Last month: Red faced a room full of ReDeads and won the Mirror Shield for his troubles. After using the shield to cross a room full of mist uniquely dangerous to Dark World mages, he fought a deadly Gibdo head-on. After facing several temple trials on his own, he managed to reunite with one of this brothers.

*Slaps hood of first scene* This baby can fit so much drama in it! (Also LONG chapter oh my goodness.)

Content warning for fantastic racism, gaslighting and verbal abuse of a child from the POV of an adult who doesn't understand it as such, and blood.

Severus scowled with annoyance at the trio of teenagers who'd barged into his office. Blaise Zabini, Draco, and Draco's doppelganger had piled through the door mere seconds after Severus had sat at his desk. While Severus generally appreciated the company of his bright young godson, especially since the boy had been avoiding him as of late, he would have liked to have at least a few moments to collect himself after the meeting he'd just sat through.

Honestly, being lowered to consorting with Muggles! It was even more mortifying than being forced to beg the Zoras for educational assistance and temporary residence in their lake. The pompous fish, at least, had to be some sort of magic by nature in order to swim as quickly as they did. The Sheikah he'd just had to witness Albus Dumbledore—one of the greatest wizards of the era!—stoop to treating as equals? Indistinguishable from ignorant beasts that had once tormented him for demonstrating the slightest hint of magic, save for their cartoonish eyes and strange coloring. They ought to have been Obliviated and sent on their way, like any other untrustworthy riffraff.

And now he had one of those Sheikah in his office, staring up at him like a stern miniature of the woman who claimed to be his guardian. Behind the child who stood like a soldier, Blaise and Draco were bickering near-silently with scathing sideways looks and vicious mutters. Blaise, according to Draco, wasn't supposed to be there, while Blaise seemed convinced the other boy required emotional support.

"Hello, Professor Snape," Avoka said, not moving from his parade rest stance. "You're in charge of the 'Slytherin' division of this school, correct?"

The boy's voice was harsh and fried at the edges, like Draco's had become—unnaturally hoarse for someone so young. Severus had only ever heard such a timbre from older adults who'd indulged in smoked tobacco or foolish potion-makers who'd used themselves to test experimental concoctions. That distinctive rasp was part of why he'd been so frantic to understand why Draco's voice had been changing in such an alarming way.

"It's a 'House', like I keep saying," Draco hissed at the Muggle. "Why is that simple term so confusing to you?"

"Because it's an arbitrary concept seemingly designed for the sole purpose of turning the student body against itself for no good reason," Avoka said airily. "Now, if the Houses were instead Divisions, each in charge of their own business, it would make more sense."

Ignoring Draco's ensuing bluster, Avoka affixed Severus with a shrewd look. "Are you aware that many of your students have ties to a notorious terrorist organization, Professor Snape? Or, if they are innocent of any crime of association, they at least profess to agree with that organization's dangerous rhetoric?"

Severus's teeth ground together. The boy spoke exactly like that smug, uppity Muggle woman he'd had to sit across a table from for the last two hours. And, in blunt Draco-esque fashion, he was immediately accusing Severus's students of being Death Eaters. While likely having little to no idea of what he was talking about, as well. Why did the most exasperating tendencies of his godson have to be the ones that had rippled across worlds?

If this child was going to act like an impertinent Draco, then Severus would treat him just the same. "Those are bold accusations from someone who has yet to even introduce himself," he said coolly. A small raise of the chin and narrowing of his eyes communicated his great displeasure.

Color rose in the boy's light brown cheeks over the edges of his mask. Like Draco, he was sensitive to having his social missteps pointed out. "Erm, I, er," he stammered, too flustered to maintain his perfect posture. "S-Sorry, sir. I'm Avoka of Hateno, third-year trainee of the Central Kingdom Division of the Royal Guard and servant of the Crown."

Blaise snorted. "Does every Malfoy have a sentence-long title to go with their name?" he remarked in English.

Draco rolled his eyes. "A job title is not a noble title, no matter how wordy it is," he scoffed in the same language.

"Now that you've introduced yourself, why have you come to see me, boy?" Severus inquired with an unwelcoming curl to his upper lip. "Merely to accuse my students of crimes you know little about and cannot prove? Or do you intend to become a vigilante as well?"

The boy squared his shoulders, the corners of his oversized eyes tightening. "No, sir. I'm here to file a protection order—or the equivalent thereof—for a particular student on suspicion that the student's very life may be at risk," he declared. "Witnesses within and outside of the Slytherin House have made me aware of certain 'traditional' beliefs your pupils tend to hold. Beliefs that could lead one of your more favored students to harm if you don't keep a sharp eye out, sir."

Draco put a hand on one of the boy's shoulders. "A protection order?" he repeated incredulously. "You can't be serious! You said you were only going to—"

"Oh, calme-toi. A protection order has different levels of severity to it. I'm not asking for a complement of bodyguards here." Avoka brushed Draco's hand off. "Besides, if the average Slytherin sounds like that Parkinson girl when asked about 'half-breeds', I don't think it's as overdramatic a measure as you think."

Severus's eyes narrowed further at the Muggle. What were his motives in trying to protect his magical Dark World counterpart? What did he stand to gain from helping Draco? All his Slytherins knew better than to owe favors—especially to Muggles. Was there some deal the two of them had worked out while Severus had been stuck in that meeting?

Furthermore, what had this child been doing while left to wander about the castle unattended by his irresponsible guardian? There was no telling the amount of trouble an ignorant Muggle could get into if allowed to roam around a place like Hogwarts!

"Draco, what is this boy on about?" Severus asked in English. "Has he pressured you into making a deal? Is this some form of extortion in motion? What have you gotten yourself into?"

Avoka puffed up angrily. "Why do you wizard people keep doing that? I don't gossip about people in languages they don't know!"

"You were doing that to Pansy in French an hour ago," Draco countered in Hylian, which only made the Muggle's cheeks and pointed ears redden further.

"Well…I wasn't doing it right to her face," Avoka muttered, fiddling with one of the loops his hair was wired up into.

"He's not using Draco for anything, as far as we can tell," Blaise told Severus in English. "Like most of the people in this dimension, he's rather friendlier and more altruistic by nature than the people back home. In the common room earlier he was guard-dogging Draco, even though the two of them have been at each other's throats the whole time he's been here. I really do think he doesn't want Draco to get hurt, Professor. For whatever reason, he just cares."

Severus turned a glare on his godson, not sure whether he ought to feel more betrayed or worried. "You'd sooner speak to a Muggle stranger than your Head of House about feeling threatened by your classmates?" he asked with a challenging edge to his voice. The moment Draco had felt at risk, he ought to have reported to Severus himself, rather than letting a strange Muggle do it for him! In fact, the very second he'd sprouted gills or seen his pupils turn vertical, he should have gone to Severus and explained, so as to save him the gray hairs of wondering what magical disease his godson was suffering from!

The Potters' influence had contributed to Draco's increasing disobedience and reticence to confide in him, he was sure. A wide pool of mutual enmity lay between Severus and those entitled little troublemakers. As soon as those boys had sunk their claws into Draco, they would have started turning him against all the people he believed in—all of those whom the Potters considered their enemies. That was how charismatic manipulators gained and maintained their popularity, after all. Severus had known enough such people to have become an expert in picking apart their tactics.

"You were hounding me for secrets that weren't yours to know, sir," Draco said mulishly. "You've already said you're going to write letters to my parents to further convince them to send me away to Durmstrang. Why should I tell you anything? All it would do is make things worse."

Severus drew in a slow breath through his nose. At the sound of it, Draco shrank away from him. "Of all the childish things to do!" Severus raged in a scathing hiss. "You're no better than a toddler hiding an empty jar of pilfered biscuits! Your parents did not raise you to be so foolish, Draco Lucius Malfoy!"

He couldn't believe Draco had become so willing to act out in such self-destructive ways! What had the Potters been filling his head with? Where was the loyal, well-trained Malfoy scion he'd known at the beginning of this year? How had his behavior gone so wrong, so quickly?

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want to leave Hogwarts?" the boy burst out. He sounded at the edge of tears. Severus took sudden notice of the painted-over bags under his eyes and the subtle disarray of his clothing. "I just want to go to the school I like, earn my Potions N.E.W.T., and do what I want to do! Not what my parents have planned out!" Draco wrapped his arms around himself, digging his short claws into his robes. "Who bloody cares if Durmstrang is more pure? It's cold there, I won't know anyone, and everyone there will want to kill me! At least at Hogwarts, whether someone wants me dead for being an abomination acting above his station is more of a coin-flip! Honestly, I'm safer living among Muggles than I am with purebloods!"

Severus was briefly struck dumb. Both by the irrefutable confirmation that Draco no longer valued blood purity like he once had, and the sudden dreadful understanding that to a half-breed, any pureblood or sufficiently conservative magical traditionalist was a threat. Even someone of Draco's otherwise spotless and vaunted lineage wouldn't be exempt. The boy didn't have to be an actual half-anything, just impure enough for people to take notice and offense. That notion hadn't crossed Severus's mind; despite having seen Draco's inhumanity firsthand with a borrowed set of magical spectacles, he'd spent so many years in the company of Malfoys that he'd forgotten someone of that pedigree could still fall from grace in matters of blood.

"Then…then other arrangements will be made," Severus said once he'd recovered from that cold shock. "I will mention those concerns to your parents once I am able."

Malfoy snorted. "As if they would care," he said morosely. "They'll disown me as soon as they find out I've mutated like this." He put his hand to his neck.

Blaise, looking a bit awkward, patted Draco on the arm. "We'll figure something out, I'm certain," he said with wobbling confidence. "And hey, at least you've got the Potters and their friends in your corner! Those goody-goodies must have some useful strings to pull. Oh, and there's Mr. Black! He's been wanting to see you, you know."

Severus stood up and leaned over his desk. The two boys gulped and huddled closer together. They stared up at him with wide eyes and shrinking pupils.

"The Potters and Black are not, by any stretch of the imagination, to be trusted," he growled. He mentally kicked himself for not putting a stop to this weeks ago. As soon as Draco had started repeating and falling under the sway of the Potters' lies, he should have put his foot down. It was clear that what he'd initially thought of as a foolish, but temporary alliance was becoming a dangerous, poisonous friendship; the gentle half-measures he'd been taking so far in an effort to spare his godson's feelings clearly weren't enough.

Draco could forge as many social connections as he liked, but if he was going to insist on making ones that were going to lead to his destruction, it was Severus's duty as the boy's guardian to cut those ties for him. Draco might hate him for it now, but he would ultimately see the merit in the long run. At this age, the child lacked the vision to realize the kind of paths those risky, ultimately doomed emotional investments were already leading him down.

"Why do you hate the Potters so much, Professor?" Draco asked. "They haven't done anything to you. They haven't done anything to anyone. In fact, it's more like other people have been the ones doing things to them! Those Muggles they live with have—"

"Whatever they've told you has been nothing but a lie, Draco," Severus said, softening his tone. They'd had this conversation before; he hoped changing tactics would reduce the likelihood of them having it again. "They're using you. Filling your ears with honeyed words to gain your trust—and in this case, your misplaced pity—is part of that. It isn't real, as much as you might hope for it to be." He'd been lied to before, too. By Lily, when she'd said she would stay by his side, and by Lucius, when the older student had told him that serving the Dark Lord was a path to power and glory instead of humiliating servitude. Draco had too much potential for Severus to allow him to be led astray in the same painful way. His godson deserved better.

Draco closed his eyes and took a few shuddering breaths, his fists clenched to the point of quivering at his sides. Something dark squeezed between his knuckles and dripped to the floor—was that blood?!

The boy squared his shoulders. "No," he said forcefully. "They're not lying. They wouldn't lie about that. Whoever you've mistaken my…my friends for, you're wrong!" He glared up at Severus with a rebellious glint in his yellowish gray eyes. "If you have legitimate grievances about them being annoying rule-breakers with too much of Dumbledore's favor, then fine! Hate them if you want! But they're not the ones lying to me or hurting me! That's EVERYONE ELSE!"

Panic flared behind Severus's carefully stony expression. Draco was farther gone than he'd thought. If he couldn't get the Potters expelled for being truants, then surely he could have them sent away for causing such damage to his godson's sense of self? Even Severus himself had never been so thoroughly broken by the likes of James Potter.

"I will arrange for you to have a private room elsewhere in the castle," Severus said. He didn't know what feeling could possibly suit this horrifying, saddening situation, and so his voice held none. "I'll make certain you have no contact whatsoever with the Potters or their associates. That may include you, Mister Zabini." Severus turned a cold stare on him. "How could you encourage a fellow classmate—a Slytherin, no less!—to associate with such terrible influences? Surely you've seen the effect those Gryffindors have had on your dorm-mate's thinking!"

Blaise ducked his head. The boy had always been easily cowed by authority. Like a well-raised and dutiful child ought to be. "I'm sorry, Professor," he said meekly.

"Blaise!" Draco gasped, throwing a betrayed look at the boy over his shoulder. He hissed like a reptile and scowled up at Severus, his lips peeling back to show his teeth. "I don't care how much you hate the people I want to associate with, Professor. It's my decision to speak to whomever I wish! I'm my own person, and it's not a crime to make friends with the wrong sort!"

The whirl of emotions within Severus settled into a reliable old standby: wrath. "As long as you insist on throwing yourself into danger like a toddler without an ounce of sense, then I shall be the one to watch you!" he roared. "I will arrange your every move for you for as long as I must in order to keep you sane and safe! You've proven yourself too weak-willed and gullible to be trusted with—"

A bolt of white lightning flashed past Severus's face. A searing sting shouted for his attention at the edge of his right ear. He blinked and rubbed the spots out of his eyes. When he touched his ear, his fingers found a hot, cauterized divot in the outer lobe. What in blazes had that been?

He looked behind him, tracing the path the light had taken. A ring stuck out of the wall behind him. Or rather, the loop of metal at the back of a strange throwing knife was the only thing that hadn't been buried in the cracked block of castle stone at the level of Severus's head. Scorching blackened the edges of the dark seam it had created.

The air simmered with a kind of soft fire that slipped through every layer of him until it lazily drew a hot, threatening finger across his soul. Severus shuddered before turning forward again.

Avoka stood directly in front of his desk with the other two boys herded behind him. In one hand he held the blinding white silhouette of a knife identical to the one lodged in the wall. He pointed the blade directly at Severus's throat.

"Sir, if you don't learn how to address your ward in a way that doesn't raise every red flag on the proverbial ship, then I'm going to make sure you never speak to anyone again," the boy pronounced, his husky tenor lowering in pitch to an unnerving, even harsher baritone. His faintly luminous, gold-rimmed scarlet gaze burned with a kind of unflinching murderous intent that Severus had only ever seen in the eyes of born killers like Bellatrix Lestrange. This mere teenager, young as he was, was not making an idle threat.

"As far as I'm concerned, you've just shown yourself to be as much a danger to Draco as any of his 'Death Eater' classmates," Avoka informed him in that inhuman, potion-damaged rasp. "You may consider yourself absolved of any involvement in this matter, Professor. I'll speak to the Headmaster of this institution instead."

After some fumbling, Severus found his voice. "I don't care if you were raised by assassins or wild boars, boy!" he barked. "You have no right to interfere in matters that don't concern you or command me in any way! I am Draco's guardian and—"

The quiet threat whispering in the air flared sharply, causing something behind Severus's heart to sizzle. He had to pause to catch his breath. His posture was slackening as the tenseness was forcibly drained from his body, replaced by achy, leaden, overheated weariness. Heat was building in his left forearm—where his Dark Mark lay. Instead of the sharp sting of a summons, however, the pain was more like the prickly itching of a fresh burn in the process of healing. It was a sensation he'd never felt from the cursed brand before.

"I have more power here than you will ever know," the boy said icily. He was much smaller than Severus, and yet seemed to tower over him. "I have the power of my guardian at my disposal, and she not only wields a legion of Shadows, but also holds the King's ear. I do not often call upon the loyalties at my disposal, but I will bring the might of Hyrule down on your head if you dare continue mistreating my alternate self in the way you have been. What a shameful man you are." His foxlike eyes narrowed to contemptuous scarlet-gold slits. "My uncle is a poisoner of the body, and you are a poisoner of the mind. How interesting, the things that echo." He turned over the glowing knife he held and gave it a gentle downward push with one finger.

Severus watched, paralyzed by forces he couldn't explain, as the blade sank easily through his robe sleeve and into the hard oak of his desk. He wanted to speak, but the words were locked within his mind. His entire being was pleading for him to stay still and keep his mouth shut. He couldn't bring himself to even shrug off his pinned robes.

"Good day, sir," Avoka said, bundling up Draco and Blaise ahead of him. "If you wish to report my misbehavior, you can go straight to my commander if you like. I'll be submitting a report of your behavior later, anyway." He ushered the two taller boys out and kicked the door shut behind him.

Severus stared at the knife embedded several centimeters into his desk, whose color had faded to ordinary blackened steel. Why hadn't he been able to put that abominably disrespectful child in his place? Where had his carefully honed vocabulary gone? Why were two little glowing blades enough to make him forget his authority?

Why were his legs shaking?

He closed his eyes and took a measured breath. The sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears made him grind his teeth. No mere child should have been able to rattle him like this. At the same time, he couldn't muster up enough denial to soothe the fearful whimpering deep in his heart. Damn his weakness!

Severus eased himself free of his robes and rolled up his left shirt sleeve with one trembling hand. His Dark Mark was sore and swollen, the skin around it reddened and warm to the touch. And yet…the mark seemed faded. It had blurred at the edges and some of the details had gotten muddled. Almost like it had been—

He stared incredulously in the direction of his office door. That little Sheikah had done something. The unseen fire he'd called up around him had dismantled part of the curse embedded in Severus's skin, somehow. It was the only way something like the Dark Mark could be made to fade like an aging ink tattoo. That curse was powerful; even Albus Dumbledore, with all his abilities and knowledge, couldn't remove or even weaken it.

What unearthly force of magic had decided to roost in that cold-eyed child soldier's soul?

Draco didn't protest as Avoka hustled him and Blaise down a couple of corridors. After a few turns, the Sheikah stopped and leaned against the wall. His leather-armored chest heaved with a great relieved sigh. "I can't believe I actually managed to intimidate that guy!" he exclaimed. "It was like I was facing down Impa! How do you deal with that man day in and day out, Draco? I couldn't even tell what he was saying to you, and that voice of his was still scaring me out of my wits!"

Draco just silently shivered. Back in that room, it had felt like something he could barely fathom the faintest edges of had been looking at him. It had been staring directly at him with its vast eyes, too great for him to even comprehend whether it might be a spell, a spirit, or a god. He had been noticed. Something now knew of him, and it had tasted his magic.

"What the hell was that?!" Blaise exclaimed. His voice was shrill, his dark complexion ashen. "What was that feeling you made happen? Why did it feel like my magic was burning? Who was looking at us?"

Avoka's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? I only lost my temper and did some knife-threatening. The one unusual thing I did was actually throw something." He played with one of his hair loops, his pointed ears turning a sheepish pink. "That's as much as I can do, 'near-Muggle' as I am. That's why I was surprised a whole wizard like Professor Snape didn't call my bluff and use his Magic Rod to turn me into a frog! He absolutely could have if he'd wanted to."

"N-No," Draco said. "No he couldn't."

Avoka's magic wasn't a simple hedge-witch talent. Nor was it the power a wizard would wield. Draco didn't know what kind of force that boy was calling upon to do his knife-tricks, but it went beyond mere magic. If Professor Snape had attempted to crush that power, it would have turned around and crushed him instead. Draco didn't know why or how that would have happened, but the panicked gibbering in his fire-licked soul made him certain of it.

"What are you?" he asked the boy with his face. The boy who might have been something more.

Avoka looked at him like he'd said something a bit daft. "I'm you, but Gryffindor, remember?" he answered with a teasing laugh. "Now let's go hunt down that old guy with the beard and funny glasses, shall we? Maybe we'll find a useful adult around here yet."

Yellow ran at top-speed through the hot, dry, oppressive dark. His Magic Lamp joggled madly in his hand as he sped along. Its jittery light made his head swim—made it more difficult to avoid the walls he could barely see before he flattened himself against them at speed. Despite the dizziness, he sprinted on. Behind him, he could hear the reason for his terrified flight beginning to catch up. Metal being dragged against stone.

He wasn't getting anywhere. This thing kept finding him, and it never seemed to tire. Yellow had already downed two Stamina Potions in order to keep running, and this monster and its bigger, slower, mummy-wrapped fellows weren't going to give him any time to brew more for as long as he was stuck in this maze.

Tears stung his eyes. He needed a solution, darn it! How could he buy himself enough time to think, if not escape? Just the sound of that Stalfos's sword scraping against the ground was freaking him out too much to focus on coming up with a plan!

He held onto the next corner as he swung himself around. Almost immediately, he bounced off of something standing on the other side. Flames erupted in front of him.

Yellow shrieked at the sight of the Gibdo he'd just inadvertently set on fire with his Magic Lamp. Now he'd have to run away from two Stalfoses!

Hearing the scrape of the first monster approaching from behind, he juked around the burning creature in front of him and barreled down the corridor.

'I need to buy some time! How do I make these things stop?' Yellow thought desperately as he ran. He swerved around a left turn. 'Sunburst Spell? Not effective for long enough. Fire? Only affects them once, and makes things so much worse. Bombs? Might do damage, but I don't have enough to waste on a hunch. Also, conjuring my Bomb Bag would mean not having a lantern. Stupid summons system.' He halted at a four-way intersection for a brief moment, then turned to the right and resumed running. 'What else? There has to be something!'

Then he remembered. Green had said something offhand about magic Sheikah paper one day after training with Avoka. He'd bought some, given each of his brothers a handful of slips, and that had been that. Yellow had been confused by the notion of ink squiggles calling upon divine forces, so he (and presumably Red, as well) had promptly forgotten about those "seal" things.

Yellow slowed to a stop, closed his eyes, and conjured his magic bag. Through his eyelids, he could still see the world plunge into pure darkness. He let out a soft whimper as he dug through his satchel for the papers. Green had given each of them a couple expensive ones and a handful of cheaper ones: a set of two designed to raise an invisible wall, another couple that would drain some of the magic out of a monster to save them a bit of sword-swinging, and some weak ones that would just hold a monster still for a minute.

He bit the inside of his lip. The monster-paralyzing seals needed to be applied directly to the targets, unlike the wall-making ones. This wasn't going to be fun.

Taking out two of the four paralyzing seals he had, Yellow switched back to his Magic Lamp and waited grimly for his pursuers to appear. He could hear both of them, though he couldn't be sure how close they were; their clacking golden shoes and scraping swords echoed horribly around him.

His legs felt fit to freeze to the floor when he saw the sparks of the first Stalfos's sword round the corner. And yet he made them move.

Yellow dashed forward with his Magic Lamp in one hand and two pieces of fancy stationery clutched in the other. Since the Stalfos had its sword in a rather silly position, dragging behind it for intimidation points, he knew it would take a moment for the skeleton to raise its weapon for a swing. That moment would (hopefully, Merlin help him) be enough.

When he was a mere yard away from the Stalfos, he dropped down to skid across the floor on the buckler shield mounted at his hip. As he slid through the monster's skeletal legs, he slapped a seal onto its femur. There was a sharp snap, like a party cracker going off, and then the monster was frozen in place by ropes of white-gold energy.

Yellow's whoop of delight was cut short by a hooked sword narrowly missing his thigh. The second Stalfos had followed right at the heels of the first, and the narrow window before it launched its first attack had already slipped by.

As another bladed swing threatened to take his head off, Yellow dropped his lantern and threw himself into a backward somersault. He landed on his feet and sprang farther backwards to add some distance between him and the monster before standing up.

"It's not fair that you're almost as fast as me," he grumbled, calling his lamp back into his hand. Speed and smarts were the two main advantages he and his siblings had over monsters, and this Stalfos wasn't even letting him have that much!

The skeleton lurched forward, swinging its sword up with one long arm. Yellow breathlessly crushed himself against a wall as the blade's wind passed him by. Just as quickly, he had to jump toward the opposite wall as the Stalfos swung its sword down with twice the amount of devastating force.

SHUNK! The hook of the blade buried itself in the floor.

Yellow didn't hesitate. He ran up, slapped the second seal on the Stalfos's ribcage as it struggled to work its sword free, and ran away.

As he did, he was suddenly struck by the sensation of having his skull attacked by a pair of hammers. He winced and held onto the wall for support. What on earth was going on, and to whom? It felt like his head might crack open!

A Hylian potion's soothing warmth soon washed over him. The feeling of his aches being carried away left a cold pit in Yellow's stomach. What had happened that was bad enough to warrant a potion? Had one of his brothers really had his head hammered in? One of the downsides of sensations coming through the Four Sword connection now being a bit dulled was that it made it harder to judge the severity of the injury that had happened on the other end.

'I really hope it wasn't Red that just happened to,' he thought as he continued his search for an exit. 'Or Green, for that matter. The amount of dark in this place is terrible enough for his nerves on its own!'

The level of delighted relief Yellow felt when he came across the first door he'd seen in the last half-hour was indescribable. Hearing that stone wall slam shut behind him made his heart soar like his aunt and uncle had invited him to the seashore with real smiles on their faces. There was even a good amount of light in here, provided by glowing yellow stones! It was wonderful.

And then the room shook.

Yellow went into a fearful half-crouch with his Magic Lamp held out threateningly. The shaking stopped after a moment, followed by a loud hissing. Was it snakes? Were there Ropes or slithering baby Gleeoks down here?

The mystery was answered when a layer of sand rose around the bottoms of his boots. Pale orange dust began to choke the air.

Yellow whirled around. There was a silky river of sand falling from a ceiling that soared over a hundred meters above him. He hadn't walked into a room, but the bottom of buried tower! Stairs, crumbling and half-gone, spiraled up the square walls. Sand trickled in from narrow windows designed for archers to look out of, adding to the silty, almost liquid pit now sucking at his ankles.

He hurried back to the door. When he attempted to open it, he realized with a sickening jolt that it didn't have a button on this side. It was a one-way passage.

Internally spitting bitter curses, Yellow slogged through the deepening quicksand to the staircase and started climbing. The stairs were a frustrating combination of broad and steep—designed for people of Gerudo height, no doubt—that quickly sucked the energy out of his already aching legs. He'd gone from running from his life on flat ground to running for his life up double-sized steps!

When he came across the first yawning gap in the steps, he briefly panicked. The next section was ten yards away and over his head, and the sand looked like it was rising faster! Casting his eyes about in desperation, he spotted a flagpole holding aloft a ruined rag.

'Weird place for a decoration like that, but it'll do!' he thought, conjuring his whip. Yellow caught the flagpole, swung himself up to the next set of stairs, and scaled them as fast as their awkward height would allow. Once his legs started going from burning to screaming, he fell to all fours and scrambled up the big steps that way instead.

Thought faded behind movement as the rate of the rising sand sped up to catch him. He leapt up the steps on his hands and feet and threw himself at flagpoles before his whip had even fully unfurled. The actions became automatic—see a pole, swing off of it, see stairs, climb up. If he didn't stop to think, he couldn't hesitate at the edge of the crumbling steps or have visions of himself drowning in sand.

Yellow scrambled up a section of stairs that fell behind him nearly as fast as he could scale them. At the top, there was no flagpole. No, instead he could only see a rope strung between death and the next few seconds of safety. With no plans in mind, he grabbed onto it.

The last step—the one with the lower end of the metal hooks securing the rope—plummeted from the side of the tower. Yellow screamed as he, the rope, and the stone block he'd just been standing on plunged forward.

His impromptu ride came to a sudden stop as the fallen step embedded itself in the sand pit. Yellow had to cling tight to the rope to avoid being flung off.

"Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin," he chanted under his breath as he climbed hand-over-hand up the rope. In a distant corner of his mind, he was amazed at his own ascent; he'd never been able to do the rope climb in Muggle school, with his oft-bruised little twig arms.

Yellow pulled himself up onto solid ground and dove back into his four-limbed climb. He was halfway up the tower now! The stairs up ahead were patchy instead of half-missing, so he hopped from ledge to ledge, minding the small gaps. It was honestly easier to do all those meter-long, precise jumps at speed than it was to follow Green's cautious, somewhat wobbly-footed lead. As long as Yellow didn't stop to think, his body moved with delightful grace. Thanks to Green's efforts with Avoka, he could tell his balance was even improving!

He swung himself up to the next level of the tower via two flagpoles. As soon as he landed, the cracked, worn stone under his boots began to shake. Yellow looked around quickly, then sprang up and clung to a flagpole sticking out of the wall over his head. The stair he'd been standing on—the only ground underneath him—fell into the sand and swiftly sank out of sight.

"Okay, then," Yellow breathed out. He was now dangling from a pole of dubious sturdiness. Great! How did he get on top of it so he could reach the cluster of stairs above and in front of him?

'Avoka hasn't gotten around to teaching Green any ninja gymnastics,' he internally despaired. Since the Harrys were so woefully inept with weapons by Light World standards, the Sheikah's training so far had mostly consisted of how to keep their stances steady and how to hold a sword and bow correctly.

He looked down, and the sight of the sand swirling not too far below his toes had him biting his lower lip hard enough to pierce it. Yellow spat out some of the blood that oozed into his mouth and focused on the pole above him. His two options were dropping down, catching this pole with his whip, and maybe managing to fling himself up, or sucking it up and mustering the strength to get himself where he needed to be.

Yellow took a deep breath in, let a controlled exhale out, and called upon all the strength in his arms. He didn't know how to flip himself around a bar like a gymnast, but he did know what a pull-up was. His arms, sore and strained from being used to walk and climb up ropes, protested as he muscled himself up. As with all his other discomforts, Yellow pushed the pain off his mind and threw a leg over the bar once his chin was level with it. From there, he had the leverage to crouch, then (carefully!) stand up.

Bounding over to the stairs, he continued his climb. He scuttled upside-down across a rope strung between two distant steps, silently praying it didn't snap on one end and throw him into a wall. With his whip, he caught a ride from a few more flagpoles, then played hopscotch across a half-gone staircase. The sand was a healthy ten meters below him by the time he was nearing the top. He was making such good time!

But then, right after he'd dropped from a flagpole onto a small landing, knowledge struck. Yellow was frozen where he stood by a pickaxe of specialized information being wedged into the cracks of his brain. He silently wailed, more from panic than the pain he'd become accustomed to.

'Make it stop! I don't have time to be stuck here learning about light refraction!' he screamed at the unstoppable force of information cramming itself into his head.

When he could see again, the sand was nearly at the level of the platform he stood on. "Damn it, you!" he cursed at whichever one of his brothers had caused him to lose time. If they were going to get separated like this, they were going to need to buy more Gossip Stones so they could warn each other about things like that!

He scurried up the remaining steps on arms and legs that threatened to give out with every movement. It sure would have been nice if he'd had a few seconds to dig out and drink a potion, but such wasn't his luck, apparently!

Falling against the door at the topmost landing of the tower, Yellow hit its pressure switch with his shoulder. He tumbled into the next room and landed with a quiet "poomf!" on soft—

Sand!

Yellow hopped up, panic overriding his exhaustion. More sand? Was it going to eat him?

He stood still and warily watched the pale orange dirt. Unlike the stuff in the last room, it wasn't swirling around, nor was it sucking his feet down. It was just ordinary sand, sitting still under his boots like sand should.

"Thank goodness for that," he breathed. Between the giant armored worm in the last dungeon (which he'd later learned was an adolescent 'Molgera') and the tower he'd just escaped, Yellow was rather fed up with moving sand.

He conjured his bag, thought of the dish of stir-fried Stamina Shrooms, Hylian greens, shredded Cucco, and radish that he'd made sometime before this miserable trip, and cupped the bowl between his hands. Due to the nature of his bag, which he'd been testing during the hours not spent studying or sleeping, the food was as hot from the stove as it had been when he'd stuck it in there. Yellow sat cross-legged with his backs against the door, dug a spoon out of magical storage, and surveyed the room as he ate his snack. As close to the door as he was, none of the monsters were inclined to notice him yet.

Two huge golden vases with revolving orange eyes—Beamoses?—sat on raised platforms on either side of the rectangular room. Each raised column was around a meter off the ground, cut small enough that there was only room for the sentries they held up in the air. Below the watching Beamoses lay sand positively seething with Leevers. The tunneling bug-flower things (Yellow wasn't really sure what manner of creature a Leever was) raised their spiny heads out of the soft floor every now and then as they glided through it, resulting in ripples of red and green monsters popping up all over. Shafts of sunlight beamed down here and there, forming dusty orange pillars in between the stone ones dotting the place.

A large number of rocks, pots, and skulls littered the ground, some half-buried and others sitting on the surface. Yellow was puzzled by the sight until he saw a Floormaster poke its hand out of the dirt across the room. The monster wasn't looking around for things to throw, though. Its blocky fingers were instead occupied with twirling around something small and shiny.

Yellow leaned forward and conjured the Lenses of Truth onto his face. They sat awkwardly in front of his prescription glasses, but they sharpened his vision just enough.

'Where did you find this place's compass?' he wondered, chewing on a thin slice of radish. 'Well, I suppose the goal of this room must be to catch you and get that. Shouldn't be too difficult.' He kept a close eye on the creature, observing as it ducked invisibly under the thick carpet of sand, only to pop up several yards away. With the time it took in between disappearing and reappearing, he could tell it was only slinking around in puddle form where he couldn't see it, not teleporting.

He cleaned off his dining ware with Blue's new spell when he was done with his quick meal, then stood up and brushed off his robes. "Goal: get the compass," he said to himself. "Before getting the compass, find some way to deal with that Beamos. While dealing with the Beamos, don't get lasered, spiked by Leevers, hit by flying pots, or grabbed by the Floormaster." He closed his eyes and groaned. "All of that, all on my own. Merlin, I hate being separated like this!"

Since the information dump he'd gotten some minutes ago had been talking largely about the mechanics of reflecting light and magic, he conjured the new shield he'd gotten. And nearly dropped it on his foot. Yellow caught his falling limb with his other hand and tucked it up against his side, wincing at the strain. If he had to take a guess, he'd say this shield was a piece of Gerudo equipment scaled appropriately for a Gerudo-sized warrior. Heck, it was probably enchanted to be lighter than its size, given that the sturdy metal disk didn't feel as heavy as it looked. That still left it at a very uncomfortable five or six kilos of metal spread wide enough to swallow Yellow's body from his shoulders to his knees.

'If it's magically and physically invincible like its magic says, though, that second point is a good thing!' he thought optimistically. The bigger a shield was, the more shielding it could do! Besides, with the way his summoning worked, he wouldn't be able to do much else but shield if he needed to call this thing up, anyway.

With his initial disappointment settled, Yellow trooped out toward the Beamos nearer to him. He drew his sword as he approached, in case a Leever decided to pop out of the ground, but kept his eyes fixed on the metal sentry.

He hesitated when the Beamos noticed him. Suddenly, he realized he hadn't thought to check whether this model of robot was killable or not.

It was too late for him to turn around, though. The Beamos's head tracked him as he backpedaled, a red section of its eye opening up and charging with a bright light. Yellow squeaked and curled up behind his new shield.

The Beamos's laser flicked up across his shield, causing its reflection to flick down across the ceiling. Yellow looked up as far as he dared to marvel at the molten orange line drawn haphazardly above him.

"Oh wow, that sure is dangerou—ow!"

Yellow's thought was interrupted by a Leever rising from the sand and raking its spines across his arm before disappearing again. "You jerk!" Yellow called after it. He couldn't give the rude monster what-for, though, because the Beamos fired at him again.

Yellow pushed his shield out a little ways, turning its shiny surface toward his current attacker. The blazing scarlet laser that had started carving into the ceiling swung down to land in the middle of the Beamos's bugle bell. It shattered the red glass, unleashing wild tongues of lightning into the air. The machine's head twitched fitfully until, with the light building around it flaring at its brightest, it exploded in a shower of debris.

"Yay!" Yellow cheered, springing to his feet. "That was easy!"

His victory was cut short by a Leever ramming into the back of his leg before swirling off. Yellow yelped in pain and surprise, then turned around and kicked it. "You jerks! The Bestiary never said how annoying you were!'

Hearing the sand shift behind him, Yellow swung his sword in that direction. He caught the Leever sneaking up on him with a horizontal strike right across the center of its body. Yellow followed that up with a stab, which finished the weak monster off.

'Now, what else?' he thought, switching his new shield for his Magic Rod. He scouted the sand for more Leevers.

A clay pot came sailing in from the side and shattered across his lightly armored shoulder. Yellow staggered, closing his eyes against the spray of shards that pelted his face, then whirled and shot a Sunburst Spell in the direction the projectile had come from.

"Whoops, I forgot about you," he remarked to the frozen Floormaster. He ran up to attack it, then slowed his approach with a frown. "Wait, where did your compass go?"

The monster had definitely been holding a dungeon compass earlier. Had it dropped it to throw the pot? Yellow chewed on the inside of his cheek. There was a lot of sand in here, and he didn't want to have to spend hours sifting through it. The sooner he and his brothers got out of this place and into an inn with nice beds, the better!

Yellow reinforced the Floormaster's frozen state with another Sunburst Spell, then quickly slayed it with his sword. "Where did the compass go?" he muttered with irritation, scooping away some of the sand where the monster had been with his hands. Just because he didn't necessarily need it, that didn't mean he didn't want it!

A Leever rose up from the sand and raked across the back of his boots, causing him to stumble forward. Yellow dropped his sword, conjured his Dragon Hammer, and whipped around to squash the monster flat. "I don't like you," he seethed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something flash in the dim yellow lighting. Conjuring his Lenses of Truth, he peered into the moody dark. Oh, the compass was over there! Another Floormaster was waving it around. Yellow hurried off in that direction, calling his Magic Rod to hand as he did.

"How did you get that?" he wondered aloud as he sent a Sunburst Spell ahead of him. The Floormaster ducked under the flash of white fire, vanishing under the sand. Yellow slowed his approach, drawing his sword. An unseen Floormaster was one that was about to yank you into a surprise shortcut.

The monster popped back up in front of him a safe distance away, though...without the compass.

"Aw, come on!" Yellow whined. "Did you hide it, or has someone else—?" He heard a scuffle behind him and jumped to the left. The Floormaster that had snuck up on him missed its lunge and only grabbed a handful of sand. It threw the dirt down, pointed accusingly at Yellow, and then snatched something up from the ground before pulling back into its puddle. Yellow caught a glimpse of something shiny.

"You have it now?" he cried in surprise. Then he saw another Floormaster appear across the narrower length of the rectangular room, also holding a shiny thing.

"What's going on?" Yellow asked plaintively. The room's only answer was another Leever carving into his calves. "Stop it!" he wailed, kicking the monster. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!" He spun and slashed the Floormaster creeping up on him with his sword, making it rear back in pain. Yellow kept slashing until it was dead and glared at the blue Rupee it left behind.

"I just want my brothers back, and I want to sleep in a bed, and I don't want monsters messing with me!" Yellow yelled at the ceiling. His voice echoed around him.

He inhaled deeply, kicked an approaching Leever to turn it away from him, and breathed out. "I'm in a bad mood right now. I want to break things," he admitted to himself and no one else. "So I'm going to do that. That way, I'll be normal and okay again once Green finds all of us!"

Yellow went on a cheerful rampage. He slayed Leevers like he wanted them extinct (which he did). They died in one swipe of his hammer, so he played whack-a-mole with anything that dared poke a single spike out of the sand. By crouching down next to the remaining Beamos in the room with his Mirror Shield, he sent beams of destruction at the Floormasters who thought they were so clever, teleporting their toy around to one another. Molten orange and glassy black lines scrawled across the stone and sand like aimless doodles as the shadows met their fiery deaths. Once he was done with the Beamos's services, he blew it up, collected the bits of its exploded head, and went to slay the last remaining Floormaster himself.

"No more friends to teleport that compass to," he told the monster with a smile as he strolled up to it. The creature was pulling in and out of its puddle and looking around in silent confusion. "I would say 'sorry', but I'm not. You all played a mean trick." He stunned the shadow with a Sunburst Spell and slayed it in a flurry of sword slashes.

"Yes!" Yellow said, when the compass dropped to the sand. "I've got it!"

His shadow extended ahead of him. "Do you, though?" Shadow Harry plucked at the compass, which then became a shadow like him. Its silver-edged silhouette sat on his palm.

Yellow gasped. "That's not nice! I worked hard to get that, you know!"

The spirit grinned. "Well, now you'll just have to work a little harder for it, won't you?"

"You're not going to hide it again, are you?" Yellow asked, wobbling his lower lip. It wasn't an entirely affected gesture. He had killed a lot of monsters to get that, shredding his boots and legs in the process, and it was so rude to steal someone else's reward! He'd earned the right to be a little pathetic!

Shadow Harry's grin faltered. "Oh, now, don't look at me like that!" he said when tears started to brim in Yellow's eyes. "I just have to fiddle with it for a minute for wizard-compatibility reasons, and I needed you to earn the thing first. You'll get it back once you pass the test I've set up. At the rate you're going, you'll run into it soon."

Yellow wiped his eyes. "Oh, really?" he asked. He didn't need to sniffle his nose clear; though his upset was real, the waterworks hadn't quite been. "Thank you, Shadow! I know you don't like us being nice to you, but I'm glad someone who knows so much about magic is helping us."

Lighter gray blushes formed on the silhouetted boy's cheeks. "I, er, yeah, don't mention it," he stammered before blustering, "Ever. Because I really am an evil spirit, you know! I'm only helping because you're useless on your own and that rambling old owl isn't around to play guidepost!"

Yellow smiled at the spirit as he retreated into wherever he usually hid. The version of evil that existed around Hyrule could be so charming at times. Living with the Dursleys would have been so much easier if they'd been a family of bad guys like Shadow Harry.

Now without the compass he'd fought to get, but with a solid assurance he'd be getting it back, Yellow went through an unlocked door by one of the Beamoses he'd slain. It opened into darkness. He conjured his Magic Lamp as he walked in, squinting.

The blackness here was as heavy and thick as it had been in that awful mummy maze. Since this was a room and not a basic hallway, the swimming shadows were even more troublesome. It took him longer than it ought to have for him to realize this room didn't so much have a floor as it did walkways. Those little sprigs of land he could see trailing off past the edge of his lamplight were really all there was to the solid ground in here. Each was a scant thirty or so centimeters wide—broad enough not to be a balance beam, but terribly narrow in a room where one just plain could not see.

There were noises happening in the dark, too, which didn't lift Yellow's spirits. Most noticeable was a repetitive clanging, which was accompanied by sprays of sparks appearing at a few points along one wall. Quieter, but far more alarming, was the sound of heavy breathing. Well, not breathing so much as panting. It sounded like Dog was somewhere in the dark room, recovering after a long run. Yellow didn't know what the noise could have matched to. Not a Moblin, because it wasn't accompanied by oinking, and it was too deep to come from a Bokoblin. Lizalfoses were dead quiet until they attacked, ReDeads had a very identifiable moan, and Gibdos and Stalfoses barely made any sound at all aside from their footsteps. What was it, then?

Yellow stepped onto one of the walkways leading from the starting platform and nervously peered over the edge. It didn't lead into an unending void, interestingly enough. There was a faint smudge of dark blue allll the way down there.

A voice suddenly sprang from the darkness, echoing across the room. "Isn't this just lovely!" it vented angrily. "I escape that bloody maze, wind up nearly drowning in weird immortal ChuChus and quicksand, and now I'm right back in the dark again! Goddammit—oh sod off." There was a soft swish and the crisp snap of a monster disappearing into smoke. "I do not need Ropes putting holes in my boots right now, thanks."

Yellow had quickly gone from almost falling off the walkway in fright to absolutely elated. He backtracked a few steps to the starting platform. The light of one of his brothers' Magic Lamps appeared from around the edge of a pillar hidden in the dark. "Green, is that you?" he called out. Out of the Harrys, Yellow's "oldest" brother was the one most likely to rage about being put in the dark.

The light on the other side of the room bounced as if startled. "Oh! You're real!" his brother squeaked in surprise.

Yellow sighed. Green was also the one of his brothers most likely to hallucinate things in the dark. "Yes, I'm real," he confirmed. "I'm Yellow!"

"I'm Green!" Green replied. "Have you been managing alright in here?"

"Fine enough, but I'll be glad to be together again!" Yellow said. He walked over to the path at the front of the platform and started along it.

"Be careful in here," Green warned. The light of his lamp drifted over to illuminate a narrow band of floor. Flashes of Green's boots could be seen as he began his own crossing.

"When am I not careful?" Yellow scoffed with good humor. "That's basically all I am!"

"You're more than just that, Yellow," Green said. Yellow could imagine him rolling his eyes. "I mean be careful because the Four Sword is really freaking out right now."

Yellow paused at a corner of the narrow walkway. "Oh, because of the breathing?"

"The what?!"

"There's something in here that sounds kind of like Dog panting after a run," Yellow clarified. "But with your whole hallucination thing, you might not have—"

"I just see stars! It doesn't mess with my hearing!" Green protested indignantly. "It's probably just closer to you than it is to me."

"That's probably it," Yellow conceded. He wasn't entirely sure that Green didn't also hear things in the dark, but he didn't want to make his already stressed brother any more upset.

Yellow placed his feet carefully as he traveled along the pathway's sharp and frequent turns. At one point, he could feel something whizz past him in the dark. It went by in a brief flash of fire-lit orange, and then there was a spray of sparks off to his right. He briefly froze, afraid he'd run into the breathing thing. After a few seconds and a few more sparking things had passed, though, he realized he'd come across something that was firing off big metal darts into the dark. The pathway ahead crossed right through the danger zone.

'Ooh, I really don't like this,' he thought nervously before conjuring his Mirror Shield. The room—what little he could see of it—plunged into pure black. He almost chickened out and re-conjured his lamp for its comforting light.

Yellow rushed several steps straight forward, doing his best to move in a pin-straight line. One of the bolts flying across the room clanged off of his shield, but he just closed his eyes against the hot sparks and kept going. He stopped when his front foot barely missed sliding off the edge of a corner hidden in the dark.

"Yellow? Yellow, where did you go?" Green's scared voice called out. "Did you fall? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Yellow said brightly to assure his brother. "I just had to call up my shield for a second." He conjured his Magic Lamp and gave it a jolly rattle.

Hot, wet breath caressed the back of his neck. That sound he'd heard before was suddenly right behind him.

Yellow screamed and took off running as fast as he could. He could only see a meter ahead in the pressing darkness, and that distance was mostly eaten up by each leaping step.

"What's happening? Did you find the—AUGH!"

Transmitted fire ripped across Yellow's back. It caught him mid-step, causing him to flub the frantic pivot he'd have to do in order to turn the next corner. He came to an arm-flailing halt. "GREEN!" he screamed. His brother's light was sliding down, down, down…and then it was plummeting like a fallen star.

Yellow didn't think. He did a swan dive into the darkness.

Save Green.

He reached out and thought, 'Bring me to him.'

Yellow's falling trajectory shifted. Instead of straight down, he jerked forward. Not quite toward his brother's lamp, but toward the unseen shape he could sense drifting away from it. Yellow hit Green in an airborne tackle and held on tight to his brother, summoning his Magic Rod. He could feel the hot wetness of blood and the ragged edges of ripped robes as he secured his one-armed grip.

'Don't think about it,' he told himself. 'Land safely, treat injuries, address any distress. No time to freak out.' The blue smudge below had quickly swelled into a great circular auditorium. With every second, the ground was dozens of meters closer.

He circled his Magic Rod out to the side with his left arm. Unaffected by the Falling Spell, a charm that only worked on its caster, Green suddenly became dead weight. His limp, heavy body threatened to slip from Yellow's grip. Yellow jammed the shaft of his Magic Rod between his teeth and muscled Green into a bridal carry. His arms immediately began to burn from the strain of holding up his own weight. Yellow tuned it out, his eyes fixed on the approaching ground. He didn't care how many tendons he tore or muscles he overtaxed to keep one of his brothers safe.

The room rose around them. Shafts of light fell from ports in a rounded ceiling that had appeared only once they had descended below it. All Yellow could see in the sunlight light that bounced off of the blue tiles were more tiles. It was just flat, blank floor and nothing else.

That meant monsters could be hiding anywhere, out in the open and yet fully invisible.

As soon as they were on the ground, Yellow conjured his bag and took out one of the higher quality Red Potions he'd bought from Maple. After a quick check to make sure Green didn't have any knives stuck in him—holy crap, those were claw marks carved across his spine!—he turned his unconscious brother back over and tipped the potion into his mouth, rubbing his throat to encourage him to swallow. Green took a gulp, then awoke spluttering. Yellow gave his brother a moment to get his wits about himself, then firmly encouraged Green to finish the rest of the bottle.

"What got me?" Green asked once the deep, weeping gouges in his back had closed. He felt around behind him, his eyes getting wider and wider with the amount of clothing damage his fingers encountered. "Oh, wow. No wonder I passed out. That's a lot to get hit with out of nowhere!"

"This is going to sound silly, but I think something like a tiger slashed you," Yellow said, examining the bloodied tears in Green's clothing before magically cleaning and mending them. The creature that had struck him must have been on the same level as a Stalfos, if not greater. It had sliced through the enchanted cloth and leather like it hadn't been there. "Whatever it was must have had really long claws!"

"You're right about one of those things, Yellow," another Harry said, his voice chipper and more than a little wicked.

Yellow and Green jumped, then looked over to their left. Shadow Harry stood there, casually flipping a floating black rock around with flicks of his fingers. Whatever that rock was made out of, watching its pulsing orange patterns sent a sickening chill up Yellow's spine.

"Over here, Bicker Twins!" Shadow called over their heads, beckoning with the hand he wasn't using to play with the creepy rock. He looked back down at Yellow and Green with a sinister smile. "Today I'm giving you a pop-quiz! I'm going to test just how well you've been listening to that new teacher of yours," he said. "You're not going to be able to wizard your way out of this one!"

Red and Blue came running up and put themselves between the spirit and their brothers kneeling on the ground. "That's Professor Lupin's werewolf curse he's playing around with," Blue said grimly.

Yellow's heart jolted. Wasn't the werewolf curse like…incurable, monthly magical rabies? That was a lot of evil to be flipping around like a toy!

Shadow's smile showed too many teeth. "It sure is!" he said. "And wait till you see what I've done with it! Green's only gotten a little taste." He snapped his fingers.

The light shafts in the room flickered as they were partially blocked by shapes falling from above. Four strange gray Bokoblins landed in uncommonly graceful crouches on the tiles before straightening. They leered at the Harrys with golden crystal eyes, as opposed to Vaati's customary scarlet. Each one had a Hylian sword and a buckler similar to the Harrys' mounted on their backs.

"Don't worry; they're not contagious," Shadow Harry said with a wink. "Have fun, boys!" He turned and melted away into the room's blue-black darkness.

At that signal, the four monsters stepped out of the light. As soon as they did, their bodies twisted. Their limbs squirmed out into longer shapes as silver fur the same color as their skin exploded across their bodies. The Bokoblins' faces puffed out grotesquely, then shrank into the form of stubby, canine snouts with protruding fangs. As one, they brandished glinting black claws as long as knives and surely just as sharp.

Because these weren't Bokoblins. They were Wolfoses.

Notes:

-Snape is correct about Avoka's voice: that raspy tenor was induced by an unexpectedly caustic experimental potion. The effects weren't entirely accidental, however.

-Dark World mages perceive the power of Light a bit differently, being quite sensitive to it. Light World people wouldn't see Avoka's eyes glowing, or feel the high level of ambient energy hovering around him. So, from Avoka's perspective, he just intimidated a scary man twice his size through sheer gumption and luck. Like a house cat scaring off a bear.

-Yellow's feeling of having his head attacked by hammers was transmitted from poor Red, who just had his head chomped on by a ReDead.

-The frozen-with-knowledge feeling that Yellow got hit with while going up the sand tower was from Blue using the Blank Scroll to add Red's new item to the Harrys' summons.

Next month: a tricky mini-boss fight and even more difficult discussions.