Beta's: 5/8/2015

Solo.

Chapter 9, Souls in Harmony

Hermione leaned against the bark of the tree behind her as the night started to take hold of the world around her. Her thoughts lost in the past as she contemplated her future. She wasn't there when Harry fought Quill for the stone. Hermione wasn't there when he fought the Basilisk. Yes, she had the time tuner that allowed them to save Sirius but, it was Harry figured out they needed to save Buckbeak. It was Harry who drove away over a hundred Dementor's with his Patronus.

Hermione sighed to herself. It seemed like it was always Harry saving others. Hermione's eyes slightly glazed as she fell into an old memory from fourth year. The one time Harry needed saving. The one time she could have stepped forward like he'd done for her all these years. She ignored the shameful tears that fell from her eyes as she remembered her greatest failure to her beloved.

She stared from her seat into the great hedges before her; biting her nails. The entire tournament had just been one disaster after another. At the moment Harry was somewhere in that maze of lethal shrubbery fighting only God knew what, alone.

She thought darkly that whoever decided that it this would be a great task seriously needed to be checked into St. Mungo's Mental Ward for an examination. Granted, if she could actually see what was going on inside it would most likely make her feel worse but this whole not knowing anything was driving her spare.

The crowd had broken up into many small groups conversing about the champions. The cornucopia of voices grated raw on her nerves as they discussed who would emerge with the cup, and worse, who would return injured. Hermione was thankful to see Madam Pomfrey below with a team of Medi-Witches from St. Mungo's, if only because she knew that if nobody else got hurt, Harry would.

Suddenly a shooting red spark that caused several gasps from the crowd and the buzz of their voices to rise. Each wondering who needed rescue and had been disqualified. A big part of her hoped it was Harry, or better that he had just simply opted out of this stupid thing.

She knew better though, Harry may not have entered himself into this ignorant spectacle but he wasn't a quitter. That stubborn boy would see this farce through to the bitter end. Which was something Hermione was very worried about.

They spent the last few months preparing for this task together and Harry's spell repertoire was second only to hers of their fellow students. Added to this was the fact she knew that something could have blown Harry in half and he would have still crawled forward trying to complete this fool competition.

She loved him for his intensity and drive, but hated it also. So many things would be easier for him if he just learned to keep his head down and bail out once in a while.

Several moments later Professor Flitwick brought an unconscious Fleur Delecour out of the maze. The Beauxbatons contingent groaned at seeing their champion down and out of the competition but several rushed to see what was wrong. She was very much unconscious but her body was shaking in spasms. That did not bode well to Hermione, she didn't know of any spells that would do that, except for a few really dark spells she had only heard vague references too.

Following the diminutive professor was Hagrid carrying the still form of Victor Krum. He too was brought forward to the healers but he did not show any obvious injuries. Hermione was sitting close to them and could hear bits of their conversations while they worked. This was one of the reasons she was sitting in this particular seat. She knew, she just knew in her bones that Harry would need medical attention when he got out of this damn thing and wanted to be close when it happened.

The St. Mungo's healers didn't know what was wrong with Delacour but the evidence showed she was put under a great amount of pain, unfortunately for the French champion none of the spells or potions worked to alleviate any of them. The only conclusion they could come to was so ridiculous that none of them put any stock in it, so kept trying to find a potion or spell that would work.

Victor was easier to rouse, a simple Enervate did the trick, which to her mind suggested he was Stupefied. Who would do that though? Surely neither Harry nor Diggory would go to such lengths to win this stupid tournament? She knew Harry wouldn't. Victor though was almost no help at all. The last thing he remembered was walking along one of the tunnels when he blacked out.

Hermione frowned at hearing that. It sounded believable but Harry and her had gotten to know the Bulgarian Seeker quite well over the last few months and he seemed…dodgy at the moment. She turned her eyes to the maze wondering if Harry was okay. It was definitely a Hogwarts victory now, much to the pleasure of the majority of the crowd, but which one would take the cup? Hermione didn't care so long as Harry came out of that thing whole, healthy, and alive.

Time passed slowly for her as the crowd grew restless. Cedric and Harry had been in the maze for a very long time and the crowd was getting antsy. The entire time Hermione looked fearfully and with each passing moment that Harry had yet to return tore at her insides. The teachers had grown a bit concerned themselves from what she could see.

Currently they were huddled up talking amongst themselves when out of nowhere a great swirling vortex of various shades of blues burst before them dropping two bodies onto the floor startling everyone while creating a dead silence. Hermione could just make out the forms of Cedric and Harry when the band started playing but the happy victory music was ill suited to what registered before her eyes.

Harry was crying. The only other time she ever seen him cry was at night when it was just the two of them. Harry, never cried where anyone would be able to see him, yet there he was doing just that.

As the scene before her began to fully register she screamed. Harry's clothes were in horrible condition but the worst part was the great gash that flowed blood from his right arm. His body was shaking similarly to Fleur's and he seemed incoherent. Dumbledore rushed forward while she tried to get down to him only to be held back by a tearful McGonagall. No matter how much she tried fighting the older witch she could not get away to be close to Harry.

"Come, let us go to the Hospital Wing child, that is where Alastor will take him now." McGonagall told her while they both watched Moody lead Harry into the castle.

Hermione looked up into the face of her mentor and nodded before she hurried for the castle herself. Hermione looked around at the main entrance but didn't see either of them and continued to make her way to the Hospital wing. When they arrived however, they didn't find Harry there either. Panic roared through her when it became obvious that no one knew where Harry was. McGonagall stood puzzled until Dumbledore burst into the door, whispered something to her and they both ran from the room.

She felt so helpless sitting on 'Harry's Bed' in the Hospital Wing. She didn't know what to do, how to help, and simply sat waiting for someone to bring Harry to her. She was useless, she thought to herself.

Whatever he had faced in the Maze obviously was something more than she managed to help him prepare for. Images of Harry shaking, bleeding, sobbing, and broken holding an obviously dead Diggory stuck in her mind. She sat there on his bed, crying and waiting for someone to bring him to her, terrified and inconsolable.

Hermione snapped out of that horrible memory. Evening had set firmly around her and the full moon shone very bright before her dominating the night's sky. All about her everything was highlighted in its soft pale blue glow giving the world around her an ethereal appearance. It was almost as if she was in some place in between worlds where reality touched the afterlife.

Her little trip down memory lane only cemented her resolve. Harry was hurt worse than he was then and she had no intention of being useless this time. She loved him, he was everything to her and this time she was going to fight for him. Harry had never done less for her and she vowed to herself after that tournament that she would never do less for him again. No price was too great for Harry, not to her. She slowly rose from the bench she was sitting watching the night sky and made her way toward the cabin where the Shaman and Harry waited. It was time.

She walked into the cabin, a determined set to her features. For most of the day the Shaman locked himself within preparing for the healing while she waited. As soon as she walked in Jim passed her wishing her luck before he posted himself outside to prevent anyone from interrupting them. Hermione thanked him before she began to disrobe.

According to the Shaman nudity was required. There mustn't be anything within the Rituals influence that can taint the magic's he was going to invoke and attempt to control. She did not understand a lot of what was going to happen but she trusted the older man who spent his life learning such things. Once she completed her task she took a deep steadying breath and strode into Harry's room.

The first thing she noticed was Harry's nude form lying on a pallet of skins and furs. His body was painted in strange symbols and runic designs she didn't recognize. The dark patterns glowed an eerie pale gold and seemed to pulse with the beating of his heart. Hermione took a moment to allow her eyes to roam the room. Bowls of slowly burning herbs rested about and the only light came from the fireplace. They smelled refreshing yet her made her mind slightly hazy and her eyes water a bit. She became startled a moment later by the ghostly voice of the Shaman sounding next to her.

"All is ready. Are you prepared Daughter of Owl?"

Hermione spun surprised to find an equally naked older man standing next to her. Her arm moved to cover her self from his eyes before she stopped. She took a deep breath to relax before she nodded.

Hovering above the Shaman's left shoulder a human skull floated, a purple light burned within its eyes and as the Shaman spoke, its jaw worked mimicking speech. Words she could understand flowed from the chilling sight.

The Shaman never allowed his eyes to roam from her own when he began speaking. "Peace child. In this moment we are not a man and woman. We are simply the vessels in which our souls are carried."

He must have noticed her eyes locked on the skull as he answered her silent question. "A useful relic created by my wife many years ago during our travels. She was gifted with language yet we traveled to many places her great gifts could not assist us. She crafted this for such times when her own skills failed. It is little used due to other people's belief that such constructs are inherently evil."

Forgetting their shared nudity for the moment she reflectively asked, "I thought you traveled alone?"

The ancient man before her chuckled and her stomach turned just a bit when the skull mimicked his amusement. "No child, I left our people when I became a man. I had to pass through the rituals of our people. One of them was marriage."

"My wife, gifted as she was with many languages of many peoples, was often my voice to those I wished to learn from. She called this construct 'The Voice of all People'. I am not wise in her arts and do not know how she made it but it was very useful when her skills failed."

Hermione soaked up the information noting only that it was a better translator than Jim was. His words were a lot clearer using the skull thing, even if it was a bit unnerving to look at. Her eyes move back to Harry's prone form and simply nodded letting her questions die, Harry needed her. Hermione faced the older man and stood completely still knowing he needed to paint her in similar runes if she was to help Harry, the sooner the better.

The Shaman took notice of her commitment and raised the bowl he was holding in his left hand up a bit and stepped in front of her. He dipped two fingers into the thick paste and raised them to prepare to draw the symbols but hesitated just shy of actually touching her. Despite his words earlier Hermione could tell he was hesitant himself. By what little she knew of these things from her talks with him and Jim she knew that their current situation was not one that had come up within his time tending to his people.

"Do it." She stated as she reached forward and pulled his hand the last inch into the skin of her soft stomach.

The paste was cold, almost unnaturally cold which caused her to take a sharp breath. His hesitation was banished by her commitment allowing him to focus on his work. Hermione kept her eyes on Harry's form standing as still as she could trying to ignore the foreign touch of the Shaman as he set about his task.

It did not take long for him to dress her in symbols almost identical to those painted on Harry. She followed his instructions when he finished lay herself next to Harry and clasping hands with him.

"Remember," The Shaman spoke as she crawled into position next to Harry. "I cannot help you once the two of you are bound. The Darkness will fight the connection. You will not be able to succeed unless you can pull Raven from his inner prison."

"Once you have succeeded in joining your inner self with Raven you will need to break the connection the Darkness has over him. I will aid you, if I can, from here. However, I will not be of much assistance until you have begun. Once you unseat the Darkness I will begin pulling it out of Son of Raven."

"I am ready." Hermione stated with conviction. I can do this. Hold on Harry…

She closed her eyes when he began to chant in his native language. At first she could feel only the light breeze trailing along the cold paste on her body before she started to feel a bit uncomfortable. Suddenly her eyes snap open as pain beyond anything she ever felt in her life tore through her causing her hand to clench tight in Harry's, her back to arch, and a scream to rip itself from her throat.

XxXDaRXxX

A battle scarred middle-aged man appeared out of thin air with a barely audible pop into the forested area. His scared face moved side to side taking in his surroundings before he relaxed and started limping forward satisfied that no threats waited to ambush him. This was the reported area of the incident Riley told him about a few hours ago.

Directly in front of him was a fallen tree that appeared to have been blown apart at the trunk. He waved his wand over the splintered remains a few times and frowned at the results. The curse was definitely dark but not one he recognized. What it did was obvious judging by the fallen tree across the path. Mad-Eye Moody shuttered thinking what that could have done if it had actually hit a body instead of a tree. Spells like this made the Unforgivables seem almost humane.

After a quick read on the scene his doubts were laid to rest; Potter was here. He stood on the site and began to visualize what had happened using the many years under his belt working such scenes. He looked around with his good eye slightly glassy as he watched the specters of Potter and Granger fight off their enemies.

The attackers were definitely not Death Eaters. He could not find one Unforgivable signature anywhere, though one of the pair wasn't exactly concerned for the kid's safety, and Death Eaters loved their Unforgivables.

He shook his head at the low level spells Granger and Potter used to attempt to escape. From a tactical standpoint the only positive thing he could say about their performance was they were very inventive, though not as effective as they should have been. He wondered idly if they had panicked or if they tactically responded to the threat. The answer would tell him a lot about the kids.

Potter and Granger's Magical Signature told him they used the fallen tree as cover early in the fight. Conjurations, low to mild transfigurations and banishers mostly. Annoying to a well-prepared assailant and moderately effective as a stalling tactic but not efficient use of magical energies. Had they been anyone else, say the Weasley boy, or most of their classmates bar Longbottom, they would have exhausted themselves using such tactics. Granger was gifted however, and Potter was powerful in his own right as well.

He had an idea for where Potter stood judging by the raw magic he funneled into whatever he had summoned to aid them. Mad-Eye would have laid good gold that it had to be massively heavy and a goodly distance away. Whatever was summoned was pretty decent sized judging by the way the forest was disturbed creating a visible path to them from the muggle roadway.

While Potter and his girly fought using Hogwarts standard spells their assailants held no such restraint. Mad-Eye found one of the pair used various explosive curses, cutters, and area effect magics. The other spent most of his time trying to shield from Granger, some healing where Granger must have scored some hits, and various mild to heavy stunners.

The trail grew interesting from here as Potter and Granger found a way to escape at great speed and the Hit Wizards moved to intercept. He could tell which one cut them off whereby the spells he detected, until he got to the cliff. Moody apparated below to where Potter must have landed. He growled when he found nothing except for the disturbance of the landing. It was clear to see that something must have gone wrong with the landing due to how disturbed the area was but the trail did not so much go cold as completely die.

The grizzled old ex-Auror frowned. Someone well versed in concealing movements was here and cleaned the site. There was little doubt in his mind that whoever it was took Potter with them. The only question was if they were friend or foe. Knowing Potter's luck, that axe could have swung either way. Mad-Eye only hoped he wasn't too late to help the lad if unfriendly forces captured him.

XxXDaRXxX

The old Shaman slumped against the wall breathing heavily. Through the hide curtain over the window he could see the light of day pushing back the night. Appropriate he thought considering the night's events. Light pushing back the Darkness.

He looked through exhausted eyes toward the bedding where Son of Raven and Daughter of Owl laid in each other's embrace. Facing each other, bodies cuddled as close as each could get without sharing the same skin. The lines of power pulsed in time with each other telling him both slept deeply with hearts beating as one.

The battle to heal Raven had taken all he had to give but seeing both young ones sleeping so peacefully warmed his heart. Daughter of Owl succeeded and the binding had allowed him to succeed in freeing Son of Raven from the Darkness within. However he was unable to unbind their souls. When he had tried they fought him, seemingly unwilling to part from each other. He knew that was a possibility, and one of two outcomes if the binding was successful. In time the experience will change them.

How much was uncertain but from his knowledge of the bond he knew a blending of their personalities, minds, knowledge, skills, and such would occur. The degree of change would greatly depend on them. It would take some time for the bond to mature and the changes would take some time to manifest but manifest it will. Seeing them so content banished any worries about them he might have had from before. Their souls had not just taken to the bond but embraced it as only two deeply in love could do.

The sudden racking cough that overtook him dropped him to his knees for a few moments. Raven was free of the Darkness but he had not been entirely honest with young Owl. Once he discovered what was affecting young Raven he knew which medicine he would need to use. He had told Daughter of Owl he could cut the Darkness from Son of Raven and kill it, but the truth was that was never a possibility. Not without cost.

The only thing he could do was take the Darkness and place it into another vessel. During his travels he had heard rumors of a great Sand People from across the Great Waters who knew more but he had never learned of those medicines. He did learn how to transfer the Darkness from one host to another, which is what he had done. In order to save young Raven he took the Darkness into himself.

Already he could feel it inside him trying to bind itself to him like it did with the young man in front of him, seeking to control him, bind his will to its own. Unlike young Raven, he knew it was there and what it was trying to do and could fight it, for long enough anyways.

How young Raven survived so long with this evil in him was a wonder all to its own and a testament to Raven's will. The Shaman could feel it attempting to enter his mind with its sinister influence. Foreign emotions masked subtly to appear as his own flowed through him attempting to weaken his will. It called upon all his worst memories, twisting his life into a parody of what it was like trying to turn him to its thinking.

Pure Evil, this piece of the enemy he freed from Raven. With careful ease the aged man rose to his feet and stumbled into the main room. Here he carefully knelt in the center and pulled the great bear hide that rested there away revealing the circle of power he had hidden there.

The circle was very complex and had come from peoples far to the west. Once activated it would cage him inside never to leave until it was destroyed, which could only happen from outside its influence. The only way for any inside to leave otherwise was through death. Like all right minded peoples he did not fear death by any means. He had led a very full life and with Raven healed, his purpose was complete. Carefully he moved his shaking arm downward to draw the last line activating the circle and sealing himself inside.

Within him he could sense the Darkness screaming in rage knowing its end was coming. Carefully he picked up the bone dagger that rested in the center of the runescape. It was a special weapon made from the arm bone of his Great Grandfather, carved with spiritual runes. The hilt was adorned with feathers from Owls and Ravens. It was sharp enough to pierce his breast and heart with ease.

The aged Shaman raised his proud head and held the dagger aloft. He stepped from the healer's path and for the first time set himself on the path of the warrior. His ancestors reward for the years he sacrificed to their will. Finally, he would face battle as a Warrior of the People, and kill a great enemy.

'Hear my thoughts, Great Darkness across the Waters, and listen well. I am TwoMauls, of the People of the Flint, and I know your secret. Raven knows your secret and is free. Take this knowledge upon yourself and tremble for though this is the last battle of TwoMauls, Raven flies free and he comes for you…

A quick sure thrust felled the ancient man, a knowing smile on his peaceful face. The sphere of power that had trapped him faded away leaving the room in near darkness. Two forms dropped from the ceiling landing near his body as they watched the light slowly leave his eyes. After a moment the great raven and owl took wing through the window with their bravest child carried between them. Bearing him with honor to the lands of his forefathers.

Authors Notes:

Okay, Chapter Nine revision is done. For those of you interested in the story instead of my drivel, by all means leave a review telling me what you think of this chapter, and then hit that 'Next' button. Enjoy the read. As always thank you to all reviews and readers. You are noticed and appreciated.

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