All Good Things…
Chapter 2: Flight
"And the Snakes are decimating the Lions in this opening game of the season. Oliver Wood has shown some tack in reigning in his independent chasers, but they're no match for the Slytherins' beaters. Ouch!" One half of the stands groaned, while the other cheered. "Looks like Oliver's going to have to remember to catch the quaffle and dodge the bludger."
"Angelina has the ball, weaving between the brutish beaters with grace and elegance of a dancer. My personal opinion, she's the best flyer out there, but we all know you have to rely on your teammates, and that gets the girl in trouble. Oh, just like I predicted, Higgs gets the ball, passes to Flint and back to Higgs, going around a frustrated Lina. Katie's coming in, a bludger backing her up courtesy of Lee."
"Marcus hesitates, goes down, where Angelina has caught up! Damn that girl can fly! Her and Lina are passing back and forth, going around the Slytherin beaters. Jeremy comes in trying to disrupt them, but Katie flies interference…they're at the goal…and score!"
The stands erupted in a loud chorus that echoed through the pitch, while below Katie, Angelina and Lina made a quick victory pass. Their moment of glory ended with the ball back in the play. All in all, the announcer was mirroring Harry's thoughts about his own team nicely. Angelina was brilliant on a broom, complimented by Lina and Katie, but they were all ball hogs. Oliver tended to rant and rave, shouting for them to get it together, which was what Harry was used to.
Their beaters were decent, but they lacked the coordination of the twins.
The Slytherin team by comparison was in great shape. Marcus lead the chasers with ruthless efficiency, making impressive plays and easily going around Oliver, who was not quite as skilled as his counterpart in Harry's mind. Their beaters were decidedly great, making surprise strikes throughout the game, using them less has punishment and more as disruption.
In short, the Gryffindor were out-matched, which showed in the score of one-thirty to fifty. This meant it came down to him to win this. Thus far he had only caught glimpses of the snitch, before a flyer would go through it. At one point, he saw it fluttering above the Slytherin seeker, but he opted to leave it be, not wanting to draw the boy's attention to it.
"Now that was an impressive foul on Angelina's part. Never saw someone get whacked in the head by their bristles before. Maybe she was trying to put Higg's eyes out."
Harry chuckled. The announcer was interesting, making the game a joy to listen to.
As the game unfolded below, the Slytherins getting a greater lead over the Gryffindors, Harry began to sweat. He needed to catch the snitch and soon. Already the gap was over one-hundred and ten. He did not bother looking Oliver's way, already knowing his captain was shouting at him to get it. Harry ground his teeth, he wished their captain would be more concerned with stopping the ball than micro-managing them.
Then he saw it, a flutter of gold below the Gryffindor goals. He checked his opposing seeker. He was a little closer. Should I? He pondered, knowing his opponent was riding a broom like his own. He glanced again to the score board and took the chance.
Like a rocket he was off, his attention going down to a single point, the golden ball fluttering innocently in the air.
"Wow! Harry is off; it looks like he's seen the snitch! Fleanor has seen it too, and uh oh, looks like Marcus is shouting some orders."
Harry cursed, already knowing Marcus' tactics. A bludger came his way; he easily dodged it, not losing an ounce of speed or distance. Until the aerial battle for the quaffle was suddenly all around him.
"Talk about a scare tactic! Higgs took the quaffle and brought it in front of Harry, bringing with him half the players. Looks like Gryffindor won't be winning…"
All Harry saw were confused shouts and fluttering robes as he dodged, veered and made his way through the mass of players vying for the quaffle. Shocked teammates moved out of his way, while a smiling Marcus tried to block him. Harry kicked him in the head as he went by, emerging from the mass of players unscathed, much to the exited cheering of those in the stands.
Unfortunately, he had lost ground to the Slytherin seeker, almost too much. Eyes grim, Harry adjusted his trajectory, aiming right for the seeker. "Watch out!" He yelled over the roaring wind, hoping his opponent heard him. He did, glancing up and hesitating, eyes wide, as Harry bore down on him at full speed.
He panicked, pulling to the side, giving Harry enough leeway to make a hard left, blocking him from the snitch. He lost most of his speed in the maneuver, but the snitch was a few meters away. He shot forward and nabbed it, a smile playing across his face.
"Gryffindor has gotten the snitch! They win two-hundred and twenty to one-hundred and eighty! Looks like I just lost my robes; that should teach me not to gamble!"
None heard the joke as those in the stands were going ballistic. This was apparently the first win for Gryffindor against Slytherin in quite a few years, an upset that Harry was very familiar with. He aimed for the ground, preparing himself for the cheers and well-wishers. It was always nice getting recognition for something you had earned, rather than something you had survived.
The weeks following the match saw most of the Gryffindors in a quiet euphoria, the excitement lending many to hope for the coveted House Cup. There was no end of well-wishers congratulating Harry for his stunning flight. There was one small downside, in the form of a quite angry Marcus Flint. Getting kicked in the head and not getting called on the foul could do that. Harry used his age when confronted by Madam Hooch, giving her the most innocent look he could muster.
"I'm real sorry, ma'am, I was just so scared when all those people were around me. I panicked. And when he was in front of me I tried to kick off, like if I were on the ground, hoping that would help."
"He's a lying little snot!" had been Marcus' eloquent response.
Madam Hooch lectured him on his language and gave Harry a slide, congratulating him on some amazing flying, adding that for a first year he did very admirably.
He enjoyed his Head of House's response the most, though.
"Mr. Potter, to say I am impressed would be an understatement. I was loath to allow a first year on the team, regardless your abilities, but you showed admirable courage in such a precarious circumstance."
"Thank-you, ma'am."
"Not at all, you've earned the praise. Oh, and a message from the Headmistress. She says now she'll expect even more from you."
To which Harry only smiled. All-in-all, the past few weeks had been grand, save for the hangers-on, following him wherever he went. Neville, Dean, and Seamus had taken to accompanying him at meals, talking non-stop about ideas they had to help the team. Harry tried to be civil, he really did, but most times he would finish his meal in a rush and excuse himself. His relation with Gabrielle had cooled because she spent most the time singing his praises.
It was one thing for people to say in passing he did a great job, another for someone to keep going on about it.
His classes were going well, both easy and boring most of the time. He received high marks for his quick understanding, Riddle in particular rewarding him with house points every time he got a spell right. When queried about his aptitude, he confessed to being a hard studier.
In his spare time he went flying around the pitch, or idly reading a few books borrowed from the library, history books so he could brush up on his knowledge of this world. There were not too many differences that he could see, at least considering he really had not paid too much attention in his history class. Instead of being taught by a ghost, the class here was taught by a Professor O'Leary.
Another side project of his was the search of Moaning Myrtle. The girls' second story bathroom was frequented by students, but it did possess a sink with the shape of a snake, so he assumed the entrance was still there. He contemplated going down, but he would first need the sorting hat and Gryffindor's Sword. That or a few dozen roosters.
Right now, with December right around the corner, found him wondering a hallway, looking for a ghost. Nearly-Headless Nick had recommended he seek out a young ghost that hid in this part of the castle. Apparently, she shied away from most contact. This was the best lead he had in over a month.
Walking the corridor, eyes open for anything resembling translucency, he heard an odd rhyme coming to his ears.
"Mudblood, mudblood, shine my shoes.
Mud-blood, mudblood, pay your dues.
If you don't, you can't stay.
You don't belong here anyway."
Harry followed the song. He found it coming from a classroom across from one of the castle's many moving paintings. Its occupant was missing. Harry peered inside and went cold at the scene before him.
There standing was a tall youth, a fifth year by the looks, with younger years all around. He had long black hair with blue eyes dancing with merriment. In one hand, held high, was a wand, and he was spinning it around, just out of reach of a young girl possessed of brown hair. Two of the other Slytherins, fourth years, who stood flanking their leader, snickered. Harry did not recognize them, but he did the three first years, holding Hermione back. Malfoy and his two goons.
"Come now mudblood, you thought you could fit in by reciting a few genealogies? That maybe we would be impressed because you thought you knew us? Are we impressed everyone?" There was a resound 'no'. "There, you see, no one is impressed."
Hermione's brown eyes blazed as she struggled against who held her. "I didn't recite them to show you anything. I did it show that anyone can learn your stupid histories." Her voice started off small, but gained heat as she went.
The leader's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What would you say if I broke your wand?"
She looked at him confused for a moment before smiling. She spoke sweetly. "Go ahead."
Puzzled, the tall teen took her wand and brought it between his hands, straining. Harry felt the urge to intervene then, stopping only when he saw the teen's confused look. Curious, he waited a second more due to Hermione's laughter.
"What's so funny?" demanded the teen.
Her response was in the form of a taunting song. "A mudblood knows more about wands than you."
The leader's blues turned cold, and Harry decided to interrupt, pulling his wand out. "Hello."
Everyone froze, turning to him. The tall teen one spoke. "This doesn't concern you Gryffindor, just walk away."
"What doesn't concern me?" Harry asked, feigning innocence. "I just heard some people talking. Oh, hi, Hermione." He waved.
Her face was passive, her eyes going from him back to her tormentor.
The one in charge spoke, eyeing Harry's wand. "You're that seeker, aren't you? Harry?"
He nodded. "Who are you?"
"Orion," he spoke cautiously. "You know her?"
"Yep, she helped me in one of my classes. What's going on here? A game? I love wand games!" He tried to sound eager as he drew closer to Orion.
Hermione groaned. "No, they're trying to break my wand."
Harry turned to her, then to Orion. "Isn't that against the rules?"
"Obviously!" she cried, sounding exasperated.
Orion spoke next. "What do you think about mudbloods, Harry?"
"I think they're weaker than real wizards. I'm a half-blood myself." He stepped closer, eyeing the wand held aloft with curious eyes.
Orion smiled wide. "Then would you like to join us for a game? It's called Keep Away. We keep the mudblood away from magic." His smile turned sinister.
Harry glanced to Hermione, who was now pale and very much pissed. "Sure! Can I go first?"
Orion laughed. "Okay. The game is you try to break her wand."
Harry nodded sagely, putting his hand out, asking for the focus. Orion seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Isn't your mother a muggleborn?"
Harry smiled. "Yep."
Orion's eyes lit up and he stepped back, but not before Harry's snatched his friend's wand from his hand. Orion brought his own up, an incantation on his lips, but Harry was faster, shooting off the disarming spell with ease. Orion's wand went flying to the back of room, clattering on stone.
No one moved. Then two fourth years brought their own to bear, but Harry banished one into the other, making them collapse in a heap of limbs. Not taking his eyes off Orion, he spoke to Malfoy behind him. "Do yourself a favor and lower your wand."
"As if I—" Malfoy began, but a gruff voice interceded him.
"Do it, Draco." Harry failed in keeping the surprise from his face. That sounded like one of Malfoy's stooges.
Harry smiled to Orion, and let the point of his wand glow an eerie red. "I think we'll be leaving."
Then they heard the clack of wood against stone coming from the entrance of the classroom. They all turned to see the Headmistress, cold blue eyes collecting their attention. She began to sing. "Mudblood, mudblood, shine my shoes.
Mud-blood, mudblood, pay your dues.
If you don't, you can't stay.
You don't belong here anyway." With each verse, Orion wilted more and more, while Hermione held nothing but relief plastered on her face.
"I don't think I have to tell you how much I despise that song. A song that many used to sing to my mother. Sad it hasn't died out." Her eyes pierced one of Malfoy's goons. "I believe now is a good time to let her go." They did. "Mr. Potter, return her wand." He did. "Now run along Mrs. Granger, these boys will never bother you again." Six Slytherin faces fell, eyes downcast upon the ground. Without any prompting or show from the Headmistress, Orion's wand floated through the air to land in his open palm.
Harry made to move, but her eyes stopped him. "There is to be no dueling within these halls. Detention with Hagrid next Monday."
"What?"
She raised an eyebrow. "There are rules to follow. If there is trouble, you get help from a prefect or a teacher. Remember that."
Harry did not bother responding, knowing it would not be too kind. Instead, he left, casting a glare her way. He looked up to see the occupant of the painting had returned. Walking away, he heard the Headmistress address the students. "Two-hundred and fifty points from Slytherin, and I'm only getting started."
There were a few foul words floating through Harry's mind. I guess this is what everyone was talking about. The punishment chafed, especially since not that long ago she had given him praise. Any other teacher would have applauded him for his heroism, but her words to him at the beginning of the term returned.
Now, don't think me soft for being here, that would be a mistake. And don't misinterpret this kindness for favoritism.
He had in fact taken her presence there for granted, ignoring the warning completely. That would not be a mistake he would repeat. Lost in the thundercloud of his own thoughts, he almost missed Hermione waiting for him at the end of the hallway.
"I wanted to thank-you."
"No problem, you didn't deserve that."
She looked conflicted. "In a way, I did." Harry gave her an incredulous stare. "I researched all their histories, the Malfoys, the Blacks, the Vickleson's…you get the picture. I rubbed in it their faces. I wanted to show them that anybody could memorize a few hundred names."
I didn't know purebloods prided themselves in knowing their past. Harry shrugged. "They're all inbred anyway."
She gave him an odd look. "You're a Potter, right?"
"Yeah, but my mum's a muggleborn. So it evens out."
She chuckled, hiding a smile behind her hand. "Still, thank-you. That was some pretty neat wand work, too."
At least someone thinks so. "The Headmistress didn't think so. She gave me detention for it. We're not supposed to duel in the castle."
"That's rubbish! If not for you they could have done something awful."
Harry was glad to see someone outraged for his sake. "Yeah, breaking your wand would—"
"Actually, they wouldn't have been able to."
"Why not?"
Hermione assumed a very familiar tone, one that caused Harry to smile. "Because wands are enchanted against such things. It would be pretty stupid for someone to sit on a wand and break it, considering they're not that easy to repair."
"Makes sense."
Their footsteps brought them to the Great Room, where several students were catching a quick bite between lessons.
"Join me for some late lunch?"
She bit her lip. "Are we supposed to sit with other houses?"
"Don't know." He purveyed the Great Hall, seeing some from the other houses sitting at different tables, mostly the older years. "I don't think it matters."
"Okay, I am pretty hungry."
They chose to sit at the Ravenclaw table, much to the amused smiles of a few seventh years. No doubt they thought the first years were being rebellious and adventurous.
Throughout the meal they talked idly of their classes, Harry impressed with how well she was doing, the same being said for him from her. He also asked if that had been her watching him tryout for the Gryffindor team. She confirmed his suspicion. She had been curious if they would let a first year join the team, she added hastily had been her only reason for showing.
Lunch done, they parted ways with a promise to again dine together.
The forest loomed before him, stirring haunted memories from under its boughs. He looked into the choking mists, wondering if they would take the shape of the many dangers that lurked in his past.
"Whelp, it looks like a good day to enter."
Harry cast a side-long glance to the half-giant next him, comparing this to the man he knew. "Isn't it called the Forbidden Forest for a reason?"
"Just to keep pryin' students out o' course. It's not really that bad."
Says the man who's the size of a mountain. Still, Harry could not really complain, entering a forest to help Hagrid track some rare beast was better than deweeding his garden without a wand; those plants looked like they had teeth on them.
Hagrid entered the forest, Harry behind him with his wand at the ready. For all his talk of the forest not being very dangerous, the half-giant still had a giant crossbow strapped to his back, as well as his pink umbrella swinging from his hip. Trailing behind them was Hagrid's faithful companion Fang. Harry had never seen him act in any manner threatening, but having the large dog near was a comfort.
"Still say its rubbish you gettin' a detention and all. Ya practically saved that lass' life!" Harry could not help but nod his head in agreement. "Headmistress, bless her soul, wanted me to have ya go through my garden. 'A nice lesson for him." Hagrid spit on the ground. Then hastily added, "Mind ya, she's still a great woman, but she's too strict on the rules sometimes. Least, that's what I say."
"I couldn't have said it better."
Hagrid laughed as the two walked over exposed roots and crumbling hills, the mist parting as they trekked deeper. "There used to be a tribe o' giants in here, till the Ministry had enough of their ways and banished 'em to some island. Poor sods just couldn't behave."
"What about rumors of Acromantulas being in here?" Harry asked innocently, eyeing Hagrid's umbrella.
Hagrid gave him a startled look. "Who told ya that?"
Harry sighed, having his fears confirmed. "I just heard it somewhere. Can't remember."
"Oh. Well, you shouldn't believe everythin' ya hear."
Hagrid was quiet for a time after that, casting his eyes to the woods. He paused and motioned to fang. "Get 'em," Hagrid directed Fang forward, who obliged, nose to the ground, sniffing.
Harry watched the dog approach a row of bushes that parted, letting him be swallowed by leaf and mist. I wonder if he's magical?
The silence stretched and Hagrid waited, leaning against a thin tree, thin by comparison at least. The baying of a dog broke the moment, following by rustling in the brushes. Suddenly, a stag broke through, save its antlers gleamed with steel instead of bone.
"Good goin', Fang!" Hagrid hollered before stepping in front of the frightened creature and wrestling it to the ground. The almost-deer writhed and seemed to possess boundless amounts of strength, but in the end Hagrid subdued it, sitting on it and taking out a piece of gold chain.
With deft motions he had it tied around the creature's neck. There is shimmered before fading from sight. Satisfied, the half-giant stood, letting the animal gain its feet. With a swift strike to its rump, the creature fled into the forest.
"What was that?"
"Ah harrir. Pretty rare in Britain, that's why we've been trackin' 'em. So far we've got twenty or so in here. Not bad for a beast that kills other males when they fight." Hagrid let loose a boisterous laugh.
From there they went deeper into the forest, encountering another harrir, though that one was already tagged, and two beasts the size of a dog whose fur coats constantly shifted colors. Next on the agenda was tracking a herd of kittles.
Harry leaned against a tree, bored, watching the leaves shudder with the wind as Hagrid rifled through a mound of shit. "I wanna see what the kittles have been eatin'." Harry let his thoughts wonder to the game he had listened to on the WWN in the Common Room last week. He had avidly listened to the announcer dictate the match, and each time his father's name was called, he could not help but smile.
A crow alighted onto one of the branches above, its beady eyes fixed upon Harry, interrupting his wandering thoughts. He assumed it was somehow magical, like most things in this forest seemed to be. It cawed at him before taking wing.
"Whelp, looks like the kittles haven't been eatin' right. We got to catch one."
"How big are they?"
"Oh, not too big."
That filled Harry with dread.
"We got to be careful around here now. We're gettin' in centaur land, and they don't like wizards much. They don't mind me or the headmistress, but ya got a wand, so just be careful."
He would bare that in mind, but he thought they would give him some slack, considering his age. As they walked, Hagrid making ridiculous clucking noises, Harry again heard the cawing of a bird. He looked up to see not one, but near a dozen crows eyeing him with interest. "Hagrid, what's with the crows?"
"Crows?" He looked up and frowned. "Nothin' to worry over. Just don't drop ya wand."
Harry tightened his grip.
Then they heard it, the steady rhythm of hooves upon dirt. Harry sighed and Hagrid tensed. "Now don't say nothin', and put ya wand away."
Harry did as he was bid, waiting for the centaurs to come.
A group, twelve strong, came thundering over a hill comprised of a fallen tree, expertly making their way through the uneven terrain. Above Harry heard the slight flutter of wings, noting dozens of more crows had perched in the branches, all watching him. He began to grow uneasy.
The herd of centaurs pulled up short in front of Hagrid. They ranged in color from rustic red to pale white, with the one looking to be a mixture of red and gray. Harry thought he looked old from the way he stooped. A large one with a brutish face walked forward to address Hagrid. "You are trespassing again, giant."
Hagrid waved a hand at him. "Get the splinters out ya hooves I'm just checkin' the kittles."
The centaur snorted before rounding on Harry. "You brought a magic-bearing. His kind is not welcome."
"Pish posh, Ivan. He's alright, just thought I'd show him the forest."
Ivan narrowed his eyes and went to speak, but an aged voice silenced him. "You have postured enough, it is obvious they will not be cowed. Hello Hagrid, it's been a long time."
"Ah, Magorian!" Hagrid took two steps forward and embraced the elder centaur, much to the indignation of the herd. "What brings ya out this far? Never thought you'd leave the burrow at your age."
The elder chuckled, but his face drooped into sadness. "Ah my friend, if only we could meet under better circumstances. You see, I've come here because of a vision. A vision of a dark future."
"Really? For the centaurs?"
He shook his head. "No, for all of us."
"Er—"
Ivan stepped forward. "We escorted him here so he could warn you, giant. This threat looms greater than any you could imagine."
Harry listened with interest. He heard a soft caw from above, looking up he gawked at the hundreds of crows all staring downward, though this time, their black eyes were directed at the elder centaur. Harry withdrew his wand.
The elder sighed, as well looking back at the crows. "Ivan, I misled you this morning." His voice sounded tired. A few of the other centaurs were following his gaze and growing confused.
"What?" He cast a look to Hagrid and Harry. "This is not the time—"
"There is no more time. You see, the smoke showed more than a dark future, it showed me no longer in that future."
Startled exclamations came from the gathered herd, some protesting to return to the burrow. Magorian quieted them with a raised hand. "No, it is better I die out here, where there is no risk to the younglings."
"No! Who—" Two red eyes took in Hagrid. "You!"
"Ivan, stop!" The words barely restrained the beast. "They are not the assassin that has been sent. They are." He pointed to the branches above where the mingled crows all cawed at once, a symphony promising death. They took flight, letting loose a shower of pine needles.
The centaurs reacted instantly, bows and arrows coming to hand, nocked and firing at the crows that took flight. Several went down, pierced, their bodies exploding in a shower of black ink. Harry joined them, sending cutting curses skyward. Hagrid yelled something, while firing as well, and Fang ran around barking madly.
Yet it seemed for every crow shot down, more would join the fray, until Harry looked down to see a puddle of ink become another crow and take to the air. That is when he stopped and took a step back, wondering if now was a good time to run.
The crows began circling, growing tighter and tighter in formation, ignoring all that was sent their where.
Closer and closer the crows flew. In that mass of spinning feathers flashes of reflected steel were glimpsed, along with dark fabric fluttering in the wind. Soon the crows began to disappear, gradually giving way to a figure wreathed in black, hooded and floating, while gripped in two blackened hands was a scythe taller than itself.
The arrows stopped and all stood frozen at the unveiled creature standing as tall as Hagrid. Harry felt something cold shift in his head, calling out to the creature. He pushed the sensation away, instead trying his best to calm his racing heart.
Magorian stepped forward, head held high, eyes never leaving his assassin. The creature pointed to him and nodded.
"Reaper," he called, "I have a request; that you let those around me flee unmolested." The creature slowly shook its cowled face. "Why? I give myself freely to you!"
A deep laugh came from under the robe, and the weapon was raised high, catching the light of the sun. It moved then, flowing forward, its massive weapon ready to reap the soul standing in sacrifice before it. Magorian turned to his herd. "This is why I wanted to come alone. Now run!"
Harry did not think they would listen; he himself was not listening, instead throwing a stunner at the Reaper. His magic caught on its black robes before fizzling.
Ivan gave a terrible shout as the blade came down, only to be stopped at the last moment by Hagrid and his crossbow.
"You fool giant! Nothing can stop my death, but you can still live!"
Hagrid ignored him, struggling against the creature's strike, his crossbow set against its metal scythe. The Reaper shifted its position, trying and bring the blade down on the waiting elder. With a sudden cry, face burning red, Hagrid managed to throw off the creature.
"Run ya stupid galloot!" he shouted to the elder as he loaded his crossbow and quickly fired, his projectile joining a dozen others as they rained on the Reaper, having no effect.
"This is useless! None here can stand before it! Run! Run!" Ranted Magorian, trying to maneuver himself away from Hagrid. If he hoped to draw the creature's attention away from the herd, he was mistaken. The Reaper turned to the gathered centaurs and raised its blade high, many gathered were already learning of the futility of their attacks, and quickly moved to dodge. Harry fired a disarming spell, but it had the same effect as his stunner. He fired more spells, anything that came to mind, but they fell away from the robe like leaves from a tree.
The Reaper swung, but Hagrid was once more there, throwing his crossbow aside and physically trying to grab the scythe. His grip slipped through it, as if he had been trying to grab smoke. He fell, the momentum carrying him forward and the herd scattered, but not before one was cut in half like a paper doll.
Blood and guts poured out. There were cries of rage, while Harry felt like sicking up.
"Ya bleedin' monster." Hagrid shouted, going for his cross bow. The creature quickly lashed out with its scythe, slicing Hagrid across his back, opening him up from hip to shoulder. He howled in the forest, as black smoke rising from the wound. Harry found himself shooting desperately, but nothing sent at the monster could stop it. It swung again, but the Elder galloped forward and took the blow for Hagrid, his upper half falling away, while his lower fumbled across the leaf-strewn ground.
Cries of rage filled the air as centaurs streamed forward, renewed attacks streaming from their bows, but Harry knew it the futility of it.
Harry looked to the sky and cast a spell, hoping someone would see his message in red. In the mean time, he had to get out of there. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The giant was heaved off the ground and towards Harry, who went to him examining the vicious strike. Blood was pouring from it and Hagrid was struggling, muttering something.
He cast a look back, watching the creature's scythe rise and fall among the enraged beasts, reaping a harvest of blood and guts.
Harry could take no more, turning his head and vomiting as his legs carried him forward, Hagrid's great weight came with him. Wiping his mouth he called to Fang, cursing at the dog to follow him. The dog's barks becoming distant told him it had not listened.
Through the underbrush and between the trees Harry raced, every now and then checking on the half-giant, worry worming its way through his guts. He hoped all the blood Hagrid was losing was not as much as it looked, or maybe Hagrid held a lot more than most people. He kept making weak excuses in his head, keeping the possibility of death at bay.
He was thankful enough to remember from which direction lay the castle, he just hoped he could reach it in time. He prayed the Reaper would leave, having its mission accomplished. He hoped the half-giant would survive.
His head grew cold and when glanced back, he nearly cried. There, ghosting through the air, passing through both tree and shrub was the Reaper, rapidly closing the distance.
Harry sent Hagrid to nestle between two trees, while Harry turned to face the demon. Regular magic could not phase it, but what about something more potent? Summoning within him every happy feeling he could, Harry pointed his wand and shouted. "Expecto Patronum!"
His stag familiar shot forward, an animal comprised of silver mist. The antlers caught onto the creature's robes, ripping them as it sought to go over the patronus. Droplets of ink fell to the ground from the wound, turning to a black smoke in seconds. The Reaper aimed for Harry, but the stag galloped forward, keeping itself between Harry and the Reaper.
A scream pierced the night from it under its shadowed hood, out frustration or glee, Harry could not tell. He was glad to have found something to fend it off. Harry backed himself up next to Hagrid, who was shifting on the ground. "Don't move."
Only babbling was Hagrid's response.
I can't maintain my patronus all day. We'll have to run for it, and hope it can keep that thing back. He recast the levitation charm and made a dash for it, directing his stag to keep the Reaper from him.
Through the twisting paths of the forest he flew, the Reaper always at the corner of his eye, steel flashing, the stag a second behind, antlers tearing into darkness. Harry cursed his tiny feet, wishing he was older.
Then he saw it, the promise of an empty field. He dashed forward while the Reaper made way to block him. It screamed when the patronus' antlers nearly took off its arm. Harry glanced looking to Hagrid, still dripping blood. He was far too pale and no longer moving. Harry pushed himself even faster, not caring how much his legs were screaming.
Don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be… He chanted, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he broke through the forest mists and into the sweet sunshine. He half-hoped the creature would not follow him out. Its scream piercing the air dashed that thought. The Reaper came at him high and from the left, but the stag leaped over Harry and tousled with the demon. It landed, still racing beside Harry as the castle loomed closer.
Salvation lay ahead of him in the form of a rapidly walk old woman with a half-dozen professor's and older students fanned out behind her. They had gotten his message written in the sky. Her eyes were cold thunderstorms as she stopped mid-stride and struck the ground with her cane. Those behind her stopped and gawked. Harry screamed at them to do something, anything!
The air sparked ahead, birthing a dragon of pure writhing flame. It roared and flew over Harry, who looked back to see it tackle the Reaper, fire pouring from its mouth into the cowled hood. The demon screamed as smoke poured from its robes, yet the scythe came down and sliced through the dragon, turning it to smoke. Harry briefly saw another light out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it, finally finding safety behind the Headmistress. He recognized the school's healer.
"Madam Pompfrey, it's Hagrid. His back!" He panted and with his wand directed his burden to bear before the healer. "He's lost a lot of blood. Help me!"
Already her wand was tracing the gash, healing it, only to gasp when it broke open again. She closed her eyes and began to mummer. White light poured from her wand like a liquid, filling the wound. "Come along," she said crisply.
Harry cast a look back to see a white swan battling the reaper, while two other silvery animals were leaping and striking. Then a spear of fire went forth, hitting the thing in the face, where it screamed in agony.
"Come along!" Pompfrey insisted, grabbing him by his robes and dragging him away from the battle. Harry realized then that his own patronus had already dissipated. As he was led away, he watched the closing scene of the battle as five silvery animals converged on the creature, forcing it to the ground, while a sword of shining light stabbed it repeatedly. The last he saw of it was an explosion of dark ink coating the ground, before a dozen crows took flight.
He was lying on a soft bed, agitated; no one had said anything about Hagrid's chances. The two had been separated while she rushed him to St. Mungo's. Please, be alright Hagrid. Please. His head fell back onto the pillow, realizing he barely knew this half-giant, but that did not change the way he felt.
There was a potion laying on the stand next him, levitated there by Madam Pompfrey. "If you get too agitated, drink it."
He was not that agitated, he had been in similar circumstances in the past. He felt like pacing, but his aching legs belayed that idea. He just wanted to do something else besides sit in the bed! That's when he starting eyeing the potion, wondering if it were a sleeping draught or a calming one. It did not matter, he downed it and was greeted by oblivion.
Heaviness clung to him as he struggled to rise. Firm hands pressed him back down, and he opened his eyes to see several blurry shapes standing over him. He blinked and everything came rushing back. "Hagrid!"
"Calm down, he's fine. Everything is okay, Mr. Potter." The healer's soothing words brought him peace of mind, while someone handed him his glasses.
Clarity greeted him in the form of a woman with dazzling red hair who pounced. He struggled for breath as she rocked him, mumbling something into his ears. "Mum, I can't—"
She released him, muttering her apologies, while she wiped a few stray tears from her face. She smiled. "I'm just glad you're alive."
"Me too." Harry looked to the side. "Hey, dad."
James reached over and gripped his shoulder. "I heard you had an adventure."
"Something like that." His voice was hollow as he recalled the carnage the Reaper had set upon the centaurs.
"And speaking of adventures, I do believe now is the time for answers."
Harry looked passed his parents to see the Headmistress standing by a large window, the light haloing her blue robes. Harry sighed, regretting his petty feelings for her over a stupid detention. "Thank-you. You saved me."
She inclined her head. "Your safety is my duty. But I am not the only one you should be thanking; apparently there was a hidden ally in the forest."
Hidden…? My patronus! He tensed, then calmed, realizing she thought it from someone else. "Is that who cast that deer? What was it? I've never seen that kind of magic before."
"It is called a patronus, and it is NEWT level magic at the minimum. Not many wizards are capable of producing them. The explanation, if you please?"
With that, he launched into his tale, hastily skimming over the part where Hagrid changed his punishment—she frowned rather severely at that. He went into vague detail about what Magorian had said, warning of some darkness to come, he himself was wondering about the ill omen. Did it mean Voldemort was still out there in this time?
He glossed over the centaurs being butchered, modifying the tale by saying the stag burst onto the scene to help him. He was careful to hedge the truth, fully aware the Headmistress could tell a lie. She looked satisfied with his final account.
"Quite the harrowing tale, young man. Inspiring even." There was a hint of a smile on her face, it vanished like smoke in the next instant. "I must send a few owls and settle a rampaging herd of centaurs. Also, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, it would seem a rather impetuous prefect decided to leak this small tale to the press. You may wish to release a statement, heavily edited, of what happened to the centaurs."
"Why?" James asked carefully.
"Because they just lost their oldest herd member, a man respected by centaurs the world around because of his prowess with the future. The last thing their nation needs in this time of grieving is nosy reporters."
James nodded, Lily as well. And Harry felt for them, as he kept thinking back to the elder. How he had had bravely walked to that place knowing he was to die. Harry did not know if he would have that kind of courage.
His parents stayed the rest of the afternoon, hearing him talk about his stay. He had been writing them weekly with updates in his classes and various exploits on the Quidditch pitch. His most recent adventure against the Slytherins he was going to leave out, but his mother kept asking why he had received the detention.
"Well that's pretty bloody unfair." James said, much to Harry's pleasure.
He turned to his mother, expecting a lecture of following the rules. "I'm proud of you standing up for that poor girl." She sighed. "Dumbledore has always been too strict at times, but it kept the peace." She gave James a knowing grin.
James spoke. "Hey, did you say that leader's name was Orion? A fifth year?" Harry nodded. "Did you catch his last name? No?" He turned to Lily. "I'm thinking that might be Black's son. He'd be about the same age."
"Sirius'? Yeah, he would be in fifth year now."
Harry's heart skipped a beat. Sirius Black was alive and he had a family. And his son is an arse. "Were you and Sirius close?" Harry ventured.
A conflicted expression took over his father's features. "For a while we were. Then…"
Lily rolled her eyes. "He, Severus, and Sirius, used to be best mates for years." Lily leaned in closer. "But you're father was the most handsome."
"Got that right!"
Harry laughed. "So what happened?"
James shrugged. "I got my head outta my arse and stopped listening to their pureblood crap."
"That and poor Lupin."
James cringed and Harry's stomach sank. "Lupin?"
"Yeah, he was one of my mates, but he was a werewolf. I figured it out, but didn't tell anyone. They were taking precautions and I figured the Headmistress had everything under control. So Snape and Sirius got wind of it, and freed him one night. Bastards almost died, I should have let them."
"No, you did the right thing."
"Well, long story short that was when I started seeing some the stunts they were pulling were dangerous. Not funny, but people could get hurt. Did get hurt a few times."
"Didn't the Headmistress catch you?"
James shifted his eyes. "We were pretty good about not being caught. Let's just leave it at that."
Harry filed that tidbit away for later.
Lily finished the tale. "So with their pranks getting worse, James realizing I was pretty, and that not all muggleborns were bad—" James looked ready to object, "don't argue this point, we both know you won't win—he pulled his head out of his arse and became a normal human being. Unlike the other two."
The family talked for a few more minutes, discussing possible plans for a family vacation over the summer, a premise that had Harry very excited. They bid him good-bye and to try and stay out of any more trouble. "I'll try, but it usually finds me."
Lily sighed and James laughed. "Sounds like me."
"Oh hush you."
The light atmosphere seemed to drain away suddenly, both his parents giving him sobering looks. James spoke. "All joking aside, please be careful, we just got you back."
They left then, his father's words weighing heavily about his guilty mind.
Sentenced to the bed until tomorrow, and wanting a distraction from his worried parents, he began to pick apart what they had revealed. It seemed Sirius was a bigot, if going by his son was any indication. The thought hurt, but he rationalized it was something he would have to get over. Hopefully, he would not meet the man anytime soon. Also, it seemed that his father had once possessed an invisibility cloak, something Harry would be searching for when he got the chance.
As the day waned, he had a few more visitors, among them Neville, Dean, and Seamus. Next came Gabrielle with her asinine friends Lavender and Parvarti. They did not stay long as Harry had suddenly come down with a headache.
Someone he did look forward to was Hermione, who came bearing a plate full of sweets. "I didn't know which was your favorite, so I grabbed as many as I could."
Harry accepted the plate and showed his appreciation by digging in. Hermione never pressed him for what happened, but he told her anyway. Again he kept the patronus' origin to himself.
"That's horrible."
"What?"
"You seeing all that and…" She shuddered. "Are you sure you're alright? You don't want me to call Madam Poopfry?"
Harry crossed his arms. "I'm a lot tougher than I look."
She frowned. "You're telling me none of it bothered you?"
"Well, yeah it did, but—"
"But nothing! You're only eleven, you don't have to pretend to be a tough guy. Boys!"
No, I'm not eleven, and age has nothing to do with what you can cope with. He would know, having killed a wizard by eleven and slayed a basilisk by twelve. He changed the subject to transfiguration, asking if she had gotten her homework done yet. He feigned needing a few pointers. She looked skeptical, but sighed and brought out her essay.
As she lectured Harry's mind went the dark creature he had fled, wondering again what twisted magic could create it, create something invulnerable to spells and untouchable. He recalled seeing those few crows fly into the air, thinking the creature far from dead.
A/N:: The Reaper isn't new to me, having used in a prior story, but I liked it, since that other story was going nowhere. People will probably notice the pacing it increased in this first year. This is intentional, since I don't want to write thousands of words about kids going to school. I'll lessen the pace as the years go by, but I'm hoping to balance things with longer scenes in between the moments of explaining. I'm also hoping to use Quidditch as a way of tying most of the first year together. Kind of boring I realize, having read too many, but I'm going to try and make them interesting at least. The reason for the focus will be clear by the last match.
That said, I like the prose of this chapter, but it's still harried. Maybe too much of an info dump in some cases I think. Either way, I hope some enjoyed it. Thanks for reading.
-byl, out.