Sirius was changing into his nightclothes when it happened. Blackriver's peaceful tranquility abruptly came to a halt, the windows of his room blasting inward while a purple dawn shined in from the outdoors.

Harry! It had to be!

Heedless of his bare chest and thin sleeping pants, Sirius sprinted downstairs and out the door. The light had faded away, but he swiftly took note of a dense white fog inundating the copse of trees bordering the estate. Sirius heard Dung shout a question about what was happening from behind him, and gestured for him to follow as they hurried over.

Masha was waiting for them there, having somehow arrived before them.

"Stop!" she called as they approached. "Don't come closer!"

Sirius ignored her, charging forward anyway. "Where's Harry?" he asked, entering the low-lying fog.

Wait.

He tried to take a step forward, but it was like his lower body was encased in stone. He struggled harder, but straining with all his might only gained him two or three inches of progress.

"What…? What is this?"

"The fog, it is magic of some kind," Masha answered.

Sirius struggled harder, advancing another few inches. By now, he was beginning to breathe heavily. Lighting his wand, he looked ahead to Masha. The young woman's dark hair was matted down with sweat, her torso hunched forward as she too pushed forward. Given her height, the fog sat higher on her body than Sirius' own, and he was momentarily impressed by her perseverance to have made it as far as she had.

"Dung! Get help!" he shouted before turning back to Masha. "Where's Harry? Do you see him?"

"Net, but he must be here somewhere. The surge, from before, was his magic-"

"That created this, I know," Sirius interrupted. "Has he had any… episodes like this at school?"

"Net."

Struggling through the magic fog was exhausting, but the two of them didn't stop, didn't rest, relentlessly pushing forward towards the center of the copse of trees.

"Just a mo', I got ya…" Mundungus called out from behind them, and a quiet incantation sounded, followed by a rope looping itself around a tree trunk a dozen paces in front of Sirius. "Grab on!"

Taking hold of the conjured rope, Sirius started pulling himself forward, essentially dragging his lower body along with the strength of his arms. Yes! It was working! With this new conveyance, he managed to match and then surpass Masha's lead on him.

"You're brilliant, Dung!"

With more progress possible, Sirius paused, lighting his wand once more to have a look around. Deeper inside the small grove, he strengthened his lumos charm to better pierce through the fog.

"What… is this?" he mumbled. The copse of trees, mostly consisting of spruce and pine, now was a veritable jungle of growth. Trees and plants he'd only seen in books, others he couldn't begin to recognise, and some that appeared so alien as to be unnatural surrounded him on all sides.

"Stay focused," Masha said from behind him, and Sirius snapped out of his momentary distraction. She was right.

Once they reached what was the centre of the small grove, each of them raised their wands and tried to locate Harry. The bright lights of their illumination charms reflected off the dense fog, making it seem to glow.

Having the ground lit up brighter than the night sky only added to the extreme disorientation Sirius felt. It was like they'd stepped into a different dimension.

More conjured ropes criss-crossed through the trees, and Dung and the guards joined the search. Nonetheless, it was Sirius who finally found him, the toe of his boot nudging a solid mass, completely obscured by the unnatural mist. Lifting Harry out, fighting against the drag of the magical obstruction took the last of his strength.

"I've got him!"

With the adrenaline fading, Sirius was hyper aware of the fact he wasn't dressed for Russia in January, but he could do nothing but wait and shiver. Dung organised the guards to form a sort of human chain, passing the unconscious boy along until he was back outside the trees. The rescue party then could leave the way they came, pulling themselves along conjured ropes until they joined him, rushing back into Blackriver and out of the cold.

"Well done, men," Sirius told them, patting a few guards on the back as he approached where Dung and Masha leaned over Harry, laid out on a sofa in the parlour. "How is he?"

"'E's alrigh'," Dung said. "Just sleeping."

"Those trees, the fog. I've never seen anything like that," Masha asked in German, from where she knelt down next to Harry. "Neither of you are surprised. Has this happened before?"

"You know Harry's magic is, um, different. Sometimes things like this happen. Don't worry, the effects don't last beyond an hour."

Masha seemed thoughtful at this response. To keyed up to relax, despite how sore and and exhausted he felt, Sirius checked on Harry himself. A basic diagnostic charm confirmed Dung's earlier diagnosis, so he removed Harry's cloak and folded it over the back of the sofa.

Topper the elf popped into the room to drop off tea for everyone, and at last the excitement seemed to be at an end. Sirius sat down in a chair and sipped at the hot drink, watching over Harry while Dung wandered off to disperse the guards.

Masha remained by Harry's side, resting a hand on his chest. Her dark hair hung like curtains, framing the paleness of her face and her tired and drawn features. Sirius recalled how she was the first one on the scene, how she'd pushed deep into the fog without a second thought, how determined she was to reach his son.

She'd impressed him this night.

"Did you see what happened?" he asked after a few minutes.

"No. I was in the kitchen. The windows shattered, and it was impossible to miss the light from outside. I've never seen anything like it."

"He can't control it," Sirius said, not wanting Harry's abilities to scare off one of his school friends. "And like I said, the effects are only temporary."

"I'm sure he will master it in the coming years." Masha reached out, brushing her fingers over Harry's brow. She really was dedicated to his son. It made him wish he'd taken the effort to find her a better job, rather than simply working in the labour camps. Harry needed people like her, people he could rely on to look out for him. Merlin knows the boy found enough trouble on his own…

"Say, Masha?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sure someone your age would prefer to live in the city, but… this summer, when you start work in Kitezh, you're free to live here if you-"

"I accept," she interrupted with a smile.

"Right."

"Uh, boss?" Dung called out from the entrance hall. "C'mere for a mo', would ya?"

Sirius set aside his tea and left the room, grabbing a cloak off the rack as Dung led them outside. The copse of trees where Harry had his… outburst was silent once more, the fog dispersed or vanished. "What is it?"

"You know 'ow you said 'arry's magic only lasts an hour?"

"Yes…" The fog was gone, after all, wasn't it?

They walked closer to the trees, and Dung brightened the light streaming from his wand. With the shadows chased away, Sirius understood. The grove was dense, much thicker than it had been the day before. The unnatural, alien trees remained, taller and thicker than when they'd rescued Harry.

Sirius took a careful step into the trees, feeling an unnatural disquiet. This… didn't belong, for reasons he couldn't explain. He quickly retreated back to where Dung and Masha were waiting before checking the time. More than two hours since Harry's magical outburst.

This had never happened before. For all of the strange, inexplicable magic Harry performed in the past, the effects never endured so long.

There was a long moment of silence as the three of them stared at the trees, until finally Masha spoke.

"He's growing more powerful."

"Up for a rematch?"

"I think I'm good, but thanks."

Cedric packed up the pieces to his wizard's chess set while Hannah leaned back in her seat and stretched her arms over her head. The door to his room opened up, Florence poking her head inside.

"All finished up in here? It's getting late."

"Yep! We're just cleaning up now, Mum."

"Hannah, did you finish all your essays?"

"Yes."

"Packed up all your things for the Express?"

"Yes."

Florence was no doubt accustomed to her monosyllabic responses at this point, but disappointment nonetheless appeared on her face. "Alright, then. I suppose I'll see you in the morning. Sleep tight, sweet dreams." The door closed.

Cedric turned back towards her wearing a neutral expression. "You could be a little nicer. She means well."

Hannah liked Cedric, she really did. So, for his sake, she simply nodded and replied, "You're right. Sorry."

He sighed. "Well, goodnight, then."

She went back to her room and prepared for the end of the night. This involved pulling out her heavy winter cloak and balling it up next to her pillow, sorting out the proper number of Sickles into two separate piles that she shoved into the pockets of her trousers. Finally, she tugged off her jumper and threw on her nightgown, fighting down the ridiculousness of wearing trousers beneath her bedclothes.

Those tasks accomplished, she stroked Hedwig's plumage and made certain she had food and water before extinguishing her lamp and climbing into bed. Like clockwork, she heard the heavy, thumping footfalls of Amos, heading to bed from where he'd been working in his study. Not long after, Florence's lighter footsteps traced the same path.

Hannah closed her eyes and allowed her jaw to fall slack, going boneless as best she was able. Her door cracked open, and she resisted the temptation to see how well her act landed as Florence peeked through the open door. Then, just like other nights, the door quietly shut and she continued on to her own bedroom.

Now came the hardest part of all - staying awake long enough to ensure everyone was asleep before she made her move. The last time she'd made this attempt, Hannah waited too long and ended up falling asleep herself. Tonight would be different.

An hour passed - or probably so, it's not as though she counted - and Hannah made her escape. Creeping through the house, she avoided the creaky stair and made her way to the front door. Once there, she waited another thirty seconds, just listening for any minute sound to break the silence in the Diggory household.

The wind was bitterly cold, and strong. Hannah ducked her head, pulling her cloak more tightly around herself as she marched towards the path that led (after a few miles) to a muggle village. Once her boots touched the worn, packed dirt, she raised her wand to shoulder-height.

She winced as the Knight Bus arrived, appearing with a crack that sounded like a cannon shot. The door to the double-decker bus slid open.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for- oh, it's you! Off t'Diagon again?"

"Hello, Mr. Shunpike," she greeted, stepping onboard. "That's right. I'll take the cocoa and the toothbrush this time."

She held out the fifteen Sickles, but he gave back four. "Don't worry the extra charge. 'Twas a slow night, anyhow."

Hannah barely had time to take a seat on one of the beds before the Bus was off once more. She'd learned, through bitter experience, to focus on the floor, or the beds, or anything that wasn't the blurry, whirling world visible through the windows. A short, nausea-inducing ride later, they came to a jarring stop.

"Diagon Alley! Remember to gather all your personal belongings. Thank you for riding the Knight Bus!" Stan chirped as she made her way to the front. "See you in a few hours?"

"Yes. Thank you, Mr. Shunpike."

"Jus' Stan, Miss Hannah. Be safe now!" The door closed behind her and the bus was off once more.

The Leaky Cauldron was packed, the raucous noise from the full house making it easy for her to slip in and wind her way through the crowd to the rear of the inn unnoticed. Tapping the pattern to enter Diagon Alley, Hannah hurried along the quiet streets to her destination.

She was tired. She'd stayed up far too late last night, worriedly waiting for something that never happened. Following that with a full day of work and it was past time for bed.

Lily rose from her seat and extinguished the lamp by the window, mechanically undressing and putting on her nightclothes. This was a good thing, she should be happy. Little girls had no business sneaking out and running around unsupervised. There was no reason to feel disappointed.

Nonetheless, when a familiar pattern of knocks sounded from the first floor of the bakery, Lily couldn't stop the surge of blissful happiness that welled up inside her. Hurrying downstairs, she unlocked and opened the door just in time for Hannah to fling herself into Lily's arms.

"I didn't know if you'd come tonight," she said, stroking Hannah's curls. "Come in and warm yourself. Are you hungry? Do you need anything?"

"I had some cocoa on the Bus," Hannah said, offering Lily her cloak and prancing up the stairs ahead of her. "What do you want to talk about tonight?"

Hannah grabbed hold of Lily's hand and tugged her towards the small love seat in her living quarters. "Whatever you like, honey. Are you excited to go back tomorrow?"

"I can't wait," Hannah said, pausing while Lily felt around for a blanket to lay over the two of them. "I wish I could stay in Hogwarts year 'round."

There was no need for Lily to ask why. When Hannah showed up at her door for the first time, the night before last, she'd been full of complaints about her new guardians. "You know my opinion."

There was a rustling sound, as little girl pulled the blanket up to her chin and snuggled in closer to Lily's side. "So let's talk about something else."

Lily sighed. She'd urged Hannah to give the Diggory's a chance, but her arguments fell on deaf ears. Apparently, she was so unpersuasive she couldn't even stop an 11-year old girl from sneaking out at night and wandering the streets alone. "Hannah…"

"Tell me a story."

"About what?"

She heard a yawn. "From when you were younger. Something nice."

"Alright. Did I ever tell you about being Head Girl?"

"No." Her voice sounded drowsy already.

Lily began her tale, speaking about leaving home for the last time for her final year at Hogwarts. She spoke about her pride in her accomplishments, her anxiety for the future, her confusing feelings about friends and family. Her hushed tones, initially aimed at lulling the girl to sleep, gradually took on a far-off, dreamlike quality as Lily lost herself in her own retelling.

Her voice dwindled to a whisper, and not long after Lily fell silent, listening to Hannah's even breaths, in and out, while she slept soundly against her. Gently lifting the girl in her arms, Lily carefully walked her to the tiny, converted bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. Returning to her own bed, Lily reached out to set the mechanical alarm clock on her nightstand early enough that Hannah might, hopefully, return to the Diggory's unnoticed.

Despite her exhaustion, sleep remained elusive, her thoughts circling back to to the story she'd spun for the young girl in the other room. What happened to that Head Girl, the young woman so determined to make her mark? From the moment she'd learned she was a witch, the girl from Cokeworth was set on finding her place in the magical world.

But all that ground to a halt when she lost James, when Harry disappeared. For ten years, she'd hoped and prayed and waited for some sign, some clue or indication of what happened to her son. Would she wait another ten? Twenty? Was Lily fated to spend the remainder of her life in this horrible, helpless limbo, listening for the slightest murmur of her son's survival?

What sort of a mother did it make her to give up, though? She thought about Hannah, sleeping in the other room, so set in her faith and belief that her father would awaken and return to her. What if… what if Harry was out there, similarly waiting for Lily's return?

Ultimately, she decided that questions like these weren't the type to be sorted in the middle of the night. For now, she didn't have any answers.

But someday she'd need to find some, if only for her own sanity.

"You look like you enjoyed your holiday."

"Pardon?" Albus looked up from the documents in front of him as Minerva joined him at the faculty table.

"I know you said you were leaving the country, but it appears you at least got some sun on your trip."

"Ah. I suppose I did. I hope you enjoyed your own break from the castle."

"I didn't go far. The family gathered in Hogsmeade for a reunion."

"Sounds lovely," he remarked.

"Well," Minerva said, never one to misread a situation, "I'll leave you to your reading. Hagrid has departed for the station in Hogsmeade, the students should be boarding the carriages in ninety minutes."

"Thank you," he said, and she returned to her seat. Albus looked back to the parchment in front of him.

His trip to Venezuela brought him new understanding of the foe he faced, and to the Flamel's previously puzzling response. Reading Perenelle's notes on her meeting with Javier Rivas, the Venezuelan chaos mage, and seeing first hand the fate that befell him made him more wary than ever before of this 'primordial' energy.

When he returned from South America, Albus had the ICW send him what literature they maintained on channeling chaotic energy. There wasn't much; as Nicolas noted, most knowledge wasn't first-hand, but rather post-mortem reports on their inevitable end. There were a few historical accounts of this wizard or that witch, but typically the Confederation would receive reports of unnatural phenomena, investigate and tag a site of chaotic entanglement, then pass it off to the local ministry and forget about the whole affair. Most often, the mage responsible for the event was never even identified.

Rivas' oblique references to the end of his journey were the missing key. The 'chaotic entanglement' was the last stop on what he called the Path of Chaos. It was, for lack of a better term, an irregular mutation of human beings from over-use of concentrated chaos energy. The cabal of mages, of which Rivas was the final surviving member, each fell to this anomaly, albeit in what seemed to be shockingly different ways.

There were nine of them and each fell in horrifying fashion, their deaths rupturing the surrounding area and suffusing it with strange, inexplicable anomalies. Albus used Rivas' journal and the ICW documents to correlate each member of the cabal and their subsequent fate.

It didn't fit with his own experiences with Gellert, though. He showed no signs of the sort of explosive finality the other sources indicated. Was it because of his imprisonment, being shackled and cut off from magic?

If so, why didn't any of the others simply stop when they realised what was happening to them? The Path of Chaos wasn't a single event; Rivas documented how the stages progressively advanced, each step spurred on by a random, unpredictable backlash.

Madness was all Albus could come up with, the sort of insanity that now gripped his Gellert. There was no other explanation.

The doors to the Great Hall opened and the returning students streamed inside, cheeks flushed from the frigid journey from Hogsmeade to the castle. Albus adopted a genial smile, setting aside his research.

Before he shifted entirely back into his Headmaster role, he gave a final thought to the mystery that had dominated his attention for the last two years. Should he accept the Flamel's assurances that this rising chaos mage was no threat, and that he would eventually succumb to his inevitable fate? Or should he continue to investigate, to stamp out the possible threat before it had a chance to spread?

Standing from his seat, he raised his goblet. "Welcome back to Hogwarts," he began, and so too did another term at the school.

Harry groaned, opening his eyes and clutching at his throbbing head.

What happened? The last thing he remembered was… oh. Right. The copse of trees, the cold, frozen air, the rage and the pain.

He took a deep breath, and the pain between his temples slowly eased. There was light shining through his window, and from the position of the sun it must be late afternoon, making it likely he'd been asleep for some time.

"You're awake!" Harry gave a wan smile as his father gave him a quick embrace, ruffling the hair on top of his head. "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay," he said, still a little groggy.

"What do you remember?"

"I was…" Harry trailed off, recalling the memory of Masha's revelations. "I was outside. Something happened with my magic."

"It was another surge. The purple light, the shattering windows." Sirius smiled. "You keep this up, everyone in the manor's going to be an expert at repairing spells."

"Oh, sorry." Still, his father's grin was infectious, and Harry returned his smile.

"There was one thing, though."

"What?"

"Well, you know how the, uh, chaos you produce during your surge is only temporary?"

"Right…"

"There's something different about this time. C'mon, get dressed and I'll show you."

Harry hopped out of bed, pulling on warm clothes and grabbing his cloak before meeting his father in the entrance hall, then proceeding outside.

"Huh."

"I know. A bit odd, don't you think?"

The small grove had grown since the last time he saw it, and boasted a wide variety of flora it certainly hadn't before, several of which seemed comically misplaced in the wintry, Russian landscape.

"So… I did this?"

"Yep."

Harry smiled. "Neat!" Without a second thought, he strode inside the boundaries of the copse of trees, luxuriating in the feelings of joy and delight at having created something so wondrous. His fingertips tingled as he touched the bark of an unknown species of tree, feeling energised and excited just being near something so marvelous.

"Um, Harry, you should come on out of there." His father had trailed after him, slowly, and was looking rather green around the gills. "We don't know if it's safe yet."

"It's just trees! How could it be dangerous?" In fact, standing here, Harry couldn't remember feeling better.

"Still. Come on out of there."

"Alright, alright," he grumbled good-naturedly, reluctantly leaving the tiny forest. He'd be back. This had immediately replaced the sun room as his favourite spot in Blackriver.

Together, they walked back towards the warmth of the manor in - to Harry, at least - companionable silence.

"You know, you head back to Durmstrang tomorrow."

"Yep!"

"Are you all packed and ready?"

"Um… not yet." Harry bet Masha would help, if he asked. Where was she, anyway? He should go track her down.

Before he could, Sirius stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Wait, before you run off; was there anything you wanted to talk about?"

"Huh? No, not really."

His father wore a funny expression, and when he spoke his voice was soft. "You leave tomorrow, this is our last chance to discuss… you know, your mother."

A flash of anger swept through his body, but it was muted by the joy and euphoria he'd felt in his grove. "That's okay. I know everything I need to."

Sirius seemed relieved, but still he pressed, "Are you sure?"

"Yep! I'm gonna go find Masha. Will you let me know when dinner's ready? I'm starved!"

"Sure. Sure." As Harry ran up the stairs, he heard his father call after him, "And don't wait til the last minute to pack!"

Just as he predicted Masha was happy to help him pack his things to head back to school, interspersing their conversation with repeated praise for his magical outpouring the night before. They passed the time before dinner with idle chit-chat before heading down to eat.

It wasn't until much later, when he was showering before bed, that Harry's good cheer faltered. Washing himself, his fingers felt something strange on his side, just above his ribs, and in another spot, in the middle of his thigh.

The spot on his leg was easier to see, so he leaned over to more closely examine it. It felt firm, hard, rough to the touch. Like sandpaper, or… tree bark, but part of him. Confused, Harry scratched at it. Maybe it was a rash? Some sort of… allergy?

He scratched harder, hard enough to feel a dull pain from the area, before screaming for his father, eyes wide and staring in shock. There, on his leg, where he'd managed to break the 'skin', a trickle of tree sap seeped from his body.

A/N: Thanks for reading, please review!

~Frickles