Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Awakening To the Dream	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 45316 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-Ch8
- 9-Ch9
- 10-Ch10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-Ch19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-Ch22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-CH25
- 26-CH26
- 27-CH27
- 28-CH28
- 29-CH29
- 30-CH30
- 31-CH31
- 32-CH32
- 33-CH33
- 34-CH34
- 35-CH35
- 36-CH36
- 37-CH37
- 38-CH38
- 39-CH39
- 40-CH40
- 41-Ch41
- 42-Ch42
- 43-Ch43
- 44-Ch44
- 45-Ch45
- 46-Ch46
- 47-Ch47
- 48-Ch48
- 49-Ch49
- 50-Ch50 *End Part 1*
- 51-Ch51
- 52-Ch52
- 53-Ch53
- 54-Ch54
- 55-Ch55
- 56-CH56
- 57-CH57
- 58-CH58
- 59-CH59
- 60-CH60
- 61-CH61
- 62-CH62
- 63-CH63
- 64-CH64
- 65-CH65
- 66-CH66
- 67-CH67 *New 6/6/2015*
- 68-CH68
- 69-CH69
- 47
- 48
- 49
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Ch48

It had taken a bit of convincing; if it didn’t contain a broom or chess pieces, Ron was horribly stubborn to play. Dean had quietly promised the redhead that it took a lot more skill than it looked, while Seamus was loudly gathering up teammates in the common room. Ron had only agreed when Dean had also pointed out that letting Seamus get some exercise would keep the boy from bouncing off the walls that night. The Irish boy had been particularly hyper that week, so much so that Dean was beginning to become concerned. He hoped it was something as simple as being stuck indoors for too long.
The sixth year girls were quick to join in, except Hermione who had begged off so she could study. Naturally. A seventh year and two fifth years wanted to play but, with Neville off on something or another, it left for weak sided teams, so Seamus had been sent to recruit from other houses and had returned with four excited Hufflepuffs and three curious Ravenclaws, only one of which had any idea how to play soccer.
Dean was too determined to play his favorite sport to care about such trivialities, and spent a good half hour teaching everyone the basics, with Seamus and Justin Finch-Fletchley’s help. They were kids, magical or not, and all it took was a little coordination and teamwork. To keep things fair, Dean and Seamus joined different teams, and Ron and Justin were appointed goalies since they respectively had the most talent in the game for the task. There was no sport in beating a bunch of amateurs after all.
Thankfully, it was a glorious afternoon. Classes had just gotten out, leaving everyone with enough time to play for a few hours in the warm summer air before they had to return to the castle for dinner and schoolwork. Over half the Hogwarts population was out in the sunshine. Professor Sprout had taken the Reddened Blorsprouts out of the greenhouse to let them take in the fresh air, along with a large plant the seventh years were working on, its wavering tendrils chasing after the nearby butterflies. In the distant, Madame Hooch could be seen swooping in the air, her yellow eyes intent for any mischief among the students sitting on the grass playing exploding snap and other more rowdy games.
“Argh, damn it!” Slipping in the grass and certainly ruining his white sneakers, the ball slipped from Ernie Macmillan’s control and went spiraling towards the other team.
Jumping in the makeshift goal post, Justin pointed Parvati Patil towards the ball. “Get it! Get it—Not with your bloody hands! How many times do I have to tell you?!”
“Relax, she’s getting the hang of it.” Seamus ran up beside his housemate, easily avoiding the tangle of limbs that was Ginny and Lavender Brown, who, in their excitement to get the ball, had run smack into each other. Patil finally got the ball on the ground but Terry Boot stole it from her. Terry kicked it to Seamus who gave a loud whoop of joy and started running it down the field.
“Wahahaaaaaa!!! Whoa, oh… shit—Ruddy bastard!” All he had seen was a flash of brown and gold, and the soccer ball had been knocked from his path, Dean’s challenging smirk haunting him in the boy’s wake. Growling, Seamus knew he had to act fast if he ever hoped to catch up to Dean’s super long legs. Turning mid stride—which took amazing skill if he did say so himself—he chased after his friend, taking him at an angle so he had a shorter distance to the goal Ron was barely even pretending to guard.
“Ron… pay attention!” Seamus hollered ahead. Ron glanced his way and made a halfhearted gesture of guarding the goal. Well, at least now he was standing in front of the net, but it certainly wouldn’t deter Dean. He could hear Parvati, Lavender and Ginny trying to catch up behind him to give him a hand—Ha, Justin was really getting into it, cursing his head off like that in front of the professors. Good thing McGonagall wasn’t out…
“Mr. Finch-Fletchley!”
Oh dear, he was losing a goalie. Hmmm… Ball… Goalie… Ball… Goalie… Aw, hell, Dean was in his full out, faster than the Flash run; he’d probably never catch up now. He should go save the other team’s goalie… Wait, why the hell would he save the other team’s goalie?!?! “…Ball, ball, BALLL!”
Dean glanced over his shoulder, sending his Irish friend an amused smile at his random outburst. “What, this ball?! I think you better put those short legs to work if you want this ball!” His eyes widened in surprise as Seamus did just that, the shorter boy distinctly speeding up and eating the yards up between them. “Hey! Damn it, Seamus! No magic, you tosser!”
“Wha? …Bloody—Waaaahhh!!!” Seamus yelled, too busy trying to figure out what was wrong with his legs to notice he had most thoroughly pissed off his normally calm friend. Eyes intent on the ground, he also missed when Dean turned all the way around and stuck his arm out; the sudden breath stealing pain to his chest, and spinning of the world his way of knowing he had just been properly halted. He blinked up, the cloud spotted sky twirling dizzily around him as he tried to regain his senses. His legs felt weird… but suddenly his chest was feeling much worse. Dean’s form bending over him slowly came into focus, a concerned crinkle in between the tall boy’s eyebrows. Dean… Dean had hit him!
How could his friend assault him in a time of crisis, or worse, actually believe he had used magic to win, that-that… “You fucking wanker!” He choked out. Pissed beyond thought, he kicked his leg out, intending to cause as much harm as possible to the other boy. Unfortunately, he only realized his mistake after his leg made contact and his whole body jolted in mind numbing pain. “Fucker!” He reflexively curled into a ball, and pulled his hand up when it gave an unsettling spasm. His hand twitched again and he watched in horror as its shape contorted impossibly, his fingers cramping and lengthening before resettling back to normal. He wasn’t sure if it was the pain or the horror of seeing his own flesh and bone reshaping, but moments later he was throwing up his lunch all over Dean’s sneakers.
“Oh shit—Seamus… say something… shit…” Dean grabbed onto his friend’s shoulders, trying to gently shake him to attention. Seamus was having none of it though and, once through emptying his stomach, began moaning feverishly and striking out at the air. “I’m sorry, man… I didn’t mean…” Seamus gave a sudden lurch, and Dean was forced to jump back or get a lap full of vomit. Dean looked around desperately for help. Thank the gods that there were Professors about today.
“Come on, mate; get away from him.” Ron appeared at the boys’ side and quickly pulled Dean away from Seamus’ shuddering form.
“I didn’t mean to…” Dean whispered shakily, his face going ashen with worry as he let Professor McGonagall see to Seamus. “…Oh gods—have I… have I killed him…?”
Ron gave Dean a harsh look and elbowed the black boy in the stomach. “It’s just his exritus, you berk! Next time don’t go fighting with your best friend over a stupid game and you won’t have to worry about if you killed him or not!” He pushed Dean to the ground, leaving the boy to his hysterics. He had woken enough to Harry’s visions of Voldemort to know how to handle this sort of chaotic situation.
“Can you lift him?” Minerva asked Ron, placing her wand back in her robes. “I have strict orders from Poppy not to use magic on anyone showing these signs.”
“Yeah, I’ll carry him.” Ron stooped to lift Seamus, but the boy was struggling so much he realized it wouldn’t be as easy as that.
“Let me help.” Dean jumped shakily to his feet, carefully securing Seamus’ hands with his own. His face was still pinched, and there was a haunted look to his brown eyes, but his jaw was set as he easily lifted Seamus to his feet.
“—Hey, what the hell— you bitch!” At Ginny’s angry voice, Ron whirled, as did everyone in hearing range. Ginny was on the other side of the field closest to the Forbidden Forest, but even from this distance it was clear to see that there was a problem. Justin was no longer in the goal, but being pummeled by an unfamiliar figure while Ginny tried to get the person off with stunning spells. Suddenly the figure in dark robes let go of Justin and turned, smacking Ginny across the face and sending her flying.
Ginny lay on her side, clutching her face and glaring up angrily at the approaching form. The person was strong, stronger than normal… maybe even as strong as Ron, but she doubted it.
The girl stopped at Ginny’s feet, pulling her hood back so that her hypnotizing cat eyes had their full effect. “I’ll ask you again—”
“Fuck off!” Ginny spat, rolling over so she could push herself to her knees, then feet. She could see Justin crumpled on the ground behind the girl’s long robes, his foot twitching painfully. They had been flirting around that year, nothing serious, but still they were good friends. “You are so dead!” She screamed, throwing herself at the beanpole and using her fists, since magic seemed to have no effect on her. Years of fighting with her all her older brothers had to count for something!
“Get off—argh!” The strange girl flinched as her hair was pulled quite viciously. She tried to push the enraged redhead away but there was a flash of movement to her left and suddenly another, larger body barreled into her.
“Get your Hands Off My Sister!” Ron’s momentum sent the group rolling, Ginny thrown free while Ron wrestled with the culprit.
“Oh, for heavens—Ginny Weasley, you stay right over there.” Minerva sent the hotheaded girl, who was just about to jump back into the fray, a scathing look. Waving her arm, she cast a calming charm over the two on the ground, although she wasn’t a hundred percent sure how it would effect Ron. Since the boy looked to be getting the raw end of it, nothing could probably make it worse. The spell seemed to have some effect and their fighting slowed enough that Ernie, Dean, and Parvati could pull the two apart.
Minerva gave Ron a quick once over, and sent Lavender off to see to Justin’s wounds since the girl had been studying in healing. She turned to the hooded girl glaring up from her rumpled position in the grass. “What is the meaning of this? Just who do you think you are coming into this school and assaulting my students! This is not some sort of… gladiator school, full of ruffians that brawl about with all disregard for safety! Now, to your feet, girl. You will be seeing the Headmaster and believe you, me, he does not take kindly to his students being injured.”
Glaring, the girl stiffly rose to her feet, towering over everyone there; she was a good two inches over Dean’s own impressive height of six feet and three inches. She sneered briefly at the group and focused on Ron, who was already standing and wiping his bloodied nose absentmindedly. “Fox boy.”
“…What did you call me?” Ron growled, his eyes narrowing and fist clenching for the chance to do harm.
“You heard me. Hard to miss with ears like those.” The girl spat, blood dribbling from her lip. “Where’s Ezella’s chosen? We have business together.”
“What—?”
“Ezella’s chosen! Black’s Heir! Come now, are you all so bloody ignorant here? No wonder you’re being eaten alive by Voldemort. Malfoy, Draconis Malfoy, the Candidate representing Ezella. I need to speak with him.”
Ron started in surprise, struck speechless. “Who in the Hell are you?!” Ginny asked for the group since Professor McGonagall had gone silent as well.
“I wasn’t talking to you, kid.” The girl didn’t even bother looking in Ginny’s direction, stepping up to poke Ron in the chest. “I sense his presence here. He knows where my master is and I will have that information. Where is Malfoy?!”
Ron smacked the girl’s hand away, jolted to his senses. “In case you haven’t heard, the berk is in cahoots with the Dark Lord. You’ll probably find him shagging the evil freak in one of his many hideouts; Dumbledore sure as hell wouldn’t let a Death Eater into Hogwarts.” Actually, the Headmaster was quite known for harboring all sorts of criminals, but he wasn’t about to give away Malfoy’s whereabouts to anyone.
The girl raised a dark brow in surprise, taking a step back and running a hand through her thick, multicolored dreadlocks. She studied the ground thoughtfully, and then snapped her hazel eyes back to Ron. “Rubbish. Malfoy’s loyalties or not, I was drawn here. He is here, and I will speak with him, even if I have to destroy everyone in my path to do it.”
“That is enough.” Minerva said stiffly. “Ronald, Ginny, Dean, Justin and Seamus will all go to the hospital wing to be checked over by Madame Pomfrey. The rest of you will go inside to your respective common rooms for the time being until all of this is sorted out.” She ignored their disgruntle protests and turned to the tall girl watching indifferently. “Miss, you will come with me to the Headmaster’s office, and you will keep your hands to yourself or will be ousted from this property faster than you can say rapscallion.”
The girl pursed her lips defiantly but eventually nodded in agreement. “Fine, I’ll be agreeable for the time being. Don’t expect me to leave until I see Malfoy, though.”
Minerva didn’t answer, just led the way up to the castle and away from the vulnerable children.
*******
Neville had spent the majority of his free time after classes on a fire call with his grandmother, to speak about the arrangements for the Heir’s upcoming coronation. She had been rather torn between paying respects to the Heir, and having Neville stay at Hogwarts to catch up with the work he had missed when he had attended the party the other night. It was a no-brainer to Neville, he was going whether his Grandmum approved or not. Harry needed all the support he could get, and he was more than ready at this time to show the world that he, Neville Longbottom of the Regal Sighe Elf Clan, was ready to fight if Harry deemed it so.
His grandmother had suspected as much, apparently he took after his parents when it came to stubbornness, justice, or such rot, as his Grandmum had put it. Clans were a funny thing in this day and age. Once, long ago, you could have presumed since an Heir was born, that all would be quick to join in the celebration. But that was a long time ago, and the Clans had lost a lot of their strength in numbers, and in community. Instead of being one big extended family living within the same community, they were now spread out across the world and more than a little wary of it all, including their own. Maybe that’s the natural order of things when madmen keep standing up to force their rule on others.
Perhaps he had been shortsighted back then, when he first learned of what it was to be Clan… or maybe he had been more sensible than he was now. He had known the magical world was fading, slowly being taken over by the mundane physical world. People had forgotten and were quite content with that, and at the age of ten, he had naturally assumed that the end was in sight. There’s a saying: the fire always flickers brightest before it burns out. He really hoped that Harry wasn’t that bright flicker before the darkness snuffed them out for good. Magic wasn’t supposed to be on any extinction list, left as a faded memory slowly to dull and twist as each era passes.
Well, that was why he wasn’t that surprised when his grandmother had told him that barely any of the noblebloods had given a definitive yes or no on their attendance for this Friday. That went for the Dark Luster Incubus Clan too. He was pretty certain Zabini would want to attend, even if the boy had to pull himself there by his teeth. Since the White Towers incident, Blaise hadn’t been able to lift himself from the hospital bed. So, he might as well let the Slytherin know that he was planning on going and, if he wanted, Neville was more than willing to help him get there… as annoying as the situation would most certainly turn into.
A crowd had gathered in front of the door to the Hospital Wing, silent enough that Neville had to stop walking and outright stare. Every House was represented, mostly fourth years and up, and they were all staring blankly ahead. None were bothering to converse or even fight— which was more the norm when the rarity of such a group would find themselves together. It was almost as if they were under some sort of spell…
“Luna, everything all right?” He pushed his way through the crowd to reach his blonde friend whose eyes were unusually clear today. She turned, the only one to move in the whole group, and raised her brows in amusement.
“I’d say everything is quite alright. It’s a Careless Caller, just like I thought.” She held the Quibbler up to Neville so he could look at the article on the rare, if not imaginary, creature described. “My father warned me that they might show up around Hogwarts, that’s why I’m wearing these special earplugs.”
So that was what the bright neon pink earmuffs were for… Neville shook his head, feeling too tired to deal with all of it at the moment. The pile of homework on his bedside desk wasn’t going to do itself, and he had yet to eat. “Sorry Luna, but I’m in a bit of a rush.” He sidestepped around the girl and squeezed his way to the door. It was locked, no surprise given the small mob, so he pulled on the rope that rang the bell inside to gain Madame Pomfrey’s attention.
While waiting, he kept a close watch on the pack of bodies that had still shown no signs of awareness. Whatever they were on, it had to be strong… Movement caught his attention and he turned back to the door. It was still closed, but now there was a see-through panel, much like a closed window, at eye level where he could see Madame Pomfrey peeking out.
Poppy gave him a measuring look, sizing him up and then the crowd behind him, before finally pointing him to the right. A large panel lit up, and an instant latter a stern hand was dragging Neville through the door by his arm.
“What in the world?!” After being so long in the silent hallway, the thunderous noise of the hospital wing was an assault to his sensitive ears. Crouching low, he covered his head with his arms until he was able to control his hearing. Madame Pomfrey was giving him a stern look but he ignored it for the health of his ears. He was an elf, after all. Hearing was important… okay, hearing would be important even if he wasn’t an elf. Shrugging his shoulders, he popped his ears a few times before straightening and turning to the mediwitch. “I just came by to talk with Zabini for a minute. I won’t take long.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Zabini is unavailable at this time. Tell me, are you feeling fully yourself, Longbottom?” The question surprised Neville, who had been looking for the source of the screams. “Fine, I guess. …Hungry.” The room was empty, surprising given the amount of people waiting outside. He couldn’t see Zabini because the door to the room he was kept in was shut tight. The noise seemed to originating from there though. “What’s going on here? Who is that in there, and why is that lot out there all spaced out?”
“There’s no one in there and you should mind your own business.” Poppy said briskly and steered Neville back towards the door. “I’m afraid Mr. Finnigan will be absent for the next few weeks. I think you would be the prefect candidate to collect his homework for him…” A particularly painful scream came from the other room causing them both to flinch. Poppy paused and let go of Neville’s shoulders, a conflicted look on her face. “Not that I’m certain you’d know anymore than me, but I’m faced with a dilemma.”
Neville nodded quickly, his curiosity winning over the annoying possibility of being burdened with more work. “I’m always happy to help, Madame Pomfrey.”
Poppy glanced blankly at the door across the room. “Yes, well, we’ll see if that is a possibility. You’re certain you don’t feel any different?” She turned to the short boy with narrowed eyes.
He was pretty sure he was the same as always, besides being hungry. Maybe he was a little on edge from his conversation with Gran and the homework waiting for him… he was certainly curious, and really wanted to see what was in the other room. In fact, he would gladly give up dinner and add on a couple of Potions essays to get a glimpse into the other room. There was something about that closed door that just begged to be opened. “Fine. Absolutely fine.” He smiled winningly to seal it, drawing a strained smirk from the mediwitch in reply.
“Well, given your err… heritage, and current condition… I, well— Mr. Finnigan is having problems.”
“Problems?” Neville was not used to seeing Madame Pomfrey flounder for her words and he couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going on. “What sort of problems? …Wait, he’s the one screaming, isn’t he?”
“Yes dear. Normally I couldn’t be bothered, it’s his exritus and all but… it’s not going quite right. It’s as if his condition is accelerated. At the pace he’s going…” She pursed her lips and folded her arms across her stomach. “I’ve sent for his parents, just in case. I just don’t know what to do. I thought putting him in with Zabini and the other one would help, but the effect has only seemed to make the incubi ill, and Finnigan is even more unresponsive to my help. I’m at a loss.”
Taking a deep breath, she swallowed her negativity away and met Neville’s eyes with an encouraging smile. “Perhaps you could help in some way? If not with information, I could always use a pair of knowledgeable hands. If you would just take a peek at him and see; it could make all the difference.”
“Of course, it’s just I… I mean, I’ve lived through one but I don’t know how helpful I’ll be.” Neville answered truthfully, suddenly wishing he hadn’t know what was going on behind the door after all. He didn’t want to have his friend die. He really didn’t want to be the deciding factor in Seamus’ life either. “If I can’t help— I’ll try, honest I will— but just in case, maybe you should consider contacting White Towers. There’s someone there that will probably be able to help. He helped Zabini when we were there for the party, so it’s a good chance he can help Seamus too.”
Poppy looked away, worry etched deep in her face. “I’m afraid that’s no good.”
“If you just try…” Neville stopped, the words catching in his throat as his eyes followed to where Madame Pomfrey was looking. Crumpled on the floor was a small ball of feathers and flesh, a letter shredded in the stiff talons.
“I sent it two hours ago. The poor thing came back with what I thought were just signs of disorientation, its letter still attached and untouched. Fifteen minutes later it was dead.”
Neville was pretty sure a lot of people might want to stop Harry from getting his mail, but only a few would actually kill the owl off. If the owl had died any sooner before reaching Hogwarts, they could have gone for days without knowing what had happened. “The floo is still sealed?”
“Only the Council can get through. I’ll likely get a visitor from White Towers who will come to check up on the new one, but the chances of them showing up in time are pretty low. No, I’m afraid we’re on our own on this one.” Poppy glanced to one of the tables kept close to the wall and walked over, scooping up some supplies and taking them to the door. Neville followed behind, dread clenching his stomach as the door was cracked open and the screams within allowed to reach their full loudness.
That pile of homework was looking pretty good right now.
Seamus was curled up on the floor across the room, having dragged his bedding down with him from the hospital cot until he was an unrecognizable lump of seething blankets and limbs. A bucket was lying beside him, but from the look of the floor, the boy hadn’t noticed it. Had he mentioned that his sense of smell had been heightened along with most of his other senses? The unexpected downsides to the whole Soul Form thing just kept popping up.
“…Longbottom?” Neville turned in time to see Blaise stumbling his way, having been huddled out of sight in the farthest corner away from Seamus. The boy looked like hell, dripping in sweat, and face contorted in pain. Neville quickly grabbed his arm before the tall boy could crumple to the ground. “Get him away… she-she won’t listen to me. Please… It hurts.” The boy grabbed his head, slumping forward precariously.
At Madame Pomfrey’s nod, Neville helped stand Blaise up. Madame Pomfrey wouldn’t be able to feel the chaotic magic coming from Seamus, not in the same way a barely stable newborn would. “Can you walk? I’ll help you to the other room.” Hopefully the wards in the walls would help stave off the magic from injuring Blaise.
“Yeah j-just, I need to get Clive.” Blaise turned away, nearly losing his balance and falling.
“…Forrestal?” Neville held the boy steady and glanced in the direction Blaise was facing. Sure enough, another body was huddled in the corner Blaise had come from, cocooned in blankets so he hadn’t seen him at first. “I’ll get him, let’s just get you out of here first.”
Blaise looked torn, and Neville had to promise quite emphatically that he would get Clive right after seeing him safe, before the boy would budge. He left Blaise curled in one of the waiting room chairs— it had taken almost a full minute to pull free from the boy’s grasp— and braced himself for the noise and stink of the other room.
“I’m sorry about this, Neville. With limitations in magic use around Seamus, the smell will just have to stay for now.” Madame Pomfrey scrunched her nose, knowing from her experience with Neville’s exritus, that the boy would be experiencing discomfort. She bent over and began untangling Seamus from his bedding on the floor. “Be careful with him now. Mr. Forrestal should be sleeping but I can’t be certain with all this noise. He’s of a delicate condition right now so don’t spook him. You can put the two in the north set of rooms for now until we get this boy here stable.”
“Right.” Neville mumbled, picking his way over to the still form. The blankets were rising and falling steadily, and he might have picked up some breathing below Seamus’ screams, so he imagined the man was alive. He was giving off a strange aura, he realized, the closer he got to the bundle. He had a vague impression of Clive Forrestal from the party at White Towers, but his memory was disagreeing with his current senses. He could taste something in the air… and he was pretty sure it was that something that had half the student body skulking outside the hospital door.
Sure enough, Mr. Forrestal was not the same as when he had last seen him. Pulling the blankets free from the man’s face revealed quite a change, so much so that Neville was struck motionless for a full three minutes. The most obvious was the once midnight hair had lightened, the locks a pale blue-grey with sparkling long strands of silver highlighted in the harsh lights of the hospital. He wasn’t sure how long it was from the angle, but it was so tangled and folded around the man’s form that he imagined it reached to the floor when he was standing. Clive’s skin had paled as well until it looked frosted, blue and silver designs surrounding his eyes and trailing down his cheeks in a hypnotic fashion—even his mouth sparkled, the lips tinged blue instead of the natural pink they had once been. It wasn’t a soft face, more angular and long, with an exotic structure that reminded him of Zabini actually… Well, of course. Forrestal was a distant relative so that must mean they shared the same Fae bloodline. Neville shook the strange feeling off; obviously Clive’s powers were stronger than Blaise’s, enough that he could sense the pull. Stooping, he did his best to focus on the task of lifting the man with as little disturbance as possible. As careful as he was, he sensed the change in the man’s breathing.
“Sorry, uh… don’t be afraid. I’m just taking you to a safer room.” He wasn’t really heavy so much as awkward to carry; Clive had gotten taller as well within the last few days. “Your nephew Blaise is waiting in the other room for you.” He started walking towards the door, slowed down by beds and a knocked over bedside table that had broken glass around it.
Staring ahead was probably the best thing to do in this situation, since he was fairly certain looking at the man would only lead to problems. Especially when he had discovered that the flimsy hospital blanket was the only thing Mr. Forrestal was actually wearing. That blanket was also slowly being pulled away with each step he took. He shifted, quickly grabbing the heavy trail behind him and pulling it forward and away from his feet. Clive squirmed from the sudden chill and burrowed against Neville’s chest.
“Err, sorry—it’s not much further…” There was no point in blushing and yet, like usual, logic held no rule in his life. He kicked the door open and stepped through, swiveling to kick it shut and let the wards in the waiting room do their work.
“Mmm… goodness…” Blaise looked over, an odd expression on his face as Clive shifted and mumbled softly in response to the lowering of outside magic levels.
“Shiny?”
“He’s alright; just give me a sec and I’ll help you too.” Neville found that he couldn’t look Blaise in the eye either, so instead he focused on the door across the room where the two incubi were going to be kept. The chairs for the most part were up against the walls, but there was still a fair amount of furniture he needed to keep tabs on to keep his knees from being whacked. From the corner of his eye he could see Blaise moving in his seat, sitting up and leaning forward so he could stare at him better. There was some strange energy in the air, something he couldn’t put his finger on… but left him feeling very unsettled.
The new room was just like all the others, dozens of hospital beds lined up in an orderly fashion. Except this one wasn’t empty. Down at the very end, far away from the lights and the windows, was Professor Snape’s ever sleeping form. A veil had been set up to keep prying eyes away, the unseen shielding charms more effective in protecting the man. There had only been a blurb in the paper but the gossip chain through the Order and the Clans said Voldemort had been very creative with the man’s punishment. No one liked a traitor, after all. Something told him, even in his current condition, Snape must be in a lot of pain.
He decided on a bed halfway in, not too far for Madame Pomfrey to go to check on her patient, but not too close to the door that Clive would be disturbed every time someone stepped in. There was a bit of awkwardness where he had to hold the man steady while pulling the blankets back, and then the switching of blankets which was quite flustering, and finally the detangling of hair from just about everywhere, but eventually he got Clive settled in bed. Keeping his eyes tight on what his hands were doing, he tucked the man in and turned back to the waiting room to get Blaise.
Cat-like yellow eyes gleamed at him from the chair across the way and he lost a step.
“…You’re really strong, huh?”
Neville shrugged, grounding himself by trailing a hand over the line of chairs as he walked past. “It’s a Regal Elf thing. Come on, can you walk? I have to get back to Seamus.”
“I don’t think so…” Blaise cracked a small smile, his eyes still gleaming unnaturally. He looked better than before, the lines of pain gone from his form now that he was free from Seamus’ magic. “So, do you imagine you could carry me as well? Just how much stamina do you elf boys have?” Blaise teased, his voice lowering suggestively.
“Save it for the flighty girls, Zabini.” Neville sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s not a question of heavy, but you are a lanky bastard, so try not to throw off my balance by squirming.”
“I’ll be stillness itself.” Blaise promised, holding his arms open for Neville to lift him.
Neville had the unexplainable urge to run, and he found he had taken two steps back before he could get a hold of himself. What the hell was going on with him? He chanced a glance at Blaise; the boy was watching him patiently, expression showing no signs that he had noticed anything off. Which of course reminded Neville to the fact that Zabini was a Slytherin and was likely holding back his taunts for a greater plan.
Narrowing his eyes, he stalked over to the boy and pulled him up into his arms. But that simple movement confused him even more because Zabini was practically limp, feeling weak and helpless, and not deviously Slytherin at all.
“You really are strong.” Blaise sighed, wrapping his arms around Neville’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t know it to look at you… but I guess we do give you elves a hard time.” His eyes trailed to the bouncy hair inches from his face, and his hand followed. “I think it’s all the sparkle, Shiny.”
Neville gritted his teeth and pulled his head away. “Quit petting me; it’s weird.” Zabini was bloody tall and his feet kept getting caught on the chairs lining the way until Neville was tempted to start kicking things. He wanted to put the boy down as soon as possible and just get the hell out of there.
“Sorry, Shiny. You’re just a riot when you get all grumpy.” Blaise leaned forward and rested his head on the boy’s shoulder, his fingers pulling lightly on Neville’s smooth strands.
Resisting the urge to run, Neville stalked to the door, pausing only to make sure Blaise didn’t knock his head or long limbs in the doorway. Grumbling, he walked the extra distance down the room that seemed far longer this time around.
“Hold on, Shiny.” Neville froze from where he was about to put Blaise down.
“What?”
“With Clive. He needs me.” Blaise pointed to the bed next to him where Clive was sleeping.
Butterflies erupted in Neville’s stomach and he slowly turned, unable to take that final step forward. Why couldn’t Zabini just lie in his own damn bed like a normal person?
Blaise watched him through downcast eyes, finally whispering into Neville’s ear. “It’s okay to be afraid. We’re like you, Shiny… more so than anyone else.”
Neville shook the breath away from his ear. “Clan.”
“More than—”
Neville cut the boy off, putting him down on the mattress besides Clive, and stepping away. “You should rest, the both of you.” He turned to go, but ice blue eyes, shaped just like Blaise’s, caught him and wouldn’t let go. It was like staring into the eyes of a predator; deadly power seethed right below the beautiful exterior, calling and repelling all at the same time.
Suddenly Blaise reached out, his fingers brushing against his arm, and Neville could move again. “I have to go.”
“Visit us, Shiny.”
Neville nodded blindly and stumbled out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it heavily. Fucking incubi and their goddamn eyes… He did not need this right now. Seamus was— Shit! Seamus!
He pushed away from the door and ran through the waiting area and into the southern room where Madame Pomfrey was waiting. Like hell he’d visit that damn Slytherin!
“Well, I must admit the incubi were not a good influence.” Poppy straightened from where she was toweling up some of the sick from the floor. “His screaming is down to more suitable levels but I’m still concerned about the speed of his change.”
Dismissing anything outside of the room, Neville walked over determined to put all his focus into his friend’s health.
“The bed maybe?”
“I don’t know, Madame Pomfrey. I think it would be better to give him as much room as possible.” He took in the broken furniture and scattered bedding around Seamus. “I think something bigger, with less things for him to knock into would be a good idea. Some, they can sleep in a bed and not mess a hair on their head, but it doesn’t look like Seamus is of the same.” For the life of him he couldn’t remember what Clan Seamus was from. He was half muggle so that made for some sticky research.
Poppy surveyed the surroundings idly, her mind whirring. “…Could it be natural then? He’s changing faster than I’ve ever heard, but maybe that’s just his particular Fae blood. Mr. Forrestal had a full transformation in about the time of a day, after all.”
Neville flinched at the name, quickly throwing himself into clearing a clean area around Seamus. “I don’t know. Do you know what Seamus’ Fae line is? It might help to figure it out.”
“I asked the Finnigans to bring their family genealogy book with them when they come. Time is short, Neville. I don’t think we can wait that long.”
“Alright, just let me think.” Neville pulled away and began pacing, his head bowed in thought. His mind kept screaming that Harry, the Heir would know what to do. If anyone knew, it would be him. But Harry wasn’t available so they needed someone else that knew about the exritus process. Blaise would hardly know more than him. Same with Ron and Clive, and just about everyone else in the mortal realm…
What they needed was a Fae; one who’d had some experience with human-fae reproduction. But naturally there were no Fae; they had left the mortal realm ages ago. The last sighting had been—by Furiae, he was such an idiot! He had two perfectly intelligent Draven Fae hanging out in his dorm room! All he needed was Malfoy to translate—Malfoy! “Gods be damned, but I must have lost my mind while talking with my Gran today.” He grumbled, slapping his forehead. Ignoring Madame Pomfrey’s confused look, he explained himself while backing towards the door.
“I know someone, in the castle at that. I can’t say the name for safety reasons, but I’m going to go talk with them and see what can be done. Don’t give up just yet.” That said, he whirled and ran out the door and out of the hospital wing. The crowd outside the door had grown but he had a plan to take care of that lot too. Running past, he grabbed Luna’s hand and dragged her along down the hall.
*******
“Let me see him!”
“I think you should sit down, little girl.” Roariel said lightly, perching her human form on an empty desk and ruffling her short-cropped hair. Yehl was seeing to the Malfoy boy and had been quite clear on what constituted as an acceptable interruption. Antsy Candidates that didn’t want to follow the rules of approach were not one of them. Naturally, said antsy Candidate did not sit down but instead stalked up to her with fists raised.
“Listen here, you little freak; I have been chosen by the Goddess Inar! You have no right to keep me from seeing Ezella’s Candidate. So I suggest you go running back to your damn mommy bird and send someone with a little more political sway. I will see Draco Malfoy, and I will see him now!”
Why did humans think that shouting made them more important than those who didn’t? A change in volume hardly validated their claims. Roariel pulled her long bangs forward until they covered her orange tinted eyes, and sighed. Yehl had allowed her to use the language charm so the newborn could understand her, but if the human didn’t bother to shut up than there was no point talking. “Sit down.” She placed a clawed hand to the girl’s shoulder and pushed her lightly, sending the tall Candidate across the room and into the waiting chair.
“Now, let’s try this again.” Roariel stood, smoothing her shirt. Like her mentor, she dressed in black, wearing a pair of tight short shorts and small tank top. She only had one tattoo, crawling down her left shoulder to her wrist, as a sign of accomplishing her first trial of adulthood. Her lips also reflected her youth, a light purple that would take centuries to grow black. The Chief was a stickler for keeping things quiet for stealth purposes, but she didn’t have to follow by those rules and wore as much sparkly jewelry as she could until it coated her arms like armor and jingled around her bare feet when she walked. She made sure to make as much noise as possible right now just because her tall friend did not seem to appreciate it.
“First of all, I am a Warrior of Corinth, and although a little bitchy among my peers, it hardly composes me as a ‘freak.’ Secondly, I am of the Draven Clan, and if you knew anything newborn, you would know that the Draven Clan does not reproduce in the same way you mortals do, ergo, I do not have a ‘mommy’. Thirdly, the Fae Draven far outranks the Fae Inar in strength, magical power, and overall political standing. You are ignorant, child, and if you do not learn to hold your tongue you will be quick to lose it.” She watched apathetically as the anger rose on the furious girl’s face. It took a few moments, but the Candidate eventually was able to calm herself enough to nod and keep her bloody mouth shut.
“Very good. Now your Fae ancestor, Inar should have explained during your Trial in detail the rules and rituals, and what is expected from you as a Candidate. Did this occur?”
The girl nodded curtly, obviously not trusting herself to speak just yet.
“You understand the dangers of your position, especially in your sealed form?”
“Yes already!”
Roariel sighed and studied the girl’s face before her. At nineteen, Darel Gira was beautiful, fierce, and obviously suffering from severe brain damage. “Tell me, did you ever considering thinking before attacking a school of wizarding children, announcing to the world that you are looking for, and know the location of, a Candidate that is in as much danger as you, and basically alienating everyone that you have run across? If you are to become Soul Vigil, you will have to be a leader, a mediator, an advisor, a protector; you are not reflecting these abilities. If I were Heir, I would have struck you down for your behavior with those innocent children outside alone.” She took a deep breath and forced her anger down.
“What is your business with Draconis that you have dismissed all protocol and decided to seek him out? What could be so important that you would jeopardize both of your lives, and the Heir’s reputation with your impatience?”
Darel gaped in surprise and anger. “I didn’t—!”
“You did!” Roariel snarled, grabbing the girl by the scruff of her cloak and pulling her up to eye level. “You attacked children! One of them came from muggle stock of all things! What the hell was going through your thick skull?! You are responsible for these mortals; you cannot go about assaulting them as you please. Can’t you see how poorly that reflects on the Heir?! You- You—argh!” She pushed the girl back down in the chair and stalked away before she did something stupid, like killing the damn fool. Yehl was so much better when dealing with arrogant idiots.
“You will leave this place and wait, like you are supposed to, for the Heir to contact you.” She leaned against the desk, and fixed stern eyes on the stunned girl. “You will not be able to speak with your rival Candidate; even if it were allowed, your conduct is more than reason enough to take that privilege away. And before you get any foolish ideas, you are thoroughly sealed and I have had over twenty years of training in unarmed combat, child.” She smiled grimly at Darel’s surprised look. “Yes, I’m older than you, and I am stronger, and you better get used to the idea now because I’m sure this won’t be our last meeting. Do not give me cause to discipline you the next time we meet, newborn; I will be the only one to enjoy it.”
Roariel stalked across the room and threw open the door. Professor McGonagall was waiting stiffly outside the door; if she was surprised to see two humans in the room instead of the human and bird that had originally entered, she showed no sign. “You can take the girl now, Deputy Headmistress. She will not be staying.” She glared back into the room until Darel deemed herself ready to rise from her chair and leave with Minerva. Out of all of the mortal species, Wizards always sired the biggest egos and the smallest brains. Why the Heir would choose to be born of them was beyond her.
“Darel.” She called before the girl could get too far down the corridor. “Be prepared to defend yourself. La Lune will only wait so long.”
Darel paled considerably. She didn’t want to wait around to be picked off by the gods themselves, she wanted to take action while she could. Instead she nodded and followed the stern woman beside her out into the night air.
…Little one, you’re in quite a state.
Roariel shrugged off Yehl’s concern, turning back into the room to make sure it was how she left it before wandering down the hall back towards Malfoy’s room. I’d rather be outside. This human habit of spending all their time indoors is bothersome. So… how’s the little prince? She could feel Yehl’s amusement at her nickname for Draco. Well, the boy was arrogant enough to be one. At least he had a brain to back up the attitude, unlike the hotheaded Candidate she had just had to deal with. She couldn’t wait to meet the Heir whose power had called these personalities to him; he had to be quite the character himself.
He’s making progress… Could you hurry back and deal with another one? The elf has been knocking quite persistently.
…Oh fine. Roariel grumbled, quickening her pace. The elf wasn’t so bad. At least he was quiet and held some level of respect towards his elders.
*******
Seamus Finnigan was suffering from a few different ailments that alone were not much concern. Together, unfortunately, they equaled an agonizing death, and Roariel was quick to instruct the humans in what to do from beneath her full-length cloak.
Poppy was naturally suspicious. Even when faced with needed emergency information, she was only accepting of so much interference when it came to her students. “I still can’t see what the point of…”
Roariel, thankfully, had dealt with enough humans to be more than generous in explanation. “His sugar levels are too high. He’s an Anhk Ro; his kind consumes energy at different levels compared to most. Sugar is particularly shocking to his system. Once his exritus is through and he has stabilized, he will have to have a complete change in his diet. It should come naturally, his instinct leading him to the correct balance of food, but I will give Longbottom a list just in case. For now you must purge his system of the sugar, which loreign tops will do without the need of consumption.”
“And this muscle thing?” Poppy asked, doubt clear on her face.
“Muscular crystallization. Anhk Ro exist in an accelerated state. There bodies overcompensate for this by secreting a natural lubricant throughout the muscle area. Unfortunately, if they are too inactive for an amount of time, this secretion will harden and eventually will crystallize the muscles. The organs and skeletal structure also have a similar system but of a different substance that doesn’t have the same malady.
“It takes about a week of entropy before the muscular crystallization will begin. Once the symptoms start, normal movement will not be available, nor would I recommend it. There are ointments made especially for this; my Chief will know the exact ingredients. Most importantly, do not allow the boy to move as he normally would if he is in the stages of muscular crystallization. It could cause permanent damage to his muscles, possibly even jeopardize his life. A simple test can tell you if he’s in any danger of muscular crystallization, and a daily routine of calisthenics will keep him from becoming lax. Combined with an informed diet, Seamus here will be able to live a normal healthy life… for the most part…”
“It seems a bit off, don’t you think?” Neville comment, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “I mean, Soul Forms are usually a bit easier maintenance wise. They’re supposed to overcompensate for all the genetic flaws humans hold, not add on more.”
“You are quite observant. The Anhk Ro are not normal in that sense. Their animal equivalent are gigantic birds found only in the outside realm. They exist as destroyers of evil itself; which they do by consuming the heart of the beast corrupted by evil, taking it into themselves, and holding it there until enough evil is built and the Anhk Ro dies, purifying the evil in flames.”
“Whoa… that’s a little too much I think.” Neville said, looking over his friend anxiously. “I don’t like the idea of him going off and taking evil into him and then bursting into flames. I really don’t think his parents would approve of it either.”
Roariel smiled. “The Anhk Ro were never meant to meld with humans; it was the result of an experiment done by a misguided Fae. This Fae thought that it would be wise to create a human with the ability to police its own peers… like some sort of divine punishment. The humans saddled with this form did not see it quite the same way. This poor boy is now basically a cannibal, unable to control his urge to destroy evil in the human heart. To the best of my knowledge, they control flame, not die by it. As for his body, it is out of balance. They have the accelerated form of a flier but without the large wings to sustain it. They fly by magic, you see, and quite well at that. Their evolution is slower, but over the centuries of their existence, the Anhk Ro have started stabilizing. They have become runners to overcompensate for their accelerated system, and through a proper diet, they can help subdue their urge for such extreme justice. I suggest protein. Lots of protein…” Roariel broke away with a snort of laughter.
“I really don’t think this is a laughing matter, young lady.” Poppy snapped, only increasing Roariel’s chuckles.
“Forgive me, Madame. My kind’s humor is not always appreciated. Where was I…? Yes, the boy’s diet. I’m told cannibalism is not well liked around humans. Protein will subdue most urges, but there will be a point where an amount of outside evil cannot be ignored. This is firstly because the need to destroy evil is ingrained into the genes, and secondly because the instinct is not mixed with the want of flesh. He has no instinct for human flesh, just for the spark of evil he can sense in all mortals.
“The Society of the Anhk Ro— they are not considered a Clan— have a birthing ritual, in which the newborn Anhk Ro is allowed to take one evil life while they are still in the throes of their exritus. This helps to satisfy their instinct for evil later, but it must be done while the exritus process is still occurring or it will only increase the fury of bloodlust later on. Usually the newborn is given the choice beforehand; this will not be the case now. You have five days to find a sufficiently evil source. A parent can make the decision if you are too squeamish, or better yet, a leader of the Anhk Ro… but something tells me they do not know of Seamus here, or they would have been in contact long before his change began.”
She took in the strained looks on the two wizards. Humans were so dramatic when it came to death. “I would recommend the sacrifice. A death now, while in the midst of insanity, is far more agreeable than a lifetime of internal struggle as he passes among his kind and wishes them all dead.”
Madame Pomfrey and Neville exchanged troubled looks. It was grim either way, and worse so when the decision was taken from Seamus.
“Will he remember it?” Neville finally asked.
“I do not know; I have never met a human Anhk Ro before. I would assume they retain some memory of the event, or they wouldn’t bother asking the newborns beforehand.”
“…I think this is better left for the Headmaster.” Poppy finished fiddling with the pile of clean linens and handed Neville a bowl of water. “I will go speak with him now; I believe the Finnigans are with him this very moment. Would you mind looking after Seamus for now, Neville? I can dismiss you from morning classes tomorrow if things go too late.”
“Yeah, sure, Madame Pomfrey.” Neville said readily. It looked like that pile of homework would be growing before he got to it. “Oh, Luna should be done getting earmuffs on that lot out there, so the halls will be clear for you.”
“Thank you, Neville. Yes, I think some well needed secrecy is certainly in order.” Throwing a light cloak on, Madame Pomfrey hurried from the room, shouting out last minute instructions behind her.
Alone, Neville turned wary eyes to the Fae beside him. “When exactly will this instinct for killing evil kick in?”
Roariel shrugged. “Hard to say… likely within the next two days. These children will not be safe in his presence if there is no sacrifice. All human hearts hold a spark of evil, and he will sense it fully.”
“Gods, this is insane.” All he could think was what could have happened if they had not spoken with the Fae and instead let things progress on their own.
“I think it would be wise to contact the Society of the Anhk Ro and have them take him for the duration of his exritus. Not only will they be able to deal with the sacrifice problem, but also they’ll be able to explain to the boy what is happening to him. I do not think any other source would be as sufficient, and the boy will need the greatest guidance at this time. It is his body that will be producing these foreign ideas and ailments; he will need to learn to control himself, and who better than the ones who had to experience it themselves?”
Neville couldn’t help but agree. He loved Seamus like a brother and he knew the boy would not want to wake up to find he had slaughtered half the school because he couldn’t control his instincts. “Listen, could you go over it all again with me? I want to be able to know this by heart and I don’t think you should be making your presence know to all wizard kind just yet.”
Roariel nodded. “It’s true I cannot compromise my position for such frivolous things. I will be willing to contact the Anhk Ro for you since the Heir calls you friend, but I think that will be enough of me meddling with wizards until I am ordered otherwise. I suggest you grab something to write on; I won’t repeat myself again.”
“Right, right.” Neville hurried across the room and fumbled for some writing materials from Madame Pomfrey’s desk. He wanted to make sure he explained everything clearly, if not for Seamus’ sake then for his family’s who would be suffering right alongside Seamus while he went through such a drastic change. He didn’t want to think about what to tell the rest of their roommates; poor Dean would likely have an emotional breakdown at the news. Just focus on the here and now and worry about the rest later; that was how you made it through the worst and he’d had a lot of experience in putting that mantra to use in his short life.
- 47
- 48
- 49
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Awakening To the Dream