All For Lightspeed! II

...

"You- you- have you anything to do with this!?"

Rosier's wand sparked threateningly.

"What?" Boom - Harry heard his heart thunder in his chest - Boom - boom - boom boom boom - "No-no, I promise-I - I just saw Montague duel and wanted to do it to and so I went to him and asked him about duelling an-and he directed me here an-"

Tears were welling in Harry's eyes. Roser lowered his wand; his rage seemed to reach a terrible equilibrium. "Fool. You should not have come." As calm as still water, he turned to the door. "Nevermind." Harry heard him say. "Hercules knows the way. Leave, both of you, out! Run!"

Then there was a great crash. Rosier strode toward it, wand at the ready. Harry watched him disappear between two heaps of books. Something clammy grabbed at his hand. The boy was holding onto him, wide eyed and panicked.

And what use have you been, Harry thought to himself, while Rosier is fighting for his nephew? He hardened his heart and took the boy by the shoulders. "Who is Hercules?" He demanded.

The boy stared at him dumbly.

"Who is Hercules!?"

Distant shouting snapped the boy out of his fear. "The mirror!" he blurted out. "We have to get to the mirror!"

Spinning, he pulled Harry with him, through the back door, past more books and potions and whirring bronze mechanisms, by more shimmering crystal balls and furniture. They darted and dashed, listening all the while to the sounds of the battle they had left behind. The boy would not let go of Harry's hand. The storehouse stretched onward, as though it had no end. Where were they going?

Eventually they stopped before a vast mirror, cold as black ice and black as an icy night. Their hands parted, and Harry heaved for air. "Da- Merlin," he corrected between breaths. "Who is Hercules?"

The boy smiled sadly, his cheeks wet with tears. "I am Hercules."

This time he offered his hand. It was small and delicate. Harry took it, and Hercules led him toward the mirror. The surface rippled like water at midnight, bending to their touch, as cool as a summer wind, as serene as a mountain night; the blasts of battle faded, and Harry was somewhere else.

A bittersweet scent wafted by him, carried by a fresh and gentle breeze. He smelled the earth, and rain, and knew Knockturn Alley was far away.

On the other side of the mirror stood an ancient forest, tall and dense and shadowy, veiled by mercury leaves and darkly verdant branches. The sun struggled against the boughs of the tallest trees, oak and ash and thorn*, and sent dazzling dappled light against the dim underbrush. Harry breathed in deeply.

"Where… where are we?"

"My home," Hercules answered. He was staring at the forest floor, downcast. "Or not. Not yet." For a long moment, his mouth was set in a grim line; it made him look much older. Within the blink of an eye it had vanished. "Come on!" he cried, then stopped. "Oh- wait."

He turned, picked up a rock, and threw. The mirror shattered, leaving an empty frame. Waning sunlight glinted dimly off the golden fluting. "We can't let the Aurors follow us," he explained. "Uncle Caudicus always said so."

Harry peered around, taking his first long look. What he saw gave him no respite. Shadow in here seemed less an absence, and more a living presence, creeping around the corners of his eye. What was happening? Where was he?

And… "How did we get here?"

"Through the mirror silly!"

Beyond them, the forest creaked and groaned, as though it were attempting to communicate an ancient enmity, some long-standing rage, built up through a hundred generations. Whatever it was, Mankind had long forgotten. Hercules' chirping was very out of place.

Was the boy right in the head? "I've never heard of travel-by-mirror," Harry ventured.

Hercules scratched his face. His cherubic cheeks puffed out. "Oh- right, I'm the silly one! That was a Lendish mirror. It's like a Vanishing Cabinet - surely you've heard of them?"

Harry shook his head.

"Have you been living in a cauldron?" Hercules pouted. "Uncle Caudicus has been trying to get his cabinet working for yeeaars, longer than I've been alive he says! But it never works."

He really, Harry could not help but notice, liked to talk. "You never explained what a Vanishing Cabinet is - or that Lenish mirror, for that matter."

"Lendish," Hercules said firmly. His squeaking warble only made further light of the matter. "They're all ways to travel quickly."

Harry began to suspect Herucles didn't know either.

"We went through it, and that's how we got- here!"

He gestured wildly at the wilderness… and his face dropped. Finally, he seemed to understand their predicament. The forest seemed to watch them with baleful eyes, staring jealousy at their life and light. Something rustled in the brush; Harry went for his wand… and dropped it. Cursing, he bent down and snatched at the moist undergrowth. "Lumos!" he cried, not even considering the Trace.

A lethargic glow flickered at the end of his wand, revealing the outline of forked trees and razor-like leaves. And nothing else. Whatever had disturbed the forest-floor was gone - or hidden, just out of sight.

Beside him, Hercules was peering into the darkness with wide, frightened eyes. "Stay- stay on the path," he stammered.

Path? Harry thought, squinting for some sign. Perhaps Hercules wasn't all there… and then, after a long moment, he saw it. A faint golden ribbon meandered down a game trail in stuttering streams. Harry saw it pulse weakly, and got the distinct feeling it ought've been stronger. Whatever it was, the ribbon was sickly, faint… fighting a losing battle against the encroaching darkness. It was dying.

His breath caught in his throat. Who knew how much longer it would last? It, he had already realised, was the only reason they were still alive.

Harry heard himself speak before he internalised the words; "We need to get out of here."

"Follow the path, Uncle Caudicus always said." Hercules seemed to be convincing himself more than telling Harry. He was shivering. "Be brave, follow the path."

Where would it lead? Harry wasn't sure, but anything would be better than here. "Come on then," he said, "let's go."

- HP -

- HP -

They stepped softly at first, as though any sudden or loud movements might wake whatever lay within the forest, waiting for them. Neither spoke; both stared into the trees, quick to see any sign of… something. More than once Harry swore he saw other eyes staring back at him from the darkness. They were not human eyes.

The sun was setting quickly, but down the golden trail they continued, passing over a gentle hill, then a small valley. The forest seemed to stretch forever. The shadows grew larger, pressing against the besieged spell-path and Harry's faint Lumos. Harry pushed harder, setting a quick pace. "Where are we going?" he whispered.

Hercules jumped. It was the first time either of them had spoken in some time. "A lonely house," he replied, not taking his eyes off the tepid border between the trail and the darkness beyond. "They'll tell us where to go."

Harry sighed. Every question only led to more. He almost regretted asking.

"What's your name?"

Now it was Harry's turn to jump. "Harold," he eventually lied, "Harold Skarsgard."

Hercules made an interested noise; Harry tensed. Was he about to be called out on his lie by a child even younger than him?

But Hercules made no comment; he turned the conversation down yet another avenue Harry would prefer to avoid. "What do you think's out there?"

Many horrible things immediately jumped to mind. Harry didn't know if all of them were real, or mere Muggle inventions. He wasn't willing to bet - and at that moment, didn't want to know. He said nothing.

"Werewolves, I'd bet," Hercules said with morose curiosity. "And vampires. And fae. Merlin, I hope we don't meet any fae. Some of them can walk the spell-path, you know?"

Harry still didn't want to know.

Soon they came upon a fork in the trail. The spell-path forked too. One path stretched on, while another bent toward… something. The bittersweet scent of the forest gave way to something acrid on the pallet. Fire, Harry thought. The lonely house?

He began to run; Hercules began to follow. The meandering path slowly revealed a cottage, complete with a steadily puffing chimney. The walls were of old yellowed stone, the roof slate. Steady fires lined the clearing, burning aegis' against the darkness.

"Thank Merlin," he heard Hercules cry.

But Harry was barely listening. Boldly, he approached, knocking on the oaken door without a thought. He had to get out of the open! Away from the watching eyes, he had- he had to get out-

The door swung open by itself. "Enter," a distorted voice said.

Eagerly, Harry obeyed. He heard Hercules shuffle in behind him.

Two masked figures sat beside a crackling fire. Inside, the wood burned with a full, nutty scent, and the flames set dancing, gay shadows upon the wood-panelled walls. But it was the dark robes and silver masks Harry was looking at, frozen in horror. He'd already heard the stories; masked men in outfits resembling those before him… soldiers of Voldemort… Death Eaters?

"You have come to this lonely house of ours, stranger, Hercules Rosier. Why have you come?"

Harry could not tell which one of them was speaking. He could only think how strange it was - that he, Harry Potter, was standing before two Death Eaters, and neither were attacking him…

"We are seeking solace," Hercules promptly replied, as if in ritual.

"Solace you shall have, young master. We know of your plight. We know not the stranger."

Behind their faceless masks, Harry felt their piercing eyes watching him. He stood stock still, too scared to move.

"He's a friend," Hercules said. That sounded more normal, less rehearsed. "He just wanted a Lightspeed. Uncle was serving him when the Aurors burst in. We ran together through the Lendish mirror."

"What is your name?"

Harry forced himself not to stutter. "Harold Skarsgard."

As soon as the name left his lips, he felt his face flush. It was stupid, he thought, they'll know straight away I'm no-

"Very well, Harold Skarsgard. If you are vouched for, you may have the aid of the Order of Life."

Order of Life? Confusion quickly eclipsed Harry's fear. What earth was the Order of Life? Just what were they doing here, sitting around in masks? Did they wait there all day for someone to come? Just what on was going on?

"Usually we would floo you to safety," one of them intoned. "But that is not necessary in your case, young master."

Hercules nodded.

"Follow the other path; stick to the path. You shall find your solace there."

Harry wasn't thinking about the path. Floo you to safety; the words rang like sweet bells in his ears. He could explain, he could return to the Leaky Cauldron… he didn't need whatever this was…

He opened his mouth to speak… and paused. Hercules was looking at him with wide, imploring eyes. Guilt rose up from his stomach like a very hot, fat dragon. The words he wanted to say were lost. "Can't- can't you come with us?" He found himself saying instead. "This forest is… strange."

One of the masked men shook his head. "We cannot leave our posts," he said. "Our vows demand it. Keep to the path; have courage."

Harry ground his teeth. It was honour, he thought, like Montague. These idiots, who did they thin- Hercules yanked Harry away, pulling him out the door (which shut, with a heavy thunk, by itself) and back into the clearing.

Harry wheeled around to him, but Hercules shook his head. "Don't bother arguing with them Harold - uncle Caudicus says they'd stay there if the house were on fire."

"Hercules, what's going on? Who were they? Where are we going, I don't understand?"

"They're the Order of Life - well, two of them, anyway.," Hercules explained pointlessly. "Families… families like mine help them, and they help us, if we're in… trouble. But we're not in that much trouble! Uncle Caudicus is bothered all the time, but the Aurors never get him!"

There he was, back to his cheery self. Harry didn't try to stop him talking.

"He knows the ways, you know? We never keep anything really bad in the shop, it's always hidden away. There's no chance they'll find anything, even if it's the first time they've raided us like that! Borgin always gets it worst, but that's because uncle says he's a-" Hercules scratched his cheek again, "-hehe, I can't really repeat that."

Harry frowned. Was he describing a smuggling operation? The Lightspeed in his pocket, previously forgotten, suddenly felt as though it weighed an imperial ton. Montague had said it was banned, but he always assumed it wasn't that important… After all, would the man really recommend something dangerous to an eleven-year old? And if the Aurors weren't interested in the Lightspeed, what sort of things were so bad that they'd raid Rosier's Trifles? They wouldn't do that for no reason… Harry gulped, eyeing Hercules beside him. What sort of family were the Rosiers?

Something cracked in the underbrush, startling him out of his reverie. Whipping around, he saw… nothing. An ugly tree seemed to sneer at him. "What is this place?" he muttered to himself.

But Hercules heard. Ever since the lonely house, he'd been a great deal more at ease. "Galleons," he said cryptically, "galleons."

Harry didn't even bother to question him. Getting answers out the boy was like bleeding into the ocean.

Giving in, Harry set his feet forth, sticking close to the winding golden path as he was bade. Soon, the sun was a faint red smirch in a black sky, a mere wisp of tawny yellow and crimson cloud. Cold clawed at the boys; and darkness grasped at the dimly glinting trail, their lifeline.

Worst of all, Harry's feet began to hurt. Why had he done this? Why had he given in? If he'd just put his foot down and asked for the floo… If only Hercu-

Harry caught something in the corner of his eye. Or more specifically, a lack of something. Hercules was gone.

"Hercules!" Harry whipped around, just in time to see the boy leaning into a copse of trees.

Worse, the trees were leaning back.

Panic clutching at his heart, Harry leapt toward him. "Hercules stop!"

The boy ignored him; the outer branches brushed at his hair.

"HERCULES!"

Framed in the darkness, staring back at the boy, were two glowing eyes belonging to a very inhuman, misshapen face.

There was nothing more to do; Harry aimed… and prayed; "INCEN-" The first-year fire-making charm was totally inappropriate for combat. It was designed to create little more than a spark. Harry willed his all into it- "DIO!"

As he flicked his wand, nothing happened.

The thing stretched out an ugly, yellowed arm, and caressed Hercules' cherubic face.

No.

Then his wand kicked, and a stream of red fire leapt into the trees. The thing shrieked, and Hercules jumped, and both boys sprinted away. They ran and ran and ran until they could run no more. They stopped in a clearing, where the forest remained blessedly distant. Nothing was said for a long time as each caught his breath, and they mulled over just how close that had been.

Hercules had gone very white. "A fae…" he muttered. "A child-stealer."

- HP -

- HP -

The fae did not return. They ploughed on, wary and weary, watching the forest as it seemed to watch them. Sections of the game trail degenerated into broken underbrush where the path became muddled, and the golden ribbon seemed to snap. Those were panicked moments, when the whistling wind blew cold, the smell of fresh rain and deep earth arose, and their surroundings felt more real, more present, than their own bodies.

But eventually the path broadened once more, and Harry let out a sigh of relief, and willed his aching legs onward. How long had they been walking? The sun had vanished, the temperature had dropped, yet by his judgement there should still have been light remaining. To take his mind off it, Harry began to consider the wild thing they had encountered, the 'fae'.

Creatures of Land, Deep and Sky, a broad compendium - and the only book Harry had read on the strange beings that inhabited the wizarding world - had barely mentioned the fae. They were, according to the author (one Earnest Hike), mysterious but powerful creatures of many types, with kingdoms of their own beyond the human world. And tricksters, who liked to steal children and made them live in their courts in Fairyland, where their lives would be extended, but their souls would never leave. Harry shivered - and not just for the cold. What a horrible end… he peered back at Hercules. He looked like death.

Harry squared himself, and took his hand. "Come on," he said. "Let's go."

The trail was narrowing, winding now, seemingly ever deeper into the wood. How long had they been walking? All the trees began to look the same, with the same grasping branches, the same twisting trunks. With nothing else to do, Harry began to wonder. What was that thing, that creature that had ensnared Hercules?

Hercules himself had called it a fae but, after thinking upon it, Harry decided that was unlikely. A mere first-year fire charm would never have dealt with a Fae, who were rumoured to be vast of power. A haugbui* might live in the woods, guarding his master's tomb, or a radande. But weren't randande* beautiful, and haugbui creatures of violence rather than guile? Its features resembled what Harry imagined a greater imp or a hag might look like, if Hike's book were to be believed. He wasn't sure about that either; Creatures struck him as a theoretical tome.

His musings were interrupted by Hercules' cry of victory.

Harry blinked, returning from his reverie. The path, he saw, had widened… solidified, even. Patches of old stone poked through overgrown clumps of underbrush. The golden shimmer, for the first time, had grown stronger.

They hurried their pace. Soon they came to a new fork, which revealed something far greater than a mere cottage. The corner of a vast stone edifice was peeking past the edge of the treeline. Harry breathed a sigh of deep relief.

But Hercules stopped in his tracks. If it were possible, his face grew paler still.

Harry blinked. "Hercules? You okay?"

He wanted to slap himself after saying that.

The boy bit his lip so hard he nearly drew blood. "Yep," he squeaked, "nothing wrong at all." He took to a jog to catch up.

Soon the whole structure was revealed. It was a gatehouse, once proud, now crumbling. Half a turret was scattered over the forest floor. Moss climbed up the battlements. To Harry, it looked like the corpse of a proud building.

And in the shadow of the remaining turret, a dim figure was waiting for them. A rusting lamp, set atop a moulding old chair, illuminated a feminine outline. "Good evening," she called. "Welcome to Halt End."

A/N

*The name of a great traditional English folk song.

* A haugbui is a variation of the now well-known draugr. Draugr, according to Norse mythology, are the re-animated spirits of the dead, existing within their decayed mortal shell - they are therefore physical beings, rather than spirits alone. A haugbui specifically refers to a barrow-dweller in particular - which Tolkien used in his Fellowship of the Ring as a barrow-wight.

*Meanwhile, a radande is a Swedish (and in this cannon, a broadly Germanic) version of a dryad.

This is chapter III of The Duellist; thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.

Take care of yourselves,

Jousting Alchemy.