to depart would be for nothing.

Cloud could feel the sad smile of the specter as it walked toward him.

"I was told you had experience with dealing with those that have moved on," the ghost continued talking about nothing, "She said you did, I wasn't sure, but the girl in the Green said it was okay; that you were the best."

"Aeris?" Cloud couldn't help but ask.

He felt the man behind him shrug.

"What's happening to Harry?"

"Harry….Harry…."

Cloud noticed the man said it with such a reverence and pride reserved for those who hadn't experienced life the way one wanted but were glad of the outcome all the same. The exSoldier just waited.

"Harry will be fine," the man finally said. "With everything else he's gone through, what the Green is doing to him won't hurt him; indeed it will even help him in the long run."

"He'll be fine?" Cloud inquired. There was something inherent in Harry that made him want to help the youth.

"Between the…well…I can't say that," the man stuttered. He paused in thought and Cloud smiled. This seemed to be the first time interacting with the living for this specter and he wasn't quite used to it.

"You know about magic though," the ghost muttered. "The Green is that condensed and personified."

"The Lifestream?"

The specter waved his hand dismissing the statement. "It's known by many things in various places. But Harry will be fine; the Green wasn't sure about a piece of magic in his mind and his magic was a little different than its own, but the Green fixed him up good.."

"No metaphors?" Cloud quipped with a smile.

He felt a scowl. "Lily's better at this than me."

"And you've said a bit too much; that's why we use metaphors," a female's voice, Cloud assumed was Lily, admonished. "And the Overcast Sky needs to watch out for Hail from a previous Storm; if precautions for weather aren't taken into consideration considerable damage can be wrought. The Storm Child has knowledge that can be used, but Lightning is different Here than There.

"Tell Harry I love him and—"

Cloud got the impression that they wanted to say more, but birdsong, phoenix song he realized, covered any other words the specters said as wherever he was dissolved in white and fire.

When Cloud could see again his room was once again the Spartan dwelling he had had. The neutral colours were comfortable when his mako levels jumped; as they occasionally did depending on his travels and deliveries. His bed, however, was a different story. The slate blue coverlet Tifa had gotten him was now various shades of green and gold. Harry was rubbing his eyes propped up on his elbows before he gave up that endeavor and flopped on his back and rubbed his face.

"Why is it always me?" Harry plaintively asked, probably to no one in particular and the teen probably wasn't expecting an answer; but Cloud knew exactly what he was saying without saying anything.

"I ask myself that question all the time."

Harry gave him an undreadable look before rolling over and going back to sleep.

Cloud, feeling exhausted himself, took a cot out of his closet and a few other blankets before falling asleep himself.

The clock read 23:00.


"…Magic, for all it is unpredictability as observed in children, is quite reasonable when presented with an offer that it itself wants to do but that can only be achieved through the use of a medium; hence the Dark and Light designations of wizards and witches….Everything has a balance and an extreme, however; those who are Shadows that are favoured by both are a rarity not often seen nor produced by many wizarding lines. Those that are produced are seen as unduly favoured by some and shunned, but most often are cursed to step a more intricate, exact dance than those that are Declared solely for Light or Dark. These Grey wizards and witches eventually get swayed to one side or another depending on the gifts offered. Very few have the mettle to walk 'tween the two."

~excerpt from THE ORIGIN OF MAGIC


Harry woke with a start before groaning and closing his eyes. He had the worst headache he could ever remember having. Blindly reaching for the drawer in his nightstand, where he kept a hangover potion, he hoped something would alleviate the blast-ended skrewt that had taken up residence in his brain. How come he couldn't find the bloody drawer? Cracking open an eye, he was met with answers.

There was no nightstand next to his bed.

"Why isn't there a nightstand next to my bed?" Harry asked the room in general as peeked out from under his blanket. He didn't want any light to get to him if he could help it.

"That's because it's Cloud's room and he doesn't have one."

Harry turned, startled, to see a boy with eyes not unlike the ocean with hair a strange red-brown, standing in the doorway. "Huh?"

The boy sighed in a put upon manner. "I was sent to check on you. There's breakfast downstairs, but considering it's almost lunch time Tifa or Cloud could make you a sandwich or something. Reno and Rude aren't here, so be thankful they're not making you lunch…or Marlene."

Okay then. Right. "Who are you?" Harry asked after the deluge of information.

"I'm Denzel," the boy said as if everyone knew who he was and everyone could very well know who he was. Everyone knew who Harry had been before he had set foot in the Wizarding World after all.

"Where am I?" Harry asked, sitting up and rubbing sleep from his eyes. Denzel gave him an odd look and ventured into the room, taking a seat in Cloud's desk chair.

"You're in the orphanage part of Seventh Heaven," Denzel told him. "Seventh Heaven is also a bar Tifa runs. You and Cloud came in last night when things started getting fun."

Harry just gave him a look. He was in a bar/orphanage. There was nothing strange about that at all. Nope. He had just gone off the deep end that's all. Who in their right mind opened a joint bar and orphanage?

"Denzel? Harry awake?"

The violent woman from last night stuck her head around the doorframe and Harry knew this was the woman that had the audacity to open a bar and save children at the same time. She was strong and confident; it showed in the way she held herself and walked. She was also…voluptuous, and by what she was wearing she was quite comfortable with her body. She had a body artists wanted to sculpt and paint.

Harry was wary.

"Oh you are!" She said as she made her way into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I saved some breakfast but if you want something else I could make you something. I was planning on some kind of sandwich for lunch if you want."

Harry shrugged as best as he could laying down.

Tifa clucked. "You just take your time and settle in. I'll check the rooms to see if there's any where you would want to move into." She reached out to rub his shoulder and Harry stiffened, not used to the familiar contact, he just barely kept himself from flinching outright, and Tifa seemed to ignore it as she patted his shoulder and got up and left.

Denzel had watched the whole thing through the corner of his eye.

"Once or twice?" Denzel boldly, and vaguely, asked, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Once or twice," Harry confirmed. If no one knew him here as it seemed, what would it hurt? He wanted something for his headache before anything.

Denzel just nodded. "You'd probably get along with Jeremy then, maybe Axel."

"How old are you?" Harry asked.

"Old enough," Denzel replied. "I'm a permanent resident, so I get to know everyone and help set everyone up; relay information that stuff. Where are you from? Know about Midgar and Edge? How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen," Harry replied, a bit defensive. "And I'm from a long way away."

Denzel nodded. "You sound it. Most people lose their accents quick, but yours's a bit thick so it might take longer. Sixteen? You might want to stick with Cloud then. I think the oldest kid other'n Marlene, and her dad just drops her off for visits, is, like, twelve. You just stick with me; you'll know all the Routs and Ways in no time! Now let's go get something to eat!"

"I need something for my headache first or I'll throw up before I get out of bed," Harry responded as he settled himself back under the covers. "I'm not moving until then."

"Hurts?" Denzel asked with concerned dark blue eyes.

"Agony."

There was silence, then the pattering of feet that disappeared before shortly reappearing. Harry didn't have the energy to move the blanket off his face. A hand and slightly glowing bottle were thrust in front of his face…under the blanket.

"It's a potion," came Denzel's slightly muffled voice. "Drink it up. It should help."

Harry took it, thumbed open the bottle before downing the contents. It surprisingly didn't taste that bad, and Harry had a brief thought that it was really poison, as no beneficial potion tasted remotely good. It was universal law.

Several minutes later had Harry throwing the covers off and padding downstairs after Denzel to raid the kitchen. Harry noticed that it looked like he was somewhere where muggles took precedence, but he vaguely remembered Cloud mention something about magic and ethers and potions. And Denzel had just given him a potion.

Denzel led him into a different kitchen than what he came through last night with Cloud. There were several children in it eating or doing a chore of some kind.

"Guys," Denzel called. "This is Harry; new kid came in last night."

A chorus of 'hi's' and 'hello's' echoed about after Denzel's proclamation. "Hullo," Harry responded. A few of the girls giggled and started to talk about his accent, and Harry just sighed, resigned; looks like he'd gain fame here too.

"Tifa left your food wrapped in the fridge," a kid at the table said pointing towards the appliance with a spoon before going back to his food. He was reading the paper, so Harry ignored him and went to see what Tifa had made him for breakfast. Opening the door, there was more food than Harry usually saw in one place, other than the Great Hall, stuffed into the fridge. He saw a bowl of food with plastic wrap over it, and his name scribbled in marker.

It looked like porridge with an over-easy egg.

"She didn't know how you were feeling so she made something easy," one of the girls piped up. She had a stuffed animal of something and pigtails.

"Where are the spoons?"

After Harry got situated at the table, a kid—Justin—having heated up his food and a girl—the Marlene Denzel had mentioned—having gotten him a spoon, he was then pressed for his story. The other kids knew he wasn't from around there, his accent was proof of that, but Harry didn't know what to tell them. He didn't even know where here was and if the Ministry of Magic had its fingers this far out.

I was at a dinner party when Death Eaters showed up and I was fighting my arch nemesis before a summons gone wrong sent me here, wherever that is, didn't sound contrived or irrational at all.

"He has mako poisoning," a familiar voice said.

Every head in the room looked to the back door to see Cloud leaning against the frame; scraping his boots on something and wiping his hands on a rag that used to be white. He was covered in grease and dirt. Cloud's glowing blue eyes took all the kids in. "Don't press him too much; he might not remember much or be able to tell you much, even if he seems ok. This close to recovery, he could still relapse. You all should know what mako does to people," he softly admonished.

"Yes Cloud," came the obedient chorus from all the children.

"Good. Now scram and play somewhere for a few hours. You know when you need to be back for lunch."

The 'Yes Cloud!'s this time were enthusiastic as the kids exploded into action. Harry thought he heard a "stay close to Denzel" as he was hauled out the door by an exuberant child. Harry sighed. He couldn't wait till lunch.

Cloud smiled as the kids ran out the door, Denzel dragging Harry out by his arm. He himself was filthy; he'd been tinkering with Fenrir all morning. He'd noticed the pitch in her engine was off yesterday coming across the badlands outside Midgar. Getting some water, he shook his head over the shrieks and cries he could still hear before going back out to his bike.


It was shortly before they'd have to make their way back to Seventh Heaven for lunch, Harry had been dragged all over Edge and Midgar—or what was left of it—by Denzel and a few other boys. He had been shown various ways and shortcuts; routs through the city that seemed obvious to take once he'd been shown them. While all the adults took the main roads, the kids were making a few gil—a new monetary system Harry had to learn—delivering things from place to place within Midgar, Edge, and the remnants of what people called The Slums.

But before lunch found them in the Slums having delivered a few envelopes to a lady Denzel had known that Harry had already forgotten her name. She had had a lovely garden, and Harry had complimented it. She had smiled sadly at it and said it had been her daughter's.

"This way," Denzel had beckoned. He had led them through a few round about twists and through a hole in the wall between Sectors—Harry'd been given a crash course in the different Sectors and which ones he shouldn't be in during different times of the day—and he stopped dead.

The roof was missing in the back corner, but it could be nothing less than a church. It was beautiful; with a stained glass window above sharply arched doors—it seemed like a bit of England had fallen into this hodge podge of muggle technology and energy and magic that seemed to be the daily life for these people. The few kids that had braved the slums wandered ahead of him as Harry carefully made his way up the front steps. There was a weight about the building that reminded the Gryffindor of Hogwarts; a knowledge and sentience. Shrugging, Harry followed the kids inside.

The first thing he noticed was that a few pillars were down, and it looked like a fight had taken place in it. Pews were smashed and the pieces were scattered about. What few pews were left were up front across from a giant hole in the floor where the kids were…swimming?

Ducking underneath a pillar, Harry made his way over to the impromptu pond. A cup was thrust in his face by Teagan. "It's good!"

"Are you sure?" Harry eyed the cup dubiously. Sure; the kids had grown up in this environment and drinking…pond…water surely couldn't be harmful to them. But he wasn't from around here, and he didn't want to get sick with something he had to suffer through because what little magic was available to the people here couldn't fix whatever he had caught.

"The Flower Lady said you'd like it," Teagan prodded.

Flower Lady? "Green eyes?" Harry asked. The girl nodded and Harry carefully took the cup. She smiled and ran off to join everyone else playing in the water.

For how tarnished it looked on the outside, it was clean as could be on the inside and the water was clear. Shrugging, vaguely remembering something about clear and murky water, and what harm could be done?, Harry downed the water.

It was the sweetest, most refreshing beverage Harry had had outside of a potion.

Hands landed on his shoulders, hair brushing his cheeks, startled Harry badly. "That wasn't hard was it?" A familiar, delicate female voice said, and Harry relaxed. "I'm glad you like my church. You're welcome to poke through my garden if you want."

"Thank you?" Harry replied. He wasn't sure what to say. "You're real?"

There was girlish laughter and the hands left. Harry turned and caught the edge of pink on his vision before he came face to face with the laughing purple eyes of a large black wolf. Harry started, but it panted laughter, something Harry was used to seeing through Padfoot, but that changed when some rocks crumbled down the column. An ear flicked and it turned his head, examining the rocks, before snarling and launching itself at something.

"Monsters!" someone cried. The kids scattered.

"Come on!" Denzel said as he grabbed Harry's arm.

Harry caught sight of one in the reflection of the water and shuddered, bolting as fast as he dared without getting lost. He followed Denzel as best he could—the boy was like flash lightning—but hot breath had him dashing into a tiny hole and into a nook. Growling and snarling, claws and big teeth were Harry's world.

So why not answer with claws and teeth?

The other orphans that had been in the Slum group stopped in their dash when they reached slightly safer ground, a slightly more populated area near the hole in the wall between Sectors. The yowl that echoed through the slums had a few people pausing, as did the roar that followed. Monster fights were common enough since Shin-Ra didn't really have the manpower to send Soldiers out on missions to exterminate them. It was regular enough, though, that people paid them no mind. The monsters didn't really go after them anymore anyway.

Sometime later, a large cat found the group of boys talking by the grey area between the Slums and Edge, and then Harry was stumbling out of the shortcuts.

"Come on!"

"We're late for lunch!"

"Tifa's gonna whack me," one of the boys whinged.

"She won't whack ya!" a girl attempted to sooth. "She don't hit no one."

"You okay?" Denzel asked as they slipped through the hole and made their way to Edge.

"I'm good," Harry replied.

They did get a tongue lashing from Tifa. She told them they had all the time in Gaia to show Harry everything and they didn't need to do it in one day. Shamefaced and contrite, the kids sat down to lunch. Instead of going out after lunch, Harry decided to lay down for a bit. The energy he had woken up with that morning was just about gone. He hated fevers.

He entered Cloud's room—as he wasn't told otherwise—and nearly cursed the man as he was pinned to the door at swordpoint.

"Why do you smell like feral guardhounds and cats?"

What?

"Huh?" Harry replied. Then his brain processed the words. Merlin, he was tired. He hadn't done an animagus transformation that fast in a while. "The kids took me to this church and some monsters came. I got a bit lost running from them and found some help with a few felines that attacked the monsters that were chasing us. I hid in a hole that a cat had probably been in." Mostly true.

Harry watched as Cloud's eyes seemed to glow a bit more brightly than normal. "That is true, and it isn't." He paused for a moment, thoughts clear in his eyes, before he set the sword down. "I have some questions, don't feel obligated to answer if you don't want to."

"Okay," Harry carefully replied.

Cloud seemed to fidget, unsure where to begin, before he scowled at no one in particular. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "I hate it when you say that", before his unnerving attention was focused yet again on Harry.

"What are you?"

The question was innocent enough, Harry supposed, but Cloud couldn't know the can of worms he opened. You Freak! What did you do? Various slurs rang through his head that he'd heard growing up, and doubts about him whispered from the mouths of witches and wizards. No acceptance. Harry was tired, and from where he was he was famous. Considering which card he should play, Harry decided to dance.

"I'm many things," Harry said, eyes glowing slightly and narrowing, taking in all of Cloud. "You seem to be more than what you appear."

Cloud's curiosity turned blank as emotion was wiped off his face, eyes calculating. Harry couldn't know that the Zack voice that had been more raucous in Cloud's head whispered dude!, before going blessedly silent, observing what Cloud would do. Something feral in Cloud purred at the challenge, passive or not, but challenge nonetheless.

"I'm called a hero and a monster," Cloud honestly replied, shifting his position into something more comfortable; a lounging position that was more showing off his threat than relaxing. "I'm myself most of the time; I watch people that watch me differently—that are waiting for something, expecting things."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Cloud danced, but the steps were different. People watched Cloud? That made sense. He had that bloody huge sword, but there was also something about him that screamed Danger! Predator! That must put a lot of people on edge. But the way Cloud was sitting, he was aware of it, but didn't particularly care for it. He hadn't asked to become a predator, whereas Harry hadn't been given any choice but that of Hunter.

"You are no monster," Harry finally said. "You just lack like-minded individuals that appreciate your worth and your violence."

Cloud scowled. "I'm not violent."

Harry smiled. "And you're lashing out."

Cloud seemed to blink and listen to something before shaking his head. "You still smell like cats."

Harry smiled, decidedly predatorily. "My secret."

Cloud arched an eyebrow.

Harry smiled, less menacingly.

Cloud just sighed and shook his head. "I put some clothes in the dresser for you; you should go through them today and make sure they fit right. There's also a nightstand next to the bed for you."

Harry looked and sure enough there was a wooden stand next to the head of the bed. Harry arched an eyebrow and Cloud just smiled. "I wasn't raised in the city," Cloud said as he turned to his desk, "but I wasn't raised by wolves either."

Touché.

Harry decided that a nap was in order to figure everything out. He was sore from running and climbing all morning, and his magic was still settling about him after that fight with the Green. He'd need to meditate after he woke up.

Cloud glanced at Harry as the boy sighed and rolled over. Tifa wouldn't be happy that he was keeping him in his room, but he was one of the older boys in the orphanage, and he needed his own space.

Out in the Badlands, darkness lay in wait and clouds gathered on the horizon.


posted 27January2011. Edit 4December 2014