A/N: Here ya go; a slightly longer chapter for y'all! There's a teensy little reference to the Twilight Princess manga in this chapter, since the last time I played the game was about a decade ago (yep, original Game Cube only)... and I read the manga about two weeks ago. I'm hoping my research and recollections are consistent with the actual game, given that I spent far too long watching cut-scenes to make this and future chapters as accurate as possible. If there's anything glaringly wrong, please let me know!
Enjoy! :)
Hermione remained pleased with herself until she saw the notice posted in their common room next Monday.
"What should we do?" Ron asked with a meaningful glance at Link.
The young witch bit her lip. "I don't know that we should use that just yet," she replied uncertainly. "If we tip our hand too early..."
"Put it this way," Harry interrupted. "She's not letting us learn how to defend ourselves, so we're going to continue with our "study group" regardless. If we're caught and expelled, then how are we expected to defend ourselves at all? The ministry will have snapped our wands. You and I could go to Snuffles' place, but what about someone like Colin, who has muggle parents and no Order?"
"Yes," she replied slowly. "Yes, I suppose you're right."
That started a brief but fierce argument over how exactly they were going to move against Umbridge. It would be better, they agreed, if she didn't know who exactly was holding the threat over her head.
"I'll leave a note on her desk tonight," Link said calmly.
"Oh, but you can't just write a note!" Hermione fretted. "What if she recognizes your handwriting?"
Umbridge was already more than a little suspicious of Link, but he relented under Hermione's good sense. The plan, from there, was simple. Hermione would collect her daily newspaper, and after classes they would find somewhere to discreetly cut letters out of it until they could form a simple message.
'You're overreaching your authority." The note would be unsigned, of course, but would include a copy of one of the personal notes Link had lifted from the toad-woman's office. A duplication spell performed by Hermione and timed to wear off a little after breakfast would take care of that.
The plan was somewhat derailed when a bedraggled Hedwig limped into History. Link only heard about it afterward, as he'd been in the library at the time, but Harry informed him in a strained voice that Snuffles was going to visit that night. They were of course concerned about Hedwig, and the fact that their mail was so obviously being intercepted, but most concerning was Sirius' expected presence.
Link could understand the need for action, but he was also a trained soldier. First a member of royal guard, then the princess' personal knight. He knew what he was doing, knew what an acceptable risk was. Sirius was being reckless. The man risked not only his own capture, but severe consequences for those in his charge.
"What if whoever intercepted Hedwig checks our fireplace tonight?" Hermione frowned, more than a little concerned.
"I don't see how they could know," Ron pointed out. "That letter was pretty vague."
"'Tonight' is pretty specific, Ron," the witch returned scathingly. "And everyone knows who Hedwig belongs to. It doesn't take much to put two and two together."
"Surely Gryffindor common room doesn't have the only fireplace in the castle," Link reminded them flatly.
"Let's find an unused classroom then," Harry said wearily. "No portraits, no teachers, no one but us. We can find an empty fireplace and call Snuffles first."
"We don't have any floo powder," Ron groaned. "And I doubt the classrooms' fires are connected to the floo network."
"Right," said Harry, frowning in thought. "We can get some from one of the teachers' offices though, can't we? Their fireplaces should be connected, too."
"Harry, you can't be suggesting we steal from one of the professors! And don't you dare use their fireplace! You don't need to be connected to the network to stick your head in." That explained why Sirius had been able to call the first time, actually, Link mused. If people could just pop in and out of students' dorms whenever they pleased that would be real problem.
"Fine, we'll use a classroom then!" Harry snapped. The boy then proceeded to ignore Hermione's complaint over his planned petty crime, undeterred. "Link, we'll need my cloak."
Link handed over the object then hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he should go with them or not. To be fair, sneaking about the castle was not exactly difficult, even without invisibility. The portraits never seemed to care if the students were out of bed, and the grounds were too large for the small number of prefects to monitor perfectly. In fact, Umbridge's office had been so painfully simple to break into Link doubted there was much to worry over, there. Even the theft of floo powder, whatever that was, was not much concern. If need be Link would explain the nature of the emergency to McGonagall, who would, though undoubtedly be displeased, at least understand.
More concerning was whether Link should be present for the meeting or not. He would never say it in front of the boys, but he actually agreed with Mrs. Weasley. Sirius was not the best role model. More worryingly, he also held enough sway to incite Ron and Harry into recklessness.
The hylian had another job to do though, so he'd have to leave it to Hermione to pull the boys through. Hopefully her presence would be enough to curtail any more bad ideas before they took root.
It was with that reluctant thought that Link changed into his Sheikah armor and departed Gryffindor Tower.
Sneaking through the castle was exactly as Link thought; simple. It was not difficult, especially not in comparison to making his way through the heavily guarded Yiga Clan hideout or, goddess-forbid, around the damn lynel at Shatterback Point. It was almost too easy to make his way to Umbridge's repaired office on the third floor; no more difficult than the last time.
It was this ease that made Link perhaps too careless.
The moment he touched the doorknob a terrible shock ran up his arm and he cursed. Link couldn't let go of the knob, and every second felt further and further drained, as though it were draining him of all his energy. Too much longer and he'd be left unconscious or worse, and Umbridge would most certainly see who had attempted to break into her office in the morning.
Magical security, he thought dimly, did not necessarily leave visible traces. He should have expected Umbridge to have a counter-measure in place after the damage he'd done last time. To not even consider it had been a horrible oversight.
Link had vitality in spades. His long, arduous hours of training in childhood and then re-training in the shrines ensured that, but even he wouldn't last forever. "Finite Incantatum," he choked out hastily, gripping his blackthorn wand in his left hand. Nothing happened. Was it because it wasn't his dominant hand? He could use both easily enough... but no, these thoughts weren't helping. Darkness started creeping along the edges of his sight.
'Daruk!' he howled internally. Firming his stance, Link focused on the place in his soul where Daruk's spirit had once met his own. The goron's magic sprang to life, a vibrant red sphere snapping into place and, as Link had hoped, brutally shoving everything else away, including the malevolent magic lingering on the door.
His hand wrenched free of the knob, malignant burns crawling up the palm and encircling his wrist.
Link gasped harshly, panting for breath. His hand throbbed, and the effort it took to straighten was alarming. He thought briefly of backing out, of returning when he had recovered, but what if Umbridge knew somehow that her hex had been activated? He at least knew what to expect this time. Next time he might not get away.
That thought in mind, Link mentally ran through his options. He couldn't activate Daruk's Protection again; he hadn't the energy to spare. He didn't have enough magical know-how to deactivate or subvert whatever hex the ministry toad had used either.
But he did have something in his pack that might work.
With a silent apology to Harry, Link drew the penknife Sirius had given the younger wizard last year. It slid easily through the lock, the door springing open untouched. Warily, Link sidled into the room, dropping the letter on Umbridge's desk, making sure to touch nothing. He slipped back out just as fast and, with a newfound appreciation for charms, cast a quick "accio" on the door to pull it shut.
Link was barely standing by the time he made it back to the dorms. He vaguely thought he heard his friends' voices as he passed the common room. If they were there, their own mission must have been successful. Link didn't have the energy to spare it much thought however. He collapsed into bed fully clothed, dropping into slumber the moment his head hit the pillow.
Link passed the entirety of the next day groggy and ill-tempered. It was fortunate he didn't have Defense that day, it being Tuesday, otherwise Umbridge would have certainly known something was up. His three younger friends had naturally been concerned, particularly when they saw the damage to his hand, so Link was forced to explain the events of the night prior. Hermione had grimaced and told him he was lucky to have made it out as well as he had, trailing off in a mutter about familiar spells and research. Link had groggily asked her to pass along any new counter-spells she found, nearly face-planting into his lunch.
He was certainly too tired to care overmuch about the reformation of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ron and Harry had been ecstatic though, and even Hermione had been pleased, albeit for different reasons.
"It means it's working," she'd said smugly. "I've spoken to a lot of people today, and not a single club, team, or group of any kind has been refused. I still wouldn't risk our group becoming public knowledge, but I doubt she'll be able to hold expulsion over our heads anymore."
That was something, at least. Things were starting to look up. Especially when, as they discovered the next afternoon, Harry had found the location for their Defense meetings.
And that was how Link found himself watching his younger friends pace back-and-forth in front of a blank stretch of wall at seven o'clock that evening, wondering again at how bizarre the magic these wizards practiced was.
A door rippled into existence, drawing the attention of the four, and when they pushed it open the room inside was perfect. Hermione bee-lined for the large bookshelves filled with countless tomes about magical defense, while Ron toed a stack of plush cushions on the floor. Harry took it upon himself to greet the students trickling through the door, while Link tested his footing on the mats covering the length of the floor.
It didn't take long for all the students to arrive, and after that they swiftly dubbed themselves "Dumbledore's Army," in honor of the ministry's ludicrous fear. At a quarter past seven, the meeting had finally begun.
Link found himself surprised at how effective a teacher Harry was. He managed to impart the importance of the spell they would be practicing, got every single student involved, and ensured they all accomplished casting the spell successfully at least once. The fact that they wanted to be there helped, for sure, but almost without exception they'd all had fun and learned. Link was impressed.
At nearly half past eight Harry called time. It was a little later than they'd agreed, which meant Link wouldn't have as much time for his own lesson, but that was alright. He wasn't expecting any of them to master anything by the end of the hour, and wouldn't have even if they'd had more time.
"I noticed we've had quite a few falls today, practicing disarming," Link began. A few of the students smirked, ribbing each other playfully. More than one overpowered spell had knocked a friend to the ground. "So that's what we're going to start with today. How to fall."
The general playfulness of the atmosphere fell. "How is that helpful?" Zacharias asked moodily. These kids weren't anywhere near as excited when they weren't practicing magic.
Link smiled blandly. "Because the most damage you are likely to receive in a fight, unless you're actually hit by a spell, is from a fall. The fastest way you can be cornered is if you fall. The best way to mitigate both of those things is to learn to fall properly."
He called for a volunteer. Naturally, no one was particularly eager to step forward. Link waited patiently, long enough for the students to start shifting uncomfortably. Eventually Harry mustered his courage and stepped into the space cleared by Link.
The hylian cast a swift trip-jinx before Harry could properly react and held back a grimace as his wand hand itched from still-healing burns. Mipha's Grace hadn't been able to cure them entirely, and Link wondered if it was more dark magic on Umbridge's part. Harry fell face-first into the mats, to a small smattering of giggles.
"There are three things that Harry just did wrong. Can anyone name them?" he asked, shifting focus back to the lesson. Harry, who was just sitting up, seemed as startled as anyone by the number. Even Hermione looked unsure.
"He didn't have Constant Vigilance!" Fred joked, to whoops from his audience. They all remembered Mad-Eye (or his doppelganger); even Link, who'd only worked with him briefly that summer, was well-familiar with the phrase.
Link smiled and acknowledged the point. "Well, yes. But more specifically, when he fell."
He waited another moment for answers that didn't come. "Harry, was there anything that felt wrong when you landed?" the hylian prompted.
Harry blinked, hesitant. "Well, my wrist hurt a bit?" he shrugged.
"Yes, because you threw your hands in front of you." Link turned to face the rest of the room. "Those are the first two things that went wrong. Harry tensed and tried to catch himself."
"Okay, but why's that wrong?" Ron asked loudly.
"Because if Harry hadn't fallen on these mats, he'd have broken his wrist," Link said sharply. More than one DA member startled at his tone. "Imagine how hard it would be to fight if your wand arm were broken."
Finally, that got their full attention, so Link continued. "When you tense up you're more likely to injure yourself."
"Oh!" Hermione gasped, causing more than one student to turn towards her. She shrank a bit. "Sorry."
"No, continue."
The bushy-haired witch straightened uncertainly. "It's a bit like branches. The more flexible the wood, the harder it is to break. The more brittle, the easier it snaps. In this case tensing does the same thing; your body becomes more rigid, which is like making it more brittle."
Link nodded. "An apt analogy. And the fact that Harry caught himself?"
"All of the energy from his momentum and weight went straight to his wrists instead of dispersing."
"Exactly," Link said, mostly sure they were still talking about the same thing. "If you must catch yourself, never do so with just your hands. Your entire forearm, from palm to elbow, works much better if you can manage it. Better still is not to do so at all. The smaller the point of impact, the more likely you will break something. And the third thing?"
To everyone's surprise, it was Neville who answered. "He landed on his front?"
Link grinned. "Yes! When you land on your front you can't see what's happening around you; your head and neck simply don't have the range of motion necessary from that angle. It's far better to land on your back whenever possible, or at least get there quickly. Now I understand it's impossible to control all of these things all of the time. It's especially difficult to learn to loosen up when falling, especially in combat, so I've got a few other tricks to teach you. We're going start by practicing rolling with the momentum of your fall, and yes, that means you'll be getting knocked over; there's no substitute for real practice, that's why we're here..."
The students listened attentively, if not as excitedly as they had to Harry. There were a few grumbles as the students lined up to get thrown - mostly by Link, for safety's sake - but no one refused. All in all, it was a satisfying evening.
By the time November arrived Link dearly wished he could wear his plush rito armor, stuffed with insulating down to keep out the biting winds. The weather wasn't as bad as Hebra's, nowhere was as cold as Hebra, Link was sure, but the snow and the ice and the goddess-cursed wind were freezing all the same.
Link took to donning the rito headdress every morning in pure defiance of the cold, the enchanted rubies dangling from his hair doing more to combat the chill than thick robes ever could. He was sure Umbridge or Snape at least would take issue with it, but strangely they said nothing. Perhaps it wasn't close enough to a hat to be against the school's uniform policy. Who knew?
Outside the weather, things had been going well. Every DA member had thus far returned to the Room of Requirement for more lessons despite the ever-changing schedule (in no small part thanks to Hermione, whose enchanted coins were ingenious), and were advancing nicely. Harry had stuck so far to reviewing topics they had covered in previous years, but sorely needed some practice in, while Link had progressed from falls to footwork and balance and, after a lot of pressure from their shared students, to properly throwing punches. Thankfully the Room had summoned large bags of sand for them to hit while the hylian critiqued, otherwise he was sure one of the Weasleys would have hit Zacharias under some lame pretense by now.
Hopefully their interest in hitting each other would die quickly. The odds of a bunch of untrained teens getting within striking distance in a wizard's battle were low enough to be negligible, so Link would much prefer to work on their dodging and situational awareness. Such skills would be far more valuable in the long run, and Link would drill them in it for as long as he could get away with. He just needed a good way to simulate live combat without a bunch of kids hexing each other first. Worst case scenario he supposed he could limit which spells they cast...
Link shook his head and focused back on the game, not entirely sure what the point of it was. Flying looked nice, and from experience Link knew those brooms were far faster than his paraglider, but Quidditch itself seemed wasteful. The hylian could think of a thousand things he'd rather be doing than searching for a ball a hundred feet in the air. He'd had enough of that hunting koroks.
Regardless, he'd agreed to come and support Ron and Harry's first game of the season. Harry was circling the pitch trying to find the little winged ball, which honestly was not very interesting to watch. Ron... was not doing well. His nerves had gotten the better of him, it seemed, and it was making him too indecisive and unsure to properly guard the hoops. The Slytherin team had taken full advantage, and before even a quarter-hour had passed, everyone in the stands knew victory or loss would be down to the speed of Gryffindor's seeker.
And then the Slytherins across the pitch, nestled safely from the red-clad Gryffindors in their distant stands, began to chant. Link's heart sank at the nasty words undoubtedly invented by that childish little brat, Draco Malfoy, who seemed to find validation only in cruelty. The Slytherin team was already winning; what purpose did this serve? How was it that boy could incite his entire house into such petty mind games?
In the end, Gryffindor managed to pull a win, but only because Harry was swift enough to snatch the golden snitch out of the air before the green-clad flyers. It had to be frustrating for the Slytherins, who had worked hard to rack up their points, only to have victory stolen away by a single player gaining enough points as to be considered unfair in a single instant. Link might have been sympathetic if the entirety of their house hadn't devoted the game to making one of his friends miserable.
"Malfoy is horrible," Hermione bit out, frustrated. Even though the Gryffindor team had won, none of them seemed especially happy, least of all Ron. Then the pale blond Link had managed to avoid only through repeated, heavy use of the library swaggered toward Harry and Link felt his mood sink further.
This could not possibly end well.
Hermione traded him a brief, fearful glance before booking it from the stands. Link didn't bother forcing his way through the students. He leapt over their heads, clearing the stands entirely, and whipped his paraglider out of his enchanted pack. A few startled screams followed him down, but Link merely stowed his glider away again and ran.
Link's sharp ears caught the foul words spilling from the blond Slytherin's mouth and winced. A century ago, if such insults had been leveled at his home and family, he would have been well within his rights to punish the offending party and no one would have so much as blinked. This world's rules were a little different though, and retaliation would mean nothing good for any of them.
To his credit, Harry tried to reign in his temper. Link could see even from across the pitch that he was breathing deliberately slowly in the three-count Link had taught him that night after Fred and George's prank. It just wasn't enough.
Angelina managed to pin Fred before he could launch himself at the bully, but George slipped from her grasp and executed a perfectly formed punch straight at the boy's nose. A sickening crunch resounded across the pitch, a violent noise that gave even Harry pause. It gave him just enough time for Link to use Harry's momentum against him, throwing the wizard to the ground, knee planted in the small of his back. He had the green-eyed wizard's arm in tight grip, pushed painfully behind his back. Link didn't use holds very often; his slender build and slight weight made it nearly impossible to keep from being thrown off. While he could do some damage in the process, it usually just wasn't worth it. Fortunately Harry, in his rage, was too distracted to squirm away.
"Breathe," Link commanded. "One... two... three..."
"I. Don't. Want. To. Calm. Down," Harry snarled. "That little ferret-"
"I don't care," Link interrupted flatly. "I'm not letting you up until you do. Now, one," he counted sharply, "Two. Three." Impa had done this for him once, Link recalled, when he was thirteen and new to his destiny, after a nobleman had spat in his face, calling him nothing but a brat who would cause them all to fall to Calamity. Link had burned with such fury and insecurity that, like the child he'd been, he had dissolved into inconsolable tears. Impa had forced him to breathe with her, and that day he'd gained a friend and teacher. He hoped she was doing well, back in Kakariko.
Harry's breathing slowed out of pure reflex, weeks of meditation serving him well. His struggles ceased, and Link warily climbed off his back.
By that time Madam Hooch had frozen George in his tracks with a swiftly snapped spell. Her amber eyes flashed in outrage as she took in Malfoy, clutching his bleeding nose, wand lying forgotten in the cropped grass. She could barely force the words to send George to castle out through the strength of her anger, and rounded immediately on Fred and Harry once he'd gone.
"You two," she snapped, "back to your dorms at once." Hooch didn't seem to know what to do with Link's presence, so she ignored him entirely. She flicked her wand, levitated Malfoy gently from the ground, and stalked toward the hospital wing.
Link followed after Harry in tense silence, joined by Hermione, who'd finally struggled her way past the crowds. Ron had thoughtfully collected his brothers' and Harry's brooms, and so didn't catch up until they were safely within Gryffindor tower. He looked miserable, and not entirely on his friend and family's behalf.
To their surprise George did not take long to return, and gave a stiff report of a week's detention, to be served with their Head of House. "And McGonagall would like a word with the two of you," he added to Fred and Harry.
Hermione sighed in relief. "I thought for sure Umbridge would intervene somehow."
"Oh she tried," George informed her darkly. "Tried to punish Fred and Harry, too, but McGonagall wouldn't have any of it. You can bet we'll be seeing some awful new "Educational Decree" soon enough, though. The old toad was practically hopping by the time I left."
"Think we should do something?" Harry asked. His anger had finally drained away and he was left sitting before the fireplace, exhausted.
Fred and George traded a glance, leaning in to listen curiously.
"We should see what she does, first," Hermione said practically. "If there's a viable work around we don't want to do anything. The more we push, the more likely it is she retaliates in a way we don't expect."
"What's this all about, then?" Fred asked.
Hermione pursed her lips. "Never you mind."
"More importantly," Link interrupted, "what were you three thinking?"
The twins turned to him, startled. Harry, blinking, followed suit.
"I'm not teaching you to attack your fellow students. No matter how obnoxious," Link added at their frowns.
"He bloody well deserved it, the rat," George hissed.
"It doesn't matter," Link growled. "This could have easily ended in disaster. It still might. From what I've heard, Malfoy comes from a powerful family. What happens when he retaliates? Does his father not have the ear of your minister?"
Fred and George went a little pale, and Harry's mouth snapped shut. He might have been safe from the Malfoys, but the Weasleys were not. Dumbledore could only do so much.
"If this is how you're going to use what I teach you, then I won't have you in my lessons," Link said seriously. "I can't stop you from committing reckless violence, but I won't encourage it either. The next time you throw a punch at another student you will be facing me."
Link had taken down two dementors with a sword while half dead from exhaustion. They wouldn't stand a chance and they knew it. "You got it, boss," Fred said moodily. George nodded.
Link pinned Harry with a lupine glare. "Fine," he said grudgingly. The hylian waited him out until he added churlishly, "Won't happen again."
"Good," Link nodded, not entirely satisfied. It would have to be enough.
Harry was stressed. The faint frown lines darkening his brow never really seemed to fade anymore, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were growing darker. Link supposed it was natural that they boy would have nightmares; from what he'd heard, the end of his last school year had been particularly traumatic.
But there was also the return of their delightful friend and teacher, Hagrid. The hylian was beginning to wonder if there was some correlation between size and friendliness. The man was as big as Sidon, and just as impressively warm and generous. And though it was clear he was a bit unrefined as a teacher, he had a passion and depth of knowledge about magical creatures that really shone in his work.
Link had enjoyed meeting the thestrals. Many of the others had been a little spooked, which the hylian supposed was understandable, but Link deeply regretted being unable ride one of the beasts. A day trip through the Forbidden Forest would have been amazing. He'd been cooped up in the castle for far too long.
Unfortunately, Umbridge had not only been present, but she'd clearly had some sort of vendetta against the giant (Half-giant? What were giants? Except, well, large.) from the outset. His first day back and he was already under fire, the threat of termination from his post at Hogwarts horrifyingly likely.
They put a great deal of thought into applying more pressure on the toad-woman. Unfortunately, she'd already been acting as judge over the teachers for well over a month in collaboration with the minister. Her position there was well established, as unfortunate as it was. They also had no way of knowing whether or not she was sole arbiter or sharing her evaluations with the ministry; if she had been, anything they did would ultimately be useless.
Even if she hadn't, if they tried to force her hand at this juncture, not only would it obviously be about Hagrid, it would also point straight to the trio as his friends. They would be jeopardizing the delicate hold they had over her actions, and open themselves up for retaliation. The only way they could do anything would be to actually carry out their implied threat from her last "Educational Decree" and get her arrested.
Harry had been furious at this realization, and then at Link and Hermione both when they agreed that they couldn't risk it. Ron had sided with Harry. The four had very nearly dissolved into an explosive argument in the middle of the common room over the issue, before common sense had kicked in and they'd removed themselves to the Room of Requirement.
Then they'd had their argument. The Room of Requirement was a magnificent place indeed, and Harry had settled the issue by fire-calling Sirius where, to everyone's surprise, he and Lupin had weighed in favor of Link and Hermione's caution. Better an obvious bigot the students near-unanimously hated then someone new that could get them thinking like the ministry. Or, goddess-forbid, a plant from Voldemort.
Harry had spent the next half-hour systematically taking his temper out on vases summoned by the Room.
It was this in combination with homework, Quidditch practice, and the DA that made for a particularly stressed wizard. So much so that when Harry burst out of bed in the middle of the night three weeks later Link merely thought he'd had a stress-induced nightmare. Link had attempted the obvious solution of guiding Harry through more breathing exercises, into proper meditation preferably, but the younger wizard had been too panicked to listen, shouting madly about snakes and Arthur Weasley. In the end Neville had gotten McGonagall, and they'd both gone, taking Ron with them.
They hadn't come back. By the time morning arrived, Fred, George, and Ginny had gone as well.
Link was left feeling surprisingly listless without his usual company around, too worried to focus well on his research, which had hit a wall some time ago regardless. Hermione had joined him in his fretting after he'd explained what he knew, and they'd sat in silence, flipping through their selected books without internalizing a word.
Or so he thought.
"Oh, Link, look at this," Hermione said, all but shoving a book in his hands. "I thought you might find it interesting."
She'd placed a book about myths in his hands, opened to a story about a realm with no day or night. Honestly, had she been reading over his shoulder? He hadn't realized his book selections had been so obvious to her...
Wait. Link stared at the text incredulously. The realm of no day or night. That sounded awfully familiar, and Link thought back to the ceremony a century ago, where Zelda had used the phrase "steeped in the glowing embers of twilight." Some of their oldest legends spoke of a hero that had traveled through a world of twilight and rescued its princess.
Link closed his eyes. Twin faces flashed through his mind, pale blue skin with fiery hair and eyes, one childlike and impish, the other serene and regal. 'Midna?' he thought, vague impressions of fire and laughter and heartbreak settling firm in his chest. Something deep within him howled, all triumph and mourning and primal ferocity.
The fleeting memory of another lifetime, sleeping within his soul.
There was something else though, something important. He thought vaguely of spirits and... a curse? A flash of gold and a stalfo, perhaps, crossed his mind with a rhythmic clinking of chain and a... a cat? That was talking? It said something about Link no longer being dumb. That last seemed really important somehow, though the hylian was at a loss as to why.
Link's eyes opened and he turned them on the girl sitting across from him. "Thanks, Hermione," he said with more solemnity than he intended. The witch blinked at his seriousness, watching curiously out of the corner of her eye even as she turned to her homework.
The hylian settled in to read, skimming first for pertinent phrases, a trick Hermione had taught him earlier that year, when she realized he wasn't a particularly fast reader.
'...A tale from my mother's mother, from her mother and more, stretching long into antiquity, tells of the existence of world of neither day nor night, a land ever caught between the two... Its inhabitants named themselves thus; Twili, children of this land of eternal Twilight...descendants of a tribe from the realm of Light...but not all of their children survived intact, becoming instead shades that could do naught but consume the light of others, the Light which makes us who we are... The shades slipped into our world, and wrought such fierce destruction that only the most powerful wizards survived their purge... Once the danger had passed, the gateway which connects our world to theirs was then buried, and all texts pertaining to it burned...'
Link nearly stopped breathing, gaze hungrily devouring the pages within the text. Shades that consumed what made people who they were. Could the story be referring to dementors? If so, that was the second time a book had mentioned them in relation to gateways and other worlds, and what he'd thought mere coincidence was looking distinctly less so. And the Twilight Realm, for there was no other place it could be, was real, was bordered to Hyrule from its seat in the world of Light.
Link did not recall much from his previous lives, but the connection between Hyrule and Twilight had been destroyed, hadn't it? Perhaps not entirely. Maybe there was a lingering opening still, enough for those creatures - the shades, dementors - to fall through. Enough for Link to fall through. The goddesses were indeed watching out for him still, for his vague recollections to be enough to give him such insight.
The Hylian forcibly calmed himself. All this was mere conjecture. He had no proof, had no way to find the gate, should it still exist. Nothing but a newfound conviction rooted firmly in his mind.
He pulled out his Slate, tapping swiftly at the screen, committing every word of his thoughts to the journal stored within with a fevered intensity he could tell startled Hermione. He skimmed through his prior notations, what few there were, and linked the brief notes from the night of the sorting and the story about gateways to his newest additions. When that was finished, he started from the beginning of the section, carefully reading every word of the myth within the precious tome.
Link felt more hopeful than he had in months, certain that this was the key. He would find this gateway, would pass through Twilight and into Light. There were no other options.
The little girl. His Zelda. She would not grow up fatherless, her mother a widow.
"I had no idea this was so important to you," Hermione began carefully, some time later.
Link nodded absently, flipping to the sources listed in the back of the book. His heart sank a bit when he looked through the lists of names and books, all dated decades ago. The people weren't likely to be alive then, even if he could track them down, a feat he rather doubted. The books might be in Hogwarts' library though, but that would have to wait until morning. Actually, they'd be off to Grimmauld for the wizards' holiday tomorrow, wouldn't they? Link wondered if it were too late to change his mind and stay at the school. Or maybe the Black family library would have more...
"Link, is there... is there some way I can help you?"
The hylian paused his perusal, blinking up at the girl.
"It's only, well, you've done so much for us already and you're clearly trying very hard to look for something," she rambled. "But I don't know what," she added, a hint of frustration leaking into her voice. "You never talk about yourself! And this is obviously very important to you... I'm very good at research, you know..." she trailed off. Which was very true; Hermione only had the vaguest idea of what he was looking for and already she'd found as much, if not more, then he had in the entirety of his time at the school.
Link hesitated, realizing that for all he knew of his friends, he'd not once told them why he was at Hogwarts. They had enough of their own troubles to contend with. They didn't need his on top of it all.
Hermione took in his hesitation and bit her lip. "Please?"
His resolve crumbled. It was that same look Zelda gave him whenever she wanted something he didn't want to give, and he had not the will to outright deny her.
"I think you might have already realized my circumstances are unusual," he began dryly. Hermione's lips twitched in good humor. "I don't know how I got here, to your world, though I have my suspicions."
"To our world? The wizarding world?"
Link shook his head, hesitated once more, then handed Hermione the Sheikah Slate. She frowned down at it. The text was all in Hylian. "No, I mean your world, as in Earth. My home, Hyrule, is linked to various realms: Twilight, Termina. It has at least a peripheral connection to this realm. Unfortunately, the direct pathways were lost or closed centuries ago, in some cases millennia. I need to find them again to get home."
Hermione's eyes were very wide, but she didn't look disbelieving. Whatever information she'd managed to gather prior to this discussion was visibly clicking into place. She clutched the Slate with white-knuckled hands.
Link drew his blackthorn wand, warmth tingling at his fingertips. Hermione nodded at his questioning glance. "Eadem Linguae," he cast, the magic settling over the witch like a cloak. She looked down at the Slate in awe as the Hylian rearranged itself into words she could understand. "Those are all my research notes," he informed her quietly. He licked his lips. "Perhaps you can make better use of them than I."
She read through them slowly, scribbling down questions and notes on a blank parchment before returning the Slate with trembling hands. "I - I have so many questions," she squeaked, lips quivering from the effort to not spill all of them out at once. "Tell me everything," she demanded finally, breathlessly.
And so Link did, starting from the dementors invading Gerudo Desert, all the way to his discussion with Dumbledore. Hermione stopped him periodically with questions that Link answered to the best of his ability. Why was Link the only one to fall through? How had he fought the dementors, and why was he the only one capable? What was the significance of the Arbiter's Grounds? One after the other until hours had passed, parchments filling with Hermione's neat, cramped writing, and Hylian script eating up the Slate's screen.
By the time morning light filtered into the common room, neither had gotten any sleep, but Link hadn't felt so productive in ages.
Why hadn't he told Hermione sooner? She was brilliant, truly, and deserved every ounce of appreciation he could give her and more.
"Mr. Hyrule, Ms. Granger. The Headmaster would like to speak with you."
Both of them startled at the sound of McGonagall's voice and Link hastily tucked away the Slate. Hermione stuffed her notes in her bag.
"Is this about what happened yesterday?" Hermione questioned.
The professor's brows rose. "You mean the day before, Ms. Granger?" she asked dryly.
Hermione nodded sheepishly. McGonagall merely shook her head in exasperation. "It is," she replied simply, and the three swept out of the tower.
Despite the tired bruises lining both their eyes and the grave news that was sure to come, Link was left feeling warm with satisfaction and a lingering light of hope welling in his heart.
Everything would turn out alright, he couldn't help but think. He was going to make it home.