Welcome one and welcome all to another chapter of Bad Moon Rising, in which Harry completes his summer quest, and I name an arch-fea.
"That one day, we'll look back at where we started and be amazed by how far we've come." -Technoblade
On with the show!
Harry Potter, The Hut-on-the-rock.
Years pass by pretty quickly sometimes, almost to the point where what you thought had happened only a year ago was, in reality, almost four years. That is how Harry Potter felt standing in the front room of the Hut-on-the-rock, looking down at the carving in the dirt that he had made almost four years ago to the day. Harry still remembers the rocky and sodden boat ride to the Hut, the glare from Uncle Vernon's beady eyes that blamed Harry for the mess that he found himself in, looking to blame anyone but himself for it, so he had blamed Harry. The snipping comments from Aunt Petunia as she and Dudley huddled under the umbrella, leaving Harry to freeze in the rain, the angry slamming and words from Vernon trying to light a fire in the hearth with no dry wood, how Aunt Petunia threw him a single ratty blanket after giving Dudley four of them to keep the chill off of him during the cold night on the couch, and Harry shivered on the bare floor.
The grit from the dirt under his finger as he carved the mock cake into the dirt and grime of the floor before making his birthday wish as he had always done, the sound of cascading thunder just outside of the small hut, as the rain beat against the windows and roof. How he first thought the pounding on the front door was nothing but thunder before it came again, louder, more demanding than the first time before Uncle Vernon started yelling and aiming the rifle he had purchased the day before at the door, and then Harry's freedom came crashing through the front with a bang. Hagrid came crashing into his life and offered Harry his ticket to freedom with just a few words.
"Yer a Wizard, Harry,"
And like that, Harry was given his first peek outside of the cupboard of a future without the Dursleys that had ruled his life for so long. How he must have looked to Hagrid, he wondered, looking up at him with broken eyes in an oversized jacket and ill-fitting clothes, skinny and underfed, a hopeless child from a home that never wanted him.
Harry could almost see himself on the floor, looking up at him with sad and broken eyes in sunken sockets that cried out for anyone to save him from the dark of the cupboard, and someone finally had. And a large and gentle hand pulled him from that darkness and into the freedom he so wanted, so he could go on to meet others who would care and love him no matter how broken he was.
"Or else you might end up dead or worse, expelled," said the girl with wisdom in her veins.
"Sunset daisy butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!" said the boy with red hair and a crooked smile on his face.
"Relax, Harry, nothing is going to hurt you while I'm here; no one will come to take you away; just relax," The Lioness said with her arms tightly wrapped around him, pulling him closer.
"Never again," the old dog with kind grey eyes tells him like a solemn oath upon all he loved and held dear because his Godfather had finally come for him.
"Brat," says the older girl in an angry tone but with a crooked and fond smile on her face.
"Of course you can, Harry; I would like nothing more than just that," The Goddess of the Hunt whispers into the hair as his mother finally holds him in her arms.
He wasn't that broken boy anymore, trapped in the cupboard with no idea of what love and family were; he was free from it now, and thanks to a Goddess who will not be named, he now knew he was loved, which meant he was finally free from the Dursleys and all their lies and hatred for him.
"Harry?" Theodore asks from behind him, causing Harry to quickly lash out with his foot, scattering the image of the birthday cake and his name before turning to Theodore, who was looking at him with concern in his eyes.
"You two found it?" Harry asks, willing himself not to look back at the floor as Theodore's eyes flick back and forth between the floor and Harry with a look of curiosity about them. It was the same look he had given Harry when he had kicked down the front door while Theodore and Fúamnach were discussing how to get any muggles inside to let them poke around, only stopping when Harry had knocked down the door with a single kick while telling them no one was even here.
Theodore doesn't say anything about Harry's odd behavior and nods, "Yeah, it was under the bed in the other room; Fúamnach already vanished the floorboards to get down there," he tells Harry.
Harry nods and walks toward the backroom, the same room that the Dursleys had hidden in, cowering after Hagrid had tied the rifle into a knot. Back then, Harry got a sick sense of enjoyment from it, knowing they were the ones cowering instead of him. But now, all Harry wanted to do was leave; he had wanted to leave all of this in the past where it should have been left. He walks into the back room; the wooden frame bed is tipped over to its side and pushed against the side wall, the floorboards under it gone revealing a large hole that leads into the dark beneath the Hut. Harry walks over to the edge of the hole and takes a look down it, the smell of salt water and brine hitting him hard enough for him to scrunch up his nose at the smell; he can see the bottom of rocky sea stone and seawater, Harry sighs before turning back to his two companies.
"Okay, I'll go down first and check it out; if it's safe, I'll call out that it is," Harry tells both of them as he pulls out Serpent-Hunter before releasing the Gaé Bolg. Fúamnach, who had discarded her maid outfit for the armor she had worn in Thurso, Nods as Theodore speaks up.
"Are you expecting trouble?" he asks, looking between Fúamnach and Harry with a frown on his face.
"Well, whatever the fuck has been stalking us has shown up at the last two, so…" Harry says, trailing off as he rolls his shoulders before looking back at the hole.
"Right," Theodore says, unable to completely hide the fear in his voice before sighing out and nodding.
"Don't worry too much about it, Theodore," Harry says as he takes a step to the edge of the hole, "For it to get to you, it needs to get through me first," Harry says before dropping into the dark below, landing with a splash and bended knees. His eyes scan the darkness around him before he stands up and walks forward, the floor sloped downwards into the sea, and the small natural corridor smells thick of brine as he walks forward, water splashing with every step. He finally makes it to the end of the corridor, where it opens to a large chasm that has seawater coming up a few inches from the ground. Harry takes in the chasm slowly, looking for any movement, taking deep breaths through his nose to try and catch the scent of anything, but the room was clogged with the smell of the sea to get a whiff of anything else. The only thing that stuck out to Harry about the room was an old Skiff covered in barnacles.
Harry sighs but doesn't relax before calling out behind him, "We're clear! Just keep your guard up!" just before turning back to the chasm and hearing two splashes behind him, one after another, and footsteps slashing as they walk down the slope. Harry walked deeper into the chasm with a frown; he was expecting an ambush from whatever was following them. Harry knew whatever the hell had attacked was a monster; he could feel that, but he honestly had no idea what type of monster it was; he hadn't got a good look at it when it ran out of the tomb, and he was too worried about Theodore being hurt to do anything else.
When the footsteps finally catch up to Harry in the chasm, they are accompanied by soft witchlight that fills the chasm, "Ah, of course, that would be here of all places," Fúamnach says as she walks by Harry and over to the old Skiff.
"Is that what I think it is?" Theodore says in awe as he walks quickly over to the small boat, his eyes wide in wonder.
"Yup, that's the Sguaba Tuinne, the Wave-Sweeper," Fúamnach says with a small grin and a shake of her head, "That boy always did like his toys," she says with a chuckle.
"I wouldn't call it a toy," Theodore says back at the ancient witch as he runs his hands down the side of the ship, "It's a relic of the gods," he says, almost in awe.
"Oh please," Fúamnach says with a scoff, "I enchanted this stupid thing for him to use a week before he got his horse; he used it maybe three times in that period and then forgot about it," she says with a roll of her eyes as Theodore turns and looks at her in shock.
"You created Sguaba-" Theodore begins to say but is quickly cut off by a scream from Harry.
"THEODORE, GET DOWN!" Harry roars as both Theodore's and Fúamnach's eyes widen at the urgency. Fúamnach quickly raises her arm that held the five-pointed spear, a chant in Gaelic quickly leaving her lips as the tips of the weapon glow a deep blue as the seawater that layers the floor surges up and encapsulates Theodore in a protective bubble just before something strikes the water, trying to carve into it to kill the boy inside just as a blur of movement rushes pass Fúamnach before the sound of metal meeting something soft and fleshy could be heard.
Harry had charged whatever was hiding; he could barely smell whatever it was through the brine and saltwater; it was putrid, like rotting flesh left outside in the rain for too long. The witchlight gave it a shadow on the wall, stretched out and disjointed with far too many joints for anything natural to have. He'd gone for a cleave to try and rip the monster open with the blade of the Gaé Bolg, but it saw Harry coming and blocked the strike somehow. Harry could feel whatever it was trying to close its hand around the blade, so as Fúamnach pulled her spear back to yank Theodore away from the monster, Harry pulled his spear back and could feel the jagged edges of his blade slice into the creature, making it hiss in discomfort just before, on instinct, Harry brings his weapon up to take a blow from the monster the strike sent Harry flying backwards. Harry twists in the air, landing in the seawater and silt feet first before sliding backwards to a stop.
"Fuck, you smell vile," Harry snaps, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the scent of the monster's blood as he falls back into stance.
"And you smell so very scrumptious, half-blood," a voice says; it sounded as if it was sucking air as it spoke, its voice coming out hollow and as disjointed as its shadow. Then Harry could see something begin to slide off of the air, like how it would look when Ron or Hermione took off his invisibility cloak like the monster was shedding a layer of skin as it finally revealed itself, and to the Horror of Harry, he recognized it.
It was the elderly man that pointed out the library back in Sheffield, but he no longer looked human, more of a mocking one; his legs, arms, and torso would have been elongated and bending at impossible angles if it wasn't for the extra sets of elbows randomly spaced apart down the arms which he now used to walk on that ended in long sharp talon-like claws that seemed to be sliced into to the sea stone as easy as a knife through butter. Its legs were also longer, bent at the knees so it could walk better on all fours and ending in the same sharp talons that its hands did; Harry was pretty sure if it stood up, the creature would be at least ten feet tall easily, its sink looked to be pulled tight over its body, grey as dying flesh but with a slick sheen to it, almost like an oil spot on a kitchen floor. It wore what was once the suit that the old man wore, now in tatters and all at once too small for it and too big.
Its face was the worst; it looked stretched out and contorted from what Harry remembered the man looking like; his jaw looked fully detached and hanging loose with rows of sharp and barbed teeth with a long grey tongue hanging from its mouth; like the man Harry had met had died screaming and in great pain as this thing shoved itself into the flesh of the man and wore him like a suit.
Fúamnach takes a sharp breath in before growling out the name of the monster that Harry was facing down, "Fomorian," she says, causing the monster to smile at her, which was a horrifying sight by itself.
"The Bella of the Wych-Elm, how so very nice to see you outside your prison of wood at long last, oh yes, so very good," The Fomorian says, its jaw moving like someone was jerking it up and down with a string.
"The fuck!" Harry yells, sounding half disgusted and half angry as the protective sphere of water falls away from Theodore, and as he sees the creature, the blood drains from his face, "Is a Fomorian!?" Harry asks, yelling as he does.
"They're the race of beings that came after the Tuatha Dé defeated the Firbolgs; they crawled up from under the earth and sea before offering peace with the isles before showing their true colors as tyrants and demons," Fúamnach says with a sneer on her face before reaching back and taking the shield off her back before it straps to her arm.
The Fomorian chuckles, a hacking cough-like sound escaping its elongated neck, "Good times, oh yes, good times," it says before stretching out its arm and beginning to slowly put a bit of distance between it and Fúamnach by dragging itself across the chasm, the long talons carving into the floor.
"I thought the Tuatha Dé killed them all," Theodore says, taking a step back, fear beginning to find its way onto his face.
"No, They defeated them, but that's not the same as eradicating their whole race," Fúamnach says coldly as she moves to stand in front of Theodore and raises her shield, "But it seems that what's left of them has bloated themselves on the fears of mortals and twisted themselves into what they always were, monsters," She says as the creature smiles at her again.
"The mortal's fears grew and evolved as time went on, so we evolved as well to match them," it says as it moves like a beast on all fours.
"A shame your feasts end here, demon," Fúamnach says with a smile, "I've brought a demigod of The Hunt with me, and it will be a sight to watch you choke on the fear you so often create," She tells the creature, but all it does is laugh at her again.
"And I brought with me a Lonely," The Fomorian says with a smirk as Fúamnach looks at it confused.
"Alright, I'm kinda done with the talking now," Harry says, his attention returning to the monster after Fúamnach's explanation, "It's a monster that hurts people and has been trying to stop us, that's all I need to know," he says bending his knees in preparation to charge the monster and feed it to the Hunt in one blow.
"Harry, wait, I think there's more than-" Fúamnach tries to say to the Hunter, but with a burst of speed, Harry charges the creature, spear leveled with its heart. The creature turns to Harry and grins before halfway to the Fomorian; a set of hands burst from the water just below Harry's feet and grabs him by the ankles, stopping him dead.
Harry stumbles forward a bit before looking down at the hands that had grabbed him, "What the-" Harry begins to say as he swings his spear to cut himself free just before the hands; with great strength, they drag Harry below the water with a single yank.
Leaving Fúamnach and Theodore alone with the smiling stranger you thought you knew.
Fúamnach
"Harry!" Fúamnach hears Theodore's screams as the other boy disappears below the water; she grits her teeth and turns back to look at the stranger in front of them with narrowed eyes, "Theodore!" she barks, gaining the attention of her descendent, "You need to complete the ritual and free him because I do not know if I can kill the Fomorian by myself," She tells him as she doubles her grip on Midir's spear as the Fomorian begins to creep closer.
"What about Harry?" Theodore snaps back at her, worry and fear in his voice.
"Harry's a demigod; he can take care of himself," Fúamnach reminds Theodore and prays that she was right as she pulls on her magic before waving Midir's spear, conjuring what is needed to free the Dé Danann.
"We need to save him, his blood!" Theodore urges her, looking between her and the spot where Harry disappeared into.
"It doesn't need to be fresh; he just needs to be alive, so check-" Fúamnach tries to explain to Theodore; she had saved some of the bandages that she used to clean Harry's wounds from yesterday, but The Stranger decided it had enough talking and charged Fúamnach. Moving with speed and grace, it crossed the chasm in the blink of an eye, its long arms extending to slice Fúamnach into ribbons just before she raised Midir's shield and called forth the protection of surging waves to defend her; they crashed into the stranger, knocking it back before Fúamnach swung the spear charging the seawater with her magic and creating several wolves of the surging waves and sending the at the stranger to slow it down. The wolves charged forward, growling like water crashing against the stones of the coast, but the stranger's arms were like a whip as the elbow joints popped out of place as it lashed out with them, shredding the wolves as they came before popping his arms back into place.
"I'm going to devour your guts!" The Stranger screams before leaping at Fúamnach with claws extended; Fúamnach swings the spear of Midir upwards, willing the water to surge, catching the Fomorian mid-leap and slamming it into the ceiling of the chasm before swinging it again and sending the water crashing into its side and flinging him across the room before slamming the butt of the weapon into the ground, forcing her will and intent into the very air to summon spears of water into fine points of pressure before sending them screaming as the fallen demon.
As the Fomorian screams in pain, Theodore calls out behind her, "You said you couldn't beat it!"
"I said I don't think I can," Fúamnach snaps back, and she didn't think she could. Fúamnach was one of the most powerful druids of her time; she wielded magic on an almost unprecedented level compared to the wizards, witches, and druids that came after her, but that was because she had the time to devote herself to its mastery, that's all she had, time. Fúamnach would not age, and no disease could touch her, but that didn't mean she couldn't die; granted, killing her would be very hard to accomplish, and to her knowledge, there were only three things that could do that, and a Fomorian eating her would be one of them. But her magic, Battle Magic, took a lot out of her, for it was to be used against an army to devastate and scatter them, not against a single foe. And to top it off, she was using Midir's spear as a catalyst for her casting, and trying to push mortal magic through a divine weapon without being a Magician like Harry or Scáthach was like trying to for a round stone through a square metal hole; she could do it, but it was a huge pain in the ass.
There is a chance for her to land a mortal blow with Midir's spear, but she is not Scáthach and is no warrior; no, the chance for that was slim. They had to free the Ferryman or, hopefully, Harry to break out of whatever happened to him.
Fúamnach swings Midir's shield upwards, covering her face and chest, and feels the icy depths of her ex-husband's domain come surging forth to defend her from the on-coming strike from the Fomorian whip-like arms. She feels the blows and flinches at the force of them; the shield may make her invulnerable, but it does not stop the transference of force. Fúamnach drops the shield just in time to see the charging stranger, talons poised to rip her apart; she swings the spear forward, gathering magic and seawater at the five tips of Midir's weapon before firing them off like arrows and watches as they rip into the Fomorian, but doesn't slow it down.
The Stranger reaches her with its long arms raised and a vicious smile, "Now you di-" it starts to shout, right before Fúamnach smirks and slams the butt onto the spear onto the ground and watches as the seawater that she shot into the Strange comes lashing out in spiral ribbons cutting through the flesh of the Fomorian as it screams and wildly lashes out with its arm, but Fúamnach was prepared for that. With a heave, she swings Midir's shield, sending a crashing wave of icy seawater right into the chest of the Stranger, sending it flying back.
Her little tricks were serving her well, and she smiled because of that until she heard the scream coming from behind her; Theodore's scream.
Fúamnach turns her head to see her descendent face twisted in pain as blood bloomed from four large slashes running from mid-chest to across his right arm, shredding his jacket and shirt and spilling his blood to the seawater below as he fell backward. Her eyes widened at the sight, realizing that she wasn't the stranger's target but the child behind her, "Theodore!" Fúamnach screams right before the Fomorian lands its first hit against her; as she is distracted, the blade-like talons slice through her armor like it wasn't even there and flings her with force into the wall; she hits it with a crack, the protection of Midir's shield kicking in just into from stopping her from becoming a smear on the wall. She pushes herself up just in time to see the stranger raise their hand as Theodore tries to crawl away from it.
"No!" Fúamnach screams in defiance as she raises the spear of Midir, forcing the water into spears of pressurized water again before launching quickly and half-formed at the Fomorian; one of them shears off half the face of the stranger, causing it to jerk its head back and hisses before Fúamnach watches as the wounds she had done to it bubble and froth like seafoam and muck before filling back it with new flesh. The stranger glares over at Fúamnach as she tries to stand up; it quickly closes the gap between them before swinging its whip-like arm and once again catching Fúamnach in the side and knocking her across the room near Theodore and on her back; thankfully, she had invoked the protection of the shield before the hit landed.
Fúamnach tried to stand once more but was quickly crushed to the ground by the Fomorian stepping on her, pinning her arm that held the spear; the shield's divine magic stopped any damage as the stranger looked down on her.
"How annoying that you would have those," it says, drool and slobber trailing out of its mouth when it spoke. The Stranger turns and looks over to Theodore for a moment before turning back to Fúamnach with a smile.
"I guess I'll have to start with the one I won't chip a tooth on," It says with a chuckle before lashing out with its arms, its bladed hand smashing into Theodore as the boy screams and picks him up from the ground bring him to its mouth as Theodore weakly struggles in its grip.
"No! Stop! He's mortal; let him go!" Fúamnach screams at the stranger, but it just laughs.
"Mortal, Demigod, what does it matter; fear is fear, and meat is meat," the Stranger says as it extends its jaws to bite Theodore in half in one bite; the boy closes his eyes, not wanting to see his end coming.
"No!" Fúamnach says with a scream trusting the shield forward, willing it with the last bits of her magic to pass on its invulnerability from her to her descendant, and as the demon bites down, it does indeed chip a tooth; several, in fact, just before its free hand slams down onto Fúamnach. Two of its talons pierced both of her shoulders, pinning her to the ground with a scream.
The stranger laughs as its old broken teeth are pushed from its jaw, and new barbed ones grow in its place, "What a foolish move, Bella of the wych-elm; you have killed both of you, not just the boy!" it says as it throws its head back with a laugh, "I always liked eating families together, so fret not, you'll be able to protect the boy in my stomach," the stranger says as it goes to eat Theodore again and with the pain coursing through her, Fúamnach couldn't summon the concentration she needs to use Midir's shield and could do nothing but watch in horror as the last of her bloodline being snuffed out before her very eyes.
"AaaaAhaaaAAAhaaaaAaAaaAAAAAAAA!"
?
Harry was drowning as he was pulled deeper into the pool of what should be water; the water was thick, like syrup or molasses; it filled his nose, mouth, and lungs as Harry tried to kick his feet to swim. He could see the perfect circle that formed the edge of the pit he was pulled into, so close but forever out of his reach as the grip on his ankles pulled him deeper into the bog around him. Harry tried to swing his spear, to slash, to stab, to rip at whatever had a hold on him, but as he flailed and panicked, more of the thick liquid poured down his throat.
"Such a poor lonely soul," a voice says in almost a whisper, creeping into Harry's mind like a stray thought or a poison, "You struggle and fight to no avail; you're caught in my bog, all alone and without hope," the voice says, eager in its tone. Harry wants to scream; what's to tell it to piss off and get hunted, but he can't as his struggling gets harder to do; he tries to reach for the tap in his mind to release the hunt, but it is like the thick syrupy bog water had even slipped into his mind. "That's it, lonely little one, struggle no more; I do hate it when my feast fights back," the voice says in glee as the hands that hold his ankles let go, and Harry feels himself hitting the bottom of the pit and begins to float at the bottom.
As the fight slowly left Harry, the monster appeared; it was pale white and gaunt, and its skin was a carapace that looked to have swirling mist and too many eyes to count stuffed inside of it but none where its eyes should be with a bisected jaw. The eyes revolved around in the spots in its body like how Professor Moody's fake one did till they all quivered and stopped before snapping to him with burst pupils, and Harry could have sworn the monster smiled at him.
"And such a lonely boy you are," The monster says before its eyes flash, and after blinking, Harry could find he could breathe again as he fell to his knees. He looks wildly around and finds himself in the clock tower courtyard at Hogwarts, dressed once more in his robes, "Abandoned by all you knew and all who knew you over the simple fact of your name coming out of that goblet," the voice says in a sad and mournful voice, "How alone you must have felt, how afraid you were," the voice says in something like anticipation.
"Fuck you," Harry snarled at the voice as he tried to stand once more, "They didn't abandon me; we fought, that's what happens in life, but we made up; I wasn't alone! Daphne was there for me! Zoë came for me! I wasn't alone!" Harry screams out to the courtyard, trying to find out where this thing is, but all he can smell is bog water.
"Such a shame, but it looks like we will have to go…" The voice says, trailing off as Harry feels nails being driven into his head, "deeper!"
Harry grabs his head and screams at the pain just behind his eyes as the world spins, and he finds himself back in the graveyard, facing down the monster that had haunted him for almost fourteen years; Voldemort smiles down at him with a humor-filled smile on his serpentine face, "Bow, Harry Potter, Bow to Death," he tells Harry again as the phantom pain of the torture curse shots through him.
"Left alone to face such a being all by your lonesome with no one to help, such a sad event to be alone to face such odds," The voice hisses in Harry's ear.
"But I got away; I fought back to get back to them, and they were coming for me," Harry says as his breathing becomes more panicked; he made it out of the graveyard alive so he could hunt the monster another day.
"A different fear, one more potent than any other but too dangerous to feed on; no, we need to go Deeper!"
Once more, nails were driven into Harry's skull, digging in and raking through his mind, and he saw white from the pain, and then, he was back in the cupboard on the seventh floor. His wand glowed as he looked down at the Marauder's map waiting for the Grimm to find him or for Sirius to come so he could finish his hunt.
"Alone again from rushed words and good intentions; a divided driven in between you and the one you had come to see as a sister, someone you loved, all because she had lied to you, and how your mother rejected you as nothing more than a curiosity, how she had left you alone never answering your prayers," The voice says mockingly to him.
Harry grabs his head and shuts his eyes tight; he hates the cupboard, and he wants out; he doesn't want to deal with this! "Shut up! Shut the fuck up! She didn't know! Atalanta is sworn to her; she can't break her oaths! Just shut up and let me out!" Harry screams, his breathing becoming erratic as he screams.
"Oh, what's this I taste?" The voice says in glee, "Yes, there it is; I've finally found it; we just need to go DEEPER!" The voice yelled before the nails dug deeper still, finally finding what it wanted, what it was hungry for; a fear so deep it had scarred the boy's very soul.
Harry folds at the pain in his mind, bowing his head and pressing down before him, landing on something familiar, something he never wanted to feel again. He opens his eyes and topples over to his side, landing on the cot in the cupboard, his cupboard; he was back.
"No," Harry murmurs to himself, "No, No, No, nonononononononononono," he begins to babble as he feels hot tears spring from his eyes as he looks at the door in front of him; it is the same as it was all those years ago. The vent door was open, allowing light to stream into the dark space under the stairs, and Harry felt the terror crawling up his throat. Why? Why did it have to be here? The one place he never wanted to return to.
"Ah, how delectable, such vivid and fresh fear, such a feast!" The voice cackles as Harry begins to shake on his cot, feeling too small, too frail, too hungry, and all too weak to do anything else, "But we can do better, can't we, boy," The voice says with glee just before the screaming started.
The voices of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon begin to fill the halls of the house, screaming, always screaming, "Freak! Up I said, up! I will not have you lazy about when there are chores to do!" Aunt Petunia yells as she raps on the cupboard door.
"How many times do I have to tell you, boy?!" Uncle Vernon yells, his shadow looming outside of his cupboard, "There isn't a school called Hogwarts! There is no such thing as magic! And your bitch of a mother is dead; the worthless junkie whore is rotting in hell! And you're here, FOREVER!" Uncle Vernon screams before slamming the vent shut, locking Harry in the cupboard once more, and Harry shivers in the dark of the cupboard once again; he thought he was out, he thought he was free, but it was all a dream, all a prayer that was never answered. Harry was all alone; he was always alone in the cupboard.
"Yes! Yes! That's it; oh, how delicious it is! I could feed off of this for years," The voice says as Harry feels its hot breath that smells of rotting flesh and bog water cascade over his face as he shivers in the dark, looking at the cupboard door as two tiny scabbed hands crawl over the side of his cot before pulling a small bloody head over the edge to glare at him with scarlet eyes with rage and hatred, "Two for the price of one! My, how delightful!" The voice says before the tiny cupboard is filled with the sound of popping bones, and the monster detaches its jaws and stretches its flesh to swallow the frightened child whole.
Harry could feel the creature bend over him to finish it; Harry could see the tiny malnourished arms of the red-eyed thing reaching out for him, and Harry could hear the Squeak of the second step before the landing.
The monster freezes as the red-eyed creature's eyes widen with fear before dropping out of sight, "What? What was that? What else do you have in here, boy?" the voice asks, the Triumph in its voice bleeding away to curiosity, "Something more to devour?" It asks as the footsteps echo outside in the hall, drowning out the screaming with each step it takes closer to the cupboard, "Wha-What is that? That doesn't feel like…" The voice says, the curiosity bleeding into something else, something like fear, "That-Thats…No, nononononono, how is- how did-, why is- No! NO! Stay back! NO!" The voice screams in terror as the footsteps stop right outside the door.
Harry holds his breath, trying to prepare himself for Uncle Vernon ripping the cupboard door open to take him from it, but the door doesn't open; instead, something presses against it, and then the song begins.
Of Swift and sudden silence, choking out all sound…
"Haaaaaarrry,"
Of a cold touch and cradling arms under a new moon…
"It's alright, Harry,"
"Don't cry, Harry, I'm right here,"
"Shhh, Harry, everything will be okay; not much time left before you're mine,"
Of endless dreams and peaceful sleep…
"Silly boy, the mortal is just a cruel one; pay him no mind, My Harry; we'll be together soon,"
Of a voice whispering to him in the dark of the cupboard over the years he had spent in it…
Of a Promised End to all the pain and fighting in his life…
"You're not alone, Harry," The Voice that had always been in the cupboard with him says, "You've never been alone, you silly mortal," she says as Harry's eyes widen, "And if you think that I'm going to let anything else claim you from me, these little flies have another thing coming," she says as Harry finally finds the strength to begin to move, reaching out for the cupboard door. He could no longer feel the nails in his mind; the bog water had almost cleared away; he could feel the Hunt again, growling and scratching at the door; he could hear…
"Graeca! What the hell are you doing!? You're still holding your spear! Use it!"
Harry's eyes snapped open; he could see the Fomorian that had dragged him into the depths of this murky hell clutching his head, the eyes spanning its body, whirling wildly as if it was in pain and fear.
"Hurry now, Harry," The voice from the cupboard whispers, "I can't hold it off forever, so do be a good boy and be My Promised End for these cretins that dare touch my things," it tells him, and Harry doesn't question it for now and dives in himself and grabs the tap for the Hunt and turns it all the way.
The Lonely looks down just in time to see Glowing Amber Eyes looking back at him in pure rage, just before the mortal he had thought he trapped in his realm swings the barbed fang of Dún Scaith at him, severing his arms and lower jaw from its body before The Lonely lets out a scream.
The Chasm under the Hut.
"AaaaAhaaaAAAhaaaaAaAaaAAAAAAAA!"
The Stranger's head snaps towards where its kin had dragged the demigod into the depths of its realm as a primal scream that spoke of fear and pain echoed throughout the chasm, and watched in growing shock as The Lonely broke from the surface of its realm, bleeding and screaming.
"Tá an deireadh tagtha! Tá sé sa bhuachaill! Tá sé anseo, ní mór dúinn a reáchtáil! Tá sé anseo!" The Lonely screams, its arms and lower mandibles missing and somehow unable to reform as it scrambles to escape, but it is all for naught as the point of a glowing red spear bursts from its chest, stopping the Lonely in its tracks as it looks down at it in shock.
"Where do you think you're going?" the voice of the demigod growls out from behind the lonely right before the rest of the spearhead bursts from its chest in a gory fashion, "The prey doesn't get to call it quits when it snaps at the hunter, it just gets dead," the boy says right before he pulls back the spear and twists it inside the body of the lonely before ripping it out of its side. As the body falls to the ground, it's reduced to seafoam and muck that splatters on the ground, and the stranger gets its first look at the returned demigod and freezes.
The boy's eyes were aglow with The Hunt, not some deluded blessing; no, the boy somehow surpassed the blessing and was reaching directly into the domain for power.
"What the hell are you, boy," The Stranger asks, lowering the mortal away from its jaws.
The demigod takes a step forward, his eyes tracking the mortal in the stranger's hand, and the chasm filled with the sound of rattling broken chains and the snarl of the ancient domain, his spear glowing with a burning red and black aura, "I'm the Heir to the Hunt," the boy says taking another step forward, "And you're nothing but another monster; more prey to put to my spear," he says, making the stranger take a step back and off of Fúamnach.
In a burst of speed, the boy becomes a blur of silver and red to The Stranger right before an ice-cold line of pain bisects his arm that held the mortal; the stranger throws his head back and roars in pain. It tries to jump away from the boy with the hopes of taking Fúamnach with it as a hostage, but the boy has other ideas about that. As he lands, the boy spins on the ball of his foot, and all the stranger sees is the trailing aura of the boy's spear after the burst of blinding pain as it servers its hand from its arm, leaving both his hand and Fúamnach behind as the stranger lands a few yards away.
The Stranger tries to force the regeneration on its arm and hand, but to its shock, nothing happens. The Curse of Dún Scaith had seeped into its wounds, killing the very concept that anything had existed past the wounds the boy had inflicted on it, to such a point that its self-regeneration wouldn't work.
The boy speaks, never looking away from The Stranger, "Fúamnach, you good?" He asks as the ageless witch pushes its severed hand off of her, finally allowing her wounds to close.
"Yes, but Theodore needs help," the witch says as she stands up on shaky legs.
"I can see that," The boy says, his eyes never leaving the stranger as the monster lifts the severed nub to its mouth and sinks its fangs into it, and begins to rip the wounded flesh from its body, "Can you heal him?" the boy asks.
"Yes, but I won't be able to help you if I'm busy with Theodore," She admits, looking between the two boys, one standing at her side and the other lying on the ground covered in seafoam and muck, "You won't be able to use the curse to full effect," she warns him before turning and running over to the fallen boy.
"I know, and that's fine," the boy says, watching as the stranger spits out the lump of curse flesh as its arm begins to regrow, "Heal Theodore, start the ritual; I'll take care of this thing," the boy says with a gesture at The Stranger, and it freezes in the middle of lifting its other arm to do the same as it glared at the boy expecting him to attack, but all the boy does is tilt his head and speaks, "Go on Mister Longarms, I'll wait," the cocky little shit tells the stranger with a smirk before it finishes tearing away the cursed flesh to regrow its hand.
As the stranger's limbs finally regrow, it flexes its fingers as it glares at the boy as he slides into a stance, hand gripping the middle of his spear, his legs bent, and his body leaned forward with his free hand hovering over his weapon.
"Let's hunt," The boy says in an excited whisper, and the stranger lashes out. It whips its arms at the boy, talons slashing through stone and trying to do the same to the boy, but the boy perries one of its arms, using the momentum of the attack and flinging it over his head before twisting out of the way of its other arm just before he pivots into a lunge right at the stranger, aiming for its heart. The stranger retracted its arms and threw its weight to the right, smacking the boy when he was in the air, and as the boy went flying, the stranger hissed in pain and looked down at the large cursed gash going across its arm, the boy had managed to land a blow before it sent him flying.
The Stranger roars before leaping at the boy and rolling across the ground before popping up and leaping forward out of the stranger's way. Its claws sliced cleanly through sea stone before spinning, trying to catch the boy in its claws as he was in the middle of his leap, but to the monster's surprise, the boy thrusts out his spear and using it like a pole vault to change his direction and flipping sideways over its incoming claw, narrowly avoiding the lethal blow. As the boy finishes his rotation, he lashes out with his weapon, the barbed blade digging deep into the stranger's flesh and ripping through it like a saw before the boy lands on his feet, much like a cat, before spinning around and charging at the stranger.
In a burst of speed, the boy gets into the stranger's reach, stopping right at its leg with his hand drawn up to the head of the spear before swinging. The stranger tries to leap away from the boy, but he extends the spear letting his hand slide down the shaft to control where the spear is going but never losing the momentum behind the swing before he strikes the shaft with his free hand to add more force the impact as the blade rips and tears through the stranger's leg, severing it from its body. The stranger lands in a heap and, with a scream at the loss of limb before it looks back at the boy who was completing his spin before setting his feet and charging at it once again.
The stranger tries to spear the boy through the chest with its arm, but the boy doesn't move to dodge; he just brings up his spear and slips the blade in between its fingers and at an angle, slicing through its hand and down its arm, cutting it in half lengthwise. The stranger whips its other arm around and backhands the boy out of his charge and away from it. The stranger had to escape; he wouldn't be able to kill the boy in a straight fight; it struck its victims from the flesh of a loved one, not by trying to fight them.
So, as its arm shoots out to the wall near the exit, its only thought is to survive, and it fails to keep its eyes on the hunter, and as Harry hits the chasm floor, he rolls to disperse the impact of his roll before popping up and sees the Fomorian trying to escape; he quickly spins his spear in his hand and aims before putting all of his strength into the throw. It flies true, piercing through the Fomorians hand and pinning the chasm wall off to the side before Harry charges again, running full tilt at the monster as it screams in pain and frustration before whipping its injured arm at Harry in hopes of keeping him back. Harry dives and rolls under the swat before continuing his charge at the monster; he hears the ranking of stone coming from behind just before jumping into a spin to try and dodge the follow-up to the attack but is a split second too late as he feels the talons slice cleanly through his exposed back and down to his thigh, throwing off his landing as he crashes to the floor with a grunt of pain.
Harry could feel the red-hot pain traveling up his thigh and lower back, the hot blood from the wounds seeping into his clothes, but with the hunt pumping through him, it was only for a moment. He could ignore it for now, but the wounds on his thigh were going to hamper him if the hunt lasted much longer. With a growl, Harry pushes himself to the side to dodge the incoming claw attack; he rolls before pushing himself back to his, and after limping a few steps, he takes off again. Harry knows he was most likely making the wounds worse by running at top speed, but he needs to end this soon. He holds out his hand, recalling his spear to it, and the Gaé Bolg rips itself free from the wall and the monster's hand before finding his own.
It was time for Harry to do something foolish and brave once more.
The Fomorian swung with its now free arm as it pulled back the other; Harry jumped, nearly avoiding being sliced to ribbons. He lands on the hand before deflecting the next strike with a flourish of his spear; in a burst of speed, he runs up the Fomorian's arm, slashing as he goes. The monster screams before trying once more to backhand Harry, but this time, he is ready for it, and the black lines of instant death dance over the pale flesh of the Fomorian, guiding Harry on where to slash. Harry swings, making another gaping cut on the arm he was running on, carry the momentum through his swing, and extends his spear as he had done when cutting off the monster's leg to cut off the rest of the injured hand, jumping through the seafoam and muck as it dissolves.
"YOUR HEART!" Harry screams as he jumps at the Formorians chest, spear pulled back for his lunge, "IS MINE!" he yells as his spear digs deep into the heart of the monster as it screams in pain and terror of its coming end.
Harry slammed into the monster, his spear finding the pulsing black spot right where the Fomorian heart was; both Harry and the monster slammed into the wall as Harry pushed his spear all the way through the monster, pinning it to the wall as it screamed.
Harry bounced off the body before falling backwards as exhaustion gripped him, losing his grip on his spear as he did; he could hear the deep rumble of satisfaction from the Hunt, finally fed the meal it was promised days ago.
But that was the only thing Harry heard; it was light and musical to his ears; a chuckle from deep inside his mind before it spoke again, "Knew you could do it, My Harry." The voice speaks in amusement just before Harry hits the chasm floor with his head striking a rock and he knows no more.
Harry Potter, an unknown amount of time later.
"What do we do with a drunken sailor, what do we do with a drunken sailor, what do we do with a drunken sailor," a voice was singing, tapping its foot to an unheard beat, "Early in the morning, way hey, up she rises, way hey, up she rises, way hey up she rises early in the morning," it continues to sing as Harry groans as he rolls about as he clenches his eyes tight. His head was throbbing, and his body felt beat black and blue; he could feel bandages tug and pull at the skin on his back and thigh.
"Oh, it seems our drunken sailor has finally woken up," the voice says with some amusement before Harry opens his eyes to see who is talking to him. It was a man who didn't look that much older than Harry, with long shaggy black hair that was pulled into a messy braid that fell down one of his shoulders; he had a handsome, clean-shaven face and a smirk tugging on his lips as he looked at Harry with shifting seafoam green eyes. His hands were resting on the butt of a curved sword still in its scabbard, with his chin resting on them. He wore a long green clock that reminded Harry of Striders, except for the fact that near the bottom, the cloak began to melt and shift into a swirling mist that spread around where the man was sitting on a large rock and Harry himself.
"Good morning, oh drunken sailor. Did you have a good rest?" The man asks with his smile growing.
Harry groans as he pushes himself up to sit, noticing his jacket is missing again before he turns to the man looking at him, "Who the hell are you?" Harry asks as the man throws his head back and laughs.
"Are you telling me you've been running around freeing Dé Danann without even knowing who you were releasing?" The man asks, sounding thoroughly amused.
"I didn't care; I was doing it for my reasons," Harry tells him before reaching back to rub his head and wincing at the tender goose egg he found.
The man chuckles softly, "Fair enough, young godling; allow me to introduce myself; I am Manannán mac Lir," he says with a bow of his head, and Harry blinks at him.
"You're Teachers swordsman friend?" Harry asks before the god's eyes narrow and looks between Harry and the wall; Harry turns his head to where the god is looking and sees his spear still stuck in the far side of the chasm.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess this Teacher you speak of is Scáthach?" Manannán asks with a raised brow, and seeing Harry nod, he chuckles a bit, "Then yes, I would be him, and he would be me; tell me, Boyo, is Scáthach free?" he asks, a hint of excitement to his voice.
Harry shakes his head, "No, not yet, but I plan on freeing her when I get back to school, one way or another," he tells Manannán, who nods in return.
"Excellent!" Manannán says with a wide grin, "I have missed the Queen of Shadows and our duels; I look forward to crossing blades with her once more," he says before leaning over and grabbing something from beside him before handing it to Harry.
Harry takes his thermos from the god and looks at him in surprise, "Here, drink up; the Fomorian's claws and weapons are known to spread diseases to whoever they wound, and Grandma said that stuff would help with clearing out-," but that as far as Manannán got before a large stone collides with the side of his head and sends him toppling over.
"How many times must I tell you not to call me that, you disrespectful brat!" Fúamnach yells before Harry turns to look at her; she is kneeling next to Theodore and looking at the god sprawled out on the ground with a glare. For one heart-stopping second, Harry thought that the worst had happened to Theodore until he noticed the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest, which brought a sigh of relief to Harry's lips.
"Oww, damnit Grandma, that Hurt-" Manannán begins to say before being forced to duck another oncoming rock, "Okay! Okay! I'm sorry! máthair chríona it is!" he says quickly as Fúamnach puts down another stone she had picked up to wing at the god.
"Better," Fúamnach says with a huff before standing and brushing off her knees, and walking over to Harry, "How are you feeling, Harry?" she asks before bending down and putting the back of her hand to his forehead and frowning, "You're a bit hot, hurry up and drink the nectar," she says before Harry unscrews the cap to his thermos and taking a few sips under Fúamnach's watch as Manannán picks himself up off of the ground.
"Better?" Fúamnach asks before getting a nod from Harry, "Good, if you were just another mortal, that knock to the head would have killed you, not to mention the infection that was already setting in, but luckily, Demigods are built a bit tougher than normal mortals," she says with a small smile.
"What about Theodore?" Harry asks, looking back at the resting boy, who decides to speak up finally.
"Alive," he croaks out, "Deeply regretting that fact, but alive," Theodore says without opening his eyes as he sounds pained.
"We were waiting for both of you to wake up before setting off," Manannán says, adjusting his sword and straightening his cloak over his silver armor, "And now that you're both awake, we can head out and get you back to…," He says before pausing, and a confused look passes over his face before he turns to Fúamnach once more, "Where are we going again, máthair chríona?" he asks.
"The City of London," Fúamnach says with a sigh as she gently helps Theodore to his feet before supporting him so he can walk; his right arm and shoulder are in a sling and covered in bandages.
"Right!" Manannán says with a large grin, "The City of London, of course!" he nods his head as Harry stands back to his feet, finding his jacket folded up and used as a pillow for him. He picks it back up before snapping it to get the seawater off before slowly pulling it back on, hissing in pain a bit from his wounds.
"Sorry about that, Harry," Fúamnach says as she walks over with Theodore looking a bit bashful, "I only healed you to the point where you wouldn't die; Theodore was my main concern seeing that he's mortal," she offers in explanation and an apology, Harry just nods before raising his good hand and recalls his spear to his hand.
"Hmm, Scáthach can do that too; how…." Manannán says before trailing off and shaking his head, "Doesn't matter, come on, let's get topside. I wish to see the sea again!" he says eagerly, almost like a little kid, before turning around and almost running towards the exit; the mist from his cloak trailing behind him and taking the rest of it with him.
"He's…" Harry begins to say, looking over to Fúamnach, trying to find the right words to describe the god.
"A spoiled brat?" Fúamnach offers, looking over at Harry with a flat look, "Why yes, how could you tell?" she says with a roll of her eyes before following Manannán.
Harry, limping, keeps up with both of them before asking, "So, is he really your grandson?" he asks and almost stops at the glare Fúamnach levels at him, but she sighs before nodding.
"He's the only son of my only son, Lir," Fúamnach explains, "and Lir spoiled the boy to no end, even giving Manannán the power over his domain of the sea," she tells Harry as they walk into the corridor.
"How does that work?" Harry asks, confused, "I mean, you're mortal, right? How did you give birth to a god?" he inquires.
"When I stole the secrets of the gods, Harry, I didn't just steal how to become immortal," Fúamnach tells him with a growing smile, "I stole many other things, including the secret on how to make a Demigod into a god," she tells him with a full blow grin and a wink that stops Harry dead in his track in shock as she and Theodore continue up the path.
"So, could you-" Harry begins today as he starts following behind her again before Fúamnach cuts him off.
"No," Fúamnach says with such finality that it killed the words in Harry's throat, "That is not something even I would do without asking the Dé Danann first, and then there is also the fact that you're a greek demigod, so I'm not even sure if the methods used for the gaelic demigods can be used on you," Fúamnach says as they make it down the corridor to the spot under the Hut, just to find a set of stairs that spiral up to the Hut.
"Well, …" Theodore says, looking up at the staircase, "At least he's considerate," he says with a smirk before they make their way up the staircase.
When the trio finally made it back outside the Hut on the Rock, They found Manannán standing on the dock; his arms were spread wide open, and his eyes closed as he was breathing deeply the free air from which he was long denied. With every breath he took in, bigger and bigger waves would surge to the small rock; with every exhale, the tides would turn, sending the waves screaming away from the rock. His arms fall to his side as his eyes slowly open, "It has been far too long," Manannán says before walking to the water's edge and kneeling to stick his hand in the water.
Harry watches as Manannán face starts with a large smile before moving through a myriad of emotions, anger, rage, sadness, melancholy, heartbreak, and shock, before setting on a blank and deeply depressed look as he stands up, "I knew it wasn't going to be in the best of shape with the ancient souls escaping, but…but it is in tatters," Manannán says in a soft voice, looking deep into the water.
"The Dullahan have abandoned their duties; the waters clogged with souls not knowing whether they are coming or going, and worst yet, I can not feel Fand in Tír Tairngire," Manannán says in a hollow and broken voice before shaking his head slowly.
"I'm so sorry, Manannán," Fúamnach says in a soft, sad voice as Manannán takes a deep breath, his face twisting in anger as if he was trying to control a slip in his temper as the cold winds begin to kick up over the Irish sea as the clouds begin to twist and bed as thunder could be heard as the God of the Sea's wrestled with heartbreak and anger over his realm in chaos and his missing wife, the sea reflects the turmoil in the gods heart. Harry could practically taste the power seeping from the god; it was like standing in the middle of a storm, the smell of it setting in, the taste of ozone on his tongue; it reminded Harry of standing next to the Morrígan. Manannán let out a deep breath, and the storm stopped gathering around him, but the sky stayed a stormy gray to reflect his mood as he looked over to the concerned face of Fúamnach.
"It's fine, Máthair Chríona; I will put it back together with time," Manannán says in a shaky voice, "But for now, let's get you and the young ones back to London," he tells her before raising his fingers to his lips and letting out a sharp and low whistle that rang out over the rocky sea before letting his hand fall before he scans the horizon for something.
At first, Harry thought what he heard next was nothing more than a foghorn, but as the sound came closer, and realizing that he was on the open sea, he began to scan the horizon much like Manannán was doing. That is when he sees it coming at them with enough speed to split the waves and cause waves as tall as the rock he stood on in its wake; the sound was coming from just how fast it was moving toward them. When it gets close enough, Harry finally sees what is causing the sound; it is a Horse, slender and powerful looking with a coat as white as the waves that crash against the shore with a main the color of seaweed with hooves of silver; and it was running across the water.
It was the Jesus of Horses.
"There you are, My Old Friend," Manannán says under his breath as he watches the horse approach, the great steed slowing to a canter as it approaches the dock that Manannán stood upon before gracefully leaping onto it and raring up to whinny and kick its front feet. Manannán laughs loudly before approaching the magnificent steed as it lands its two front hooves and pats its side, "Oh, how good it is to see you again, Aonbharr," he tells the horse before it nudges the god back fondly.
It didn't take long to set up the boat with tow ropes tied to Aonbharr to create a makeshift chariot with Manannán meaning the helm to steer his old friend. Theodore was currently resting in a small cabin of the ship with Fúamnach watching over him as Harry stood at the helm of the Ship with Manannán.
"Are you sure this is gonna work?" Harry asks, looking over at the god who was adjusting the reins of the Jesus horse.
The god chuckles, "Relatively sure," he says with a bright smile back at Harry, "But you might want to hold on to something, just in case," he warns right before Harry wraps his arms around the closest secured thing and braces his legs. Manannán turns back to the horse and smiles, "Come, Aonbharr, let us show them the meaning of haste! Yah!" The god cries before snapping the reins of the horse just before it feels like Harry left his stomach back at the Hut-on-the-Rock.
Harry couldn't describe it even with Hermione's vocabulary; he had sat on a Dullahan's bike, and he, himself, moved at speeds that the naked eye sometimes could not track, but nothing and Harry meant NOTHING could compare to the speed that the Jesus horse was moving at. The coast and sea were a blur as Harry held on for dear life; he wasn't even sure if the boat was still in the water anymore as they flew across the Irish Sea. Harry doesn't know how long he was holding on for; it could have been five minutes, or it could have been thirty; he had no clue, for everything was defended in the rushing wind, and he was trying not to puke or pass out from the G-forces. But, thankfully, they stop after Harry almost passes out for the fourth time, and the air is soon filled with the sound of London.
Manannán's manic laugh fills the air as Harry flops down on the deck like a fish and groans, "Impressive! Most mortals vomit at speed Aonbharr moves," He says with a smile before pulling Harry to his feet, which causes Harry to stumble over to the side of the ship and vomit into the Tims as Manannán steers the ship into the dock before releasing Aonbharr from the reins and laughing a bit at Harry, "It seems the young half-blood has yet to find his sea legs, Aonbharr!" he calls out to his horse, who whinnies out a laugh.
"I hate you both so much," Harry groans before spitting the taste of vomit out of his mouth to the amusement of the god.
But before Manannán could say anything back, a new voice spoke up, one that made Harry groan and Manannán sigh, "Permission to come aboard, Captain!" asks the playful voice of the Morrígan.
"Permission granted, Lady Morrígan!" Manannán calls back as, with a gesture of his hand and Aonbharr leaping onto the deck of the ship, the walk ramp falls, and Harry looks behind him to see the Morrígan, no longer in a mortal guise, walk aboard the ship with a smile. Manannán turns to her, both hands resting on his sword as he then sighs and drops his head, "What is this going to cost me?" he asks, looking up to the phantom queen, who has a wide smile on her face.
"Less than you think, but more than you'll know, Manannán, but debts aside, it is good to see you again," The Morrígan says, offering a smile that Manannán doesn't return.
"As it is good to see you as well, Morrígan," Manannán says just as the door to the cabin opens, and both Theodore and Fúamnach come out; Fúamnach once again supporting Theodore as he walks, "But that doesn't explain what I'm going to owe you after this," Manannán says before crossing his arms over his chest.
The Morrígan sighs and rolls her eyes, "I'm sure you are well aware of the state of Tír Tairngire; it is not something I can fix on my own, so I need you to start as soon as you can," The Morrígan explains, and Manannán nods his head but says nothing, "I'll be calling back the Dullahan from beyond the hedge soon enough to help, but I need Tír Tairngire up and running as soon as you can," She tells Manannán, who rolls his eyes but nods his head once more.
"I will start on it as soon as I find Fand; she's missing for Tír Tairngire, and I wish to find her before I start," Manannán tells the Morrígan.
"Or, you can start now, and I'll find her," The Morrígan says, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"No," Manannán tells her, turning away from her and looking over at Harry, Theodore, and Fúamnach, "She is my wife, and it is my responsibility to make sure she is okay; that is the first thing I am doing if I can not find her in a week I will then start on Tír Tairngire," Manannán says in a commanding tone, as the Morrígans lips curl in a sneer.
"Fine," She finally snaps at the sea god, "One week to hunt for your dear Fand, but then you get to work," The Morrígan says in a harsh tone, "I will be calling a meeting in a week of those who have been freed, we will speak about what is to come next then," she snips at the sea god who brushes her off.
"Yes, yes, I'll come if I can make it," Manannán says before walking over to Harry, Theodore, and Fúamnach, "But for now, I think it's time to reward these young heroes, then, I'll be off," he says without turning back to the Morrígan.
"Harry's rewards wait for him back at his home; Theodore volunteered for this, and Fúamnach is repaying me for freeing her," The Morrígan states flatly, "They need no further reward," she says as Harry perks up with bright eyes when he hears of his reward.
"That may be so where you stand, Morrígan, but not from where I stand," Manannán says, waving his hand at her before looking a Fúamnach, "Máthair Chríona, as always, I am in your debt, if you even need anything from me just ask," He says bowing at his waist and opening his cloak to her as Fúamnach smiles at him.
"I'll keep that in mind, Grandson," she answers back before Manannán looks up with a smile of his own before turning to Theodore.
"Theodore Nott, descendent of the blood of my blood, wounded by a Fomorian trying to free me; for this, I will give you a gift in thanks for services rendered," Manannán says as The Morrígan's head snaps over to him at the word Fomorian, her eyes narrow but she doesn't speak a word as she watches on. Manannán gathers up his cloak in hand before tearing off a piece of the mist and before Theodore's shocked eyes weave the mist into a new cloak, "I award you with this; a copy of my cloak of mists, once you draw up the hood, you and whoever else beneath it will vanish from your enemies eyes like the morning mists and you will find no door nor gate will block your from moving to pass them," he says with a grin as he hands Fúamnach the cloak, it was off white color and trimmed in gold, the material shimmered and twisted like mist itself as Theodore bows his head to Manannán.
"Thank you, My Lord, and know I would be kneeling if not for the fact that I don't think I'd be able to stand up if I did," The mismatched eye boy says with a small grin as he looks back up to Manannán, who nods at Theodore before, gently, pats him on the shoulder and turning to Harry with inspecting eyes.
"Harry Potter, Awakened-Once and Blood of Distance lands that mix in your veins with the blood of the Isles; you killed not one, but two Fomorians while helping to release me, a feat not seen on these islands since the time of my grandson," Manannán says as he looks down at Harry, his eyes traveling down to the red pin that hung on the collar of his jacket, "You wear the symbol of the Red Branch Knights, who were the group before my grandsons own Knights of Fianna, know that on this day, you have earned that medal twice over," Manannán says with a smile as he reaches out and tapping the symbol, "And so, I think a reward worthy of a knight is needed for you," Manannán says before reaching into his cloak and rooting in it for a few moments before pulling out a weapon.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Harry hears the Morrígan mutter under her breath, but Harry ignores it as he steers at the short spear in front of him. The shaft of the short spear was maybe a yard long with thick, twisting Vines carved down the yellowwood haft that ends in a pointed silver butt end; the blade at the top was gold and a point ovule in shape with a leaf pattern pressed into it lovingly. Someone had taken a lot of time and love to forge the spear that Manannán was handing Harry.
"Its name is Gaé Buidhe, the yellow rose of mortality," Manannán says as Harry takes the spear carefully, his eyes shining as he looks upon the beautiful and ancient weapon, "It was once one of the weapons of a knight who served under my grandson by the name of Diarmuid who died a tragic death, it was a gift that I had given him, and so it was returned to me after his passing and now I pass it on to you, young Red Branch Knight," Manannán says with a proud smile.
"It's beautiful," Harry says in wonder as he runs his hand down the flat of the blade; the Gaé Bolg was a vicious and cruel weapon and made to be so, so its appearance was made to reflect that, but this spear took Harry's breath away in its simple elegance.
"I'm Glad you think so, Harry Potter," Manannán says with a small smile, "But know this now, the spear carries within it a curse much like your own Gaé Bolg, but not as potent, whatever wound made to a being that is not a god with this spear will never heal nor will it ever vanished," He tells Harry, his voice full of caution "And know now that, unlike the silver in your spear, Fen-Iron weapons can and will kill mortals if used upon them, so use it wisely," He says laying a hand on Harry's shoulder before the boy nods at the god, understanding his meaning.
"Thank you," Harry says sincerely before adding a cheeky smile, "But I'm not Kneeling," he says before Manannán laughs.
"And what? Snuff out that wild and savage heart you have? Never," Manannán says with a smile before clapping Harry on the shoulder and showing him how to turn Gaé Buidhe from a short spear to a golden Torc to wrap around his arm and back again.
Manannán then gave his final goodbyes and well wishes before kissing Fúamnach on the cheek and mounting Aonbharr. The Morrígan speaks to him one more time before he turns to leave, "In one week, Manannán, I will be calling a meeting of all of us who are free, and we will be deciding what to do from there; I expect to see you there," She says to the God of the Sea before he rolls his eyes once more at her.
"If I have time, I will show up; if not, I will send a Dullahan to take notes and send a response of my own," Manannán says with an air of dismissal that causes the Morrigan to glare at him before Manannán and Aonbharr take off down the Tims after giving them one last wave and disappears out on the sea.
"That man is infuriating," The Morrígan mutters before turning to Harry, Theodore, and Fúamnach, "As for you three; I think you've earned a little R&R, so do consider this favor done, your pilgrimage over, and the job finished," She says with a small smile to all three of them before focusing on Fúamnach, "However, I would like to know more about the Fomorians you encountered," The Morrígan says, with an intense look in her eyes as she gazed at the ageless witch.
Fúamnach sighs, "My Queen, my charges are hurt, tired, and most likely hungry, and as much as I'm sure you want to know about the enemy's movements, my charges come first," She tells the Morrígan, who frowns at Fúamnach's words but doesn't interrupt her, "I wish to get them to sanctuary, get them fed, and then get them to bed, I will write you once that is done with everything I know, and we can meet to speak about once Theodore is back at school," She says to the Goddess of Death, "But my charges come first," Fúamnach say with a slight glare.
The Morrígan's lips press into a thin line and rise to her full height before sighing, "You are, of course, right, Fúamnach," She says before turning away from the trio and walking over to the ramp of the boat, "I have already secured you three a ride back to Harry's home, so long as he is open for you two to use his floo, you can get back to Brí Leíth from there," She tells them before Fúamnach looks over at Harry, who shrugs, showing he didn't mind or care. She stops right before the ramp and turns back to the three of them, looking at Harry, "Oh, and before I forget, Your sister has been at your home for the last almost forty-eight hours," The Morrígan says with a smile, confusing Harry for a moment before it hits him.
Sirius lied to him yesterday, and Harry was going to kick his ass when he got home.
Number 12 Grimmuald Place, London.
The taxi ride to Grimmuald Place was peaceful as they watched the buildings fly past before getting out just down the street from the townhouse; Harry had to help both Fúamnach and Theodore up the steps to the door due to the charm placed upon the house, having them close their eyes to not be confused by the magic before tapping his wand on the doorknob and letting all three of them inside with a cry of "I'm Home!" It didn't take long for Remus, who was in the sitting room, to make his way into the Hallway with a relieved smile on his face before it turned to surprise as he spotted Theodore and Fúamnach.
"Harry, it's good to have you home," Remus said before turning to Theodore with a weary glance, "Mister Nott, we weren't expecting you and Miss…" he trails off, waiting for an introduction.
"My apologies, My name is Lupusregine, and I am the maid and caretaker for the House of Nott," Fúamnach introduced herself; she had changed back into her maid outfit before even getting into the taxi and was supporting Theodore once more. "Do you mind if we were to use your sitting room? My master is injured and terribly tired," She asks politely, but before Remus can give her an answer, Harry speaks up.
"Yeah, the seat next to the fireplace reclines," Harry says, pointing out said seat as Fúamnach says thanks and moves Theodore into the sitting room. Remus turns to Harry with questions in his eyes, "They were with me on the quest, their cool," Harry tells Remus as he looks at Harry for a long moment before nodding and walking over to Theodore and Fúamnach and offering to look at his wounds to see if he could help with them.
It was then that Sirius made it down the stairs and wrapped Harry in a hug; Harry returned the hug for a long moment before they broke apart, "It's good to have you back home," Sirius said, relief flooding his tone and a smile on his face.
"It's good to be back," Harry says, returning the smile as Sirius claps him on the shoulder.
"Everything went well, yeah?" Sirius asks, and Harry nods.
"Yeah, five more of the Dé Danann are now out and about, the Trí Dé Dana, Lugh, and Manannán mac Lir," Harry tells him with a tired sigh, and Sirus lets out a low whistle.
"Those last two are some big names," Sirius says as he runs his chin, eyes lost in thought.
"If you say so," Harry mumbles; as much as he wants to hit Sirius for lying to him, he was dead on his feet and sore. But before he could ask where his sister was, Fúamnach walked over to Sirius as Remus was busy checking over Theodore.
"Excuse me, Sir, but you are the master of the house, yes?" She asks, and Sirius looks at her in surprise, not having seen her when he walks into the hall.
"Yes, I am," he says, confused, as he looks over at Harry, the question floating in his eyes.
"I am Lupusregina, Maid and Caretaker to the House of Nott, and I humbly ask for sanctuary in your home," Fúamnach asks, as she curtsies low in front of Sirius, "My Master was injured during the task set before us by the Queen, and he needs rest until he has his strength back, so I beseech the good lord for your mercy and the mercy of your house," she asks, staying in her curtsy with her eyes on the floor as Sirius turns to look at Harry with a raised brow.
"Nott? As in Theodore Nott?" Sirius asks, sounding weary of the Heir to a house that had fought on Voldemort's side in the last war.
Harry shrugs, "He's a friend, Padfoot," He says, looking into his godfather's eyes as the man frowns and nods before turning back to Fúamnach.
"Any friend of Harry's is a friend to my house, Lupusregina, and upon my blood and honor, I welcome you under my Aegis and know none shall bother or harm you without going through me first, rowdy teenagers not included," Sirius says with a grin and a bow of his waist, "You may take the Lady of the house's room, it is unused seeing that our only female guest refused to sleep anywhere but Harry's room," he tells Fúamnach as he straightens back up.
Fúamnach smiles at him as she raises, too, "My thanks, Lord Black; I will see that we stay out of your way, and if there is anything I can help with, do not hesitate to ask," She says before turning back to walk over to Theodore.
Harry turns back to Sirius, "Who came?" he asks, knowing the old dog would know what he is asking, but before Sirius even opens his mouth, another familiar voice speaks up.
"You can just turn around and see," it says, and Harry freezes before slowly turning to look behind him, and there, leaning back on the staircase, was Atalanta. Harry didn't say a thing as he charged his favorite sister as she charged him, both wrapping each other in a hug before Atalanta picked Harry up and swung him around; both siblings laughing as she did.
"Tag, Kiddo, you're it," Atalanta whispers to Harry as she stops and hugs him tightly.
Chapter fucking done!
And what a beast of one it is, but before we get to the A/N, I have one last thing to do.
NuadhaArget!
I name you, Aonbharr of Manannán! The steed of the Tuath Dé Danann!
Now that it is over, and I wait eagerly to see if I am correct or not, on to the notes!
Why the Hut on the Rock?
I wanted the last Dé Danann to be here because it's the place where Harry got his first taste of freedom; it shows he was never far away from his destiny of freeing the Celtic Gods and a great staging point for him to see how much he had changed over the years and a place to face his greatest trauma. But I need you all to remember that facing one's trauma is not the same as facing one's abuser, but that's for another time.
The Fomorians:
Okay, so the Formorians are a race of giants that came from either under the sea or under the earth and were the Tuatha Dé Danann's greatest enemy, who they defeated long ago thanks to Lugh(With the help of Manannán) killed the champion of the Fomorians, Balor. Now, this is going to involve minor spoilers for "The Magnus Archives." so beware reading on.
Remember how, way back in Under the Hunter's Moon, I said this story was inspired in part by TMA? Well, that's coming full circle. In TMA, there are these otherworldly entities called "The Fears," which are, well, Fears. There are 15 in total, and they encompass all of the world's fears; think Pennywise if Pennywise wasn't picky about his food, and you have them.
In this story, the fears and the Fomorians are going to be the same.
I'll be exploring and explaining this when Voldemort finds the resting place for them, but I'm tired right now, so I won't be going into detail today.
Yes, Fúamnach knows how to turn Demigods into full gods but won't do it for the sake of the balance of power within the Dé Danann unless she gets permission to do it as she did with her children.
Manannán can talk to the Morrígan like that because I consider him one of the "Big Three" in the Gaelic Pantheon, the other two being The Morrígan and The first king of the Dé Danann, Naudha.
Yes, that was {Fathomless Black Eyes} and Scáthach talking to Harry in this chapter. Have you guys noticed that once per story that someone does something that flips the whole board? Well, in this story, it's {Fathomless Black Eyes} turn, and it's gonna be huge!
Anyway, I'm tired.
Kingsaxcul, Out!