Written in the Stars - From the Shadows (Part Two)

From the Shadows (Part Two)

Everywhere she looked, bodies were strewn across the pavement throughout the village. Some were simply wounded and groaned in pain, whilst others were still and undoubtedly dead.

Cloaked and masked figures rested next to those who lived here or had come to defend them.

In death, there were no sides to choose.

It was not in Lucinda’s nature to feel squeamish at the sight of blood. On the contrary, it excited her senses, but she was not here to feed upon the humans.

She had come at the behest of Harry’s Aunt, and her focus was on the woman.

Oddly, very few seemed willing to engage Cassiopeia Black in battle, and after Lucinda had seen what the new Minister of Magic was capable of, she couldn’t blame them.

Despite her advancing years, Cassiopeia was still sharp with her wand, and ruthless to boot.

If anything, Lucinda found much of her efforts being turned towards defending herself.

Ducking beneath a putrid, yellow spell sent her way, she closed the distance between her and the attacker in the blink of an eye, seizing him by the throat and snapping his neck with little more than a thought.

Carnage surrounded her.

Along with the screams of the dying and wounded, spell fire lit up the night sky, the fires burned brightly, and in the midst of it all, two combatants commanded a wide berth as they faced off with one another.

Although Lucinda had never laid eyes on the man that Dumbledore had engaged, there was no questioning who he was.

She had never seen someone wreak such devastation with practiced ease the way Voldemort did, and as she took a moment to observe him, she felt an unfamiliar sensation creep within her.

Fear.

As an immortal creature, fear was something that had only plagued her when her thoughts drifted to the possibility of losing Harry, and as she watched a spell of Voldemort’s destroy most of a house, that very notion only seemed to become more of a real possibility.

“Come on, Lucinda, you’re needed over there,” the breathless voice of Summerbee broke into her thoughts.

The girl’s blonde hair was smeared with blood, and Lucinda could not be certain if it was hers or from someone else.

With a nod, she tore her eyes away from the ensuing battle between the seemingly outclassed and outpowered Albus Dumbledore, and the man that Harry was destined to meet.

Where was Harry?

As she allowed herself to be pulled along by Eleanor, Lucinda inevitably wondered how Harry’s own excursion had gone.

 Did he manage to find Cain?

Once more, she abandoned her thoughts as Eleanor shook her roughly and pointed to where Cassiopeia was now facing off with another woman, one that somewhat resembled her.

Watching the two exchange spells for only a few seconds, she decided that she could not allow it to continue.

Harry had asked that she protect Cassiopeia, and the woman she was duelling was just as dangerous as her, perhaps more so if it came to a battle of youth.

However, just as Lucinda was primed to intervene, she caught sight of another cloaked figure who was taking aim at Cassiopeia’s back and she changed her direction.

Her fists ploughed into the man’s chest, and Lucinda felt and heard the bones shatter on impact.

He was sent spinning through the air from the force and was engulfed by the flames of the burning pub nearby.

With a blood curdling, hoarse scream, the man scrambled out only to be sent back into the pub by a spell courteous of Sirius, who offered Lucinda a nod before throwing himself into another fight.

“Do not interfere, girl,” Cassiopeia commanded firmly. “This is between me and my niece, isn’t it, Bella?”

“You are a filthy traitor!” the other woman screeched, eliciting a cackling laugh from Cassiopeia.

“I still serve the Lord of our family,” she returned, a sickly, purple curse following her words. “You chose to serve a nameless half-blood. Who is the traitor here, Bellatrix?”

Bellatrix did not reply, choosing to let her wand work do her talking, and once more, Lucinda’s gaze shifted across the breadth of the battlefield.

From here, it was difficult to tell who was winning the battle, but in truth, she knew there would be no winners tonight.

Many were injured, and several had lost their lives already, but there was no sign that the chaos was reaching its conclusion.

Watching nervously as Cassiopeia did battle with her niece, Lucinda kept her wand ready to strike down any other she needed to, frowning as the ground beneath her feet trembled.

She thought that perhaps Voldemort had cast another of his violent spells, but the Dark Lord was still engaged in a furious duel with Dumbledore some distance away.

Yet, the trembling continued and only grew with intensity, so much so that others began to pay attention to it.

The bright flash of light came suddenly, blinding Lucinda, but it was the explosion of thunder that followed that sent a shiver down her spine.

When her vision cleared, her eyes widened at the sight of the young man that had appeared amongst them, his brilliant green eyes burning brightly as he took in his surroundings.

It was not the intensity of Harry’s presence that caught her attention, however. It was the fact that he was already covered in blood and had his wand drawn.

“IT’S POTTER!” one of the masked figures shouted unnecessarily.

With a flick of his wand, Harry silenced the man; tearing his throat out with a single spell before his eyes locked onto Voldemort who was still attempting to overcome the challenge that was Dumbledore.

Without hesitation, Harry began stalking towards the duo, and the fighting continued.

Lucinda could only watch as Harry carved his path through the Death Eaters who were determined to prove themselves against him, and she swallowed deeply.

She had seen what Voldemort was capable of, and though she knew Harry too was an exceptional wizard, Lucinda had never witnessed all he could do with his wand.

She looked on with bated breath as Dumbledore was finally struck down, and Voldemort turned his attention towards Harry, an almost undetectable hint of nervousness etched into his expression.

(Break)

Voldemort watched him curiously as he approached, his nostrils flaring as Harry resized Greyback’s head and threw it at the Dark Lord’s feet. For a moment, they simply stared at one another, each gazed filled with nothing but loathing.

“Do you think this changes anything?” Voldemort hissed.

Harry merely shrugged in response.

“No, but it’s nice to see how easily I can piss you off.”

Voldemort’s jaw clenched as Harry smirked at him.

“You will not be laughing soon enough, Potter!”

“Or maybe it will be you who won’t be feeling so sure of himself,” Harry returned. “I’m standing here, Tom. I called you out months ago, and you continued to hide. Why do you think I would do that if I didn’t know something you don’t? I meant what I said. I would have given you the contents of the prophecy with the knowledge that you would not be long for this world after. The fact that you are standing here so smugly tells me that you have not heard it in full. Coming here without that was a mistake, Tom Riddle.”

Harry smirked once more as the Dark Lord hesitated.

The man was torn between fury at the use of his given name and exercising caution.

“I will know it before the night is out!” he snapped.

“By then, it may be too late,” Harry replied.

Somehow, he had managed to maintain his composure up until this point.

Inside, he was burning with anger.

Twirling his wand between his fingers, Harry launched his first attack.

A loud screech rent the air as an ethereal arrow careened from his wand and shot towards Voldemort.

The Dark Lord was taken aback by the spell, but avoided the projectile, nonetheless, before returning fire with a vicious organ-liquefying curse that Harry deftly batted aside.

He was familiar with that particular spell, and though it was an incredibly painful curse to fall victim to, it was simple to defend against.

With a nod of acknowledge, the two began to circle one another, each looking for an opening.

It struck Harry as rather odd that they seemingly had a similar approach to duelling, though that would be as far as the comparison went.

He had spent much of his life bearing witness to Voldemort’s heinous acts, and even his duels with those who refused to die on their knees.

Not many lived long, but there were a few who had put up quite the fight.

The visions, though haunting, would aide him now, and as Voldemort began casting a familiar chain of spells, Harry already knew what was coming before it did.

It was difficult to miss the frustration of the Dark Lord as Harry dodged and parried his spells away with apparent ease, but in truth, it meant little.

Voldemort’s own defence was impeccable, and it would take something quite spectacular to penetrate it.

Harry knew that being able to defend himself from the things he knew was coming was one thing, but Riddle was as adaptable, as powerful, and innovative as any he would ever face.

Harry had to be the same, and with that in mind, he struck.

Whipping his wand in an upwards motion, he pulled the debris of bricks, wood, and mortar from the destroyed buildings into something of a vortex before twirling his wand to bring them together.

At his urging, the gathered objects were launched towards the Dark Lord, forming into an enormous fist.

The sound of an explosion sounded as Voldemort retaliated with a powerful blasting curse, and despite his initial attack failing, Harry did not abandon it.

It was not as though Riddle had any shortcomings when it came to magic, but if there was anything he had ever shown any signs of adversity facing, it was when the environment was used against him.

Harry knew he could not rely solely on it, but for the time being, it would give Tom something to think about whilst the duel unfolded.

Another explosion rent the air as Voldemort dispatched of the fist once more and stumbled as Harry summoned a large piece of rock from behind him that collided with his back.

The Dark Lord growled, screaming his fury as he went on the attack.

Harry had witnessed how undeniably brilliant the man was, but facing it was another thing entirely.

Spell after spell was sent his way, faster and more powerful than anything he had ever faced before.

Still, he defended himself ably, despite his already injured shoulder beginning to hurt once more.

It was no longer bleeding freely, but it was a handicap he could do without.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

The very curse that had plagued his dreams and robbed his mother of life came towards him and Harry stepped out of its path, his own righteous fury surfacing once more.

Because of the man before him, he had grown up without his parents, and it had been that very curse he had chosen.

With what could only be described as a primal roar, Harry forgot all about the need to defend himself as he launched his own attacks.

Curses of the most horrific nature left his wand one after the other, curses that most would have never known existed, and for the first time, even when facing off with other wizards in his visions, there was no mistaking the surprise of Tom Riddle as he stepped backwards and did all he could to defend himself.

(Break)

Although there were still a few pockets of fighting taking place around the village, most had decided it was much safer for them to simply take cover and observe what was unfolding between Harry and Voldemort.

Lucinda had never seen anything like what she was witnessing, and she had no doubt the duel would become something of legend in the years to come.

It was as though the two of them had been artificially sped up as they traded spells, apparating around the village and somehow always finding one another once more in a heartbeat.

It was quite the sight to behold, and that was not to mention the magic both wielded so expertly.

Lucinda had known Harry was brilliant but seeing what he was truly capable of was as frightening as it was exhilarating, and she could not deny the violence and ruthlessness he fought with only made him more appealing to her.

She shook her head of those thoughts.

Now was not the time to dwell on such things, not when she needed to keep her wits about her.

Between the two of them, Harry and Voldemort had caused more carnage than the rest of the fighters combined, and it was clear to see why the Dark Lord was so feared.

Despite her feelings towards the man that wished nothing more in this moment than to vanquish Harry, it was impossible to ignore how impressive a wizard he was.

His form was flawless, and almost everything both he and Harry weaponised was unfamiliar to her.

Lucinda prided herself on being a gifted witch and a vicious vampire, but she knew she would barely last a minute against either of them.

She could think of none that would.

Still, the surprise she felt was nothing compared to the expression of awe and worry, likely similar to her own, that Cassiopeia wore.

It was evident that even she didn’t know how exceptional Harry had grown to be, and though she continued to clutch her broken arm courtesy of her niece, her gaze never shifted from the ensuing fight.

The duel between the older Black and the formidable Lestrange had ended with neither emerging victorious.

Bellatrix had fled having received a deep cut to her neck, but Lucinda could see the woman lurking amongst the broken and dilapidated buildings, watching the back and forth between Harry and Voldemort as keenly as any other.

“Where did all that blood come from?” Ana asked, nodding towards the torn robes and skin of Harry.

“Probably from one of the werewolves,” Lucinda murmured worriedly.

Although he was showing no sign that the wound was bothering, she knew that it would be.

It was deep, and occasionally still weeping blood as he fought on.

“Do you think Cain is okay?” Eleanor questioned.

Lucinda nodded.

“Harry wouldn’t have come back without him,” she said confidently.

Eleanor smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and all three winced as an explosion disturbed the ground between Harry and Voldemort, sending a thick plume of dirt into the air.

“Where’s he gone?” Ana whispered when the dust settled and Harry was nowhere to be found.

An eerie calmness fell over the village as Voldemort remained still, even closing his eyes as he felt for a sign of Harry.

‘I’m over here, Tom.’ Harry’s voice whispered, ‘Or am I here?’

When he spoke again, his voice came from another part of the village, and Voldemort turned sharply towards before he placed both of his hands on his head and fell to his knees.

“This is not a fight you can win, Harry,” he spoke, his voice strained as he seemed to be combatting an internal struggle.

‘I do not need to win this battle, Tom.’

“Harry’s trying to possess him!” Lucinda choked.

It was a dangerous undertaking to even consider and doing such could have severe repercussions for one or even both of them.

Only someone either so foolish and reckless would attempt it, or someone who was confident in the art.

It was severely frowned upon and was something that was not even taught at Durmstrang because of how invasive and risky it was.

Where had Harry learned it?

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD, POTTER!” Voldemort roared.

The man suddenly deflated, his breathing laboured from his efforts, but he seemed to have managed to dislodge Harry, though he was still nowhere to be seen.

Once more, those within the village looked on with bated breath, waiting to see what would come next.

“What is that?” Ana scoffed as a thick, black fog began rolling in.

It surrounded Voldemort who was uncertain what it was he now faced, but his wand remained ready to combat whatever the fog would prove to be.

He first tried to banish the ominous substance, only for it to become thicker and almost opaque.

Before he could ponder the development, a loud whooshing sound filled Hogsmeade as the fog coalesced around the Dark Lord, and the onlookers lost sight of the man.

“What’s happening?” Lucinda murmured.

Silence reigned whilst almost everyone else asked the very same question until the answer came in the form of a deep rumbling.

Without warning, the black mass exploded outwards leaving behind a much thinner smoke cloaking Voldemort, though his furious red eyes were visible through the darkness.

It was the sound of gently padding feet that caught Lucinda’s attention next and her eyes widened as she spotted a large wolf leaping into the air and seizing the Dark Lord by his arm.

Voldemort screamed in a mixture of anger and pain before he managed to free himself with a banishing curse that send Harry tumbling across the ground.

The damage, however, was already done, and a black, syrupy liquid dripped rhythmically to the ground from the wound Harry had inflicted.

Voldemort paid no attention to it, choosing to channel his rage into his next attack.

Jumping nimbly between the spells, Harry managed to revert back to his human form and the fight continued in earnest with neither willing to give an inch, despite both having suffered injuries throughout the confrontation.

(Break)

Albus was thankful that Filius had managed to navigate his way through the chaos to retrieve him, and though he was certain Tom had broken several bones in his torso, he looked on with interest at the ongoing conflict.

“I fear that Harry is waning,” he grimaced.

The young man had done well to mask it, but he had undoubtedly lost a lot of blood before he had even arrived at Hogsmeade.

Seeing him present the head of Fenrir Greyback was enough of an explanation as to how he had sustained the injury, but now, he truly was in mortal peril.

His showing had been more exceptional than Albus could have anticipated, but the headmaster could see it.

Harry would soon be forced to withdraw or suffer severe consequences.

Albus shook his head in frustration as he struggled to sit up.

Harry would not withdraw.

It was not in his nature to do so, but Tom was in much better condition and more experienced.

He would not miss the subtle signs of Harry beginning to waver.

It was not a question of ability, heart, nor determination. No, it was simply that Harry had already sustained a wound that would render most unable to walk let alone fight so admirably.

There was no denying his grit, but that would only get him so far.

Tom was still a split-second faster, more powerful, and far more experienced.

That would be what decided this night, and just as Albus finished his summary, his words were proven correct as a bone-splintering curse collided with Harry’s already injured shoulder.

Much to his credit, he continued to fight, but it was only a matter of time and Albus could not, in all good conscious, sit idly by whilst Harry’s pride became his downfall.

“Fawkes,” he whispered.

As though the phoenix had been waiting to be summoned, the magnificent bird appeared with a loud trill and swept low to the ground, leaving a trail of molten flame in his wake.

Phoenix fire was one of the hottest substances known to wizardkind, and as Fawkes flew through the village streets, those in attendance were very much reminded of that.

In only a matter of seconds, the heat became unbearable, and though Fawkes had been careful not to attack anyone directly, many began to flee from fear of being immolated.

Phoenixes were rather benevolent by nature, but they were known to act in such a way to preserve life, and Albus was grateful that Fawkes had answered the call to put an end to this madness.

Tonight was not the night the war would come to an end, and although Albus knew that Harry and Tom settling their differences was eventually inevitable, he would see it done when Harry was ready.

Nodding to himself, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the ring.

It was time that the stone was returned to the Peverell bloodline once more.

Albus breathed a sigh of relief as the flames began to die down and most of the combatants had indeed fled.

Tom was nowhere to be seen, nor were any of the other Death Eaters, but he found himself under the glare of a furious Harry who had paled considerably as he nursed his shoulder.

He was angry now, but Albus hoped that one day, the young man would understand why he had intervened.

With a shake of his head as his friends and Cassiopeia began fussing over him, Harry turned away from him and Albus laid back on the floor, relieved that the pressure of sitting up and leaning on his broken bones was finally alleviated.

(Break)

It wasn’t until the adrenaline of the battle had ebbed away that anyone realised just how hurt Harry was. After Voldemort had taken his leave of Hogsmeade, he was beside himself with anger, but his wounds soon took precedence as he simply slumped where he stood and Lucinda found herself holding him up.

“Bloody hell, look at the state of his shoulder!” Sirius urged worriedly.

Lucinda could not see it for herself, but the gasps of concern told her all she needed to know.

“We have to get him home,” Cassiopeia decided. “Sirius, take him whilst I send for his healer.”

With only a nod, Sirius complied, and only a moment later, Lucinda was helping to place a barely conscious Harry on the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place.

It was then that she saw the extent of the damage to his shoulder and she wondered just how it was still attached to him, let alone how he had not bled out.

There were three puncture that went from his back and had penetrated all the way through to the front, tearing muscle and breaking bones on the way through.

Adding the bone-splintering curse he had been struck with, it was nothing short of a miracle that the arm remained in place, for the most part.

“What do we do?” Jonas asked worriedly.

“Nothing until the healer arrives,” Lucinda instructed, taking hold of Harry’s hand on his uninjured arm.

The wound did not seem to be bleeding anymore at least, something she took little comfort in.

Still, the fifteen minutes or so it took for Cassiopeia to arrive with an older, tanned gentleman accompanying her was wrought with worry for all of them, but the man set to work immediately.

He administered a pain-relieving potion and a blood-replenisher to begin with before inspecting the wound.

 After several moments, he released a deep breath and shook his head.

“I do not think the arm can be saved,” he sighed. “It was caused by a transformed werewolf, and any magic I use on it will be countered by the lycanthropy.”

“Is he a werewolf, Galanis?” Cassiopeia asked worriedly.

The healer frowned and hesitated before shrugging.

“In most cases, this level of exposure to the disease would indeed be great enough for the victim to be infected.”

“In most cases?” Cassiopeia pressed.

Galanis opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, evidently pondering his next words carefully.

Before he could offer an answer, however, a loud snapping sound filled the room and everyone shifted their attention towards Harry.

“What’s happening?” Cassiopeia asked.

The healer began inspecting the wound once more, his eyebrows almost in his hairline as he observed.

“Unbelievable,” he whispered. “We discussed the possibility, but I never…”

He trailed off as he continued to watch until another, nauseating, snapping echoed off the walls of the kitchen.

“What is it?” Cassiopeia demanded.

Galanis stood and wiped a layer of perspiration from his forehead.

“If Harry has not disclosed it, then it isn’t my place to say,” he said apologetically, “but I urge you to inspect the wound for yourself.”

Cassiopeia looked as though she wished to throttle the man, but it was her curiosity that won out and she leaned in closer to Harry, watching for several minutes before she gasped.

“It’s healing itself!” she exclaimed in disbelief.

Lucinda and the others followed suit, each seeing for themselves that, slowly but surely, Harry’s wounds were closing of their own accord.

The vampire could only shake her head.

The only explanation she had took her back to the conversation she’d shared with Harry in the hot spring.

Phoenix tears.

When he had been killed by the basilisk, the phoenix and thunderbird had brought him back to life, and now the magic of all three creatures resided within him.

“How?” Cassiopeia asked dumbly.

“I cannot say,” Galanis returned. “It is for Harry to discuss what he wishes to disclose with you.”

“Does it have something to do with the scar on his chest?” Sirius broke in.

Galanis seemed taken aback by the question before he shook his head.

“Again, it is not something I can neither deny nor confirm.”

“What scar?” Cassiopeia demanded to know.

Carefully, so not to disturb the sleeping Harry, Sirius pulled down the front of his robes, exposing the purple mark with the lightning bolt sitting prominently in the centre.

Cassie choked as she trailed her fingers along it.

“What happened?” she whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Lucinda had never seen the woman in such a state, but there was no denying how much she loved and cared for Harry.

It was a loud screech that responded to her, and Cassiopeia turned her attention to the thunderbird that was now perched on one of the chairs.

“You did this?” she asked angrily as she drew her wand.

Lucinda used her free hand to seize the woman by the wrist to prevent her attacking the creature.

“No, she saved his life,” she assured the woman.

“How?”

Lucinda released a deep breath as she shook her head.

“It isn’t my place to say, but Harry will tell you himself when he wakes up. He will be able to explain it to you better than me.”

For a moment, Cassiopeia appeared as though she wished to throttle everyone in the room, but as Harry groaned and shifted his position slightly, she simply slumped into the chair next to him.

“Stupid boy,” she murmured. “Will he be okay?”

Healer Galanis nodded.

“I expect so, but I will remain here until he wakes at the very least.”

“Thank you,” Cassiopeia replied gratefully. “I need to send some instructions to Bones so that she can oversee what is happening in Hogsmeade. Sirius, will you fetch me some parchment?”

The man nodded and took his leave of the room.

“The rest of you should get some sleep,” Cassiopeia sighed tiredly. “What is it, Kreacher?”

“Kreacher wants to know what he should do with the werewolf Master Black has in the basement?”

“Cain!” Eleanor whispered. “Is he in a cage?”

Kreacher nodded.

“Go and check on him, dear,” Cassie instructed. “Harry will be furious if any harm came to him. Bed for the rest of you.”

Lucinda shook her head as she took the seat next to the woman.

“I’m staying,” she said firmly.

“Of course you are,” Cassie snorted, offering her a rare smile. “You did well this evening, all of you,” she added. “You should be proud of yourselves.”

The praise barely registered with Lucinda as her gaze was fixed on Harry.

He seemed to be a little less pale now, and his wounds were certainly improving.

It no longer seemed that his arm might just fall off at any given moment.

Still, it would be a long night of waiting for him to wake, but there was nowhere else she would be.

Voldemort himself wouldn’t be able to move her from this spot.

(Break)

It was dark here.

He could feel the ground beneath his feet, the flames licking around his entire body, and even the presence of the one that did not belong here, but he was blind.

Whatever it was that had invaded his home was like him in many ways, though equally not.

It was feral, uncontrolled and was led by nothing but its savage urges.

They may be similar, but different in every way he counted.

If only he could see it.

Try as he might, he could not open his eyes.

The sudden snarling of his foe guided him away from the lunging beast, and it yelped in agony as it brushed against his fire.

As strong as it believed it was, it could not win here.

This was his domain where his fire burned brightest, but the coldness of his other self ruled as its equal.

There was no place for another.

It launched again but halted before it reached him, deterred by the flames that would consume it.

Harry growled into the darkness, but it was no lupine sound that past his lips but a hiss of warning instead.

The invader hesitated at the warning, and as if by magic, Harry felt his eyes open.

Everything lit up in a brilliant orange hue, but before he could even seek out his enemy, it had perished under his gaze.

There had been no pomp nor circumstance, it had simply died and its ashes were blown away in a wind he could not feel.

He howled with pride as he vanquished his opponent, his muzzle pointed towards the sky.

(Break)

Lucinda shot to her feet as the animalistic sounds fell from Harry’s lips and she upended the vase of flowers from the table onto the smouldering wood. Her fingers had blistered badly from how hot Harry was burning, but with a final howl, his red skin faded back to its natural pale shade.

“What on earth was that?” Cassiopeia whispered.

Lucinda swallowed deeply as she shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

Her gaze shifted to the wound and her confusion only grew.

Where only hours before Harry’s arm was barely hanging on, his shoulder was now seemingly fixed with only a few more scars to show for his ordeal.

Magical healing truly was a wondrous thing, but even magic had its limits.

What happened to Harry was not normal; a sentiment Cassiopeia seemed to share as she too surveyed the damage closely.

“How?” she asked.

Lucinda did not have an answer for her.

“Bloody hell,” Harry grumbled sleepily. “Did you kick the shit out of me at some point, Princess?”

“No, but I might well do!” the vampire huffed irritably.

Harry chuckled as he sat up and looked around the room confusedly.

“No wonder my back is killing me,” he muttered. “Why am I on the table?”

“Do you not remember what happened last night?” Cassiopeia interjected.

Harry frowned as his gaze shifted towards his Aunt.

“I do,” he confirmed. “I suppose I’m in for an earbashing.”

“You’re lucky I am not kicking your arse up and down every hallway of this house, Harry James Potter!” Cassiopeia snapped.

“All three names, I am in trouble,” Harry sighed.

Cassiopeia’s nostrils flared and Harry pulled the woman to her feet.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I feel a little sick, but I’m okay.”

Cassiopeia hummed as Harry wrapped his arms around her.

“For now,” she agreed. “What you did was monumentally stupid.”

“You’re one to talk, Minister Black.” Harry returned. “You had no business being there especially when I couldn’t protect you.”

“I do not need your protection.”

“As the Head of the family, I disagree.”

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes at him.

“Do not think for one moment you will ever be in a position to lecture me, Harry,” she said warningly. “I raised you from when you were a babbling infant.”

“Bloody hell, did you give Arcturus this much trouble.”

“Believe me, you are getting off much lighter than my brother ever did.”

“Then we should agree to disagree,” Harry sighed. “Please, just be careful. Have I not lost enough already?”

Cassiopeia’s expression softened at his concern.

“I am just as willing to give my life for you as you are for me,” she said sincerely. “Neither of us want that for the other, but that isn’t going to change, is it?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes widening.

“Cain!”

“Is okay,” Cassiopeia assured him. “Galanis already checked on him and is treating him as we speak. What the hell happened?”

“What didn’t happen?” Harry muttered irritably. “Cain at some point decided to be a bloody idiot and when I got there, he was being hunted by the entire pack.”

“So, you had to intervene,” Lucinda broke in. “You’re both as stupid as each other.”

“Who’s side are you on?” Harry grumbled.

“The side that doesn’t see you getting yourself killed.”

“Touché,” Harry snorted. “Wait, Galanis is here?”

Cassiopeia nodded.

“He is, and I think you have some explaining to do, Harry. Don’t you?”

Harry deflated knowing that he could no longer keep the incident in the Chamber of Secrets away from the woman.

“Fine,” he muttered, “but you’re not going to be happy.”

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow at him.

“Elgar, could you send for Healer Galanis when he has finished attending to Cain, please?”

“No need,” the healer declared as he entered the room. “Well, you certainly gave us quite the scare, Mr Potter. How’re you feeling?”

“A little worse for wear,” Harry admitted. “How’s Cain?”

“Resting,” Galanis replied. “I have given him some Dreamless Sleep and reset his broken bones. He seems to be sharing your luck. Now, I believe examining you would be for the best.”

“Blood?”

Galanis nodded as he smirked.

“You know the routine by now.”

Cassiopeia and Lucinda looked on as the man set to work.

Firstly, he drew some blood from Harry and then made him hold onto an odd device for several moments whilst he took notes on a thick wad of parchment.

“Well, you continue to amaze me young man,” Galanis murmured when he had finished. “There is no sign of Lycanthropy.”

“That’s good,” Harry acknowledged.

“It’s a damned miracle,” Galanis returned gravely. “I can only assume that whatever is happening with your magic prevented the disease from taking hold.”

“What is happening to his magic?” Cassiopeia interjected.

Galanis looked towards Harry who simply nodded his consent.

“Some two and a half years ago, young Harry came to me with quite the fantastical tale,” he explained. “I have been monitoring him closely since, and I thought I was beginning to get an idea of how his magic was functioning with the additional elements, but once more, I find myself at a loss. By all accounts and everything we know, Lycanthropy is perhaps one of the most contagious diseases you could ever come into contact with. There is no cure for it, and yet, your magic fought it off.”

“What incident are you referring to?” Cassiopeia demanded sharply, levelling a glare at Harry.

“A most curious and fortunate, or unfortunate incident,” Galanis sighed. “Harry here did something very foolish which ended up getting him killed.”

“Killed?” Cassiopeia scoffed.

Galanis nodded and Lucinda listened as the man explained what she already knew to Cassiopeia who became paler the more he spoke.

“A basilisk?” she choked when Galanis had finished. “You decided to hunt down a basilisk? That has got to be the stupidest thing you have ever done!”

“You’re telling me,” Harry huffed.

Cassiopeia could only shake her head.

“A phoenix and a thunderbird,” she murmured to herself.

“Those along with the basilisk magic have become very much a part of Harry’s own,” Galanis explained. “Since I have been monitoring Harry, the presence of all three grew stronger for a year after the incident. From then, they have remained as strong within him.”

“And what effect will that have on him moving forward?” Cassiopeia asked worriedly.

“I cannot say for sure, but after what we witnessed last night, it only adds credence to my earlier thoughts,” Galanis mused aloud as he consulted his notes. “Harry fought off a disease that would have taken hold of any other without doubt. I am beginning to wonder more than ever what the limits of these combined magics can handle. As a parselmouth, Harry has expressed an incredible aptitude for using parselmagic, and his relationship with the elements of the thunderbird is far beyond what he should be capable of as a human.”

“What about the phoenix?”

“That has been the most difficult to understand,” Galanis sighed. “Harry has informed me that he heals naturally and much quicker from any wounds he sustains, as demonstrated by what we witnessed last night. I cannot say for certain, but with the lack of degeneration I have seen thus far, so long as he does not get himself killed, I expect he will naturally live an exceptionally long life.”

“Exceptionally long?” Harry asked curiously.

Galanis nodded and Lucinda’s ears perked up at the revelation.

“From when I first examined you, your organs and your body have only grown stronger, Harry,” he revealed. “That is not normal in humans. At your age, the degeneration would be minimal, so I remain cautious when I say this, but even now, everything is stronger than when we met in July. By my current estimate, even if you begin degenerating at a normal pace when you reach fifty years of age. Well…”

Galanis broke off and shook his head.

“Well what?” Harry pressed.

Galanis released a deep breath.

“At a regular rate of degeneration, with how your body replenishes, I would currently expect you to live until you are perhaps close to a thousand years old, maybe longer. I cannot say for certain.”

Harry scoffed at the revelation and Cassiopeia’s eyes bulged within their sockets.

Lucinda, however, felt her heart soar.

She had hoped that she would have him for a century or so at best, but a thousand years?

“You must be joking?” Harry asked weakly.

“I would not joke about this, Harry,” the man replied quietly. “That is my current estimate. We will continue to monitor you, of course, well, for as long as I can,” he added with a chuckle. “If there is nothing else, I will send for you when we are due to meet next.”

Harry nodded, and Galanis bid his farewells before taking his leave of the room.

“A thousand years,” Harry murmured after several moments of silence. “I’ll have to watch everyone I care about die.”

“Not me,” Lucinda said comfortingly as she took his hand. “You’ll always have me.”

Harry offered her a smile before he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Cassiopeia asked.

Harry’s gaze remained fixed on Lucinda.

“Do you remember when you said you could think of nothing worse than me being around forever? Well, it seems as though that might just happen, Princess.”

Lucinda rolled her eyes before she scowled at his stupid, smug grin.

She wasn’t annoyed with him really.

As far as she was concerned, forever with Harry wasn’t such a bad thing.

Not that she would tell him that.

“Keep smirking like that and forever will finish much sooner for you, Potter,” she warned.

“And there she is,” Harry sighed. “There’s the Princess we know and love.”

Lucinda did her best to ignore the warmth that spread throughout her chest at his words, and she swatted his hand away.

“Shut up,” she huffed.

The smile he returned only made the warmth intensify, and Lucinda knew she could no longer ignore it.

Try as she had, she simply couldn’t.