Chapter Seven: The Tatau

The ghostly voice had lured him far away from his prior location, lost in the unnatural fog with no clear path ahead. Harry was hardly aware of his surroundings, following its call without any worry; it had felt like an old friend. Despite not knowing whom it was, the boy felt safe even in this perilous situation.

Any thought of the strange creature that had attacked him earlier was gone. Stepping over a fallen branch, he was greeted once more by the disembodied call. The fog had slowly cleared, and by now Harry had been walking for what must have been an hour. His legs were growing weary, the pads of his feet aching alongside the stinging cuts from his skirmish with that beast.

Even the thought of Oliver was a long distant memory at this point, and the only singular thought running through his head was to follow that voice. Following it would lead him to safety, he was sure of it.

The path began to open up, revealing a towering waterfall that spread out into a beautiful lake ripped straight from a tropical paradise. The grass was lush and green with an outstanding array of flowers of all colors as far as the eye could see. Taking in a deep breath, Harry felt rejuvenated by the fresh crisp air this oasis provided, unlike the stark contrast of the rest of the island thus far.

Rushing to the water's edge, Harry practically dove into it in order to get a drink. Plunging his head into the water after quenching his thirst, Harry closed his eyes. It was the matter of cooling off and ridding himself of the filth that'd built up since the wreckage that made him begin scrubbing his face as he came out of the water with a gasp.

He could feel the sting of his injuries from his plight with the creature, but none of them seemed to warrant examination at the moment. Only the burning in his chest seemed to take precedence over everything else. He'd most likely broken a couple ribs, but as long as he was careful, they'd heal without any further repercussions.

Harry laid down upon the grass with a heavy sigh, looking up towards the sky. There were hints of pink and orange to the looming clouds, making him realize the sun must have started to set upon the horizon. It was going to get dark soon and he had no clue where he was going to take shelter. He couldn't be out in the open in case a predator was lurking somewhere close. It was here that he finally felt everything catch up to him as fatigue set in. Before the wizard knew it, everything went black, and he saw no more.

Oliver's stomach twisted as he opened his eyes to a world of blurs. His shoulder burned with an intensity he'd never experienced before. Despite all reason, the only thing he could think about was where Harry might have been at that moment. Had the man in the hood gotten to him? Was he on the beach looking for him?

He couldn't bring himself to think about it as he forced himself to roll onto his side to relieve the pressure from his wound. His sight began to clear, and he could make out the shape of the hooded man gathering his things near the entrance to the cave.

"Wh-what are you doing?" the playboy managed to squeak out, as the figure grabbed his bow.

"I'm going to find the other." was all the man said before he stepped out of the cave and disappeared out of sight. Oliver let out a groan, partially hoping that he wouldn't be able to find him. He didn't want Harry to share the same fate as him…

"Harry?" called an all too familiar voice in the back of his mind as his eyes fluttered open. The roar of the waterfall threatened to drown out any sound nearby, as Harry realized he was behind it in a secret cave. His right arm was numb, but there was an underlying tingling that felt alien to the rest of it – warm and comfortable like a blanket.

Glancing towards the deadened arm, Harry caught something out of the corner of his eye moving. His heart skipped a beat, the thought of that creature having returned bringing his synapses to life as he sat up, scooting backwards against the cave wall.

A soft hum echoed in his ears as he was able to make out a figure hiding in the shadows. It was an older man with long and matted white hair mixing some materials into a small bowl, paying him no attention. He clicked his tongue as he set the bowl aside and rolled his shoulders.

"You're lucky I found you when I did," the man said abruptly, turning slightly to glance towards him.

"Wha-" he started, but it hurt to spoke. His mouth was dry and making any sound felt like sandpaper scratching his throat.

"Ah, try not to speak. I was forced to give you a cocktail that relaxes your muscles; it'll wear off shortly, but until then just relax." The man rose to his feet, grabbing the bowl and carrying it over to him. Kneeling down, the man looked at Harry's arm and gave a huff of satisfaction. "I'll admit, Harry… you're not quite what I imagined."

Harry's eyes widened. He knew who he was?

"Please, the scar gave you away. Hard to imagine you're the one who killed Lord Voldemort, even if it was by luck." he replied with a sly smile. "It seems luck has gotten you far, but I'm afraid it won't get you home this time."

Admittedly, the old man's words began to fall on deaf ears as Harry examined him.

There were deep scars that traced his face, arms and neck like cracks in concrete. He was gaunt; his pale, blotchy skin stretching so far that it looked as though he could break at the seams. Small, thin purple veins trailed across his skin like electricity. All in all, it was clear that the man seemed to be long past his prime, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what may be keeping his broken body alive.

The man was quiet as he took Harry's right arm and began applying a thick greenish-brown paste over it. It was a disturbing smell that assaulted his nostrils, but the man certainly didn't seem fazed by it.

"I imagine you're confused, wondering if I'm going to harm you. That's certainly not the case. All I want to do is help you."

Was that what he wanted to do? How was Harry supposed to be sure of that? It wouldn't be the first time a "friendly" face had wanted to do him harm before, so why should this be any different?

"Wh-why…" he managed to ask although it hurt.

"Well, it's hard to explain but I know you, the real you… the one you can become. Surviving the killing curse is an exceptional feat, especially for someone who was as young as you were. That takes potential, and from the look of you… you have plenty."

Harry wanted to laugh; it felt like he was talking to a salesman. The numbness in his arm was starting to wane, and now he could start to feel the sticky residue of the paste.

"What… what potential?"

"To live." the man explained, pulling a rag out of his pocket. "This island is home to darkness. Darkness unlike anything you've ever experienced before."

His first thought immediately went to that creature that attacked him.

"Like that shadow monster?"

The man paused, his face contorting into a displeased expression. He took in a deep breath and looked out towards the waterfall.

"So, you've seen it then? I was afraid of that."

"What is it?"

"Can't say, I have only encountered it a few times myself; alas I've never been able to see it completely." the man explained with barely a shrug. Harry thinned his lips as he frowned, disappointed by the reply. He couldn't help but feel there was more to the man's knowledge of the creature, but whether that was the case or not remained to be seen. If anything, it was clear he either was hiding information from him or he truly didn't know much about the creature. In either instance, it was a disappointing turn of events.

To have been attacked by something that he couldn't have hoped to concoct in his worst nightmares and not have anyone have information regarding its existence was disheartening and quite frankly terrifying. Looking back on it, it was almost like he could feel the creature's emotions as it dragged him through the woods at breakneck speed. The anger, the desperation, and perhaps the loneliness? That was the strangest part of it all, was the sense of loneliness that Harry had gathered from it in those fleeting moments. Despite it lashing out and attacking him, Harry just knew it was alone. How or why he knew that he couldn't say. Perhaps it was capable of sharing its emotions as a way to communicate.

"How did you come across it?" the man asked, pulling Harry out of the sea of thoughts that were threatening to drown his mind, not unlike the creeping shadows that surrounded that creature. "As I recall, it never gets close enough to be seen by most who inhabit the island."

Harry swallowed thickly. Should he tell him the truth about how he knew about the creature? It wasn't like there was any harm to it, but his defenses were up especially given he'd woken up to a stranger telling him he'd drugged him in his sleep.

"It attacked me."

The man paused, having flipped Harry's deadened arm over. There was a strange look that came across his aging face that he couldn't put his finger on. He was quiet for a moment, before starting to wipe the paste away from the wizard's flesh.

"Interesting… where was this at?"

"Close to the beach. I was relieving m-myself." Harry said, coughing lightly as the smell intensified. He began to see a patch of blackened skin beneath the paste. What was he doing to him? "It-it launched out at me and pulled me into the trees."

"Then I'd consider yourself lucky to be alive," the man sighed, pursing his lips together as he rinsed the rag off. With one final swipe the last of the paste was removed revealing a thin black band wrapping around the base of Harry's forearm just below his elbow. The tribal band curved like waves across his skin, leaving three circles in the center of his arm, as though something was waiting to be placed inside them. "Hmm… I know, I know – you're far too young to be receiving a tattoo. But not to worry, this is something far more useful than a simple mundane tattoo."

"W-what is it then?"

"As I said, this island is home to a darkness unlike anything you've ever seen, my friend. If you wish to live and make it out of here, you need to be able to adapt to your surroundings and become something more…" he chuckled, glancing over the band like it was a priceless work of art. There was a tenderness to it that made Harry far too uncomfortable for his own liking. "What I have given you is the key to unlocking your potential. To give you a fighting chance to survive the trials that will inevitably come your way. When I was younger, I studied various forms of magic including one of a tribe that utilized enchanted ink that helped push their warriors to overcome their obstacles and protect their homes. It took years of studying their ways and experimentation, but I figured out how to accomplish the same feat. This is what I've given to you… the power to free you: the tatau."

It was then that Harry found that the feeling was returning to his appendage, allowing him to raise it in order to view the tatau in close detail. Upon first glance, it didn't seem remarkable other than the fact the black ink popped off his skin so vividly, almost like a candied paint one would see on a vehicle. His gaze kept falling upon the three curved sections of the tribal band in the center of his forearm, to which the man merely smiled in response.

"As you grow, the tatau will do so in tandem. So, as your abilities grow and unlock the tatau's potential, new pieces will form over time – such as the ones that will appear there." the man explained, pointing to where Harry was looking.

Harry rose to his feet, stumbling forward momentarily until he steadied himself along the cave's wall. "Why help me? What do you get out of this?"

"I've been trapped here longer than you've been alive, Harry. My fate is to remain trapped on this island until the day I die, but that is not yours to share." he explained nonchalantly. Harry couldn't help noting that he didn't appear upset by his own statement, making him wonder whether he was really trapped. "You can make it out of here, but you'll have to fight for it. Can you do that?"

Harry didn't reply, instead glancing in his direction with emotionless eyes. It wasn't the first time he's ever had to fight for something, even if he didn't want to do so. His previous fights had been luck that had gotten him out alive, but he knew luck would only get him so far. So, if he really knew who Harry was as he claimed, then the man would certainly know the answer to that question.

"What's your name?"

The man smiled, holding his hand out towards him. The wrinkles forming around the smile glistened with a white sheen in the light reflecting through the waterfall.

"You can call me Mathias."

Harry gazed down to his hand, contemplating whether he should shake it. So much wasn't making sense about this, but it seemed that reason had gone out the window in the last few days. As he shook Mathias' hand, all Harry could hope was that he wasn't unknowingly making a deal with the devil. Truthfully, it likely did not matter as he didn't have a choice whether he'd take the tatau or not.

"I appreciate your 'help' but how am I supposed to know what to do with this?"

"Worry not, dear boy. All will be revealed in due time, but if I were you I'd worry less about that and more about the next five minutes." Mathias said, his voice darkening suddenly.

"Wh-"

Before Harry could say anything else, the sound of engines roaring outside cut him off. It was in a flash of light that Harry found himself being flung through the air, crashing into the ground with a hard thud. His ears were ringing, barely able to make out anything as he was pulled to his feet by Mathias.

His body was now aching for entirely new reasons. He felt extremely hot, like he could feel the heat rising from his skin conflicting with the moisture in the air. His bones were vibrating and he felt like he could break at any moment – his legs felt like jelly, with just enough strength to keep himself upright.

Harry blinked in an effort to clear his vision, but a newly formed crack in his lenses made it difficult to see anything in front of him. His stomach twisted and churned as he stumbled forward into Mathias' grip. What happened?

Turning his head, he found the table of supplies had been destroyed and what remained was scattered around the floor. Singe marks trailed just past the cave's mouth, bringing about the revelation that he'd been thrown by an explosion. The wizard felt strange, heavy and weightless all the same. Though he was completely dry, it was as if his head was underwater. Any emotion that might have normally ran through his body had been washed away and the only thing that remained was pain — a sensation that he was far too intimate with.

Mathias came into view as his sight continued to clear, speaking but the teen couldn't hear anything past the ringing in his ears. Looking at his lips, he tried to make something discernible out. The man's mouth was moving fast, but he was able to make out one word:

Run.

Mathias' hand pointed towards the back of the cave, and without thinking Harry took off, racing through the blackness of the cave headfirst into the unknown.