Chapter Text
Harry was falling.
Ice burned just under his skin. The only solution would be to peel back the layers and expose his flesh and bones to the air. Nothing else would satisfy him.
It. Nothing satisfied it.
He—it has forgotten… he can't remember.
It's gone. He's gone.
Harry's half lost and falling into nothingness.
Even before Rachel spouted the wretched prophecy, Nico was having a sour day.
His dreams were mangled with wispy, smoke-like wraiths, the likes of which he'd only ever heard of in the Fields of Punishment.
It had been a while since he'd slept badly. Will's regimen of more veggies than Happy Meals and more sleep than shadow use had paid off. It was a memorable few months in which Nico found genuine balance in his sleep-wake cycles.
So this night had been an outlier. Probably meant nothing. Just a dark gray cloak of eldritch cloud wisps that zipped through the air and devoured everything in its path.
Totally nothing to do with—
Rachel dropped her breakfast plate in the middle of the dining pavilion.
"Aw, shit," someone muttered.
Green light shone from her hooded eyes, brightness bursting from the ends of her hair and her fingertips. Her body jerked back like a puppet and dense smoke curled all around her.
Campers, dryads, and satyrs parted in a mad scramble to escape her sight. Rachel’s eyes roved over the chaotic scene and settled on Nico's. She pointed a paint-splattered hand at him, her voice booming, "SEEKER! APPROACH AND ASK!"
Will gazed in horror from the partially vacated Apollo table. Nico clenched his fists, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes bore holes into him.
Seeing no other way out, Nico abandoned his table and walked into the smoke that flooded his senses instantly. He said, "I saw a shapeless gray mist in my dream. It devoured everything in its path. What am I meant to do?"
The Spirit of Delphi wasted no time. Her layered voice burst forth with furious energy.
“Head overseas, retrieve what’s taken.
Find a half-blood who’s half-lost.
Yield Hallows and Master awaken.
Confuse not bringers of frost.
For nobody remains unshaken
should none pay the final cost.
The gray dementor if forsaken,
the soul inside remains lost.”
The lump in Nico’s throat disappeared, replaced by the burning need to glare into those luminous eyes. The last time he went on a Euro trip, he ended up trapped in a jar with five pomegranate seeds. And that hadn’t even been the worst part.
Well, he’s not going alone this time.
“No!” Percy bit out, eyes blazing even through the IM. “Not now! We had a good year!”
Nico and Will winced. Rachel was massaging her temples beside them. Chiron was deep in thought, his gaze unfocused on the ping-pong table.
Beside Percy, Annabeth appeared holding up her new laptop. “I can’t find any reference to 'gray dementors' in our bestiary. Is that what the spirit said?”
“The gray dementor if forsaken, the soul inside remains lost,” Will droned. “We all heard that. Lou said she knows about it. She’s gone to check her books.”
Nico grimaced. “I think this is a bona fide quest across the pond.”
The others fell silent. Percy huffed, “Are you inviting me, di Angelo?”
“Where are you?”
“Mom’s book tour is nearly done. We’re in Prague now.”
“We can meet them in London,” Annabeth figured. “Nico, have you decided who to bring?”
“Me,” Will said, leaving no room for hesitation. Nico scowled. “That’s out of the question.”
“No, it ain’t! I’m not letting you go alone!”
“Letting me?!”
“You’ll attempt five shadow jumps in one day—”
“No one lets me!”
“Young love,” Percy stage-whispered.
Annabeth peered in. “Nico, can you describe your dream again?”
Nico pulled away from his glaring contest with Will. “It was disjointed. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It was a grey cloud at first, but it moved like a swarm of locusts.”
“With purpose,” Annabeth whispered, worried.
“Yeah,” Nico said, warily. “I think I saw some kind of face in the cloud. But it was more like dark eye holes and mouth. In my dream, it reached out some kind of black skeletal hand, grabbed a person from the ground, and just yanked him up into the cloud.”
Percy’s face was like stone. Annabeth was nodding.
“And it tore the body apart,” Nico said with finality.
“Arterial spray everywhere,” Will guessed.
“Ugh!” Rachel echoed from the side. “What about the soul?”
“The soul inside remains lost,” Chiron spoke up. “Perhaps it’s this half-blood who is half-lost. But that’s not as bad as the mention of the Hallows.”
Percy frowned. “I hear that capitalization. Not hallows, but Hallows?”
“What’s worse than a monster goring demigods?” Will asked, startled.
“Yield Hallows,” Chiron said. “Lou ought to know it more than me. But I do believe you’ll need to involve a Roman for this quest.”
Nico frowned. “Which Roman?”
Chiron eyed Percy through the rainbow window. “Hazel or Frank, to be precise. The three of you are the only half-bloods in living memory to have spoken to the God of Death.”
“Ya, what ‘bout it?” Percy drawled.
“It is an old tale,” Chiron said slowly. “But I’ve heard of the god parting ways with three hallowed objects; one that changes hands by force, one that changes hands by cold death, and the third that changes hands by a warm embrace.”
Nico recoiled. “Is this another prophecy? What the Hades, Chiron?!”
“A long forgotten poem. But the story should give you better clues,” Chiron nodded toward the doors which burst open on cue.
Lou Ellen Blackstone stood there with a tower of books in her trembling hands.
“Listen up, buddies, pals, and friends,” Lou gasped, toppling the heavy and old books all over the table. “You better have enough drachmas for this Jackson, Chase. I’m gonna have to introduce you to my mother’s pocket world.”
Hedwig hooted, dead frog clutched in her beak. Her person had not acknowledged her at all. The muggle family had broken him almost as much as the wretched hooded creatures that had brought winter to sunny Privet Drive.
Her boy lay in bed in a locked room in a loveless house. She sensed that the cold of the hooded creatures had never left.
But something was missing. The room that had smelled of new odors was now devoid of it.
Something was gone. Her boy’s hands—that had discarded his favored Firebolt for something infinitely more precious—were empty, clutching at the sheets.
Something was taken. Her Harry’s eyes were dull, the spark missing, gone with the soulless wraiths of winter.
Four days later, a car backfired in the distance.
Percy’s face was smushed up against her shoulder. Annabeth knew how he felt.
“Wizards,” her boyfriend groaned.
“Witches,” Rachel intoned, wide-eyed.
“Half-bloods,” Chiron confirmed.
“Head overseas,” Will recalled. “Retrieve what’s taken. So the Deathly Hallows were taken by witches and wizards and now the true Master wants it back?”
Lou shook her head. “No, the Master of Death isn’t Thanatos. That’s a person who can apparently reunite all three objects. If they do that, it overturns Thanatos’s power and they’ll be able to recall dead people.”
“Nuh-uh!” Percy complained. “Hazel, Frank, and I already did this quest! We went to Alaska for frick’s sake! And now you want us to go to… Scotland? England?”
Nico frowned. “You’re not talking about necromancy, are you?”
“No,” Lou sighed. “I really never thought much about the Hallows because it’s supposed to be a kid’s story. Beedle the Bard was an eponymous writer centuries ago. The way he says it, three siblings met Death who gave them the objects. And those things have been passed throughout the Wizarding World for more than a millennium. Most don’t even believe they exist!”
Nico hummed. “But if we’re dealing with death objects, someone in the Underworld will know more.”
Annabeth had to agree. It looked like Hazel would need to get involved at least. She and Nico could check with their father. Or Frank could know something since he spent the most time with Thanatos, burning away the chains that had trapped the god…
The window of their hotel room was slightly ajar. She couldn’t remember opening them. The summer wind was warm.
Annabeth stood up, jostling Percy. She walked to the window.
“—watch out for dementors,” Lou was saying. “They’re seriously nasty. They make everything go frigid around them, make you totally depressed, and suck out your soul.”
Percy, Rachel, and Will cried out simultaneously.
“Motherfu—”
“I’m sorry, what?!”
“Damnit! Nico, you’re absolutely not going alone!”
Annabeth pushed the curtains aside and found a pair of eyes watching her from across the street.
“I don’t know why the prophecy says gray dementor,” Lou added. “These creatures have black robes and decaying bodies. None of the files I checked say anything about colors. And they also don’t rip people apart.”
Annabeth exhaled. The god jerked his head beckoning her.
“Nico,” Annabeth called. “What’s your plan?”
Percy heard the distracted quality of her voice. He frowned silently while Nico answered, “I’m gonna talk to Hazel, see if she and Frank know something about these Hallows and dementors. Haze and I can check with our dad… Persephone should be there, we can ask her about ‘the bringers of frost.’ That sounds like her shtick with winter. And I guess Will, Hazel, and I will be going on this quest if she agrees.”
“No!” Lou cried. “I want in!”
“Only if Hazel refuses.”
“If there’s a remote chance you’re going to Hogwarts, I’m coming too!”
“We can’t have four people, Lou!”
“How about six?” Annabeth sighed. “‘Cause it looks like the God of Death wants to tell Percy and me something important.”
“Is… is that his door?” Tonks whispered, stunned by the column of locks.
“It’s the only occupied room in the house,” Remus answered grimly before sweeping his wand over the locks. Everything clicked open. The deadbolt hadn’t been locked, so the door swung open right away.
Mad-Eye’s wand lit up the dark room.
Harry’s form was small in the corner of the room. Remus’s heart dropped even as his ears perked to listen to the strangely placid breathing.
“Are you quite sure it’s him, Lupin?” Mad-Eye growled.
“Are we sure he’s alive?” Tonks whispered.
“Yes,” Remus said, hushed. Then louder, “Harry!”
The boy didn’t move. He couldn’t be that deeply asleep could he?
Mad-Eye pointed his wand at the prone form. “Renervate.”
Harry finally stirred. He carefully rolled onto his back, head turning even slower than the rest of his body. He blinked with no focus and took in the sight of six witches and wizards standing at the entrance to his room, as though it was an everyday occurrence.
“Something’s wrong,” Mad-Eye hissed.
“It’s him,” Remus said, less sure though. It smelled like Harry, but why was he so… lifeless?
“We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?”
“Harry, what form does your Patronus take?” Remus finally asked.
Harry stared at him like he didn’t understand the question. The light of Mad-Eye’s wand fell strangely over his pale pallor.
He turned back and faced the wall again, with no care in the world.
Behind Tonks, Emmeline Vance gulped. “What if… the dementors actually did get to him?”
A snowy, white owl soared through the window with a soft rustle of wings like a small ghost. Remus paused, recognizing the bird instantly.
“That’s his owl,” he said, more confident now, but still worried.
“Potter!” Mad-Eye barked. “What’s your owl’s name?”
Harry didn’t answer. Hedwig hooted low and mournful. She fixed Remus with her sad amber eyes. Her feathers were agitated.
“You’re right,” Remus winced. “Something’s wrong with Harry.”
Mad-Eye grunted. “Fine. Plan B it is.”
He seemed strangely young. Younger than Percy and Annabeth.
Thanatos wore a gorgeous tuxedo. But the outfit was near-indescribable to the god himself. The symmetry of his face would have drawn all the world’s artists to him. Dead sculptors from Ancient Greece would weep having missed a chance to craft his features. Percy at once felt pulled and repelled by the god, an effect compounded from the last time he’d met Thanatos.
Percy grabbed Annabeth’s hand and they crossed the quiet street.
“My lord,” Annabeth greeted him. Percy didn’t know how she could be so calm. He was already ready to throw hands.
“Daughter of Athena,” Thanatos greeted her. “And son of Poseidon.”
“We have names,” Percy muttered.
“Powerful ones at that,” Thanatos agreed. “I believe things are in motion.”
“The Oracle of Delphi has given a prophecy,” Annabeth confirmed. She recited it for him and the god didn’t move for a moment.
Then he said, “A meeting of worlds is almost never peaceful. I advise you to stay under the radar should you wander into the UK. The atmosphere is tumultuous.”
“Is it?” Percy retorted. “Why do you need your Hallows now? If they were lost for centuries—”
“I recently came across the so-called owner of one of my treasures,” Thanatos griped. “I befriended him, tried to convince him, tried to appeal to his humanity. He refused to part with the Hallow even after everything. He’d grown attached to it. I nearly interfered. I nearly…”
Thanatos turned away, his face growing immeasurably sad. Percy’s heart felt for the dude.
Percy’s guts hated him.
“Who was this person?” Annabeth asked slowly.
Thanatos shook his head. “Leave him for last. I’ll give you as many details as I’ve gathered over the years. There is too much mortal magic surrounding the second Hallow, the stone. You must find that first.”
“But this guy—”
“I wish to give him time,” Thanatos said. “He must change his mind. I’d rather see him give it of his own free will than have you steal it. That is not how that Hallow must be treated.”
Percy shared a look with Annabeth. This already felt like nothing they’d faced before. Did the god care about the Hallow or the mysterious dude?
“Tell us about the stone,” Annabeth ordered, smoke leaking out of her ears.
“The Resurrection Stone,” Thanatos sighed and gave them the brief. The tiny, immeasurably powerful rock could allow people to talk to their dead. Percy remembered a time before the labyrinth when his dreams of Nico showed the boy making sacrifices to raise ghosts. This rock beat that by a lightyear.
“Peverells,” Annabeth repeated the old name Thanatos had whispered.
“It was the name of the brothers who took my Hallows,” he mentioned.
“But!” Annabeth spluttered. “That was centuries ago! If no one else has found the objects—”
“There have always been searchers,” Thanatos warned her. “True believers keep secrets close to the chest from everyone except each other. Your best source of information will be a wizard named Albus Dumbledore.”
Mr. D would have a field day with that name, Percy thought.
“So we start with this Dumbbell-door?” Annabeth figured. “And reverse engineer through Peverells and find their successors, perhaps descendants.”
“Yes,” Thanatos said. “You will need to freshen up your skills to get back into hero mode, I suspect.”
“Excuse me,” Percy droned.
Thanatos eyed him. “It has been a while since you’ve been wrangled into a fight or a quest. I reached out to di Angelo for a reason. I’m unclear on why he would recruit old demigods for such a sensitive job.”
“You don’t need to worry about us,” Percy promised, fingers twitching toward his pocket.
The god’s black eyes sharpened. His dark skin shone under the partial moon. “Is that right? Then you will have picked on my considerable clues.”
Annabeth frowned. Percy scowled at him. What clues?
“You’re losing your edge,” Thanatos shook his head. “I must be on my way now. If you’re not up to the mark, let the Ghost King know right away—”
“We helped save you!” Percy snapped. “If it wasn’t for Frank, you’d still be chained up in Alaska!”
Thanatos narrowed his eyes. “And you recall this moment as an argument against me?”
Annabeth caught his arm. “Percy!”
“You cannot always rely on your father to save you, boy,” Thanatos promised him with gentle menace. “One day, I will greet you as I’ve done just now. Except your thread will have been cut by the Fates. I wonder… will you struggle and cry?”
Percy started forward and Annabeth just managed to hold him back.
Thanatos was unimpressed. “Careful with your insolence, boy. One rash act like this during your quest, and it will be you who may come face to face with the gray dementor. When that happens, I will be waiting.”
“Don’t hold your—” Annabeth slapped a hand over Percy’s mouth.
“We will search for this Dumbbell-door!” she told the god. “We take your leave!”
Thanatos was more beautiful than Aphrodite and deadlier than Ares. Percy loathed this combination. No wonder Jason had had nothing good to say about Eros, even if that god hadn’t hurt Nico.
Thanatos vanished into the shadows and Annabeth glared at Percy.
“That’s not a god you want to mess with,” she warned.
Percy swallowed. The back of his neck prickled. He peered up and saw his mother watching them from the window of her hotel room.
“Are you crazy?!” Sirius fumed when the entourage escorting Harry appeared with a stunned and tied-up 15-year-old at the doorstep of Grimmauld Place.
“We need to get him checked by a qualified healer,” Remus insisted. “The dementors did something to him!”
Sirius paled and ushered them in. He signaled to Molly who shooed the kids up the stairs. Mad-Eye levitated Harry into the grim house, through the sullen corridors, and onto the kitchen table.
Harry’s pale face rolled listlessly. Sirius despaired at the sight of his half-lidded eyes, the whites standing out against the dark shadows.
“But Arthur said he performed a Patronus!” Sirius hissed. “I’ve seen that stag, Moony! He can give Dumbledore a run for his gold!”
“I can’t be sure what went wrong,” Remus sighed.
Arthur and Molly rushed down. They locked the kitchen door behind them.
“Any good room in the house for full examination?” Mad-Eye asked.
“The storeroom,” Sirius indicated. “I just had it cleared out last week.”
“We’ll get him in there. Remus, we can’t get the boy into a hospital. He’ll end up in the Prophet before you can say bollocks.”
“This is his life we’re talking about!” Molly exclaimed. “Put a disguise on him and get him to St. Mungo’s!”
“I’ve sent a patronus to Dumbledore. He has partial medi-wizard training.”
“He’ll bring Severus,” Arthur warned Sirius and Remus both of whom grimaced.
They moved him into the smaller room and waited for a nail-biting ten minutes before the main door knocked. Remus and Arthur set off for the main entrance and Tonks wandered closer to Harry and felt his sweaty face.
“He’s feverish,” she said mournfully. “Cursed?”
“Very probable,” Mad-Eye acknowledged. “Can’t be sure it wasn’t dementors though.”
“Perhaps just a horrible reaction to them,” Molly hoped. “Ron told me Harry feels faint near them.”
Dumbledore walked into the storeroom with Snape tailing him. Remus quickly set an eye on Sirius while Arthur explained the situation to the newcomers.
Dumbledore flicked his wand three times. A chair appeared, Harry’s prone body was levitated into it, and the ropes around his body tied him to the arms and legs of the chair.
“Wait, wait!” Sirius gasped. “Legilimency is the worst thing to do on anyone after a dementor attack!”
“I will not look into his mind,” Dumbledore promised. He pointed at Harry and said, “Obscura.”
A dark, soft blindfold covered Harry’s closed eyes. Remus’s hand on Sirius’s shoulder tightened.
“What can we do, Albus?” Molly whispered.
“Keep an eye on his vitals,” Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eyes having diminished. “Sirius, if you wish to remove yourself—”
“Not on your life.”
“Then close the door. Severus?”
“Here,” Snape answered from the corner. “I’ll keep him stable.”
Molly cast a list of spells that burned the air and gave them numbers measuring his pulse, blood pressure, and oxygen intake.
“Everyone ready?”
The seven adults affirmed him. Mad-Eye cast a soft shield around Harry and awoke him.
The moment Harry raised his head feebly, his hands surprised by the ropes, Dumbledore said, “Specialis Revelio.”
The shield pulsed around the boy’s head. Sirius squinted and made out the shape of Harry’s brain, lingering in the air like an imprint of a bright flash.
“Memory block,” Dumbledore said, surprised. “He’s fighting it.”
Remus watched as even Snape look bemused.
“That can’t be Voldemort,” Sirius blurted. “Or any of the Death Eaters. Who would block his memory and not take him?”
“Verdimillious Duo,” Dumbledore murmured. “Verdimillious Maxima.”
Harry moaned, jerking his head back from the assault. “What? Whass ‘appening?”
“Harry,” Sirius said urgently. “It’s me. It’s Padfoot! We’re trying to help you!”
Harry shook his head, mumbling. “Left. Left.”
“Was your head hurting before this?” Sirius asked.
“Took mine,” Harry said, his voice hitching.
Sirius shot Remus a look of alarm. Molly’s wand shook. The sound of Harry’s heartbeat paced faster.
“Took,” he continued. “Took.”
“What did they take?” Dumbledore whispered.
“Mine,” Harry said, desperation leaking into his struggles. “Everything. Took everything!”
He began to cry. Tonks gasped and Sirius flinched because the sound was like that of a child heaving and struggling with sobs far bigger than their lungs could handle. Harry gasped for air, the blindfold soaking up his tears.
“Mine! Wasn’t his! Mine!”
“What did he take?” Dumbledore pressed.
“EVERYTHING!” Harry roared, shaking the dust off the walls. He yanked at the ropes madly. “NATE TOOK EVERYTHING!”
The ropes tore from his frantic struggle and Harry reached a bleeding arm to yank the blindfold off but Dumbledore stunned him right away. The red light slammed into his chest, breaking the shield and sending Harry toppling backward onto the floor, completely out.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?!” Sirius shouted advancing toward Dumbledore but Remus and Tonks caught his side just as quickly. Molly rushed to straighten the chair and let Harry’s body relax.
“Albus!” Arthur cried. “We need to get him to St. Mungo’s—”
“This wasn’t Tom,” Dumbledore said, silencing everyone in the room. “There was no dark practice. The memory block was a single incantation of bold countenance, of intensity beyond anything I’ve ever encountered. It is unlike the runes and old magic of our studies.”
Tonks choked. “A spell? Not even a potion? Who could do that if not You-Know-Who?”
Mad-Eye growled, “She’s right. We can’t rule out the Death Eaters just like that, Albus!”
“I think… in this case, we can,” Albus whispered.
Snape lowered his wand. “Unless you explain that, I’m afraid, none of us will be of any use to Potter.”
“Like you even care,” Sirius muttered.
“A while back, I was visited by…” Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment. “An old friend.”
“Who?”
“The kind who visits everyone once in their lives.”
“That doesn’t help us.”
Dumbledore didn’t add to his cryptic clue. “Did you bring all his belongings?”
Tonks was affronted. “Of course! We wouldn’t leave his stuff in that tiny room!”
Dumbledore was already marching out the door. The Weasley kids and Hermione fled up the stairs, caught trying to eavesdrop into the room, but the Headmaster paid them no mind. He summoned Harry’s trunk from the hall.
It dropped in front of him with a thud. With a flick of his wand, the lid bounced open and everything spilled out like a Jack-in-the-Box.
Books, quills, parchments, and a dozen other things were revealed in the light. They fell all over the floor and were joined by his Firebolt service kit, an owl stand, and…
The Invisibility Cloak burst out of the trunk, fluttering into the air like a graceful ghost. Dumbledore caught the fabric, dread settling on him once again.
Death hadn’t taken Dumbledore’s wand when they’d met weeks ago. And Harry’s cloak was still with him.
So what was taken?