A/N: I apologise for the long wait. I had a lot of personal stuff on top of new chaos at work. I can't promise regular updates, but here it is, the end of Arc 2!
Shoutouts: Thanks to Darkness Enthroned, Kit Willow, Thanos, Rahul and x102reddragon for their awesome beta work. Check out their stuff!
The Shadow of Death
Chapter 25: Walk the Dark Path
Brittle ice passed on to grasping icicles; winter's cruel grasp shrouding scrawled letters on an old wooden sign. The worn wood sagged, betraying decades of service in the tundra. He read the single word on the sign.
The single etched word had been carved into his mind years ago. He murmured it all the same, brushing his fingertips over the frigid, faded letters. "Omyakon."
His whisper carried into the woods as if on the tattered wings of demons. He turned from the sign with a suppressed shiver.
Crisp snow crunched beneath his feet. Crows scattered into flight in a frantic cloud of black, directing hateful caws at the one who dared disturb them.
Beams of sunlight shot off the pure white ground and pierced his eyes. Grey fabric scratched his skin as he shielded his face. His eyes darted between the ice-encrusted shacks of the quiet hamlet.
Smoke drifted out from cobbled chimneys; glinting droplets of water wound down the stones from the icicles above. Clumps of snow dropped from roofs, swallowing the stooped forms of sleeping drunkards.
White powder drifted around the corner of the structure in front of him and a man smelling of sweat, grease and cheap vodka stumbled over a stray log nearby. He untied the rope holding up his pants, releasing a long sigh. Steam rose from the snow, the scent of acrid piss carried to him on the wind.
"Hey, you," the man grumbled. "If yer gonna stare then make yerself useful and grab me another drink. The pub's closed up and I'm not done, ya see?"
Harry sneered, steam billowing from his nostrils. "I suggest you leave… now."
The man shook himself and glared at Harry with one bleary eye. A gasp slipped from the man's lips and he fell face first in the stinking yellow snow. Seconds passed before the man scrabbled to escape the muck. "The fuck'd ya say to me, boy?"
Cold metal slipped into Harry's palm. The pistol's hammer fell into place with a sharp click, its barrel resting beneath the man's jowls.
Harry leaned over and cocked his head. "Ya d'yavol," he whispered.
Liquor-fogged eyes sharpened. The man shuddered in the foul snow, his face turning a mottled yellowish-white. Piss-soaked slush fell from his matted hair in clumps, plopping into the swill below. He stumbled to his feet, slurring apologies, and ran; the rope looped through his pants slapped against his thighs as he disappeared behind the pub.
Harry rode the hammer forward with a sigh. Grey fabric scratched a static crackle as he stored the gun in his robes. Eyes shifting, Harry took in the ever-present gloom of his old residence. The rising sun's rays did nothing to ease that oppressive darkness.
To the townsfolk it was a place of horror, a frozen hellscape of ceaseless suffering and sorrow where demons lurked and played. They did not speak of it if they could help it.
To him it had been home of sorts, but not now, not any more. However, the need to return had become all-consuming. He took one long, slow step forward.
'Toward home,' he thought with a scoff, 'to the beginning.'
Flashes of grey cloaks whipped the air, disappearing deep into the shadowed mountains as he passed. The air hummed with ancient energies. He stopped, gazing up at the twisting pall of magics covering the area.
'They were expecting me.' Harry stared into the abyss.
Faceless monsters screamed at him from the dark.
He walked forward, gritting his teeth. Crimson sparks danced over his skin, burrowing and burning his flesh. The first warning to turn back, that death waited in the dark.
"And I am not welcome," he muttered as mist enveloped him.
Inky black swallowed him and Harry stepped forward only to trip, his muttered curses lost amid a void of wind and clattering rock. He was lost.
The Elder Wand's cackles rang in his ears.
Shadows twisted in the dark fog. Something in the distance scraped over frozen rock, dirt and snow. Shrieks reverberated into the perpetual night.
The air rippled in his peripherals, ever-watching eyes piercing him through the gloom. Crazed titters tore through the shadows. Wet, rattling, breaths filled his ears and Harry's skin crawled as if clothed in scurrying roaches.
His muscles strained as he fought the wards' effects and took another shaking step forward. The Elder Wand's mad laughter reached a fever pitch in his mind.
The fog thinned, roiling in the air above as hundreds of translucent figures staggered toward him. Their festering limbs scrabbled over large rocks. Manic, bloodied grins etched over their faces in a sick rigour. Thick globs of blood dribbled from their wounds, splattering onto snow-covered stone.
Their indistinct forms swarmed him, feverish giggles tearing from bulging throats. Stiff, cold fingers clawed at his cloak, grasping for purchase.
He struggled against the flurry of rigour-laden limbs. The Elder Wand's bitter cold tore into his forearm's flesh.
"We are stronger here where Death dwells, Harry Potter," Debrescu wheezed. "I told you that you'd meet your end at my hand."
Scabbed, slime-crusted hands squeezed his neck. Harry's mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish. Foetid flesh and rotted blood burned his nose; his panic soared, searing his veins in a raging inferno.
"We will have our revenge." A German wizard he had killed many years ago knocked Debrescu aside.
Stale air filled his burning lungs.
"For killing us," Theodus Greengrass rasped. Jagged bones tore through his skin, peeking through ripped robes. Demented glee shone in his glassy eyes.
"We'll put you down like the monster you are," yelled Dominic McGlinchey, one of his many muggle victims.
"For your inaction." Neville sneered down at him. Grey skin flaked off him and fell on Harry like snow. "For your selfishness."
"For our revenge," Greyback howled, blackened blood oozing from his jaws.
He drowned.
A sea of gnashing teeth and rotten flesh dragged him down. Bodies churned above, pushing at his chest until jagged rock stabbed at his back. His lungs struggled for even one wheezing breath beneath the deluge so Harry pushed against the swarm with shaking arms.
"I will not die here." Harry grunted. "I will fix this. You will not win."
Their faces twisted and snapped at his trembling hands. Wet, rattling laughs pierced his ears. Greyback howled in malefic glee and swiped at him, blood glinting off his browned claws.
The Elder Wand's whispers faded and a scream tore from Harry's lips, surging fire and magic flinging the swarm off him in a twist of macabre limbs.
He stumbled to his feet, ragged breaths puffing out into the cold air. The dispersed bodies floated to their feet like marionettes raised on invisible strings.
The fire licked at their bodies: skin melted and sloughed from their blackened muscles, boils erupted, spraying steaming brown pus onto the snow. The spectres sizzled under the deluge, their mad laughter shrieking into the cold night.
Harry roared and magic surged. Snow and ice leapt at his command, twisting through the air in glittering arcs. Harry slammed his arms down; the earth shook in protest as tonnes of frozen water covered the area.
"I will be rid of you," he shouted at the drifting snow. "I'll be rid of this guilt! I'll be whole again. I don't need it. I don't need anyone!"
Their cackles rang out over the clearing and Harry fisted his hands in his hair.
"You don't believe that. Not really." The boy from Hogsmeade smiled, sorrow shimmering in his white eyes.
Harry's heart lurched, pain lancing his chest at the sight of the boy. "What was your name?"
"Henry. I don't blame you, you know?"
"Then why?" he croaked.
"Why do you still see us?" Henry's milky eyes stared off into the beyond. "Because you must become more than you are. It's too late to turn back."
"I don't understand." Harry fell to his knees, his heart twisting in his chest. "I don't want this, can't bear it. Just go away… please."
Henry shook his head, his form fading into the nether. "Then you'll die." He raised a blood-covered hand. "Farewell, Harry Potter."
Choking back a sob, Harry closed his eyes and curled his numb fingers into the slush as the laughter faded.
'What do I do?' He slammed his fist into the stone below. 'I don't want to be Harry Potter. I just want—'
Bright red light enveloped him.
—0v0—
"I know you are awake." The voice was muddled, as is speaking underwater. "Open your eyes and tell me why you have returned."
A blurred figure towered over Harry, spinning something pale and thin in its hand. Dim light shadowed the figure.
"It would have been easy to kill you," the figure continued. "I would have been well within my rights for the disgrace you have brought me. Why are you here, Potter?"
A groan escaped his cold-blistered lips. Harry rolled over, wracking coughs stabbing his lungs. The figure leaned over him and his sight sharpened.
"Answer me, boy." His old master jabbed the Elder Wand into his throat. "You have grown lax to have been captured so easily."
Harry pushed the wand from his throat and levelled a glare at the older wizard. "You unkeyed me from the wards," he rasped. "Of course the they overcame me. There is no way around them."
Red robes scratched as the old wizard stood to his feet. "You wear our robes, pretending you are still one of us. Stand up. The sight of you sprawled on the ground like a babe sickens me."
Harry's muscles screamed as he stood on shaking feet. 'I must have been hit by at least a dozen stunners.'
Small beams of light followed his movements. Wizards stood on the other end of those wands, ready to act at a moment's notice. Magic buzzed about him and he reached out with his own.
'I cannot sense them,' he realised.
"Only now are you taking notice of your environs." The Master held the Elder Wand up to his eyes. "Fourteen years of training and resources wasted. I do not know what He sees in you."
"I am still strong." Tremors coursed through Harry's stiff body.
The older wizard's goatee twitched. "You lie. I can see it in your eyes, feel it in your magic. You allowed Dumbledore to corrupt you, to make you weak."
"I am still an assassin," Harry replied, squaring his shoulders.
"I see Dumbledore has also made you delusional." He waved the Elder Wand, scowling when it did not react to his command. "I have been following your exploits. You have made mistakes which would have seen you punished were you still mine."
The red-robed wizard pocketed the Wand and walked away. "Come, it is time I reminded you of something."
Harry followed him out the door, light taps reaching his ears through the twisting obsidian halls. He felt eyes following him, crawling over his skin like a thousand ants waiting to bite into his flesh.
Unnatural whispers floated down the halls despite them being the only two present.
"The wards affect you even here," the man said. "I have bolstered the defences since you left. You will be lost in these halls without me as a guide, despite having grown up here. Impressive, no?"
"What do you want to remind me of?" Harry growled.
'Our confrontation has not gone according to plan.'
"Your roots." The master of assassins turned down a foggy corridor. Pained screams bounced off the walls. "You are a force of nature, to be sure. Yet you have not defeated Tom Riddle, weakened as he is. You have made irrational decisions despite what I personally taught you. You have allowed your emotions to control you."
Old hazel eyes turned toward Harry, assessing. Harry looked away, ignoring the other man's scoff.
"That is why you have come then," he said, "to address your growing sentimentality."
The screams grew louder, but Harry could not know if they were real or part of the castle's defences. They stopped in front of a blank stretch of wall.
"Wrong," Harry hissed. "I want you to take away my emotion, like you did with the rest."
Red robes whispered a scratchy note as the elder wizard waved his wand. The wall melted into the floor and the screams reached a fever pitch.
Harry peered into the room, straining against memories that clawed for purchase in his mind.
The room contained two wizards, one standing and one thrashing against straps binding him to a metal table. The wizard free of restraints wore blood-soaked blue robes and was cutting through bone with a serrated silver blade.
Body arching, the restrained wizard loosed a blood-chilling wail. The blue-robed wizard kept at his morbid task, uncaring. Harry watched for several minutes as instruments flashed and blood and gore coated the floor. The wizard roused his patient every time he lost consciousness.
And the screams, something that had once been common in his life, pressed down on his shoulders. Harry looked away.
"You remember receiving the same treatments, yes?" Twinkling hazel eyes stared, enraptured by the scene.
"Nothing so barbaric." The screams pierced the fog in Harry's mind. "While excruciating, my treatments were different. Why?"
"Because you were never fully mine." Obsidian oozed back into place at the wave of the Master's wand, the screams quieting. "You were to be His, different from the rest."
Harry followed at the man's side, thankful for each moment the screams lessened. "What do you mean 'His'?"
His old master raised an eyebrow. "You do not yet know?"
Harry shook his head.
"Then we will cover that in time." The old wizard looked back down the hall. "Do you still wish to be rid of your emotions, seeing what you have?"
"Yes. I need to be rid of them." Harry turned away, scowling at his feet. "You were right. My emotions make me weak. I was lying to myself."
Black teeth poked out from the wizard's weathered lips. "You finally see a portion of truth, but I am afraid I cannot allow it. Your emotions only make you weak because you allow it."
Fire coursed through his veins and Harry whipped around. Sparks danced across his skin, begging for release. "Then what use are you? I should kill you for everything you have done to me, for stealing me."
Pale wood flashed and Harry found himself tethered to a wall by an invisible force. Rancid breath puffed against his cheeks and fiery hazel eyes bored into his own.
"Do not mistake my prudence for weakness, boy," he hissed, spittle striking Harry's cheek. "You may be stronger than me, but you are surrounded and I have millenia of experience at my beck and call. Restrain yourself or I shall do it for you."
Pain lanced through his hands and knees as he fell to the ground. Harry glared up at the man, his tormentor, hair standing on end. Sparks shot from his skin, hissing against the floor, as they stared at one another.
Harry closed his eyes, forcing the fire in his veins to a smoulder.
"It is because of Him, isn't it?" Harry stood to his feet. "All of it. Me coming here. Me being different from the rest… Selling me."
"You remember?" His eyes widened at Harry's nod. "Then you must know I am beholden to Him. Can you recall His words?"
"He is mine, and you would do well to remember that. Take him. Train him. He will be different from the others…my legacy."
Harry nodded. The air beside the older wizard rippled and Henry took form beside him, his visage indistinct save the blood coating him. The boy gave him a mournful look.
His heart hammered in his chest, preternatural cold chilling his bones. A ghost of a dry, humourless laugh rang through the deserted corridor.
The ancient wizard flinched.
"Who is He?" Harry asked.
The Master bowed his head. "We do not speak of Him here, but I follow His command. As to who He is? That you must discover for yourself, and soon. His patience is wearing thin."
Oswin Nott took shape beside Henry, his innards spilling to the floor in a phantasmal glow. Fury coated his face. "He is coming for you," he gurgled, "just as you came for me. And He will catch you one way or another."
"What does He want?" Harry ignored the spectres. "Why did He specify I be different from the others?"
"I do not know." The old man looked to his left, his eyes sparkling. "He never told me, but I know His magic has already affected you. Any further augmentations would go against His order, and, as such, I cannot help you."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "You would not help even if you could. I want to overcome this weakness, purge it, and you're of no use to me. He is of no use to me."
"Stay your tongue, boy." The old assassin's wand jabbed into Harry's throat, sparks spitting onto his skin. "If anything, you are more than them because of Him, despite your frail heart."
Harry's hands fisted beside his trembling form. "Yet I am still weak, just as you said."
Hazel eyes roved over Harry's form. "It is my greatest frustration that we could not beat the emotion out of you. You were our greatest success and our premiere failure. Would that you could have been perfect…"
"Then how do I move past this?" Harry eyed Henry's slumped form. "How do I achieve perfection? How do I win?"
"You must accept what you are Harry Potter." The red-robed wizard lowered his wand, his eyes snapping to the spectres. "You view your actions through the lens of an assassin, just as I taught you, but you are still human, still young.
"You cannot survive as two men in one body. Accept that you are a killer, that you are Harry Potter, a man of emotion. Move on from what ails you and turn weakness to strength. Finally, you must meet my Master. He is the key to your survival in this war."
Oswin Nott cackled, his howling laughter thundering through the corridor.
"You see them, too," Harry murmured. "But accepting myself will not cure me of my visions, my weakness. Magic does not work in such a way."
The Master shrugged. "Magic is a wonderful and fickle thing. It can create nightmarish things, and it can create a paradise just as easily. Your intent, your sense of self, is what guides this force. You know this as well as I."
Harry's hand twitched. "You know something."
A sinister grin twitched on the older wizard's face. "I have theories. Riddle has been quiet of late. He is amassing strength. He will show his hand soon enough."
"How do I meet your Master?"
"The Hallows are the key," he replied. "That is all I know.
"Then I will find him and subvert my fate," Harry spat. "I will grow, and when I do I will come back here and kill you. I will be free of everyone, even myself."
The master of the assassins nodded. "You will try… and you will fail. The Game always plays out as they intend. Farewell, Harry Potter."
Red light filled his vision from every corner.
END OF ARC 2