DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters. I'm just playing with them. Don't sue me.

Chapter Two: Darkness Born Twice

The body that had been Bellatrix Lestrange's lurched through the forest, stumbling from tree to tree, leaving bits of flesh in its wake. The forest creatures scuttled from its path, their heads and tails low. The heavy, sour stench of urine from weaker creatures stained the air.

That-which-was Bella stopped at the edge of a clearing. Dawn was approaching, making its skin shift and shiver. Blood pumped in heavy spurts from the wounds it had taken; it would need a new host, soon.

Madness made the black eyes glint as it stared up into the lightening sky. Dawn was coming. More than one. And it would make it bloody with pain and fear.

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Harry woke, sweat dripping down into his eyes. His heart was hammering in his chest and his lungs ached, as though he had been underwater for too long. He passed a hand across his eyes and made a face at the smear of blood that came away.

Wait, what? Harry held out his hand. A copper smear decorated the back of it. He felt at his forehead, but there was no pain. He blinked and winced, his eyes hurt. He probed around them, hissing as his fingers met puffy bulges and odd, hard lumps around the corners of his lids.

He scrambled off his bed, heading for the foggy mirror that was perched above his dresser. Dudley had used it for some sort of muggle science experiment and had demanded a new one, when it had been unable to be cleaned.

Harry met his reflection, staring at his face with wide green eyes. Blood was caked around his lashes and there were drying trails marching their way down his temples and cheeks.

He pushed back the heavy fringe of his hair and checked the area around where his scar had been. There was nothing. He poked at it, but there was no pain. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his gaze going back to the blood around his eyes.

"This isn't good." He blinked a few times, gritting his teeth against the pain in the first few passes. After dislodging some dried clumps, the pain dissipated. "What in Merlin's name is going on?"

"Dream child?"

The Morrigan's voice made Harry jump. He whirled around, catching himself on the edge of the bureau.

She looked the same as the last time he had seen her. Her wild black hair fell around her face, sending her eyes into shadow. Harry wished he knew the time, but his wand was locked away with his trunk in the garden shed.

She was perched at the end of his bed, her elbows resting on her knees and with her head cocked to one side, staring at him. "You're bleeding, child."

"I know. Er. Well, that I'm bleeding, but I don't know why."

She rose, stepped off the bed and approached him. Her feet made no noise against the floorboards. She raised one hand, letting her fingers hover above his skin. A fine line appeared between her brows. "Does your head hurt?"

"No. Ma'am."

A smile flashed across her face. Her hand lowered and Harry shivered. Her skin was hot to touch. "Your eyes are bleeding."

"Yes."

Her thumb swept across the dark hollows under his eyes. "Something lingers in your blood, like fat spiders waiting for the prey."

Harry took in a shaky breath. "The Vision Potion."

She tilted her head to one side. Harry became aware of a scent rising up around them.

"Do you smell that?"

Her other hand came up to cup the other side of his face. "It is battle and death, child. Do not worry."

It was all around them now. Harry could feel the thick stench in the back of his throat. "Can you make it stop?"

Her eyes glittered in the strange half-light. "That is not my duty. I am death, I am rage. I am the victory shout and the victim's screams. I am battle, Dream Child. I could not stop it, even if I knew how."

Harry tried to swallow. There seemed to be something stuck in his throat. He met her glittering gaze, trying not to flinch. "Is there going to be more death?"

Her sudden laugh was not what he was expecting. She drew him into her arms and cradled him against her body. "There is always death, child. It is the one thing every human can be sure of. They are born to die."

"But," Harry tried to push away, but the strong arms held him close. "I mean, is there going to be another battle?"

She went still. "I do not know, child. The darkness pushes, angry that we wake and walk once more. Perhaps it is that which you sense."

"But I don't sense anything."

She pulled back, looking into his eyes. "You are closer to the Otherworld than a mortal has been in millennia. You will sense things. You will know things. That is the way it must be."

Harry began to tremble. The cold of the room seemed to be soaking into his bones, even with the Morrigan's heat near him. "What if I don't want to sense anything more?" He knew it sounded childish. Even pathetic. But I'm so tired, he bit back the words, hoping the goddess wouldn't hear them anyhow. I want to rest! I want a family! I just want to go home with Sirius and Ginny and Remus and Bill. And, he flushed, I want to see Draco. Just once. More than once. I want all of it. He drew in a shuddering breath.

Her eyes softened. She slid an arm around his shoulders and guided him back to his bed. Tucking him under the covers, she sat on the edge of the mattress, one hand soothing back his hair.

"Child," she ran a hand down his cheek. "There are things in this world, many things, that I do not know. Things that I was never meant to understand. But this," her thumb erased a trail of blood. "This I do understand. We are born to become what we were meant to be. This, all of this, is greater than we know. Even us gods." Her smile was gentle. "Have faith, child. Dagda and Danu will not forsake us. Perhaps in time, this too shall fade."

"Are you sure?"

Her smile faded and Harry read the truth in her eyes. He turned his face away.

"Can I go back to sleep now?"

Her rustling weight lifted from the bed. "Do not fear, child."

He kept his eyes on the wall. "I'm not afraid."

"Then do not despair." Her voice faded away and by the time Harry looked back, she was gone.

He turned his face to the ceiling, his hands clenching in the sheets. "But what if I already am?" He turned on his side, facing the wall. Burying his body under the covers, he snaked his pillow down to hold close. "Sirius?" He whispered into the dark. "I want to go home." He hid his face in the musty cover and let his tears flow.

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"Ginny!"

Ginny woke with a start, her hand going to the edge of her bed where her cane rested. She blinked, staring at the dim figure of Bill standing at the foot of her bed.

"What?"

"You have to come see!" He moved over and grabbed her hand, pulling her from the warm cocoon of her blankets. Her feet hit the cold wood and she shivered.

"See what?" She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palms as he dragged her to the window.

"Look!"

Dawn was creeping over the lawns, pink and yellow tendrils of color shooting across the sky. The bubbling fountain was a mountain of silver in the light. Ginny gaped and pressed closer to the glass.

"How wonderful!" Her breath fogged the glass and she wiped it away. "Oh Bill! This is wonderful!"

He turned to her, his smile a dark slash in a shadowed face. "Should we go wake up the old guys?"

She grinned back at him and hobbled for the door. Bill pressed her cane into her hand and she thanked him with a wink.

Together they crept down the hall, the dim light creating plenty of shadows for them to hide in. They approached the door and pressed their hands against it.

"Ready?" Bill was crouched down to his sister's height.

"One, two…"

"Sirius!"

Ginny jerked her hands back from the door. She felt her face flood with heat. Bill sagged, one hand coming up to stifle his snickers. More sounds of muffled passion drifted by them, undeterred by the thick wooden door.

Ginny backed away from the door, one hand coming up to cover her eyes. Bill grabbed her shoulders and hustled her away from the door, his muffled laughter bouncing off the walls. They burst back into her room and collapsed on the bed.

"I think," Ginny gasped. "I think we should leave them alone in the mornings." She snickered and buried her face in her pillows.

"I think you're right, Gin." Bill propped his chin with his hands, even as his shoulders shook with suppressed giggles. "Although, if we ever wanted to mortify them…" He winked at her, making her giggle harder.

"I don't think my mind would be able to recover from that sight." She wrinkled her nose. "They're…well you know. Old."

Bill's roar of laughter filled the room. Ginny cocked her head to one side and stared at him.

"What?"

He laughed harder.

"Is it because they're old?"

He slid off the bed and rolled on the floor. She peered over the edge at him.

"You adults are so weird sometimes."

Bill sat up and dragged a hand across his eyes. "Ginny…" She met his gaze and he shook his head. "Never mind. Let's go get some breakfast and then we'll go romp about the gardens. What do you say?"

"Sure." She wiggled off the bed and limped to the bathroom.

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Harry woke to his aunt screaming his name.

He rolled off his bed, only to find his legs give out from under him. He stared at his trembling feet, trying to make them move. Not now, he gulped down a lungful of air, determined not to cry. Don't tell me it's starting now.

He sat on his floor and waited for the shakes to ease. His hands, he noted, were almost fine, though if he held them out in front of his body for too long, then they began to shake. Once he could move his toes, he clambered to his feet and made his way down the stairs.

"Where have you been!" Petunia was standing at the oven, poised over the hissing skillets like a snake about to strike. "We have been waiting for fifteen minutes…" She turned to him and let out a small shriek. Her trembling finger rose to point at his face. "There's blood all over you!"

Harry brought a hand to his face and brushed away a few flakes of rusted copper. He had almost forgotten about the midnight meeting and his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia."

"Get to your room this instant! What if my Dudders had seen you? Get! Right now!"

Harry sighed and turned away. The trip up the stairs took longer than the trip down, but he was grateful to be back in his room again. He lay back on his bed and threw an arm over his eyes.

I knew this was going to start, he drew in a shaky breath. After the Morrigan had left and sleep had come, he had dreamt. The skies had gone dark in the west, either with storm clouds or something else, he didn't know. His skin had been cold, so cold. He had looked down at his hands and saw them shaking, thin and white. He'd looked up and found himself in front of a large gray house that was full of windows. Sirius' house.

His dreams had gotten worse. The house that he'd longed for was not bright or warm. He'd entered the house, leaning heavily on the banisters, looking for the family he wanted to call his own. But he couldn't find them anywhere. And there was something screaming in the house. But he didn't know what.

Harry removed his arm from his eyes and rubbed at his face. He wanted to take a shower, but knew he would have to wait until his relatives had gone. They were taking Dudley to his favorite stores in London for his birthday present. Which would give Harry the whole day at the house, by himself.

He rolled over on his side and fished out the letters that Rayne had given him. He'd gotten one from Ginny and one from Sirius. There was a fistful from Draco – several of which had made him blush and hide them under the mattress.

He pulled out Draco's latest letter and smoothed it out. The familiar handwriting was canted to the side and a bit splotchy. It had been written on the way home from one of the parties Lucius had demanded Draco attend. The blond had described it in detail to Harry, saying – numerous times – that he had wished Harry had been with him.

Harry smiled and touched the paper to his lips. Draco's letters had come every time Rayne had arrived. They were the one thing he had to look forward to during the long days of summer. He wished Sirius and Ginny had written more, but pushed that thought aside as quick as it came. They're busy, he swallowed and folded the letter with care. They're learning how to be a family. And…and maybe finding a way to get me there sooner. Maybe. Of course they are. Of course.

He pushed himself into a sitting position. His arms felt weak, almost watery. He shook them, but the feeling persisted. I should tell Professor Snape, he chewed on his lower lip. But…he'll get fussy. Or cranky. Or something. He let out a breath and shook his head. He'd do his studying first. And if the feeling persisted, then he'd think about sending a letter to Snape. Maybe.

Maybe.

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That-which-was-Bella pushed its fingers into the man's eyes. Dark fluid burst out over the skin, slicking his fingers and wetting its face. It pushed harder, feeling bone and tendon and finally, finally a warm softness.

Bellatrix Lestrange's corpse fell to the ground, its husk withering as the god left its confines. A dark, heavy mass rose in the air, even as it fed from its victim's mind. Power, not a large pool, but enough to whet his appetite, filled his essence. With the power came memories, came feeling. Came his name.

I am Crom Cruach, it shuddered and would have laughed had it a throat to speak with. The darkness swelled as the body it fed from was wrung dry. The hovering mass turned and looked north. There was a small wizarding settlement there, the newfound memories told him. Seven families with small shops that served both muggle – muggle? – and wizards alike. And there were children. Families full of children.

The dark god's amorphous essence thinned to a shadow, slipping away in the dark to move from tree to tree. There were houses that had lights in the windows, but not for long. Soon they would all go to bed, blow the candles out and the old protections would fade.

And then…I will feed.

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Draco looked out his window and tried not to sigh. He knew his father was frowning at him, but he didn't care. He wanted Harry. And Harry wasn't there.

He knew his father was trying to push him into the political realm. All of the dinner parties he had been to had pushed that fact into his face. And while he appreciated what his father was doing…I still want Harry here. I want Harry to come with me to these bloody dull parties, to whisper with me about the idiots or, or even to argue about Quidditch. Anything.

He rubbed at his eyes and settled back with his book. It was an old tome, from the dark room of the private library. His father had decided that if Draco had enough sense to awaken the old gods, then he had enough sense to start reading about them too. He'd picked out a volume of myths first, since it was his summer holiday.

Irish Myth and Legend was the title of the book. So far it had been an interesting, if a bit dry, read. Whoever the author was, they didn't have a sense of humor, Draco quelled a snort. His father would not approve of such behavior. Even if he would agree that the book had all the juiciness of a dried apple.

"Father?" Draco ran a hand over the cloth cover of the book.

"Yes, Draco?" Lucius did not look up from his paper.

"Will Scrimgeour keep the ban on the Dark Arts or do you think he'll open a discussion on it?"

He heard his father pause. Draco took care to hide his pleased smile. It wasn't often he could catch Lucius off his guard. "Why do you ask?"

Draco swung around and let his legs dangle from the window seat. "There were near a hundred bans on certain spells in this last century. They were labeled Dark Spells and banished from the new textbooks. But since there are so many old gods returning, the spell lists will have to be looked over, since Scrimgeour can't arrest people willy nilly for worshipping their gods."

Lucius' eyes glittered. "And what would you do if you were Minister, Draco?"

The blond leaned back and thought. "I would appoint a council to go over the lists and the spells tied to each god or goddess that has been seen." So far almost a hundred gods, both large and small, had made their impact on the wizarding world. Old families had embraced their return with joy, but Draco knew that not all of the wizarding world felt the same. "And I'd make sure that the temple to all gods was built in Diagon Alley."

The temple had been a sticking point for the last month in the wizarding world. With the inclusion of so many muggle-born witches and wizards, the spread of monotheism had almost wiped out the old gods. But the push to have one temple, dedicated to all gods, not just the old, seemed to rankle the One God's followers even worse.

Lucius leaned back in his seat. "And how would you make sure the temple was built?"

Draco frowned. "I'd ask the old families for the funds."

Lucius arched an eyebrow. "Truly?"

"Well…" Draco turned the thought over in his mind. "No…you're right. That wouldn't work. There would be a class division." He blinked and looked at his father. "And the government can't really push for it either, can they? It would look like partisan politics."

Lucius awarded his son with a smile. "Good, Draco."

"So…" Draco drummed his fingers on the cover of his book. "So one family should sponsor it. And then give it to the people." He looked at his father. "That way they would gain the respect of the old families and get the love of the people."

Lucius folded his fingers on top of his paper and let his smile grow. "And that is exactly what we shall do." Father and son shared a grin in the warm morning light.

Draco turned his look to his hands after a moment. Some of the happiness fled as he thought of Harry. I wish you were here, he thought. I wish you could be a part of this too.

End Chapter Two