So, this is a day early. Lucky you :P
That said, AND PLEASE READ: I'm sorry to say that I won't be able to update GE for the next several weeks or so- probably not until the 8th of November. There are two reasons for this; one, I've run out of chapter backlogs, so I no longer have a buffer between updates. Two; I'm in the back end of uni, and I have two major art projects to produce, two major essays and two weeks of pre-service teaching prac coming up in the next month. So writing is definitely going to have to go on the back burner. I didn't want to do this, and I didn't really want to do it in this chapter, but it's become unavoidable. So... sorry.
In other... things. A HUGE thank-you to everyone who left reviews on the last chapter! I haven't had the time this last fortnight to reply to most people, which is a little disheartening, because there are some people who left so fantastic comments- know that you are very much loved and I thank you for taking the time to leave me something. It is seriously one of the best feelings to get such awesome feedback from my readers! It has seriously made my busy, busy fortnight XD Please keep it up!
Anyways: onwards, I suppose.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Run Rabbit, Run.
For the briefest of moments, Harry is frozen in his place, entirely unsure of what he's supposed to do- because is he for-fucking-real, what-the-shit. And then his stupid brain kicks into gear before it gets him killed and he's launching himself to the side, behind a tree and away from the fucking-bullshit dagger of Loki's.
"What the hell!" He yells from his (laughably piteous) hiding spot.
Loki laughs, loud and giddy and absolutely and completely unhinged.
Harry is definitely regretting his decision to not try and escape from Loki now.
"Fight me, Potter!" The deranged Asgardian shouts, sounding gleeful enough to be absolutely terrifying.
"I'm not going to bloody fight you!" Harry replies rather hysterically. He knew his luck would turn bad again, he thinks sourly as a missile of green fire overshoots his hiding place by several meters. It lands on the ground and explodes into globules of sticky flames. He swears, "Have you fucking seen yourself?" He rolls away from another missile that lands noticeably closer to his stupidly vulnerable person, "You're like the fucking boss fight on a video game and I haven't even made it past beginner's level!"
Loki appears before him and Harry stiffens, freezing in place again. The Trickster tilts in head in bewilderment, "I don't understand that reference." He balances the blade of a dagger on his finger, as if debating whether he wants to throw it at him (odd, because of course he wants to throw it at him).
"Uh…" Harry replies eloquently, "If you let me live, I'll totally show you what it means."
He smiles; amused, "Mmm- no."
A twig cracks behind him, and it's all the warning he needs to dodge to the left, throwing a handful of twigs and dead leaves at the man in front of him as he does so. In the corner of his eye the decaying vegetable matter passes through the illusion ineffectually. The image cancels itself out as the actual Loki laughs, several feet behind him.
"Nice evading there, boy." He drawls as Harry scrambles away as quickly as he can, "How about you try some running too, to keep me entertained?"
"Fuck you, Loki!" He retorts, but follows his suggestion anyway because there's not much else he can do right now. It's a difficult task, considering the uneven and rocky terrain and the tree roots he swears are actually trying to trip him up.
"Run, boy!" Loki taunts back, far too close for his comfort, "I didn't want you to fight back anyway; imagine how boring that would be!"
If Harry didn't know better, he'd swear the Trickster was using sarcasm.
"Why are you doing this?!"
"Why do I do anything?"
"I wouldn't know! I'm not a fucking psychopath!" Loki appears in from of him again and- not knowing if it's another illusion or the real thing- he throws himself to the side, wincing as an exposed section of rock scrapes the skin off his elbow. He's momentarily satisfied though when a ball of green fire explodes precisely where he'd been seconds before.
"Touché." He quips seriously- from his left, this time. At his feet, the exposed roots of the forest floor begin to writhe upwards, grabbing at his feet like something straight out of nightmare.
"Shit." He cries as they successfully trip him. The roots continue to grow up his shins and he looks around desperately, "That's cheating!"
"Cheating?" From the right, though there's no one there, and if Harry wasn't absolutely certain Loki wanted to play with his food first before killing him, he would be absolutely shitting himself right now, "It's not cheating; I never specified the rules."
"That's not- oh Merlin you're impossible."
"I am Loki. Try and say it with me; Lo-ki."
Harry ignores the stupidly cheerful psychopath in favour of tearing at the roots with his hands, but some are too thick and refuse to break. "Balls," he snarls through gritted teeth. In the stress of the moment (because he knows that if he doesn't get out soon, playing or not Loki is going to get bored and kill him anyway) he tries to focus on summoning his magic. It rises sluggishly, flickering in the corners of his mind like a recalcitrant child, but he's so relieved he could almost cry. He imagines extra strength to his hands and manages to tear the roots apart with little fuss. The magic disperses almost immediately after he scrambles away.
Loki makes an impressed sound, "Very good!" he felicitates, "You're actually thinking now! Makes a change."
"Screw you Loki!" He calls out over his shoulder, already on the run again.
He laughs loudly, "Well, one of your lot did."
"I- what?" He almost- almost- stops dead in his tracks, "Merlin, it wasn't Malfoy was it? Please tell me it wasn't Malfoy, I- fuck- I think the world would actually implode in the ensuing chaos."
"A God never- how do you Midgardians put it? Kiss and tells?" To punctuate the question, a dagger clips past his knee, slicing through the denim like butter.
"Shit! C'mon man, give a guy a break!" He jumps over a half-rotted fallen tree and slams straight into a wall of roots that wrap around his torso instantly. His heart rate- high enough already- triples and his panic increases ten-fold.
"I am no man! I am a God!"
He laughs hysterically, the vines tightening around his throat so he can't even move his head to scan for the pursuing madman, "Mate, if there's one thing Doctor Who's taught me, it's that being a semi-immortal alien doesn't make you any less of a man."
A disdainful snort, "Doctor who?"
He can't help it; he giggles, "I- oh God you walked straight into that one!"
As if in retaliation, Loki materializes in front of him, visible through the tangle of vines and roots.
"No more running."
Harry glances pointedly downwards, "I'm kind of tied up at the moment. Let me call you back."
He sneers, "I did not call you."
Harry doesn't answer. The demigod frowns at him. "Potter?"
Silence. The air around Harry begins to heat up. Understanding flashes across Loki's face and he steps back, expectant.
Harry ignites with a soft fwoosh; vivid blue flames erupting about him and eating away at the surrounding roots. Smoke spreads like fog around him as the green wood burns merrily. He grins widely and pulls himself free from the burning wreckage of the wall.
"I-" he declares, swatting at the small flames that remain on his person, "-am awesome."
Loki tips his head and gives him an amused smirk, "It's still on fire."
He glances back at the wall, "Oh crap." It is indeed still on fire, despite the fact that it's all green wood that has no business in burning with such vigour. He bites his lip in consternation. "I, er, guess I didn't quite think that one through, did I?" Because there's no way he'd going to be able to put that out- most of the flames are bright blue; still being fed by his magic.
"Indeed."
"Umm… a little help?" Before he inadvertently sets the entire forest on fire.
Loki cancels the flames with a careless wave of his arm. Harry is intensely jealous of the ease with which he wields his magic and scuffs the ground sheepishly, "Guess I'm not as awesome as I thought."
"No."
And then Loki throws a bolt of crackling electricity at him and the chase resumes.
He flees- back the way he'd just come from. A tree he passes explodes on impact with whatever kind of weapon his assailant decides to fail to hit him with (and at this point, Harry is very much convinced that Loki is choosing to miss, because there's just no way he's managed to survive this long otherwise. The term 'playing with his food' comes to mind) and the force of the blast propels him forwards. He lands; trips, loses his balance and falls flat on his face; his breath torn out of him and replaced with a good mouthful of dead leaves for good measure. Through his wheezing gasps he registers the stinging pain of several sizeable splinters lodged in his back, though none of them feel large enough to be truly serious.
He ignores the discomfort and the distasteful sensation of blood dripping down his arms- warm and thick- and pushes himself up onto his feet, stumbling away before Loki- once again- chooses to catch up with him. He feels very much like a fox in a deadly game of 'chasey', and still isn't entirely sure if this sparring on steroids, or a legitimate battle to the death.
"You can't run forever Potter! Sooner or later you'll have to fight me!" Loki taunts, his voice all around him.
"With what?"
"You have all the tools you need at your disposal. Use them!"
"I'm not- what the fuck?" The Asgardian appears in front of him and he turns about face, dodging another explosive shard of light, "You've been going on for ages about how bullshit wands are, and now you want me to use it?"
His rumbling chuckle reverberates through the forest. "Humour me Potter." The 'or die' goes unsaid, but it hangs in the air just as clearly as if he had spoken them. Not that Harry could die- probably- but it wasn't exactly a theory his was intent on testing.
"Why the hell should I?"
A sigh, "I had hoped the threat of injury would be incentive enough."
Harry snorts in amusement, catching his breath for a moment with his back pressed tight against the trunk of an ancient oak tree. "Fat bloody chance with that!"
"I see that now. It would seem you need a more effective incentive." He sighs again, sounding disheartened and slightly wistful, "A shame too; I rather liked your companion… such spirit."
His blood runs cold; his stomach drops.
"You wouldn't dare."
"Is that a challenge, Potter?" His words are dark; threatening. A shiver runs down his spine. Loki is serious.
"Please." He begs, stepping away from the shelter of the oak, looking around himself wildly for the Asgardian, "Cut me; maim me; kill me. But please; don't bring Hermione into this."
A half-hearted laugh; Harry swings around to face the Trickster God. There's no smile now, "It's too late for that."
"Harry?"
He shakes his head at the other man; disbelieving. "You bastard."
"Harry? Tony?!"
"Run to her, Potter."
He takes a step backwards, breathing in a shaky sob, "Hermione!?"
"Oh thank God; Harry, where are you?" Her voice comes from his right- he thinks- from far enough away that the words are slightly muffled. He stumbles towards it, desperate enough not to care about the near certainty of it being a trap.
"I swear to God," he snarls beneath his breath as he runs on unsteady feet, "I'll kill you, I swear it. If your hurt a hair on the woman's head I'll tear you limb from fucking limb."
A mirthless chuckle, close on his left. He flinches. "Are you sure? She has quite a lot of it; I can't imagine she'd miss one or two."
"Harry? Harry, where am I?"
"It's okay Hermione! I'm coming."
A shift of colour; vermillion and washed out blue peeks between a gap in a thicket of trees on his ten o'clock. He slices through them with a sword of magic and is surprised when it works. He almost sobs in relief when he sees skin and wide brown eyes revealed in the wreckage of saplings.
She's tied by her hands to a towering fir tree; arms stretched cruelly above her in a posture chillingly reminiscent of the ancient sagas- where virginal maidens were lashed to rocks to await sacrifice. She sobs and snarls against the restraints and almost wrenches her arms from their sockets as she tries to launch herself forwards, feet planted flat against the cracked and flaking bark.
She sobs in relief as she catches sight of him. "Harry. Oh God Harry where have you been? I knew you weren't dead!"
And if he'd harboured any doubts as to the authenticity of her unexpected appearance before, it's assuaged by the faint smugness that underlies that sentence.
"Tony and Bruce were doubtful, and poor Steve had all but written you off, but I knew. I knew you couldn't die." She frowns as a thought just occurs to her, "That said, how are you standing? Loki shot you; twice-" her eyes widen, latching onto his shirt, "You're bleeding!"
Harry smiles slightly; trust her to point that out when she was still tied to a tree. "Never mind that; I'll explain it to you later." He moves forwards, unable to sense any lingering traps in the area, "How did you get here?"
Her lips press together in a thin line, "I don't know. One minute, I was working with Tony; the next I'm here, trussed to a bloody tree like a bloody chicken!" Her eyes narrow, "This is Loki's doing isn't it?"
He fights back the uneasiness churning in his gut, "Yeah." He cuts through her bindings- imagining he was holding a knife- and Hermione lowers her arms in relief. She eyes his hands in speculation.
"That's a new trick."
"I- yeah. I've been practicing." He grasps her wrists and rubs at them gently to stimulate blood flow, "Did he hurt you?"
"No. I just… woke up here. Where are we?" She twists her hands to hold his wrists weakly, "Where have you been?" She stiffens suddenly, shrewd eyes taking in his dishevelled appearance and heaving chest. They linger on the latter in particular.
"Loki shot you…" Her jaw tightens and she steps away from him in suspicion, "It's only been a week. Even with your healing, there's no way you could be up and running." She pales, swallowing nervously, "Loki's a master of-"
She cuts herself off and takes another step backwards, body poised for flight, "What was Sirius' nickname in Hogwarts?"
He swallows. Part of him breaks as he realises that they've been reduced to security questions once again. Life should have grown better after the war. They should have grown fat and old and had a handful of children each.
Hermione confuses his contrition for hesitation, "Harry." She says sharply, hand sliding to her empty wand holster. Eyes widen in realisation and the distrust turns to fear.
"Padfoot. He used to be called Padfoot."
The taut lines of her body disappear. She smiles at him in relief. "Oh Merlin, Harry I was so worried!" She throws herself into his arms like they've been apart for years and he buries his face in her hair. She smells like cinnamon and part of him can't help but relax at the familiar smell; she must have gotten a hold of her old shampoo.
"I know. Loki- he cast an illusion- made it look like he'd shot me, but it was just an act. He's been teaching me things-" He pulls away, tugging on her hand insistently, "We have to get out of here. He's gone mad- for real this time. I don't know what changed but I think he actually wants to kill me now."
As if to confirm his admission, Hermione's eyes widen in fear, focussed on something behind him.
"Visiting time's over." Loki jeers. Harry swear and drags the witch away, squeezing them through another wall of trees on the other side of the oak. It explodes a moment later in a blast of green flames; the boom of its detonation enough to blast them through the small thicket. Temporarily deafened and disorientated, they lumber away as fast as their shaking, bruised limbs can carry them.
"Why is he doing this?" Hermione cries from his side, desperately trying to keep up with his mad dash.
He doesn't answer immediately, passing through the scenario in his mind as they flee the embittered laugher that echoes through the silent woods, "I don't know- one moment he was fine- the next he's lost his shit and starts throwing sharp, pointy things at me!"
"Now is that any way to speak of your gracious host Potter?" I offer you my roof; my food; my guidance!"
Another wall of roots and saplings spring from the earth. Hermione all but tears his arm out as she pulls them out of the way, only to trip on the secondary trap the Trickster sets. She cries in pain as her shins slap brutally on the barrier of rock that rises to knee height and their momentum throws them straight into another tree/root barricade. It ensnares them as efficiently as the last time and their hands separate in the mayhem of snarled words and grasping wood that moves around them so they're facing outwards.
Loki strolls into their line of vision, his expression startlingly morose, "I think you've done quite enough running, wouldn't you say?"
Harry bites his tongue ;Hermione's gasping breaths ring in his ears to his left- inhibiting his concentration. Desperately he searches for the reservoir, intent on burning them out of their confinement. He wishes fiercely for the ability to do more than this. Suddenly, the Trickster is in front of him, eyes sparking fiercely.
The backhand seems to come from nowhere; the force of the slap snaps his head to the side violently. His lip and cheek go numb and his ears resume their ringing. Any hope of summoning his magic vanishes as pain throbs through his face.
"Idiot Boy!" Loki snarls, all up in his face, "Set them on fire and she burns with it!"
He pulls back, contemptuous. "I have one final lesson to teach you today." His attention switches to Hermione and his arm extends, grabbing at the front of her shirt and throwing her behind him. The creak and groan of moving wood is drowned out by her surprised shriek. Harry's eyes widen in despair as she's pinned to the wall they'd just dodged. Bark covered limbs encase her outstretched arms, spread as though she were being crucified. The wooden shackles tighten cruelly about her forearms and shins.
They creak ominously.
"Oh God." She breathes and Harry tugs at his restraints desperately. For one burning, bright moment they lock eyes- before she closes hers. She raises her chin in defiance, but her breathing comes in short gasps as she fights against her composure. Harry has no such control.
"Loki let her go! She has nothing to do with this! Please Loki, please!"
Loki shakes his head and stoically disregards his furious pleas, "No, Harry Potter. I tried reason; you ignored it. And now you will bear witness to the casualties your weaknesses will bring. Starting with the girl."
"I'll kill you!" He snarls.
"Please." Loki states, face expressionless, "You wouldn't stand a chance in Hel."
His outstretched hand curls into a fist, and a sickening snap corresponds with the movement.
Hermione's bloodcurdling scream joins it a moment later.
"HERMIONE!" Harry howls, searching; searching and- oh God yes.
The power surges through his veins, violent and potent and his arm tears through the wood like it were tissue paper. Loki watches with sombre eyes. He ignores the inhuman keening coming from the woman behind him- interspersed with dry retches.
"You brought this on yourself." He says grimly and doesn't so much as flinch as the fireball Harry sends barrelling towards him disperses ineffectually around him. His hand twitches again, and Hermione wails as her other arm gives way to the unrelenting pressure of her bindings. Her voice gives out halfway through; breaths coming in short, pained sobs.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" He screams, and pulls on the pendant that lies faithfully about his neck.
The change is immediate.
It's so, so different from before.
The last time he'd used the Death Stick- back in the death throes of his teenager years, fresh out of auror training- he'd put a renegade Death Eater in a coma for a month with a simple stupefy. The wand was disparate from his old Holly; a discordant power that grated against his own magic. It had felt… wrong. Unnatural; amplifying his intent to levels it should never reach. He'd snapped the thing for the first time when the Death Eater failed to respond to anyone's rennervate. Not that it had made much difference.
It always came back; they all did.
This time though; this time he can feel more than just the wand's magic rubbing up against his psyche- he can actually feel his magic. He can sense the way it automatically contains itself- pulling back and simmering beneath his skin as it meshes with the amplifying nature of the Death Stick. It still feels unnatural and different, but the inherent wrongness he'd sensed before is gone; his heightened awareness stripping away all the misconceptions he'd harboured for the wand.
Because the Death Stick is not evil; not good. Death, he realises, is an intrinsically indifferent thing. It touches all, no matter the age, or race, or social standing. It neither encourages nor discourages destruction. Objectively it cares for neither. It is not a weapon; nor is it an instrument for peace. It is reverent to nothing. It is merely a tool, and all it offers is pure, unmitigated power.
For a single, shining moment, he is at one with himself; surrounded by immense power. Safe and protected from it all.
And then he remembers Hermione.
"Stupefy." He thunders, and the rock where Loki should have been standing on explodes.
Any other time, he'd have blinked in surprise. Any other time he'd have paused to think about how he expects a fight like this to pan out. Any other time, he would have hesitated; thought twice about his path of action.
But any other time, Hermione wasn't hanging limply from a wall of vines as she choked on broken sobs; arms bent in ways that will never be natural. Fury burns through his veins like acid.
Loki appears to his left. The sombre expression is gone- replaced instead with one of delight. "Oh yes!" he crows in victory, "Now the boy decides to truly play!" He shakes his head in mock disappointment, eyes sliding over to Hermione's broken form, "Shame it had to be at the expense of your lovely companion."
Harry sees red.
"Defodio!"
The shield Loki brings up disintegrates as quickly as it's cast; gouged apart by the force of the spell. Loki just laughs. "Colour me impressed Potter. It gladdens me to see the Master of Death wielding their power with such aplomb." He smirks, "When push comes to shove, you may not be as useless as I'd-"
"-Glacius Tria!"
The Asgardian's eyes widen in surprise as the spell catches an arm mid-taunt. It freezes the flesh almost instantly and ice gathers on the skin in a way that Harry hopes is intensely painful.
Loki sneers, power visibly gathering around him, "Ice cannot effect a Jӧtunn, boy."
And he has little time to think about the way the skin about Loki's arm and neck have turned a dusky azure when he's throwing the ice shards right back at him. He casts a simple protego almost on instinct and the projectiles shatter on impact. He watches in muted fascination as the blue recedes as quickly as it had appeared- replaced with his normal, pale skin.
His upper lip curls in contempt, "Confringo." He snarls under his breath, hoping a change in tactics will catch Loki off guard, but the violent eruption of heat and flames at the Trickster's feet only succeeds in disfiguring his presence.
"You're too slow." Loki teases from several feet behind him and Harry casts a silent diffindo over his shoulder in retaliation. He spins around to meet Loki's scowling face, looking down in displeasure at his suddenly tattered clothes. It fails to actually harm the man of course, but it's enough of a distraction to pin his feet down with a, "Duro Tria." His boots quickly turn grey as they transformed into stone. The force put into the spell causes the stone to grow upwards. It spreads like a disease and reaches the Trickster's knees by the time he can counter the magic. Before he can move, Harry sticks his feet to the ground with a non-verbal spell and aims a conjunctivitis curse at his eyes, viciously hoping it's strong enough with the Death Stick to permanently blind him.
The bastard snarls; hands which had previously been attempting to extricate his feet from the superglue-like substance attaching him to the ground fly up to his face, clawing at his burning eyes. In satisfaction Harry ties him down with a nonverbal array of impedimenta and incarcerous spells. He knows the spells won't restrain him for long, but he's counting on them lasting long enough to do some serious damage on the man.
He advances on Loki, eyes blazing, wand held in front of him like a sword. The Asgardian tugs at his bindings experimentally, but gives him no outward impression of being perturbed by it. If anything, he looks only mildly disgruntled by the position, and there's a smug gleam in his irritated eyes that doesn't bode well for anybody involved. He wants to tear it from his face; the bastard had hurt Hermione. There was a line he should never have touched and the Asgardian had leapt over it as though it were never there.
He keeps his wand trained on Loki's chest. "I should kill you." He breathes, not once glancing away from the Trickster.
Loki's eyes slide over his shoulder, eyes presumably locking on Hermione. He gives Harry a slow, wide smile that is far from comforting. "You could. Perhaps. Jӧtunn's nor the Aesir are true immortals- not like you are. The question is; will you?"
"You'll pay for what you've done, Loki of Asgard."
The fallen god grins. Never has Harry wanted to hurt a person more, "I think you overestimate your ability to kill, Boy."
In blatant challenge, he lifts his head; baring his neck to Harry's wand. He falters at the mocking exhibit of submission; Loki's green, green eyes trained on him with laser-like focus. He tightens the ropes around the Asgardian in prudence.
"What would Hermione think, Potter? To know you'd killed in her name?" Loki wheezes as they squeeze his neck. He takes a brazen step forward, snarling.
"You don't get the right to say her name!"
He laughs, "You did this to her, Potter. Dragged her along on your sorry adventures. It's all your fault."
Harry stares at him for a good, long moment. He was daring him to kill him. Daring him to step up to the mark and end his life. Because he knew- he knew- Harry wouldn't do it. Loki may have no compunctions when it came to crossing lines, but Harry did, and psychopath or not, he would not allow a man like Loki to taunt him into taking another's life.
The Trickster's eyes light up in triumph as Harry slowly lowers his wand.
"That's what I thought." He sneers; vainglorious, "Now, if you don't mind. I think that's my cue to leave."
And then Loki's image fades- flickering out of existence like a faulty holograph- and the ropes fall to the ground like he was never there at all.
Harry does the mature thing and screams in frustration at the indifferent forest canopy.
"LOKI! Show yourself, you bastard!"
He casts every revealing spell he knows at the forest- desperate to find the Trickster- when a whimper from behind him reminds him with shameful clarity exactly why his was so furious.
"Hermione." She stares down at him with glassy, unfocussed eyes; already falling into shock. Her forearms have turned a hideous purple and he pushes down the nausea at the way they bend unnaturally, "Hermione look at me."
He cups her face gently and she complies slowly- tortuously- as though moving through syrup. She blinks at him, and her mouth moves, shaping silent words he can't read. No sound comes out of her, besides her slow, heavy breathing. He brushes at the tears on her cheeks, "Hermione I'm going to let you down now, and then I'm going to take you home, okay?"
She nods lethargically. He smiles, "Good. On the count of three; one, two-" He cuts her from the vines on two and she falls forwards; landing on him like a dead weight.
He staggers backwards, arms rising to wrap around her back in reflex, and watches in horror as her wild hair morphs into a shock of well-kept raven hair; her body grows- weight multiplying.
Loki's unbroken arms rise up to grasp at his shoulders cruelly. He smiles at Harry's astonished face, razor sharp and ruthless. His final victory over the Master of Death.
"Surprise." The Trickster God taunts. His fingers press down hard enough to bruise and he tears them from the forest, landing them back in his room with far less elegance than usual.
Never trust a Trickster, Harry Potter.
He should have remembered that from the start.
A/N: Uhm... so yeah. This chapter got unexpectedly dark. Like, honest to God,;never expected Loki to pull such an underhanded trick on Harry like that... and then he did. So, yeah. Sorry. Although, to clarify- because I don't know how obvious it was, and I don't want to leave you guys hanging- that was never actually Hermione. Rest assured, Loki has not kidnapped Hermione in the time since we last saw her.
He did, however, masquerade with Harry to fuck with him; because he is of course a bit of an arsehole, and slightly fucked in the head. Of course, there was method to his madness. Harry, I don't think, would have been one to pull out the Death Stick to use to help himself. To help someone he loves however... well that's another kettle of fish entirely.
So. I guess you'll see me on the 8th of November. Again; I'm sorry I've had to do it, but it's pretty much unavoidable right now. There's just so many things on my plate right now, and most of them I get marked on.
PLEASE REVIEW! Every review you leave paints another rainbow in my dark and monochrome world.
Cinna