Chapter Text
Welcome to another chapter in The Philosophy of Fear.
On with the show.
Somewhere in London, England.
The meandering and migrating crowds of the London streets moved across the crosswalks and sidewalks, wholly ignorant of the being sitting at a table just outside of a coffee shop watching them. The overcast clouds lent the look of a wet and dreary downcast city as the paranoid eyes of strangers watched other strangers going about their day. Medical masks cover the nose and mouth of many of the mundane and frankly boring individuals that make up the mass of the mob that the being watches as it sips her tea. It's fractal eyes scanning the mass of the mob before spotting her snack to be.
Micha Kane was a simple student studying law and, by all rights, had a bright future ahead of him with his intent on asking his long-term girlfriend to marry him. But it was for naught; it was a tale told again and again all over the world; Micha Kane had come home early from his internship to find his long-time girlfriend fucking another man. This sent poor Micha on a downward spiral- its personal favorite type of downward, to paranoia. Whisper madness of distrust and gaslighting that blamed everyone involved for what had happened after. The loss of his job, flunking out of school, losing his internship, his parents disowning him- it was all rather tragic.
It would be much better if he ever saw the deed being done and just not voice through a door that led into an empty room.
The poor man hasn't realized that everything bad happening to him is due to acute schizophrenia. It was all very sad and tragic, the way the now filthy man kept looking behind him for the shadowy organization looking to steal his frontal lobe to silence him forever.
It also probably didn't help that it was nudging the man in the right direction to become an oh-so-delicious snack for itself. Loscenn-lomm watches with sparkling fractal eyes as she brings the tea mug up to her lips with her left hand as her right-hand twitches. Micha Kane swiftly turns around to face the man not five feet behind him, one hand digging into the dirty and ripped duster filled with aluminum foil and newspaper. The homeless tramp begins to scream in the face of the mortal in the black suit, accusing him of all sorts of fun impossible things. Blaming him for the life he was now living, half in a shelter and half addicted to heroin, to stem the "Radio Waves" that were beaming into his head.
While the random mortal backs away from the screaming Micha. He opens his mouth to no doubt refute the claims- Micha pulls the chef's knife from his jacket, and, with a demented scream, begins to stab the random mortal to death. As the crowd pauses in horror to watch the crazed homeless man attack the other man, they stand in shock- watching without doing anything as the random mortal screams for help and bloody murder.
Loscenn-lomm has to put down her cuppa and cover her mouth so as not to do a spit take from the giggles that threaten to burst from her lips.
It was always a gas to watch her handy work play out in front of her like some mad play. But as her snack finishes carving his "shadow-man" into fresh sashimi, it quickly stands and turns to the door of the tea shop; passing through them without anyone the wiser. There was a bounce in her step and a grin on her face as she slipped through the doorway and into its realm.
Es Mentiras, Sannikov Land, Wonderland House, or another of its hundred names it had given the twisting and endless hallways of its realm; whatever name it used for it, it was its, and it was it. It started off simple once someone entered one of the doors, wood floors with a benign carpet running down the length of the hall. The walls were an off shade of purple, almost lilac or perhaps periwinkle- sometimes it was both in alternating vertical stripes! On the walls hung mirrors in tacky but artful frames and in between each mirror was either a simple plum waiting chair or a small table with a potted plant. But, poking from the walls, seemingly at random- were doors of all types!
Some were panel doors, other sliding doors, even a few folding doors; but those were only the start! For if anyone opens one of the doors in the hall- "Because why wouldn't they? It's not like the door they came through will lead them back out. That would just be silly!"- it would only lead them deeper into the twisting corridors of Wonderland House. But as its prey continued to open door after door in vain hope of finding one that would lead them from its halls, they would only entrench themselves deeper in its halls.
The halls would begin to change the deeper they went, starting with small things- like the wallpaper. It would go from stripes to polka dots, to images of tiny bunnies eating over bunnies that would bleed the longer one looked at them. Then the furniture would start to rearrange itself, appearing in different places such as the walls or ceilings or changing altogether to look like still living beings screaming in pain. Then came the doors and stairs that lead to nowhere, or the rooms filled with such wonderful visions of madness like the padded cells of a mad house or the checkout to a hotel.
The modern world gave Loscenn-lomm such wonderful ideas when it came to flavoring its meals just how it liked them.
Loscenn-lomm lets out a soft, dry chuckle as she stops before one of the doors- the sound of it reverberating down the halls of its world beyond life and death. It opens the door before poking her head out and looking around the dead-end alley in the middle of London. It could hear the screams coming from the road down the way, like a symphony to its ears- "A shame Cichol isn't around, he would have loved this,"- a smile slides onto her face as she turns to look at the pacing form of Micha Kane. He was walking back and forth in front of a wall, covered in viscera and blood, waving around his bloody knife as he argued with himself.
"Psst, oi! Micha!" Loscenn-lomm says as a grin slides on its face as Micha turns to face it- paranoia shining in his fractal eyes. "Did ya get him?" It asks.
"Who- who are you!? What do you want!? Are- are you with them?" He says the last word with such guttural hatred that Loscenn-lomm almost giggles again.
"No, no, no, luv," Loscenn-lomm says with its twisted grin. "I'm here to help you, silly. You got rid of one of the shadow men, yeah?" It asks, knowing the madman's answer before he even nods his head. "Now those nasty foolish policemen are all in their pockets, which means they'll be here any moment to gun you down," it intones to Micha who now begins to panic causing Loscenn-lomm's smile to sharpen. "But don't worry about that, Micha! I'm here to help! I'm a…friend," it is lies speak, beckoning Micha into its depths as its words echo throughout its labyrinth.
Hermione Granger Hogwarts, Friday, November 1st 1996.
Facts and figures dance across the blackboard in the defensive arts classroom and, in a trend that has repeated with disturbing frequency in the last few months, Hermione wasn't paying attention to Teacher's lecture. Her eyes were firmly locked on the window across the way as her chin rested on one of her hands. Her eyes were glazed over and lost in another world of thought, as her other hand quickly made notes on Scáthach's lecture of dark ritual as if it was being controlled by another.
The bookworm's mind was turning over a few things that had been bothering her for the last half a year. The events that had taken place at Mag Turied, the painful stay in the hospital wing, becoming the champion of The Dagda, and, of course- her best friend going missing without a word.
Hermione knew that, realistically, nothing she could do would change the events of Mag Turied. The deaths of Sirius, Atalanta, and Fúamnach still left a searing wound in her; more so the first two than the last but her heart still went out to Theodore. It was just a sad fact that magic couldn't fix everything and what was dead will always be dead to the world; a lesson The Dagda had taught her when she had brought it up to the jolly man within the first week of learning from him.
"Magic, in all of its wondrous power, has limitations and one of them is bringing the dead back to life. Magic may be able to delay or misdirect death, but the ability to bring the dead back to life is solely in the realm of the gods; and even then, under very specific circumstances," the old jolly god had told her with a sad look on his face.
Hermione had let the subject drop after that and turned back to the lessons that The Dagda was teaching her. They were frustrating in their own way, everything was written in a language Hermione had never heard of and one she had to slowly break down to understand. But the secrets that were hidden within were well worth the aggravation she felt from the lessons, for The Dagda was teaching Hermione about his own greatest magic; Chronomancy.
It was incredibly difficult and unbelievably taxing on her to get even the simplest effect to occur, but she was quickly getting a hang of the magic. It wasn't as complicated as reversing the flow of time like the Time Turners could do. Those were a combination of artifice, charms, and a deep understanding of the temporal flow of magic. What The Dagda was teaching her was far simpler than that, while Hermione could never reverse the flow of the world's time; but the flow of time in a given area.
It was all rather fascinating to Hermione, to say the least.
Hermione sighs before looking away from the window and over the empty seat next to her, willing herself not to think of the boy who should be sitting there and over to Ron. She smiles as he sees the glazed-over look in his eyes as he stops reading along with Teacher and lost in his own thoughts. Hermione knew that Ron was also chosen as a Champion of Ecne, but much like Hermione, he was sworn to not reveal anything he was being taught by the God of Knowledge. She had once asked Ron how he was being taught, Ron had just shrugged and said they were "Playing chess with extra steps" but alluded to nothing else after that.
"Professor?" Daphne Greengrass asks from the back of the room, sounding confused. "Are you okay?"
Her question snaps both Hermione and Ron from their thoughts as they look toward the front of the room. Scáthach had paused in her lecture, the piece of chalk she was holding to write on the blackboard frozen in the middle of writing something down; and her head turned to the door to the classroom. Hermione and Ron looked at one another, confused and curious.
Scáthach drops her hand and a small smile forms on her face as she turns to the door. Just before Hermione spoke up to ask their teacher what was happening, Ron let out a single barking laugh that caused half the class to jump in surprise, including Hermione.
"Took his damn time," Hermione hears Ron mutter to himself with a smirk on his face. Hermione turns to him to ask what he was on about and finds he was facing the door as well, and before she could say a single thing; there was a knock on the door.
Before Scáthach could say a single thing, the door opened.
Hermione lets out a gasp at who she sees. Standing tall with his own smirk on his face and his steel-colored jacket that he was so well known for, was Harry. He was taller and his hair a bit longer than she remembered with faint scars etched on his face, but it was Harry.
"You're late…Greaca," Scáthach says in a relieved tone as her eyes soften as she looks at Harry.
"Yeah, I know," Harry intones with a sigh before running his free hand through his hair to scratch the back of his head. "Sorry about that, I got…a bit lost on the way," he says with a smile that, for the first time Hermione has ever seen, reaches his eyes; as if there was something different about him.
Scáthach smiles nonetheless. "You'll have a bit of catching up to do, but go ahead and take your seat, Greaca," she tells him before pointing out the empty seat between Ron and Hermione. Harry just smiles before readjusting his bag, walking into the classroom, and making his way over to his seat. Slipping behind a grinning Ron and pulling out the seat, Harry takes his seat in between them.
"Hey guys," Harry greets them as if he had only seen them yesterday.
Ron just chuckles at Harry. "Long time, mate," he tells Harry with a smile before holding out a closed fist that Harry bumps his own against it with a smile. "Good to have you back," he informs Harry.
"Good to be back," Harry shoots back before turning to Hermione. "Hey," he says, his lips quirking a bit into a crooked grin. Hermione could feel the sting in her eyes as she looked at her best friend before sniffing once.
"You idiot," she tells him, much to Harry's surprise before she flings herself at Harry and wraps her arms around him, and nearly knocks him out of his chair. "I've been so worried about you," she tells him as she latches on to him.
Harry chuckles as he wraps his arms around Hermione and squeezes her into the hug. "I missed you too, Hermione. Sorry about worrying you," he says with a smile.
St. Bartholomew's Hospital, London.
The soft raspy breathing matched the pace with the steady beep, beep, beep, of the heart monitor in a white room that smelt of sterilizing chemicals and rubber. It was a nauseating smell to the man in a white doctor's coat and scrubs that sat on the end of the bed talking to the woman lying on it. He was beautiful to the delirious woman looking up at him, unable to see the scars of age-old sickness carved into his thin and pollard face through the haze of drugs.
"Now, Miss Lenda. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like your tests once again came back as inconclusive; so, we'll have to keep you for a few more days" the doctor tells her with a sympathetic smile on his face as his hands and clipboard rested on his leg.
"Oh," Lenda Raymond says as fresh fear flashes in her eyes. "But- but I've been here for so long, I- I don't know how much longer I can stay," the woman says with a shiver.
"Now, Now Lenda," the doctor says with a crooked smile and patronizing voice. "You know we can't let you out of this room till we figure out why you're sick," he says gently but with a voice full of razor blades.
"Please Doctor Nemed, I don't- I can't be that sick, pl-please. I'm not dirty, I don't root around in filth; please it must be something else," Lenda begged pathetically as she reached out for the young doctor. But all the doctor does is gently take her hand into his with a soft chuckle.
"Oh, Lenda," Nemed says to her softly as he shakes his head. "You've got it all wrong, though I don't blame you,...for the most part. Disease gets a bad wrap of being- filthy and chaotic but, in truth, that only describes the people who get sick," he says with a pleasant smile as he looks down on the woman. "Disease itself is very…" he pauses, tilting his head back as the smile grows on his face. "Pure- very organized, it's single-minded in its approach. It only has a single agenda after all, divide and conquer," he intones to Lenda as he looks back down at her.
"Unlike you," Nemed says softly as the woman looks at him with crusty eyes. "You… soft, and weak things," he says with a grin as he caresses the side of Lenda's face, the hard carapace of his right hand causing the woman to shiver. "You pathetic little creatures," Nemed's tone turns icy and hard just before he wraps his hand around the woman's throat. "Disgusting and frail things that are no better than the ants you step on," Nemed says with a growl as an enraged buzzing begins to fill the room. "If it wasn't for the fact that I needed you pathetic species to feed off of I would have killed you all with a plague!" He spits at Lenda as she begins to trash wildly in his grasp as the carapace of his arm begins to split open and the buzzing becomes louder.
"Doctor, Doctor! Give me the news because I've got a bad case of-" sang one of the most irritating voices Nemed had ever had the displeasure of hearing, second only to Cathlenn dry monotone way of speaking.
Nemed quickly turns to the wall behind him, hand still crushing the throat of Lenda. "Idiocy," he spits with a rage as he glares at the blonde hair and pale woman with golden fractal eyes as she steps out of a door that shouldn't be there dressed in nurse scrubs.
The woman frowns at Nemed as she stops her singing before putting her hands on her hips. "Well, that's not very nice, Nemed," she tells the putrid prince. "One would think that you'd at least have better bedside manners than the golden boy," she intones with a smirk as her fractal eyes glimmer with a mad glee.
"Do not compare me to Dian Cécht, you mad slag," Nemed voices his anger as he scowls at the form of the woman before him. "What are you doing here, Lomm? Don't you have your own madhouse to feast on," he says with a growl and a buzz as Lenda continues to struggle.
"Well, yes. But that gets boring after a bit, so I decided to stop by and see my favorite kindred," Loscenn-lomm says with a grin before walking over to the hospital bed and leaning over the woman, inspecting her. "You really need to get a handle on your temper, luv," she points out before grabbing the woman's shoulders and pushing her down and into the bed. "Or else you'll never get them to fear the right thing, at this point, she'll be flavored with a bit of the bloody Piper," the female form tells the Coughing Prince with a shark-like grin. In a show of great reluctance, Nemed releases the throat of the woman and pulls away his hand.
"Easy their luv, easy," Loscenn-lomm says with a toothy smile as it presses her into the mattress.
"Nurse! Nurse! He tried to choke me! He tried-" Lenda says as she pushes away from the doctor and into the arms of the nurse; but the nurse quickly cuts her off.
"Luv, what are you talking about?" Loscenn-lomm says with utter confusion in her voice as she looks at the woman. "You were having a fit when the doc called me, he had me help him hold you down," it says with a charming smile.
"What? No! He was- he was-" Lenda tries to refute what the nurse says, but once more is cut off.
"Shhh, luv. It was probably just a hallucination brought on by the fit like a bad trip is all. Isn't that right doc?" It says as it looks at Nemed with a comforting smile.
Nemed glares at Lomm with livid hatred just before turning to the woman with a soft smile. "It is known to happen, Miss Lenda. I assure you I wasn't trying to hurt you, just trying to make sure you didn't hurt yourself," he tells the mortal with a comforting smile before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a syringe. "But I see that my news about the Necrotizing Fasciitis was a bit hard to swallow," he tells the woman as he removes the cap.
"The- the what?" Lenda asks, a look of confusion and fear crossing her face.
"Necrotizing Fasciitis, otherwise known as the Flesh-Eating Virus," Nemed intones as he stands from the bed and injects the clear liquid from the syringe into the port for the woman's IV all while smiling as Lomm snickers. Nemed turns back to the woman to watch the sweet fear wash over her face. "Don't worry dear, once you wake up those pesky arms of yours will be gone and the virus with them," he says with a smile as horror flashes in Lenda's fractal eyes before they begin to droop close for the last time.
Loscenn-lomm begins to laugh, its hollow echoing laugh as the woman closes her eyes. "Oh, boy! This one is gonna be tasty I just kno-" it begins to say as it leans forward and opens its gullet like some rabid beast. But, before she could sink its teeth into the flesh of Nemed's meal, the putrid prince's right-hand lashes out and bursts open the head of Loscenn-lomm like an overripe watermelon. Nemed watches as the headless body falls to the now gore-soaked bed before sliding off and falling to the floor.
Nemed walks around the bed- ignoring the dripping gore from the wall, to find nothing where the body had fallen.
"That hurt!" A male voice says behind Nemed, he turns to find the door that wasn't there as another person steps from the door; adjusting his tie on his blue pinstripe suit. "You could have just told me I wasn't welcome at your table, Nemed," the man with fractal eyes says with a scowl on his lips.
"And when have I ever shared my food with any of you?" Nemed says with a growl of anger as the buzzing begins again.
"Are you still mad over that silly little massacre?" Loscenn-lomm says with a scoff as it waves its hand through the air as if to brush the whole thing aside. "Please, that was mostly your fault anyway, besides, we fed you our blood as a nice little after-dinner snack and you got to live! We even made sure your little city got to go with you wherever you go!" it says with a grin as Nemed glares at the madman with hellfire in his eyes.
Without another word from Nemed, his right arm bursts to life becoming a creature that was the cross between a bullet ant and a wasp with large claws capable of slicing through bone like it was wet paper. The large stinger on its thorax sinks into the madman's stomach before the hook-like claws sink deep into Lomm's shoulders, causing the form of a man it was using to fall through the still-open door. Nemed slams the door shut with his left arm as his creature feasts on Loscenn-lomm's form.
"And don't come back this time," Nemed snarls as he watches the door sink back into the plasture from where it came from.
Hogwarts, Clocktower courtyard.
The Golden Trio finally reunited, decided to skip going to the Great Hall for lunch. They didn't want to taint their reunion with headaches or clambering people looking to talk with Harry. They had avoided the main thoroughfares within the castle to get a lunch of sandwiches and pumpkin juice to eat in the courtyard. Laughing and joking as the three normally did, it felt to them that no time at all had passed from when they last saw each other; it was just the three of them once more- something that brought a smile to each of them.
"It's honestly hard to believe, Harry," Hermione notes as she takes a sip of her juice. "You've never failed at duplicating a magic effect unless it was runes, and even then you eventually got it down by using the Greek alphabet," she says looking at the bispectral boy.
"I actually have a bit of a theory behind that," Harry tells Hermione, pointing at her with his sandwich. "I was pants at runes too until Teacher pointed out I was using the wrong runes, sure; but I learned that Makoshi can't use wanded magic either and she's been trained in it," he says with a knowing smirk as Hermione frowns.
Ron blinked before swallowing the bite of the sandwich he was chewing on. "Like…at all?" He asks for clarification and watches as Harry nods his head with a smirk.
"And Bryun is scarily good at runes, she can even do wandless rune carving like Teacher can," Harry informs them as Hermione's eyes narrow.
"Bryun is the Norse Magician, correct?" Hermione asks Harry and he nods his head as his emerald eyes sparkle. "So, you're saying that Magicians have some type of… intuitive grasp of the magic of their pantheon's homeland?" She asks, turning to Harry with a raised eyebrow.
"Bingo," Harry intones with a grin.
"Nah," Ron immediately says as he turns to Hermione. "He's probably just coming up with an excuse because he couldn't do any of Japan's magic," he points out before ducking a swipe from Harry and laughing.
"Oi! I had one of the best practitioners of Onmyōdō in Japan teaching me and I couldn't get a single barrier or Shikigami spell to work, but I bet Hermione could get it down in an afternoon," Harry points out with a grin before lightly shoving Ron as he keeps chuckling.
"Well, yeah. It's Hermione, that's a whole other thing," Ron points out before grabbing his drink and missing the blush that crawls across her face. Hermione bites the inside of her cheek to keep the blush from spreading as she shakes her head in good humor at her friend's antics.
Hermione looks over to Harry, watching laugh so freely was refreshing but also odd to her. There was something different in how he walked and talked as well, as if he was somehow…lighter, unburdened by things.
"You're…different, Harry," Hermione points out, causing him to look back at her oddly. "I'm sorry, I know it's a bit rude but you just seem…" she intones, unable to find the right words to describe what she was seeing in him.
"Happier than expected?" Ron offers before taking a bite of his sandwich.
"Come off it, I'm fin-" Harry begins to say before pausing in his words to let out an aggravated breath. "I'm not that different than I was before Mag Turied, guys," he announces and ushers in a far more solemn mood between the three friends sitting in the stone bench.
"Harry," Hermione begins sadly, putting down her wrapped sandwich on her lap and turning away from looking at him; unable to think of where to go with her words.
"Mate, listen. We just wanted to say-" Ron tries, but Harry quickly cuts him off.
"It's fine, Ron," Harry says with a sigh before dragging his hand through his hair as he speaks. "Really, I get it. You guys don't blame me for what happened there and I don't blame any of you; if anything…I'm thankful," he says as both of his friends turn to look at him. "You all followed me, even when I could finish the Hunt you didn't blame me for anything that happened to any of you. I get it, but I'm also thankful that you were at least at Sirius' funeral when I couldn't be," he tells them, putting his sandwich down as well before he brings his hands together and begins to twist the black ring around his finger; a distant look appearing in his eyes.
After a few moments of silence, Hermione speaks up. "Did…Atalanta…" she says, not sure how to finish the question.
"She was cremated with the full rights of the Hunt before her ashes were taken back to Greece to be spread," Harry says softly as he twists the ring on his hand faster. Hermione nods her head as Ron lets out his own sigh as silence falls over the three friends once.
"Where did you get the ring, mate?" Ron asks, hoping to break the solemn silence suffocating them; watching as Harry blinks before looking down at his head. Harry exhales before straightening the ring to where the ruby-eyed skull is pointing outwards once more before a sad smile comes over his face.
"I got it from someone special," Harry alludes vaguely. "She…helped me work through a lot of stuff I was going through at the time and a lot of my past; she was…something else," Harry tries to explain, but feels as if he feels at what the goddess of ghosts did for him- for to him, words would always fail when it came to the Princess of the Underworld. Ron and Hermione look at one another with questions and doubts screaming in their eyes.
"What was her name?" Ron asks, looking back at Harry, his eyes narrowing a bit.
"Her name was Melinoë," Harry says with a smile as Hermione's eyes widen at the name, but before she can say a thing; another voice calls out.
"Harry!" The voice of Theodore Nott calls out, causing the trio to look across the courtyard to see the boy himself walking towards them with a smile; and he wasn't alone. Walking with him, arm in arm was Tracey Davis, along with Susan Bones, Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott, and Ginny Weasley. "Looks like Daphne wasn't just spreading rumors, you really are back," the mismatch-eyed boy says with a grin.
Tracey just rolls her eyes at Theodore's words. "Come on, Theo. When have you ever known Daphne to talk out of her ass?" She tells him as the boy just smiles. "And speaking of asses, and in the nice variety of them, what's up, Granger?" Tracey says as she wiggles her eyebrows at Hermione. The bookworm rolls her eyes in good nature before smiling at the beany-wearing girl.
"Hello to you too, Tracey, and once more, I don't swing that way," Hermione tells the now cackling girl.
"Can't blame a girl for trying," Tracey says with a shrug and an easy smile.
"I can," Theodore mutters from beside her as he gives her a look full of good humor only for Tracey to hip-check him with a pout.
"Hey Theodore," Harry says, cutting into the conversation before it spirals into the awkward territories that Tracey sometimes drags them in for her own amusement. "Nice sword," he says with a nod of his head.
"I'm sure he's just happy to see ya, Harry," Tracey quickly shoots off with a mad grin, causing Theodore to sigh and hang his head. But unlike what Tracey was insinuating as the group of Harry's other friends join the trio on the stone benches, Theodore was actually wearing a sword. It looked to be a yard long from pommel to tip and stored in a sheaf of black leather and iron.
Theodore shanks his head before looking back up to Harry. "I swear, Tracey has taken up Fúamnach role of my eternal tormentor after she passed on," he says with a smile.
"Hey now, someone has to keep that big head of yours in check and teach you some humility," Tracey says as she sits down on Theodore's lap with a softer grin.
"Thanks," Theodore says full of sarcasm before turning back to Harry. "But I got it from my own teacher, and before you ask, yes it's fen iron and yes I know how to use it," he says with a self-satisfied smirk.
"Good to hear," Harry says with a grin before turning to Neville, Susan, and Hannah smiling as he does so. They all sit together and pass around what sandwiches the overzealous elves had loaded them down with when the trio left the kitchens. They laughed as they were all reunited in the courtyard, going over everything that had happened over the last few months while Harry was gone and why half the group had dropped Defensive Arts.
It wasn't until Neville had gotten done telling him about the yield he got from his family's greenhouse he spent the summer working in, that Harry noticed Ginny trying to catch his eye. Harry frowns before turning to look behind him, just to see a familiar furry face of a black and white cat glaring at him; Harry narrows his eyes before turning back to his group of friends.
"Where's Luna?" Harry inquired before everyone got quiet and looked between one another; Hermione and Ron looked the most worried of them all.
"You haven't told him!?" Ginny nearly shouts as she jumps to her feet, staring daggers at Ron and Hermione as his face becomes flushed with rage.
"Told me what?" Harry asks, his heart falling into his stomach as he looks between Ron and Hermione. "Told me what!?" He demands, knowing in his guts he wasn't going to like what they were going to tell him.
And he was right.
Luna Lovegood. Second-floor girls' lavatory on the right-hand side, Nov 1st, lunchtime.
"The mannequin's calling- calling-" the blond girl with a disjointed face and shattered eyes tries to sing as her hands grip the sides of the porcelain sink. She couldn't bring herself to look into the reflection in the mirror, too afraid of what- of who, she would see. So, instead, she tries to sing the song scrolled in blood and spirals that danced across the wall in her home -was it her home?- "-For a taxi, with a fee of twenty- twenty-" the creak of a lavatory stall slowly opened echoing in her ears.
"No! No! What came next?! What was it?!" The sometimes a girl, sometimes something else thinks as she tries to focus on the song; trying to remember.
-Flashes of fields of green and wildflowers of all the colors under the sunshine with morning dew as she walks through them hand and hand with-
-a woman looks down at her, she has blonde hair and a kind smile as she offers the older woman a flower she picked from the garden. "Is this for me, my little moonbeam?" she says with loving eyes full of fondness-
"Little bird, little bird," the horrid voice whispers from the lavatory stall slowly creaking open. "Have you finally finished singing that pesky little song that's been keeping me away?" The voice asks before softly chuckling; the sound echoes down halls that aren't there and sounds distorted from it. The sometimes a girl squeezes her eyes shut as she wracks her brain once more for the next words.
-They dance on top of the waves, his sea-green shine with bottomless love as they sway back and forth-
-The blond man dances with her as well, but this time she stands on his feet as he shifts back and forth from the song coming from the radio-
The grating sound of claws carving their way through the tile floor comes closer and closer. "Come now little bird, you know it's only a matter of time before you forget it all. Why not just…let go? Let me take you away like I did your father. Why risk anyone else you might know?" The voice mocks and echoes as it comes closer and closer to her. "You already know no one can help you,"
-A man cloaked in mist draws a sound with a single swift move as he stands before her-
-A woman with blood in her hair twirls a spear as if she was dancing with it as she clashes with the man with sea-green eyes as she cheers them both on-
-Emerald eyes, shining like the same precious stones behind coke bottle glasses burn protectively as he looks at her. "Don't worry about it, Luna. I won't let anyone bother you,"-
"Luna! Her- my name is Luna! Luna Lovegood!" Luna thinks as her eyes snap open once more, she can feel the tears sliding down her face as the words finally come to her. "The mannequin's calling for a taxi, with a fee of twenty-thousand Yen. A familiar voice calls out to me, a feathered creature I have never seen," she utters as she stares up defiantly to the mirror, no longer seeing the disjointed face of someone she didn't know. Her face no longer held the sharp angles or pointed ears that were not hers, her eyes holding just the slimmest fractals around the edges.
Luna Lovegood lets out a sigh as the sounds of claws and footsteps finally stop in the room. It was over, she had chased the woman away with the last gift of her father.
-Crack!-
Luna jumps at the sound of the mirror in front of her breaking, sending spider web-like cracks throughout it; from one corner at the top of the mirror to the one opposite side. In those cracks, she could see the collage of her face and a face far more inhumanly beautiful. She steps away and to the side to avoid looking into the disjointed and disfigured face that wasn't and was her all at the same time. She begins to quickly breathe in and out, feeling the edge of her mind begin to tear at the seams and the room begins to spin around her.
"I told you, silly bird," a voice whispered into her ear as if it was right next to her. "You can't get rid of silly old me, luv," the voice says with malicious Glee.
Luna looks into the next mirror and freezes in fear at what she sees, a too-tall mocha skin woman leaning over her in the mirror. Her golden hoop earrings jingle as she giggles at Luna's frightened look, her loud purple suit becoming more and more ugly with each passing moment as its design shifts and changes. The woman's mad fractal eyes look into her misty blue ones as she smiles a savage and hungry smile.
"Come now, luv. Aren't you tired of this little game yet?" The woman asks as she leans back up to loom over her, her face ascending out of you. "You could just leave with me now, what do you say?" She asks as the lavatory stall directly behind her opens but not to a toilet, but a never-ending hall of doors and mirrors. "You could leave now and no one else will be in danger when I finally come for you," she offers, but Luna stands firm; neither saying anything nor turning from the woman in the mirror. After a moment of silence, the door behind her slams shut. "Fine! Be like that! It just means more fun for me!" The woman screams joyest anger before her hand slams into the mirror, shattering it and sending the pieces scattering across the lavatory.
Luna screams as she watches in the shards of glass, the monstrous hand of the woman wraps around her arm and drags her over to the sink. Luna could feel the blade-like fingers slice into her skin, letting ruby red blood begin to pour out like tear drops into the sink and across shards of glass.
"The crow offers me a smoke,"
"Who is gonna be, huh? Who will you be with to be dragged into my home like I did with your father!"
"He says 'It'll take you for a joyride,'"
"How about that pretty little thing who had you wrapped in her arms!? She looked tasty!"
The haze of memories spins in Luna's mind like a fever dream; of her betrayal, of soft lips and wandering hands offering her comfort when she was inconsolable. Luna flinches at the shame she feels that is buried in her chest like a knife for what she had done after waking up in Delphini's arms searching for any type of respite in the storm of her emotions.
"No, Sir, I think I'd rather choke,"
"Will you stop singing that stupid song!?"
"Oh, I'll be fine,"
"Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!"
"You're in a web of lies!" Luna yells, her voice echoing louder throughout the lavatory, and with one, final, aggravated roar- the woman vanishes and her claws stop digging into her arm. Luna falls to her knees, blinking hard as the tears continue to fall from her eyes as she shakes. She hates this, she hates the woman who took her father, but she can't tell anyone. The woman was like a parasite, jumping from one host to another; like how she had jumped from her father to her now.
And Luna was determined not to let the woman spread to anyone else; especially not to those Luna cared for.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" a voice asks, causing Luna to turn and look behind her. Padma Patil stood by the half-open lavatory door, looking at the destruction around the sinks with a look of worry. "Luna? What happened here? Are you oka- are you bleeding?!" She nearly screams as she rushes over to Luna. "What happened? What did you do-" Padma begins to say but freezes when she sees the four long gashes across her arm. "Oh, oh Luna," the Indian girl says softly with pity in her eyes.
"Wha-what?" Luna says, confused as to why Padma was looking at her like that.
"I- I know everything is rather…bleak right now, and that you just lost your father, but you don't have to do this," Padma says softly, looking at Luna with worry in her eyes. Luna blinks before looking down at her arm and the bleeding cuts to up at the sink where the shards of broken glass were covered in her blood; then she finally realizes what Padma meant.
"No Padma, this isn't what it looks like. I didn't do this, I swear," Luna says meekly, shaking her head and trying to will Padma to believe her. But the girl looks at Luna with sad and disbelieving eyes as she conjures linen bandages around her arm.
"Come on, Luna," Padma says, her voice soft and worried but her eyes are nearly empty of pity as she helps Luna to her feet. "You can explain to Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey what you did and didn't do after I reported this," she explains to the dazed blond.
"She doesn't…but I didn't…" Luna thinks to herself in disbelief as she is gently coaxed along by Padma. She realizes that nothing she could say could explain everything Padma had seen without explaining the woman in the mirror; spreading her like a sickness. In that moment, Luna realizes how alone she really is as the laughter of the woman echoes in her mind like a voice down a hallway.
Chapter done!
Seeing how long it took me to get this out was not really my best work. It was a challenge to figure out how this chapter was going to flow because I had to reintroduce Harry to Hogwarts and introduce the next big bad in this arc. I did an…okay job I think, but my head and heart just weren't into this chapter.
Kingsaxcul, out!