Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Awakening To the Dream	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 45317 -:- 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
- 49
- 50
- 51
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.

CH50

Yehl stood silent, watching the young boy struggle with his collar. It was a quiet struggle, not visible to the human eye. But she wasn’t human. She watched Draco’s power collect and surge, over and over again to attack the collar around his neck. It had to be in one, there was no way to slowly break away at the mechanism. And as difficult as she found it to believe, the boy was doing it.
He shouldn’t have had the power. The collar was designed so that he wouldn’t have enough power. But there he was, brows furrowed in concentration as he raised his power, each time a little stronger… hitting the collar a little harder. He was going to do it on his own and she wasn’t quite sure how it was possible. The sealed ones shouldn’t have been able to call so much power.
She had intended to help him on Sunday, right before the Heir returned. It was supposed to give Draco a good basis in meditation and concentration. It was supposed to distract the boy from his erratic emotions. Discipline. Concentration. Centering.
He wasn’t supposed to actually do it.
At this rate, he’d have the damn thing off, and be knocking on the floo of White Towers by noon. Oh well, it wasn’t her fault the boy was strong. Harry would probably be happy to see him anyways.

*******

6:55am. He had been standing outside their door for… yup, it was now officially twenty minutes. Neville sighed and started pacing again. What the hell was he so afraid of?! Just go in there, ask, and leave; that’s all there was to it.
He snapped his head as the door to the north room in the hospital wing opened. He could hear Madame Pomfrey bustling right in the entrance. Not wanting to face the embarrassment of being caught still standing outside the door like a frightened child, he quickly opened the door and threw himself into the room.
Light was just beginning to stream in the windows, the pale morning air having only recently reached the long windows in the room. He focused on the light for a moment, finding it easier to look at then the other occupants of the room. Taking a final steadying breath, he pushed away from the door and made his way down the hall, eyes intent on his shoes. He wasn’t going to fall for anymore weird eye tricks.
He ended up in front of Clive’s bed, Blaise’s having been empty. Why was it empty? Because the boy was in the other bed, curled around the older incubus like a barnacle to a ship. Skirting nervously at the edge, Neville eventually raised his eyes enough to see that the two were fast asleep. Blaise had gone all Incubus, both of them asleep in their Soul Forms. …It was a sight.
He could have left; no one would have known but him. Instead, he sat in the chair set up beside the bed and watched the gentle rise and fall of the two’s breathing.
Time passed differently there. The sun still traveled steadily across the sky, but inside that room it seemed to have stilled. Snape’s bed was as silent as a tomb, sealed in warmth as buttery light filled the air and bounced dully off the stonewalls. A crisp summer morning sparkled feet away but he could only see the strange beings before him. He had woken early in preparation of Harry’s coronation. Or more, because he knew he would need as much time as possible to get up the nerve to step into that room. Now there, he felt confused. The soft atmosphere was contradicting the anxiety pulsing through his blood. He was still, but tense. Quiet, but inside something was seething that he couldn’t name… couldn’t identify…
He should leave.
But he couldn’t.
Timeless beauty rested, unassuming… calling. “…I hate you.”
Blue eyes opened, nearly white in the beaming light. Blaise shifted and nuzzled into Clive’s side with a mutter. “Bloody sun… curtains…” Neville was out of his seat and halfway across the room to comply before he realized what he was doing. Freezing, he clenched his fists at his side and took a deep breath. He stalked over to the window and pulled the curtains shut so the sun didn’t fall on the drowsy forms behind him. That done, he turned and left the room.
Blaise could crawl to White Towers for all he cared.

*******

“Pamela, please, I need that arm.” Harry carefully extracted his arm from the death grip the Director of Ceremonies had on it. The woman did not give up, and grabbed the hem of his sleeve instead.
“Sire, you need to look over the proper wording! We’ve had to make revisions to accommodate the non-fae speaking audience, which will be the majority.”
“Revisions?! There are no revisions to the coronation ceremony! What in the world are you—you should see your face right now.” Harry snickered, dropping his angry act and letting the woman gape like a suffocating fish for a while. His arm finally free, he began straightening his robes for what would be the seventh time. White, he was not a huge fan of white… well, wearing it anyways. Especially the blinding white, decorated in sparkling white, and frilly lace, and dear gods, it was a wedding dress without the veil and train. Why, why, why was it white? It was supposed to be black—Or gray, dark blue, red, or on the rare occasion green or gold even. Not White!
“Where is Vanessa and Troy? I really should speak with them about this.” Harry looked around again for any sight of the two designers.
Pamela threw her hands up, papers threatening to spill all over. “No, it can wait till after the rehearsal!” Her grip back in place, Pamela began dragging Harry towards the door and out into the hallway. This one was a troublemaker, but she knew how to deal with his type. She’d had to crack a few skulls in her day to make sure an important ritual or two were pulled off without a hitch. Heir or not, she was up to the challenge. “What did I tell you about stretching out the neck of your collar!”
Harry rolled his eyes and unhooked another button from his uncomfortably tight, itchy horror of a neckpiece. Lace. He was going to kill Vanessa. Actually, it was probably Troy’s addition; that bugger wore a lot of lace. Bloody lace. Bloody white fucking lace.
So far, things were looking good— all thanks to her marvelous planning, of course. While walking through, Pamela paid special attention to her surroundings. The house elves were all in a bustle, as to be expected. Excitement was high; even so early in the morning, all of White Towers was a buzz. She hadn’t sighted any guests yet, but she had heard from some of the servants that they were beginning to line up outside on the way up the road to the castle. Most preparations were in order. Just this woeful business of a rehearsal that the Heir seemed to have no interest in—
Rrrrrppp!
Taking a steadying breath, she slowly turned back to where the current Heir was gripping his torn collar and smiling sheepishly. “Err… whoops?”
“…Grrrrr.” This one was trouble. “We are late, Sire. Get those legs in gear.”
Harry allowed himself to be pulled the rest of the way to the formal Annunciation Chamber. Pamela left him to go find Vanessa, which he was eternally grateful for, and he stepped quietly into the room. With a flick of his claws, he had the rest of the lace from his collar, wrists, and edges of the robes torn free. He had made himself perfectly clear that he would not wear lace. Now, he had let it slip earlier because it had been just a little bit, and it hadn’t been itchy, but this was not the case now. If he had to, he’d toss the bloody robes and do the ceremony in the clothes Draco had loaned him.
He was surprised to find he was sort of looking forward to the day. There would be a lot of different people there he’d been wanting, and needing, to see. He was hoping that the sentient clans would be represented. Well that was another problem really. If he had been established as Heir for a more appropriate amount of time, he could expect a better turn out. Usually, they waited at least six months before the Coronation, having the Heir’s name well established at that point, but there had been occasions when it was as early as the same month if enemies were moving fast and moral was needed. It seemed this time around was one of those.
His little group of councilors was split on if they thought the early coronation was a good idea or not. He had a feeling Christien’s objections stemmed more from the need to protect the castle on such short notice. The Enforcers, as experienced as they were, had never had to deal with anyone attacking White Towers. The castle was unplottable and well guarded by the natural landscape; he couldn’t blame them for being lax. Stratford also thought the timing was bad; he wanted Harry strong and well settled before ascending to power. Harry knew the man’s motives and had ignored the anxious glances and instead went into more lectures. They were afraid for his sanity. Honestly, he was a little concerned about his sanity too, but the last thing he needed was to hear it from his people.
If it weren’t for Lesley, he probably wouldn’t have been quite sane at all. Not just Lesley’s stabilizing energy, but the man himself. He had apologized quite profusely to his cousin after the meeting yesterday. Lesley had understood but Harry had still felt bad about hurting his feelings earlier. It was a difficult thing really. There was a deep connection because of their blood and power, but they were still just newly acquainted and finding and pushing boundaries. It was the same with all of them. He truly cared for these people, but hardly knew any of them. There lives were in his hands and they didn’t know if he was trust worthy.
Sighing, Harry shook the thoughts from his mind. He needed to get this rehearsal out of the way and get to greeting and meeting.
The Annunciation Chamber had been scrubbed clean of the layers of dirt that had been there only hours ago. He was almost surprised to see all the glittering items lining the walls and the long black carpet leading to the black stoned altar.
Black, see that was what he was supposed to be wearing. Soul of the Ancient Night and all that; black represented him in ceremony and white just wasn’t acceptable. Didn’t these people know anything? Grumbling internally, he let his eyes wander down the carpet and to the weapons and instruments of power lining the way. They weren’t necessary, but he couldn’t find fault with them. They represented his strength and generosity, a story of all the Heir’s good deeds and battles following down the carpet. At the end was the Spear of Eternal Darkness raised above on a platform behind the altar, so all could see. He wondered who’d had the courage to move the spear. Without the proper preparations and the gauntlet, one could be destroyed by the energy his spear gave off.
“Sire, your robes!” Harry sighed at the wailing voice and plastered a fake smile on his face.
“I know, it’s the strangest thing. It’s falling apart, just like that.” He turned to the girl, letting the lace fall from his hand.
“Oh, and it was so lovely, too. Do you think they can fix it?”
He hoped not. “Miss Salvador, I didn’t expect you here so early. Shouldn’t you be sleeping late like the rest of the young ladies? The ceremony doesn’t start until noon.”
“Oh, you remember me!” Jeanette gave a happy squeal.
Harry smiled weakly. He didn’t like the hungry look she was giving him. “I remember most everybody. It was only last Sunday since we met, after all.”
“Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest your memory was failing, Sire.” Jeanette gave a titter. “I’m here for the rehearsal. It wouldn’t be much of one if the whole cast wasn’t here, after all.”
He could have sworn that Loxton had mentioned someone of the Aesalon bloodline… Jeanette Salvador wasn’t even close to the caliber needed to represent the Ancient Mother. “I didn’t realize you would be a part of the ceremony, Miss Salvador. When was this decided?”
“Oh, ages ago, Sire. Don’t pretend like you don’t know.” Giggling excitedly, Jeanette wrapped her arms around one of his and began walking him down the carpet. “You can’t imagine how shocked I was to be granted this honor. But I promise I will uphold the sanctity of your name to the very end.”
Harry shook his head dully. Had Loxton promised this girl in some careless joke, and forgot to set her straight? Leaving him to the job of letting this girl down without breaking her heart. There was no way Jeanette Salvador was suitable or even powerful enough; Loxton must be laughing his bloody head off right now. He sighed again. He really should have expected something like this. Ritual said the Chancellor was to be in charge of the coronation ceremony. If he’d had it his way, he would have chosen Lesley, Pamela even—anyone besides Loxton. Now he had to set things straight, and Furiae only knew how much other shit Loxton had intentionally fucked up.
They reached the steps leading up to the altar before Harry stopped walking, forcing Jeanette still as well. “Listen, Miss Salvador. I’m afraid there has been some mistake…”
Jeanette turned vacant blue eyes his way. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Yes… what is it that you mean, Harry?”
Harry looked up as Loxton stepped through one of the side doors behind the altar carrying a large book. “Someone told Miss Salvador that she would be representing the Ancient Mother during my coronation. I’m afraid I cannot allow it. She’s not qualified.”
Loxton pursed his lips, walking up and turning to Jeanette. “Did you tell Harry that you would be playing the Ancient Mother?”
“Why no, Chancellor.” Jeanette batted her eyes sweetly. “I can’t imagine how he could have gotten that impression.”
“Well, there you go. It was all just a misunderstanding.” Loxton said cheerfully, opening the book in hand and placing it on the altar.
Harry was not amused. “Miss Salvador was very clear that she was a part of this ceremony. Now one, or both, of you is lying to me. Must I compel the truth from you?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary, Harry. Miss Salvador has a different role today. Jeanette, why don’t you be a dear and show the Heir your credentials?”
Harry could not recall any other role being available. Lesley was to represent his brothers, and a suitable maiden was to represent the Ancient Mother. He turned to Jeanette to say just that, when his eyes caught a glint of what she was pulling from her bodice. A chain, long and silver, was being pulled up from the front of her dress to reveal a strangely familiar gem. He stared hypnotized as it glinted brightly in the light, sparkling colorful rays as it spun.
Dread began to well up in his chest. He tried to reach for it, throw it away, but his arms wouldn’t move.
“Impressive, isn’t it Harry?” Harry felt Loxton’s hands turning him towards the front, where the dark altar stood. “No, don’t bother speaking; I’m sure you can’t anyways. A simple Imperious would have been preferred, but we both know that would never work on you. Believe you, me, it was a horror trying to get this particular jewel into my hands. The Exault were not happy to see it go. I had to lower myself to agreeing to a mere loan, of all things. Thankfully, it will be sufficient enough. Once I get this bothersome ritual out of the way, you’ll be quite trapped in my power.”
“Oh, it will be most wonderful, Sire! Just you wait and see; you won’t regret having me for a bond mate. I’ll make sure.” Jeanette leaned over and kissed Harry enthusiastically on the cheek.
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t see. Only the jewel, bright in his mind’s eye, was his focus. This was his dream… he was stuck in his dream, and Loxton was there, and he had distinctly heard bonding. He did not want anything to do with a bond mate, or bondings, or rituals not on the coronation list of accepted rituals—Fucker! That was why his robes were white! He was so seriously killing Vanessa and Troy now.
Loxton gave one of his classic, charming smiles and held up the ritual book. “Shall we begin, then?”

*******

Stratford shook the Duke Sven’s hand in passing, hoping he got to Christien before he started to strip-search the guests. “Christien, good man, come with me a moment.” He smiled apologetically at the couple that had traveled from France to be here, and tugged extra hard on Christien’s arm.
“What is it?” Christien grumbled, eyes scanning the small stream of people coming in. He had spent nearly an hour trying to get his hair straight, and horribly ruffled clothes presentable; he was not in a good mood. And now, coming into the main entrance he had found only a smackling of his guards that were hardly doing anything but standing around.
“What is it? You were about to put Mr. Tell into a headlock because he wouldn’t hand over his cane—which he needs for walking by the way.” Stratford gave a sigh. “This is difficult enough without you stressing everyone out.”
“What do you want me to do? Let them walk in with weapons?!” Pouting, Christien folded his arms defiantly and glared at a young woman who had just stepped in with a large handbag.
Stratford moved in front to block the man’s view. “I want you to let the Enforcers and house elves do their job. You’re freaking everyone out, and it’s not even eight yet. Go find Lesley and bother him. I’ll take care of the door.”
He didn’t want to go and bother Lesley. All it would do would lead to them snogging up a storm, and being late for the coronation. It took an hour to make his clothes presentable; he wasn’t going through that again. He needed something to bother, and the entrance chamber was as good as any a place to start. “You can’t be serious. What if trouble starts up? Who’s going to…?”
Stratford pointed calmly to the four Enforcers lined on both sides of the doorway, and then to each set of five that were standing at the end of the hallways branching off from the main room. Unseen were the house elves, four of them armed with powerful restraining magic. “It is well taken care of. Ged can always use the extra help with that mess of a surveillance system, if you want to…” Stratford trailed off as a piercing bell sounded, echoing through the castle.
“Isn’t that…?”
Christien nodded. “Something’s set off the alarm.”
All through the hall people were exchanging confused looks. The Enforcers began to move unsteadily from their posts. Christien, pout deepening to a frown, indicated that the guards should stay were they are. “Everyone, please stay in the entrance chamber for now. I’m certain it’s nothing but a stray flare of magic. But to be on the safe side, I’d like all guests to be present and accounted for until we have confirmation.” He crooked a finger at Stratford and together they started heading towards the security control room.
“Do you think it’s the Exault?”
“Possibly… For all we know, it’s just a glitch in the mechanism. The surveillance system hasn’t been used in years.”
Satisfied with that answer for now, they quickened their pace down the corridor. Up ahead a flash of darkness passed by the corridor, followed quickly by a running form.
“Marjory!” Christien took off, taking the corner and nearly smacking into Helena who was running to catch up in her flowing black-laced gown. “Helena, what in the seven hells is going on?!”
Helena grabbed on gratefully to Christien’s arms, doubling over and breathing heavily from her run. “Christien, dear… The alarm went off and Obsidian started making quite a fuss… He just flew off. Hurry and follow him; it must be the Heir.” She pointed to Marjory’s retreating form and pushed Christien in that direction. “I’ll catch up… hurry.”
Christien did as he was told and shot off down the hall, bypassing Marjory and following the serpentine gargoyle through the winding corridors.

*******

“What is that?” Jeanette asked, looking around for the source of the alarm blaring particularly loud in the room.
“Not to worry, Jeanette. I believe someone has been playing with the security system. The jewel’s power must have activated it.” Loxton shuffled the book around until he had his wand in hand, and quickly charmed up a barrier to keep anyone from interfering.
“Can’t you stop it, Chancellor? It’s giving me a headache.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer through for now…” Loxton looked up as a few guests trickled into the Annunciation Chamber and stared with interest at the Heir. “Ah, our audience has arrived. It’s time for you part, Jeanette. Remember, don’t rush the words.”
Jeanette nodded. He voice was crisp and clear as she called out her first spell that would prepare her soul to accept a bond. It was a deep bond, not usually done because of the dangerous consequences. She was confident in her abilities though, and confident in the Heir.
At first she had been a little confused, having to subdue the Heir to bond with him. But the Chancellor had explained that the only way the Heir could accept a bond was if his power was contained. And it was so much better for the Heir! He was just a child still, and people would use that against him. But if he was bonded, he would have the extra knowledge and power—everyone would have to understand how great he was and follow him! Sure she felt bad that the Heir couldn’t understand the importance, but once they were bonded he would see. She was dedicated to his success, and even if their beginning started out a little rocky, they would grow in love soon enough.
A loud bang, and Obsidian was clawing frantically through the door and throwing himself at the barrier. “Rowland, what the hell are you doing!”
“Don’t be distracted, Jeanette.” Loxton sent Christien a superior smile while the man tried to beat down the barrier he had raised. “Christien, you may be happy to know that you’ll be out of a job soon. A young man like you shouldn’t be cooped up in a castle anyways.”
Christien narrowed his eyes and picked a spot away from Obsidian to attack the barrier with his wand. “I swear to any god listening, if you hurt that boy I will kill you with my bare hands!”
“Such a nasty temper, Mr. Savage.” Loxton drawled cheerfully. “I thought the First Chair would be able to tame you, but apparently not.”
“I’m going to slice your eyes out of your bloody skull! I’m going to cut your foul tongue from your mouth and let you choke on it!”
Loxton laughed low and hearty. “He’ll be the first one I kill, you know. I promise you that. The poor fool can’t even defend himself against another councilor; it’s part of his restrictions as First Chair. Gods how I’ve waited to crush that arrogant bastard.”
“And one of your restrictions as Chancellor is that you cannot kill your fellow councilors.” Marjory said calmly, having caught Loxton’s words as she stepped into the room. “What are you thinking, Rowland? This is your life, and the lives of all your future descendents, you are putting at risk. The Heir will have revenge.”
“Do you think that frightens me? I’ve given up more than you can even imagine getting where I am today. This will hardly be the last. Once the Heir is under my power, the world is practically mine… the universe even, if I were so ambitious.” Loxton glanced over to make sure Jeanette was continuing with her spell. “And it was all so simple.”
Marjory shook her head in disbelief. Rowland had never been the most morally upright person, but he had been a good leader when it suited him. It was a shame to see him seal his fate so early in life. “You realize we cannot allow you to continue. Even if you succeed in ensnaring Harry and killing all of us, the Heir’s family will destroy you. You are playing with the gods, Rowland, and you have no idea what that entails.”
“Don’t bother, Marjory.” Christen grunted, eyeing the weapons glittering so temptingly on the other side of the barrier. “I relish killing the bastard once I get the chance.”
“I don’t recognize the spell he’s using. We need to find a reversal or a way to nullify it.” The barrier appeared to be self sustained and wasn’t going to budge anytime soon, so Marjory immediately jumped to the next possible course of action. “Where’s Lesley? He’s the most likely to know the magic Rowland is using.”
“Uhh… you know, I have no idea where he is.” Christien confessed, a little surprised. “I saw him about an hour ago when we were getting ready… but when we parted for work, he never mentioned what he was doing… You don’t think…?” He sent a suspicious glance towards Loxton, who had started his own part of chanting.
“If he could have killed him, he would have already. He wouldn’t say he was going to.” Marjory said confidently, although she wasn’t quite sure if she believed it herself. No, if Rowland had killed Lesley, he would have taken the opportunity to rub it in Christien’s face. She was pretty sure Lesley was alive, wherever he was.
“Okay… okay, we need to lock down the castle. We need to get these guests out of here. Helena! Stratford!” Christien greeted the out of breath councilors with orders. “You two are guarding the door from the outside. Marjory, clear out the room and brainstorm on what to do while I go spread the word about—” He stopped, blinking in surprise as Marjory called a house elf.
“Codsworth will spread the word, Christien. I’ll get the portraits working on finding Lesley, and we’ll need Bower going through the Library for possible solutions.” She smiled understandingly at Christien’s fluster. “Lesley is fine, Christien. You need to focus.”
“Right, sorry.” Christien shook his head at his stupidity. “You should fill them in. I’m going to talk to Ged and see if he can’t identify the spell through the surveillance system. We’re locking down. I won’t let enemies in while we’re distracted.” He should have listened to Lesley; they had all underestimated Rowland and now they were paying for it.

*******

Harry wasn’t sure how long it had been, but Jeanette and Loxton’s voices had been droning on for quite some time now. He still couldn’t move, but he had overcome his vision enough to be able to focus blearily on Loxton’s smug face. What was he thinking? The spell could never work.
He remembered the gem, now that he was under its spell. It was La Lune’s. He had created it with the hopes of being able to ensnare the Heir. Neither of them had been satisfied with the results. The Heir didn’t enjoy being captured, and La Lune didn’t enjoy forced affections. There was also the useful trait of the gem’s power suddenly halting when in contact with the Heir’s skin. Too bad Loxton seemed to know about that trick.
From far off he could hear outraged voices trying to get to him. Whether they succeeded or not didn’t really matter. Eventually the spell would fail… He would have to kill Loxton now. Why did he have to push it this far? It’s not like he wanted to kill the man. He had been more than content to let Loxton live on as a figurehead. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone? Was it that bloody hard to be a good person?
Jeanette started her next round of chants, and now he could actually feel a change. The barriers containing his soul were slowly thinning.
He felt bad for the girl. The moment she moved to bind him, her soul would shatter. It was the worst way to go, to have your soul torn to bits. A torturous, slow death would be far more agreeable. She would cease to exist, thrown back into the universe in such a brutal way that she may never be able to join into a life form again. There was nothing he could do about it. There was nothing anyone could do about it. His power was too great to be contained by such a weak soul, and the gem was too powerful for him to overcome at his current level. He couldn’t help but wonder if La Lune had bothered to warn Loxton before hand.
…Hello?
Err…

Son of a—fuck that hurt!
…Right, to the person yelling in my head, shut your mouth.
Okay… his head was not as empty as he had originally thought.
I hit my knee, jackass! You’d be yelling too.
Seriously, shut up. It’s like you’re yelling right inside my skull.

Uhh, excuse me? Hello?
Fuck, I can see the bone… shit this is bad... What the hell is going on?!
If Harry could have sighed, he would have. He settled for mentally smacking himself on the head. He hadn’t foreseen this. As his barriers went down, the souls already bonded to him were able to reach him. This was fine, obvious even, but the spell was also trying to call his soul for a bonding, which was not settling well with the extra baggage that was his Candidates. They were being drawn to him, their physical distance no match for their spiritual bonds.
Well, he could let them yell it out some more or he could calm them down before a headache started. Now he just had to think about what to say…
Hey, anyone else getting double vision? What’s that… is that an altar?
I think we should be more concerned about who everyone is right now, and why we can hear each other.
All right, it was easy enough for him to distinguish between them all, and he was more than a little disappointed that Malfoy wasn’t represented. That damn collar was probably blocking him again.
I think I need a healer…
Harry added a kick to his mental sigh list. Darel, can you walk? If not, keep out of sight and work on your healing charms. It’s not a good idea to be caught unaware at the moment when we are all in such a troublesome predicament.
The jumble of voices in his head immediately silenced. He knew who they were and why they were there, and they were rightfully suspicious.
Who the hell are you?
Harry smiled internally. I think you already know, Musa. Were you involved? You seem rather grouchy.
Listen you—!
Please sir, I don’t mean to interrupt, but could you tell us what’s going on? If not, well, I’m afraid I might be going a bit mad, ya know? Ealdian trailed off with a nervous laugh that echoed oddly in the inner space that they were conversing in.
I think we’re all pretty much around the bend. Musa muttered. Wait, you’re right… what is that weird vision thing?
That would be my fault. Harry admitted. Unfortunately, I’m unable to move even to shut my eyes, so you’re stuck staring at Rowland’s stunning teeth for the time being. Ealdian, to answer your question, I’m currently under attack and you are being dragged into it.
…Oh… Um, well who are you? Are you all right?
Well, that’s a good question I suppose. Harry mussed. I’m Harry by the way. Now I’m pretty sure that Rowland’s plan will fail, and he won’t be able to tie my soul to some mere human. But I’m not quite sure how the explosion that will occur when her soul shatters will effect me… and consequentially you, as well.
More silence followed that bit of information, which Harry was grateful for. It was rather serious, he supposed. He could die… his Candidates could die. Actually, his Candidates were more likely to suffer from this spell; he was a powerful element after all. His failure to put Rowland in his place could lead to the death of Jeanette, Darel, Musa, Ealdian, Rowland, and even Draco. That collar wouldn’t be able to protect the boy from the sort of energy given off when a soul is destroyed. Everyone in White Towers could die. Everyone.

So… what’s your full name Harry?
Pulled from his dismal thoughts, he couldn’t help but chuckle at Darel’s tenacity. I do believe that would be cheating, Darel. You’re going to have to wait for my call like the rest.

Then you’re really…?
Yes, I’m the Heir. Sorry our first meeting is so… crappy, really.

Is there anything we can do?
No, nothing can be done. I think we’re just going to have to wait it out for now. Yeah, he didn’t like it either, but he really couldn’t think of anything that would work. Darel, how’s your leg?
I, uh, don’t worry about me, Sire.
He’s not grading you on it, kid. Musa snorted. Our bodies heal quickly, so if the bone is broken and things not where they belong, you might end up having to re-brake it and let it heal properly.
Kid? I’m nineteen, asshole! If I thought there was a problem, I would have said there was a problem!
Touchy…

Nineteen? Geez, you’re a whole two years older than me… Are you strong?
Probably not.

Fuck off!
Children, Harry sing-songed teasingly, although inside he was feeling a bit uneasy. Why don’t we keep the volume and negativity down while I wait to see if I’m going to die or not, hmm? They were already sizing each other up and they hadn’t even met. He didn’t want them to meet Draco. He didn’t want to hear them looking for his weaknesses, strategizing how to take him down and ultimately killing him. And he really didn’t want to see Draco doing the same thing to the other three.

Forgive me, Sire. I just—
Your leg, I know. Harry said simply. Perhaps I should say this now, since it seems as good a time as any, and I’ve really got nothing better to do at the moment. I will not have you fighting each other needlessly. Your Candidacy trial is a ritual, needing many specific elements. If you kill one another outside of this ritual, you are immediately disqualified from becoming Soul Vigil. You do not want that to happen… it’s painful to say the least. He left it at that. They were afraid; this was not the same age as the last time the Heir visited. Likely they had barely taken any of it serious until they had their exritus.
So, who was planning on attending my coronation today? Bit of a warning, it’s turned out to be rather lame. Loxton’s fucked up my whole bloody day.
You’re already having your Coronation? I figured you were barely out of recovery at this point. Musa didn’t sound pleased, and Harry couldn’t help but agree.
It wasn’t my plan; the Council of Wizards decided to ambush me. You’re a bit far off, aren’t you, Musa?
Botswana, Africa. The wizarding community is small here, but the Clans are near. And although I am isolated from them all, I do have access to a transcontinental floo, and can apparate great distances without greatly tiring. Distance is not a factor, Sire. I would have left the instant I felt your presence, if it had been proper.
Don’t trouble yourself with it right now. I don’t plan on having the Candidate trial for quite a while, forgoing any unseen event. Given that I’m frozen under that bloody gem of La Lune’s, it’s hard to say what the future holds.
La Lune’s there?!!
Whoops. Harry gave himself another mental smack. No, Loxton has borrowed his gem to ensnare me. If La Lune were about, I’d have felt his presence.
So… what the hell is going on? Darel asked again, sounding rather strained.
Harry tried to focus on the physical world again. It was like fighting through a spongy cloud only to be pressed to an unmoving window where sight and sound were cut in half. Jeanette has reached the final part of her preparation. I think Loxton will have to complete the circuit and then Jeanette will try to bond to me.
Ealdian’s anxiety was almost tangible. He wasn’t the only one afraid, but he was the only one willing to show it. We’re going to die, aren’t we?
…Don’t be stupid. Darel finally grunted in the growing silence. I’m feeling painfully alive.
You’re at White Towers, right? What if we come and help you? Musa asked quietly.
There’s a barrier that’s being fed by the power of the spell. Once it comes down it will be too late. Harry pressed hard against the unmoving confines of his mind. He needed to get that damn gem. Listen; give me a hand here. Maybe with our combined powers we can break through this spell.

How?
Focus. Musa instructed, his presence immediately growing within the space until Harry could see his shadowed form. You should all be versed in some form of meditation.
Maybe you are, weirdo. Darel tried to focus her energy, her physical pain making it difficult.
Here, let me help. Suddenly Ealdian popped in, clear as reality, and wrapped his arms around Darel’s wispy outline and pulled her clear into the space. Harry held a hand out to Musa and the shadows fell away to reveal the boy.
Fuck, that leg is a mess. Musa said frankly once catching sight of Darel’s knee. What the hell did you do to it?
I fell off my roof. Darel snapped, standing up straight and focusing enough so that her astral form was not reflecting her physical maladies. She spared Ealdian a glance, taking in the boy’s odd golden aura. My, aren’t you glowy.
Not sure to be offended or not, Ealdian pursed his lips and looked around, settling on Harry. He stared for a bit, as if trying to memorize what Harry looked liked for later. Since Harry was a dark hole in the world around, he had to remember the feel of power, not physical appearance. What do we need to do, Sire?
Harry cocked his head to the foggy wall where Loxton could be seen looking rather smug. Break it down.

*******

“It’s useless!” Christien yelled as another round of spells were absorbed into the barrier. The chant Bower had dug up was having no effect on the barrier or Rowland’s voice, and Christien was pretty sure anything new they found would have the same results. Rowland had planned meticulously… Gods, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on the bastard.
Beneath the chanting, and blasts of power, he caught the sounds of a commotion in the hallway. Helena was guarding the door, too weak from her ordeal to be taking on the barrier. He went to the closed door, calling through to the woman on the other side. “Helena?”
Silence answered him. “Helena!” Still nothing. Raising his wand hand high, he announced to the room he was opening the door, and spelled the door open. “Balten? What the hell are you doing here?” He frowned disapprovingly at Helena, who was chatting up a storm with the Ascian. “I called you twice, Helena. I thought you were under attack.”
“Cred Balten has offered to assist us with the barrier, Christien.” Helena answered cheerfully.
Christien blinked, looked down the hall where two other Ascians were approaching, and looked back at Helena’s smiling face. “Doesn’t anyone understand the concept of ‘lockdown?!’
“It’s alright, Magistrate. We were in, looking around the gardens, when the alarm went off.” Balten said politely, his teeth gleaming fiercely. “I set off to look for the First Chair, but ran into my old friend instead.” He petted Helena’s shoulder. “I was told you have a barrier to be destroyed. We will be more than happy to assist in helping the Heir.”
“Fine.” Christien said quickly, stepping out of the doorway. “I don’t know what you can do that we can’t, but we could certainly use the help.” Where the hell was Lesley?! He was really worried now. After thirty minutes of the alarm sounding, Lesley should have been there by now.
“We absorb magic. It is a useful ability when faced with magical constraints.” Balten said simply, waving his men down the hall. “You may want to clear the room. Our powers can be dangerous when unleashed around wizards.”
Christien nodded. “Helena, take care of it. I need to go find Lesley.” He started down the hall before any refusal could reach his ears. There was no way he could focus until he was sure Lesley was alive and well.
“Elkie.”
The house elf popped in, his short legs having some trouble keeping up with Christien’s strides. “Elkie isn’t finding signs of Mr. Griffith, sir. Elkie has checked with all the other house elves and Enforcers. No one has seen him.”
“Have you checked the Chancellor’s rooms? The dungeons and catacombs? There has to be something, some clue as to where he is…” He froze, an idea clicking. “Nips! …Where are you, you bugger cat?!” He took off towards the stables, leaving Elkie wringing his hands behind.
The corridors were empty once past the main entrance—as they should be during a lockdown! He didn’t believe for a second that Balten had been in the castle before the alarm went off. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he took the shortcut through the servant corridors, not caring that his dress robes were being dirtied by the tight fit.
The Gryphons jumped when he threw open the stable doors, but nothing else moved. He searched the shadows for Harry’s shadow cat, but found nothing. …Wait. There was only one Gryphon? Where was the other… Holdree, was it? Feeling only half foolish—he was well versed with magical beings given his upbringing—he carefully approached the remaining Gryphon who was resting in the hay.
“Forgive me, Sylph. You haven’t seen the Heir’s messenger, have you?” He met the icy stare readily, waiting for some form of response. It was a little tricky, since he had been the one to restrain the Gryphons when Holdree had attacked Clive. He was certain he was not on the top of their ‘humans not to slice up’ list.
Finally, Sylph gave a curt nod and turned her head towards the windows and the Eastern side of the grounds. Outside in the distance was a soft shadow lying in the sun. Christien gave a small whoop of triumphant.
“Thanks Sylph! I’ll make sure you get a prime cut tonight!” Not bothering to go around to the door on the other side of the long room, he bounded out the window and sprinted up to the shadow cat. “Nips! Where’s Lesley?”
…You’re blocking my sun, human.
“Nips!” Scowling, Christien moved around so his shadow was well out of reach of the cat. “Lesley, I need to find him. The Heir is in danger, you lazy excuse for a house cat.”
Nips rolled over, swishing his tail idly. The Heir is fine; no human can bond to him. If the girl was one of his Candidates, it would be a different story, but she’s not. She’s hardly a witch.
“Bonding? Is that what Rowland’s up to?” Christien furrowed his brow. “But what would that do? Even if it worked, being bonded won’t give Rowland power over Harry.”
I believe the Chancellor is going for one of the illegal bonds. Nips opened his eyes to stare up at Christien in amusement. You know, the ones where a partner can be bound into submission.
Christien’s expression turned grim at the realization. “That could be rather bad.”
Nips nodded in agreement. Not to worry though, La Lune’s gem can only subdue the Heir physically. It doesn’t have the power to control his soul.
“Err, right…” Somehow that still seemed pretty bad to him. “So we’re worrying for nothing?”

Well, I didn’t say that…
Christien clenched his fist, wishing the cat would get to the point already. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
It means your lover is swooping in, and you should do what you can to free the Heir before your little castle and its occupants are blown apart. The Heir will remain unscathed, but you mortals won’t be so lucky. That said, Nips closed his eyes and stretched out in the morning sun with a purr.
Christien stared in disbelief at the shadow cat, his foot unconsciously itching to kick the fur ball across the lawn for taking a nap instead of revealing such important information earlier. Luckily, Nips’ backside was saved by the whoosh of wings from above. Looking up, he found Holdree circling around for a landing, flying a little awkward from the extra weight on his back.
“Chrissy, what are you doing out here?!” Lesley called from his perch on Holdree’s back.
“Looking for you, you bloody jackass! What the hell are you doing riding today? We have a situation!”
Lesley frowned, turning back to listen to the person behind him. Shaking his head, he braced for Holdree’s landing and jumped down from the Gryphon’s back. “Sorry, love. I had to go out and pick up little Cissa. Her ride was just too conspicuous to get by security. What’s happened?”
Christien took a deep calming breath. Yelling wasn’t going to help; he was just glad Lesley was alive. “Rowland is using a gem to control Harry. He intends to bond Harry to Jeanette Salvador, or so Nips has told me anyways. And we can’t get at him because Rowland has set up some sort of self powered barrier.”
Lesley frowned thoughtfully, studied his boots, and then folded his arms. “…Won’t work.” He claimed with certainty and turned to help Narcissa down from Holdree’s back. “Jeanette isn’t a Candidate or a powerful enough fae… Rowland is going to feel like such an ass right before Harry kills him.” Lesley paused and smiled brilliantly at the thought. “I’ve got to see this.”
“Umm, about that… Nips seems to think that the spell will somehow end with the castle blowing up and killing everyone.” Christien added, staring uncomfortably at the ground.
“…Huh. That’s a bit of a downer.” Lesley scratched his chin thoughtfully. Focusing on Christien’s pout, he leaned in and kissed him. “Well, best to do something about it, I think.”
Narcissa pulled her hair free from her cloak and shook it loose. “Ah, the Savage Cubed. Lezzy was right; you have grown up nice. Last I saw of you was the bruise you left on my Lucius’ eye. You broke his nose and everything, if I recall.” She smiled and held a hand out to Christien, her other clasping her stomach unconsciously. “It’s nice to see you balanced some height with all that attitude.”
“I dislocated his left shoulder, don’t forget. But no one’s ever confused me for a gentleman, Sissy Cissa.” Even under the circumstances, Christien found his smile to be genuine. Narcissa had been a long time missing from the Council and the Clans. “It’s nice to see you back where you belong.”
“Thank you, Christien.”
“Up and at’em, love.” Lesley suddenly wrapped an arm around Narcissa’s waist and lifted her up into his arms. “Christien, brief while we run. Holdree, thank you greatly for your assistance. I am forever in your debt.” He bowed his head to the Gryphon before turning towards White Towers and taking off at a quick pace.

*******

Time was running out. How long it had been, he couldn’t tell. He knew because he could sense it. While his Candidate’s fought bravely to free him, Jeanette’s soul was reaching out, nearly touching his. Once she tried to breach that final space, his power would shatter her soul, destroying all in reach.
Rowland was on the final spell. He was calling for the first bonds. As each one struck, his Candidate’s cried out and he knew they would not survive.
And all he could do was stand there.
He had sensed when the Ascians had tried to absorb the magic of the spell, and ultimately failed. His soul, his own damn power, was being used against his will to fuel the barrier. If he could have cried, he would have when Lesley stepped in the room with Christien and Narcissa. He had hoped they would have evacuated like intelligent people. Draco would be heartbroken to know his mother, and sibling to be, had died… If Draco lived, that is…
Sire, I’m sorry. I can’t—
Harry watched Ealdian fall as the second wave of bonds struck. Musa was next; Darel crouched unsteadily until finally slumping to the ground. He went to them, his heart frozen somewhere in mid beat. It was either comfort or feel, and those raw emotions were beyond his ability since the summer. It only hurts for a while. Death is just another step.
Is that supposed to be comforting, Scarhead?
Harry stared blankly at the pained forms of his Candidates. It just wasn’t fair.
Do you want to die with us? Are you just jumping to throw your life away…? Heh, scratch that. You’re so pathetic, Potter, you’d rather die than live with the guilt.
…Shut up, Malfoy.
Draco sighed, stepping up behind Harry’s shadowy form. I’m not ready to die, and I’m certainly not ready to let you go on moping away your life.
Harry shook. Can’t you feel it? Just three more bonds and she’s dead. I can’t beat this damn gem. They’re all going to die!
Damn it—! Draco grabbed Harry by the shoulders and pulled him back. I did not waste the last four days of my life meditating my way out of that bloody collar just to die! Now get off your ass and fight!
Harry felt himself fall back and everything went blindingly white. He had the vague impression of Draco calling him useless before the light slowly faded and his vision cleared. Noise flooded his senses and the world spun. He fought for focus, pain burning up his arm and shooting down his spine. Jeanette was lying on the floor, her mouth open in a gurgling scream as blood bubbled from her lips. Her soul was intact somehow… He furrowed his brow, looking for the source of pain in his arm. La Lune’s gem was in his hand, cutting his palm to shreds.
“…Harry! Harry, get up! Hurry…”
What… what was going on? He blinked a couple more times, slowly turning his head towards the voices calling for him. Lesley was wide eyed, screaming at him about something… but the words didn’t quite make sense. Everything was jumbling together…
Potter, you dolt! Behind you! Defend yourself!
Malfoy? A shadow fell over his dazed form, the glint of dark metal on Loxton’s hand catching his attention. Harry’s eyes shut on their own accord while he fumbled through the layers of white fabric to find his wand.
“This could have been easy, Harry. Either way, I will rule!”
Harry snapped his eyes open, his spiritual and physical form snapping back in synch. Locked on Loxton’s looming form, he threw his arm up, wand in hand. “Stupify!”
Loxton flinched, stepping back. No flash of power came from Harry’s wand.
“Stupify! …Shit…” Harry stared at his wand in confusion, unable to understand why it wasn’t working. He missed when Loxton rushed forward, only the sound of the spear in the man’s hand whistling as it arched down, reminding him what he had been doing.
Potter!!!
“Nooooo!” Lesley screamed, Christien and Marjory joining as everyone else went silent in shock. “Harry…”
Get up, Potter! Get the fuck up! You’re not allowed to die, you idiot!
…He was pretty sure it was supposed to hurt. There was a spear sticking out the front of his chest and he imagined it should hurt more.
Well, since it wasn’t hurting he might as well do as he was told… He pushed himself up from the floor, rising unsteadily to his feet. He wasn’t quite sure when his robes had turned scarlet red but it sure beat the white bonding robes.
All right, right, magic now. You need to knock this guy out, Potter. Quickly now.
“…Wand doesn’t work.” Oh, his mouth was bleeding? Didn’t quite feel that either… Geez, what the hell was Loxton smiling about?
“Surprised? I used your own weapon to kill you, oh great Heir. Do you have any final words?”
Of course your wand doesn’t work! You’re a Fae Wizard! Use your bloody hands!
That didn’t sound right. He was pretty sure Fae Wizards used wands…
Potter!
“Quite screeching… git.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t be hearing anything soon.” Loxton summoned a dagger from the line of weapons.
“Rowland, so help me I’ll kill you! Get away from him—!” “Harry, run!”
Potter, you delirious bastard, Pay Attention! Kill the freak with the dagger!
“Fine… shut up, already.” Harry raised his arm; it felt heavy… all of him felt heavy, and kind of sluggish. These damn red robes were weighing him down. All right, make the dagger go away. …There we go. He watched as the Dagger of Lost Fate went spinning away, right through the barrier and into the opposing wall. Dagger of Lost Fate… who the hell named all those things? There must be some poor soul stuck in a room naming everything…
Gods Potter, Focus!
Right, killing. He looked around blankly for his victim, eventually forced to look up at the ceiling. “Malfoy… he has wings…”
Harry Potter, you will kill that man now, wings or no wings!
“But I can’t reach—”
USE YOUR MAGIC!!!
Harry winced, rubbing his head with his bleeding hand while summoning Loxton to him with his other. Stupid, screeching, ferret-faced jackass… how the hell could he have ever liked him? All he did was yell and—“Quit struggling!” Growling, Harry grabbed Loxton by his new length of long blonde hair and pulled him to the ground. He quickly snapped the annoying wings trying to beat his face off, ignoring Rowland’s scream. Honestly, couldn’t people quiet down? The bastard acted like he didn’t deserve it.
“Rowland Loxton, you have been found guilty of trying to kill the Heir… which, stated in the bylaws of the Holy Decree of Fae, is punishable by immediate death.” Shit, there was more blood than words coming out of his mouth. “You are also guilty of misusing the Spear of Eternal Darkness, conspiring to usurp the Heir’s power, and nearly destroying an innocent’s soul…” He paused, a coughing fit shaking him. Stupid formalities. “Right… to keep from disgracing Torent and his whole line, I cast you out from the great blood of Torent, and revoke any and all decrees you have made while holding office as Chancellor. Your… your name is wiped from this realm, and I send you to the other side where those you have betrayed will have an eternity to figure out how to appropriately punish you. Any final words, traitor?”
Just kill him already.
Harry frowned down when Loxton remained stubbornly silent, the man keeping to whimpers and screams and nothing else. “Fine.” Shaking his head, Harry blinked away the spots forming before his eyes. He knelt onto Loxton’s back, reached forward to grab the man by the jaw, and snapped it back. The neck broke easily, too easily for a true Fae Wizard. Humans were amazingly fragile, even the wizards with the superhuman magical powers.
Ooh, more spots. That was probably a bad sign… “I don’t feel so good…”
Come on Potter. You’ll heal faster in your Soul Form.
Harry nodded dumbly and fully transformed. His body felt weird, shifting around the heavy weapon lodge where nothing should be lodged. Feeling decidedly tired, he slumped forward, bleeding out on the former Chancellor’s corpse.
Lesley smacked uselessly at the barrier that still refused to fall. “We need to get to him. He can’t…” He had stopped crying when someone had pointed out that Harry was still quite alive and killing Rowland, but the tears were threatening again as he watched the boy tremble with each shattered breath. Harry was dying; more of his blood was outside of his body than inside. There was no way he could last much longer. “Where the hell is Jacques?!!”
“Stand back.” Christien carefully pried Lesley away, indicating the nearest Enforcers to help him with a combined attack.
“Wait…” Marjory squinted, focusing on a dull light growing from behind the dark altar.
“Quick! Break it down!” Stratford hollered from the other side of the barrier. He had a clear view of the creature unfurling from the ground, light rising brighter.
There was a moving mural at the entrance of the dungeons in White Tower. On this mural were two separate beings of great power, changing as it showed each form these creatures took. Sadly, there was no Domin here to battle the Exault rising from the floor.
The being stood tall, towering even in light, and all who saw immediately screamed in horror.
“Harry! Harry, get up! You have to get out of there!” Lesley followed as Obsidian gave a roar and scrambled across the edge of the barrier. He had found the hole created by the dagger Harry had cast away, and was clawing to widen it enough so he could fit through.
The renewed screaming was what really brought Harry back to focus. Not the screaming from the others in the room, but the screechings of a certain Slytherin yelling in his head. “What? My head is… oh…” He focused unsteadily on the blinding creature standing before him. “Auriel Cross…? You… you shouldn’t be here.”
You’ve grown weak, Nox Ămor.
That wasn’t quite right. “…Like hell I have. I’m still a fucking newborn.” Harry struggled to his feet, growling when gravity forced the blade deeper through his chest. His wings were not helping. “This ground is off limits to you. Leave it, or I will strike you down.”
I think the most I have to fear is of you falling on me.
Harry narrowed his eyes, feeling for his power. There wasn’t a lot there; most of it was being used to keep him breathing.
…I have orders to kill you.
“What?” Harry started in shock. “Why? La Lune would never send you to death.”
Auriel Cross didn’t reply. He bent over, his human form changing and twisting until long deadly spines dotted his glowing body. Prepare yourself.
“You idiot—don’t do this! I don’t want to kill you!”
Than I suggest you die easily, Nox Ămor. Auriel Cross shot forward, slicing with his claws.
Harry ducked, falling back on his ass, and rolling away from the next attack. The spear pulled, pain crippling him as the base was caught on Jeanette’s fallen body. Oh gods, that hurt!
“Harry! In front of you!”
Harry blinked, eyes focusing as a small scroll rolled up to him and bumped his nose. Without thinking, he picked it up, mostly to keep himself from going cross-eyed.
“Bumbling-roo! Say it, Mr. Potter! Quickly! Bumbling-roo!”
“…What?” The light was approaching; a sudden pain in his right leg telling him Auriel Cross had not left yet. He tried to find the source of the frantic voice that was shouting nonsense at him. Narcissa Malfoy’s face was a pale beacon across the room, clearer than all the others since she was shouting through a break in the barrier.
“…to activate it! Quickly!”
“Bumbling-roo? You’ve got to be kidding—” A familiar lurch in his navel cut off his words as the portkey suddenly pulled him from White Towers.

*******

Neville speared his breakfast eggs with more force than necessary. He didn’t care. He was not going to offer to help the boy to White Towers. If the Slytherin wanted to be all weird and—well weird! Then he wasn’t going to help him out. He would not be some bloody puppet for a duo of incubi. He Would Not!
“Neville man, I think those eggs are pretty dead.” Ron nudged his friend, hoping to keep the boy from breaking any more plates.
“Leave him alone.” Hermione smiled, patting Neville’s hand. “No one bugs you when you have woman troubles, Ron. Amazingly enough with the rate you go through girls.”
“Hey watch it, you.” Ron said with a mock glare, giving Neville a smack on his back when the boy started chocking on his pumpkin juice. “I can’t help that the girls love my manly physique.”
Hermione rolled her eyes at her best friend. “Last I heard, beanpoles weren’t considered man…ly…” She turned, along with everyone else in the Great Hall, as a loud crack sounded.
The head table had fallen forward and split in half, the thick wood splintered all over the floor in a rain of sawdust. The professors had been knocked back, their legs up in the air except for Dumbledore, who had managed to stand before the explosion occurred.
“Children, clear the room immediately!” Dumbledore’s voice was strained and commanding, his expression leaving no room for discussion. “Prefects! Drill codenamed Stray Dog! Get these children to safe—!” The table exploded, sending chunks of wood flying into the crowd of kids and knocking Dumbledore down. A white figure went flying by, cracking into the stone wall and tumbling to the ground. The Hall was immediately encompassed in a roar of panicked, injured kids scrambling for the door.
“YEHL!” Harry pulled himself from the mess of wood and breakfast plates, calling again for the Fae Chief Warrior. Hell, he had liked it better when he had been in shock. He doubled over in pain, catching sight of a pair of red and gold striped ankles sticking out from the rumble. “Professor…” Dismissing his own pain, he scrambled through the remnants of the table to uncover Professor McGonagall’s dazed form. He only had a moment to pull her free before he had to roll— with a reward of gut wrenching pain— to dodge the Exault’s attack.
Shit, what the hell had Narcissa been thinking?! There was now a school full of children to get in the crossfire! “Auriel Cross! You will cease this… this foolishness! I will not allow innocent—fucker!” His same leg was hit again, deeper this time as the Exault focused on Harry’s weakness.
You shouldn’t have run. The Exault swung again, but Harry dodged this time, shoving his right hand up past Auriel Cross’s guard and through his stomach. The man grunted in pain, raising his fist and backhanding Harry across the room into the Ravenclaw’s table.
“Oww…” He really needed to get this bloody spear out of his chest.
Two birds swooped down, right past his line of sight. Yehl was a Chief Warrior of the Draven; she should be able to handle an Exault. He hoped, anyways. He didn’t know who her friend was but he could only assume it would stay out of the way. Either way, it was a suitable distraction so he could… Hands shaking more than they should, he grasped tightly to the blade sticking out of his chest.
The only reason he was alive was because the energy in the Spear of Eternal Darkness was his own. Of course, it was also the only reason it had hit him, as well. The armor he was wearing was impenetrable to any other weapon. The Spear also had another little quirk: barbs. It would have to be pulled through because pushing it back the way it came would take a large part of his flesh with it.
But it was easier said than done. He couldn’t get a firm grip, too much blood and pain. Errr… why was the world spinning so fast?
…And there were those dots again…
Suddenly Auriel Cross was blinking red eyes at him, flipped over in a tangle on the floor. A roar… familiar… Harry shifted, turning his head back to see where it had come from.
“Please, Sire. Stay down.” Roariel placed a hand to his shoulder, careful to keep from touching the spear.
“Who…?” Harry stopped as a huge beast leapt over the table and barreled into the Exault. It was a Chimaera… a Blood Chimaera. …Nice. He stopped pulling at the spear and closed his eyes, allowing himself to rest now that someone else was there to deal with it.
Roariel, see to the children and wounded. This is handled.
Roariel hesitated, noticed that the Exault’s head was nearly off its body, and did as she was told. The students, for the most part, had been evacuated. A couple dozen remained, the older ones trained to protect the school if the need arose. Mostly they were staring in horror as the Exault was torn to pieces, large chunks of flesh being pulled and discarded with each bite of the oversized Chimaera. She picked Neville out of the crowd and waved him over. “Watch the Heir. Unless you’re looking to die, I suggest you don’t touch that spear.”
“Is he…?” Neville couldn’t quite get the question out. Harry was soaked in blood, with a huge spear slicing through his torso. How could he be alive?
“Not yet…” Roariel eyed him sternly. “Keep the students away.” She turned and began digging through what was left of the head table, casting spells to quickly move things before they could fall and crush innocents. They were all alive anyways, although a few weren’t looking so good. Shall I fetch the healer?
I believe she must already know. I can’t imagine they don’t have some sort of communication in place for times like this.
The little prince?
Oh, he’s tearing his way here as we speak. Don’t think those ropes did anything to hold him back; he’s His Candidate after all.
Roariel smiled, knowing full well how right Yehl must be. They’d had to tie the boy up to keep him from breaking down the floo to get to White Towers, but now that the Heir was here, she doubted he would take long to get free. She slung Dumbledore over her shoulder, scooping the diminutive Charms teacher in her other arm and carrying them both to a sturdy table, which she quickly cleared. She didn’t finish until she had the whole attending school board laid out, Hagrid being moved to the floor for worry that he would only break something if he fell. The students were watching anxiously, but she decided to leave them to Yehl. She certainly wasn’t suited to deal with a bunch of emotional teenagers.
Bending over the Headmaster, she pinched his ear until the man stirred. She carefully placed his half-moon spectacles on his face and gave a pat to his head. “Up you go, Headmaster. You have students that need your leadership.”
“Goodness, my… what in the world?” Dumbledore shook his confusion off and slowly sat up. “Oh dear.” He gave Harry’s slumped form a worried look, his eye automatically drawn to the high source of blood. With a rustle of robes he was on his feet and calling out orders, making his way over to Harry. A blur of shadows stopped him, the large Chimaera covered in blood standing in front of him.
Do you recognize that spear?
Hardly nonplussed that an animal was speaking with him, Dumbledore peered intently at the spear piercing Harry. “I see… Can no one remove it?”
None in this castle. The power would kill them.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Dumbledore turned to the mish-mashed army of children. Harry would have to wait for now. “To your common rooms. The enemy is destroyed. Anyone with serious injury shall be escorted to the infirmary.” He spared the disemboweled body of the Exault a glance. The children should not be exposed to such violence. The portraits would have summoned Poppy by now and the younger students should all be safely hidden within the lower regions of Hogwarts. He needed to get his professors awake and back in charge before the children began to panic and try to revolt against the prefects.
“Albus, what in the world?! Shoo, clear a path, you lot.” Poppy pushed her way through the group blocking the door. She had a line of house elves in tow to help assist with the large number of injured. “Where’s the most critical? Any magical injuries I need to know? Who needs—what in the seven hells is that!” All professionalism gone, Madame Pomfrey jumped onto the nearest bench and glared at the Blood Chimaera looking innocently back.
“It’s quite alright, Poppy. This friend here has possibly saved us all.” Dumbledore held a hand out to the mediwitch who did not look like she was about to move from her perch anytime soon.
Forgive me. I’ve frightened you. The Chimaera shifted, it’s large compact body lengthening and narrowing until it was man shaped, concealed in a wispy cloak of shadows.
Poppy pursed her lips, stepping down the instant she realized it was just a Fae. “Albus, the critically injured.”
Dumbledore nodded. “Well, I don’t think anyone besides—”
“Potter!”
Draco stumbled through the door, shoving his stunned peers out of his way while pulling a long mile of rope off of his form. “Where is he?! Potter—what in the hell are you looking at, Parkinson? …Get out of my way!” Snarling, he pushed two unmoving seventh years down and conspicuously stepped on a few fingers. “Potter!”
“…Shut your screechings…”
Draco followed the sound of coughing, peering behind Neville’s legs to find Harry bent over and semi conscious. “Hell…” Oh gods, he was dead. He stumbled, his head spinning with the image of Harry dead on the floor.
“Collect yourself, Mr. Malfoy.”
It took him a minute to realize Dumbledore had grabbed his arm and was supporting him up. “He’s dead… he’s dead…” Tearing himself from the Headmaster’s grip, he threw himself towards Harry only to be stopped by a new figure—a bloody mountain at that. “Get out… move it!”
The cloaked figure stood still, anger radiating from it. Just what do you think you’re doing? Did you think you could fool me? A newborn maybe, but not me.
Leave him be, Zunseht. Yehl stepped up, watching the silent exchange closely. That was one of the downsides of telepathy; you couldn’t eavesdrop unless the speaker wished it so. The boy is a Candidate.
Says who?
Says the Heir. She pointed to the ear cuff on Draco’s ear. HE calls him a friend.
Zunseht leaned in, glaring at the dark ring shining on Draco’s ear. So you can touch it? Fine, you will remove the Spear of Eternal Darkness.
Don’t be ridiculous! Roariel snapped. He’s a newborn and a sealed one at that. You can’t possibly think he could survive touching the Heir’s Spear!
He’ll be fine. Zunseht grunted, pushing Draco towards Harry. And if not, it’s not much of a waste.
Roariel made to say something else but Yehl held her back. Remember your place, Roariel.
Draco ignored them all, falling beside Harry. He carefully pulled the boy’s dark head up, hoping to find him breathing and alive—gods don’t let him be dead… “Potter… Potter, please. Wake up…”
Harry’s lips quirked, a soft sigh escaping. “…I guess… since you asked so nicely…”
He would have laughed if he didn’t want to smack the boy for nearly getting himself killed. “Look at me, will you? Just to prove I’m not hearing things… I, uh, I need to see you, okay?”
Frowning, Harry gave a small nod. “I should tell you something first, Malfoy. Don’t… don’t freak out or anything…”
“What is it?” Draco felt like his stomach was going to twist itself into a knot.
“Well, I thought I should let you know… officially, that is. I’m the reincarnation of the Soul of the Ancient Night. I’m the Heir. I should have told you before…”
Draco let out a sigh of relief. “You must really want me to hit you, huh? Bastard.”
Harry opened his eyes, the odd gold present and shining in the green. “Actually, there’s this thorn in my side…” He butted his head gently into Draco’s chin. “Can you reach it for me?”
“Yeah… yeah, I can do that.” Staring intently into Harry’s eyes, he held on a little bit longer, not sure if it was for moral support or the pleasant feeling that always came when touching the other boy. He didn’t want to let him go. “Stay with me, okay? I still have a lot to yell at you about.” He scrambled to his feet, looking emotionlessly at the damage. Dumbledore was hovering at the edge of his vision but he wasn’t about to let anyone stop him from doing this. He had let Potter down enough already.
“You’ll have to push it through.”
Draco nodded. It would be easier if Potter could hold himself up… “Madame Pomfrey? I, umm… need someone to brace him.”
Poppy nodded and moved to help, but was stopped when Zunseht silently stepped forward, Yehl walking around to take Harry’s other side. Together they held Harry still, bracing his upper body to minimize resistance for when the spear was removed.
Draco reached for the hilt, pausing inches away as power sparked on his fingertips. This wasn’t going to be easy. He was pretty sure it would kill him, actually. It was the bloody Spear of Eternal Darkness, after all; everyone knew it was impossible to touch. “Potter, this might smart a bit.” He whispered, the humor lost before it had passed his lips. Bracing himself, he took a deep breath and shot his hands out, wrapping them around the spear hilt.
Power immediately shot out, smoke rising off his hands as his skin began to curl. “Grrr…” He threw his weight forward, using gravity to help push the spear forward before his nervous system decided to freeze up. The spear moved slowly, the thick barbs catching and tearing as it was driven forward. Dark power was licking at his hands, splitting his skin in deep gashes. It was so hot the wounds never had time to fill with blood, the skin crisping and turning black. He could barely hear Harry’s screams over his own.
Just a little bit— Eyes squeezed shut, he jolted forward, the blade clearing Harry’s chest with a final shredding noise and thump against the floor.
“T-Turn him!” He yelled, changing his angle as Harry was rolled to his side, and quickly pushing the rest of the spear through, all the while fighting the suction the blood was trying to create. He had to reach across, his hands uncooperative the whole time, and pull it the rest of the way. The instant it was clear he dropped it with a clatter to the floor, staring blankly at the flayed skin and muscles of his arms, bare bone clear on his fingers and wrists. He couldn’t feel them… couldn’t move them…
“Malfoy…”
Shaking himself, Draco quickly crouched to Harry’s side. “You’re going to be okay.”
“No… your shirt.” Harry flinched as Yehl laid him back on the floor. “I was…was doing so good, too. The spear ripped your shirt… and I forgot… uhh, left your favorite at the castle…” He furrowed his brow as tears splattered down onto his face. “Don’t cry… it’s in a safe place.”
Draco shook his head weakly. “It’s not the bloody shirt I’m crying about, Potter. My hands really, really hurt…” The tears only fell faster with the lie and he couldn’t wipe them away with the charred remains of his limbs. “Promise me.”
“Sorry… I don’t think—”
“Promise!” Draco demanded, his voice cracking with emotion. “Promise you won’t die.”
Harry looked sadly up at the blonde. “I’m sorry… I’ll try…”
“…Damn it. Damn… you sure as hell better!” Sobbing now, he buried his head into Harry’s shoulder.
Harry wrapped a listless arm around the boy, eyes slowly drooping shut without his consent. The darkness was calling. As much as he wanted to fight it, he just didn’t have the strength.
“You owe me, Potter. D-Don’t leave me… not like this…”
Harry was vaguely aware of far away voices shouting, and his body being lifted up before the darkness claimed him fully.
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Awakening To the Dream