Work Text:
Crowded streets all cleared away
One by One
The explosion echoed in the cool air, red flames greedily devouring their trapped prey.
A coffee-skinned man watched the flames silently, as to assure himself that it was true, and they wouldn't be hunted by them again.
The flames' dance was mirrored in the opaque glasses, before the man turned around and strode to the vehicle, hoping to catch his companions in time.
Neo and Trinity would need help.
Behind him, the flames crackled merrily, hungrily devouring metal and petrol, the screeching sound, a jester's song, was dancing hollowly in the air.
Hollow heroes separate
As they run
"NO! SIRIUS!" A skinny boy howled, his voice the picture of despair as he lunged after his godfather, who was falling with a surprised expression on his face, falling into the abyss, falling, falling, falling…
Yet he was restricted, by the werewolf, and no matter how much he tried, how hard he struggled, he was shackled here, doomed to watch one Sirius Black's demise.
Young hands clawed through the air uselessly, as green eyes looked wildly for something, anything to help.
You're so cold
Keep your hand in mine
It all happened in a nick of time. They were chasing after the rebels – the bugs didn't want to die, but they had to admit, for such weaklings, they were surprisingly strong and resilient.
But no matter.
They would win. Their victory was assured.
And then, their truck screeched with the force of an explosion and they were lifted in the air, unable to do anything but hold on.
They were strong, yes, but those human reflexes were such a bitch sometimes.
Like right now.
They were dazed enough not to respond accordingly and that would lead to the heat, orange and white and something–
They managed to clutch each other's hands, taking a reassurance from their presence and instinctively, they activated the phasing in a futile effort to just do something, even if they knew it was already too late.
Yet they clasped their hands, innocently pale and slender, turning into sickly saffron and dark shades, feeling the cold that was their skin and surprisingly, their last sight of this world was roaring flames jumping into their faces.
Wise men wonder while
Strong men die
Surprisingly, they were not dead. Not yet.
Silver eyes blinked, as they felt… Nothingness? Something?
Whatever it was, it prompted them to open their eyes.
It was… gray. Everywhere. Shades of gray and black and it was so disconcerting, because this was not the Matrix, and not the Outside either. It was something more.
"We do not like it," the first twin muttered lowly. "Where are we?" He inquired, silver eyes looking at his counterpart questioningly behind the opaque black lenses.
There was… no pain.
There was… Nothing.
It was just there, as if they were trapped into a simulacrum of gray or some bizarre prison without darkness or light. It was driving them mad, because their logic parameters couldn't compute the last happenings.
There was no time. This was no space.
All they could do was to wait.
"Oomph!" They heard a voice, and immediately, they turned to the source of the sound.
He was surprised. One minute, he was taunting dear, ickle Bella with his victory, and the next, he was banished into something that felt like softest, silkiest veils, and the last thing he saw, was Harry's horrified face, and the last sound, Harry's desperate howl–
He blinked
He wasn't dead, was he?
He was still alive, right?
He made a sound, as he was lurched somewhere - more like yanked, in a parody of a very badly enchanted Portkey.
As he fell, he noticed this space was gray… Infinite, drab gray that reminded him of Azkaban and Dementors, except there were no chill or desperation or awful memories of his past misdeeds.
He fell down.
And the first thing he saw, was two pairs of legs encased in white leather boots and white trousers, with white coats–
His gaze traveled upwards.
White.
They were clothed in the purest white, even their skin and hair was white, although their hair was peculiarly styled in hundreds of little braids that hung around their shoulders, emphasizing their foreheads and the strips of black glass fashioned into glasses over their eyes.
His jaw dropped open.
"Aw, man. If that's Heaven's greeting committee, I would hate to see one from Hell," He joked lamely.
"So, where to, gentlemen?"
They stared at the kneeling… something. It obviously wasn't a program – somehow, they knew itӉ– but he wasn't a human either. It was… disconcerting, because that strange energy was messing with their processors. It was weird. Instead of an orderly picture that could be explained with its mathematical equivalent, this man was an enigma, a chaos that didn't make sense. The only one they could liken this man to, was that rebel, Neo. The One had similarly chaotic … pathways, for the lack of a better word. The only difference was that he still operated within the parameters… somehow. This man… didn't.
And he couldn't be a rebel; otherwise he wouldn't have greeted them so… cordially.
"What are you?" One of the twins asked him. Sirius blinked.
"What? You don't know me?" He asked, confused. "But I thought that guardian angels knew the names of their charges, do they not?"
This was becoming more confusing by the minute.
"We are not the guardian angels you speak of," the other twin offered indifferently.
Sirius made a good imitation of a guppy. "You are not?" He repeated. "So you are Satan's welcoming committee, then?" He joked, grinning.
"We are not the Satan's welcoming committee, trash," one of the twins spoke out. "Tell us where we are or forfeit your life."
The… thing's eyes bugged out. "Wait, wait, wait!" He yelped out. "So you mean to tell me you are not–" He dramatically pointed to the left twin "–my guardian angels, and you –" He pointed to the twin on the right,"–you are not Satan's butt buddy either?"
Their left eyebrows twitched. "No, we are not." They spoke out in synchronous voices. "Tell us where we are, and how to get out."
Sirius' gaping mouth clicked shut. "Okay, okay!" He exclaimed, huffing. "Geez, what unfriendly fellows, the pair of you," He pouted. "And to think I looked forward to seeing some busty chicks in miniskirts with generous busts," he mumbled sulkily.
A moment later, he was yanked into the air by his throat. "So sorry to disappoint you," The first twin said sarcastically. "Now, tell us what you are –" Sirius choked up, gasping for air, "–nd we'll consider sending you on your merry way. If you refuse –" The twin, who held him, smirked evilly, as he caressed Sirius' stomach with cold steel of short nodachi, "you will be introduced to the joys of tasting your guts."
Sirius gulped.
Show me how it ends it's alright
Show me how defenseless you really are
"No… No…" Harry managed to get out of his clogged throat. "NO!" He screamed again, his voice a mixture of anguish and disbelief.
"Cub–" Remus tried to placate him, but without much success. "He's gone–"
"NO, HE'S NOT!" Harry roared out. Whipping his wand, he performed a short jab. " ACCIO -"
Tawny eyes widening, Remus tried to stop him. "HARRY, NO!"
The werewolf yelped as he was pushed away, the force coming from Harry was obviously unappreciative of his efforts to hinder the young wizard.
"–SIRIUS BLACK!" Harry finished out, green eyes bright with manic fire and guilt.-
His eyesight blurred, as he stood in the middle of chaos, his will battling with the pressure–
"YOU CAN'T SUMMON THE DEAD!" Remus howled at Harry, but the teen didn't hear him.
Didn't want to.
Verdant eyed blurred with tears, Harry's body became taut with the effort of expanding his magic – it was as if he were tugging a very big, wild, and very stubborn animal to himself.
It was heavy and alien and it made his mouth taste with iron and copper – but he persevered.
He didn't hear the desperate calls or the noise of the battle or anything–
He concentrated only on getting his godfather back, alive and well.
The weight on the other end became heavier and heavier with every passing moment. When it reached its crescendo, Harry was sweating copiously, his slight body trembling with effort and strain, and then, with a mighty yell, he yanked the line–
And two silhouettes lurched out of the veil, white, and ghostly looking, as they landed gracefully on the balls of their feet.
In that moment, their eyes met.
In the middle of explanations, they felt something yank them forward – an invisible power that was intent on dragging them somewhere.
Sirius' eyes widened. "Damn it, that foolish pup…" He muttered out.
Two heads turned toward him. "What do you mean, Black?" The first twin asked him, twitching slightly as he resisted the pull. It made his inside feel queasy, and yet weightless at the same time, and it was the most peculiar and bizarre feeling he felt up to date.
"It's a rule, that when something or someone goes through the Veil," Sirius explained hurriedly, "there's no summoning that thing or person back. I don't know why exactly, but in the old times, the Veil was used for the punishment of criminals, casting them though the Veil–"
The second twin grunted in acknowledgement. "It's common knowledge, but Harry wouldn't know that, as he hadn't been raised in the Wizarding World. The thing is, all who tried to retrieve what was sent through the Veil lost a significant amount of their magic, or even all of it."
"So what should we do?" One of the twins asked.
Sirius sighed. "Follow the pull," he advised. "Don't resist it – and greet my pup for me, will you? Tell him… it's not his fault–"
And there was a mighty yank, as they were pulled towards light.
Sirius stared after them with a sad smile.
"Take care of my pup for me, will you?" He muttered, as he watched the duo disappear into the distance.
"He deserves it…"
Satisfy an emptiness inside
That's alright, let's give this another try
After expending that much energy, Harry was exhausted, but he still stubbornly held on to the fragile hope that he did it, he had managed to get the one person who cared for him back.
Until his eyes collided with the two white-clad figures that were standing in front of the archway.
Green eyes widening with despair, he couldn't help but keen with heart wrenching pain, before he was overwhelmed by darkness.
The moment they saw his eyes, it was like coming home.
The pup , as Black had called his godson, was a skinny boy with tousled black hair and ugly glasses perched on his nose. Right now, the slender wizard was shaking with effort to keep himself upright, by pure will more than anything else, soaked with sweat and cheeks wet with tears, the youth's despairing eyes were hopeful.
It was like the Matrix, the color of the boy's eyes, a glowing green that was soothing to their eyes – green and pitch black, unique to the boy. It made them less sick – the world as they saw it now was full of chaos, like that thing's – Sirius' – form had been. Nothing made sense, there was no logic and it made them sick . Only those eyes – that boy – was good, was normal – a piece of home – and yet, this alien feeling clung to him like Sentinels would to a rebel ship.
It was a sick sense of normality – so warped, and yet home-like, that they instantly homed onto the boy – and besides, whoever had such power to tug them out of that place, was worthy of consideration.
Belatedly, they heard the boy keen with despair, and it tugged on them.
They may be programs, they may be classified as unfeeling bastards that were sick and perverse, but something about this little one suffering just didn't sit well with them.
In a less than a moment, they were near him, the first one intercepting his fall gently and the second one decapitating the idiotic Death moron that thought it would be a piece of cake to kill the boy.
If you find your family, don't you cry
In this land of make-believe, dead and dry
The battle ended in a draw and all-around confusion. The Death Eaters had fled, and the prophecy was safe, but the Order had lost Sirius, and as for the students who accompanied Harry on his crazy mission – some were wounded, and all of them were still shaken from their close encounters with death.
Harry alone was the greatest casualty. He had almost totally depleted his reserves of magic with his foolish stunt, along with the trauma of losing his godfather, which didn't help his psyche one bit. Add to that the two… additions…
"How is he, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked the hospital matron gently. The nurse sighed.
"Not very good, I'm afraid," She murmured, her eyes looking at the sleeping youth's form concernedly.
Not very good – that was saying it mildly. Harry seemed to be in shock, which was no wonder, after using so much of his power to… retrieve… Them.
The them in question were a pair of twins, clothed in white, with white hair and skin, and unnerving black glasses perched on their faces. Currently, they were sitting on their chairs beside the bed, their eyes trained on the slight form tucked under the white covers. They appeared to be unaware of their surroundings, but that wasn't the case – anyone who had seen them in action could attest to that. They were inhumanly fast and merciless, not hesitating to kill, if need be. The old wizard's gut twisted unpleasantly.
They were… unnatural. They were dangerous – very dangerous – but the sheer fact that they had come from the Veil, at Harry's prompting, no less, made Dumbledore wary of them. They were not demons or anything like that. In truth, they were not anything that Dumbledore had seen in all the long years he had lived.
They were too… smooth. Of course, they reacted like humans, but behind those darkened glasses lurked an inhuman intelligence which made Dumbledore wary of them.
And with their fixation on Harry… Not good. So not good.
The old wizard rubbed his temple and sighed with weariness. He remembered Remus' encounter with the mysterious duo–
/FLASHBACK/
Remus could only watch, horrified, as something was summoned from the Veil – he could only pray that whatever Harry had summoned in his grief, would not attack them.
It was a pair of… Twins?
Ghosts?
The pair of the… twins was clothed in white – all white, except for their glasses, which were the only interruption of the white theme of their clothes.
Remus gulped. Whatever it was, it was… dangerous. His wolf cringed away from them, making Remus want to whimper and whine, and Remus didn't understand it! The scruffy-clothed man was too slow – the twins' heads snapped up, and their eyes zeroed on Harry.
The next thing he knew, there was a Death Eater behind his cub, ready to kill him, but even before a first syllable managed to pass his mouth, the twins were there, one catching the falling youth, and second one… dispatching of the foolish idiot.
It all happened even before he could blink or even move, and that was, for someone whose body was enhanced with werewolf reflexes, saying something.
Once again, Harry's sheer dumb luck reared its head.
Remus wasn't so sure whether that was a very good, or very bad thing.
The ministry personnel came, as always, too late.
Fudge bumbled and blustered, but nothing could be done – there were witnesses to the continued existence of Voldemort now, and no amount of denying would help the imbecile.
The mayhem became obvious when he saw the twins.
Fudge paled starkly white when he had seen the twins. "W– What about them?" He squawked out. "T– They are Death Eaters!" He pointed to the unamused duo. "Aurors, arrest them!" He squeaked out, trying to sound intimidating, but coming across as a fat mouse trying to command an army of hungry cats.
The first twin tilted his head slowly. Oh so slowly, as he looked down at the portly wizard, who was shaking and sweating like a pig before a butcher.
The witnesses had the distinct impression of a snake trying to decide whether to gobble up the fat, smelly, little mouse or not.
"We are not Death Eaters you speak of," The first twin spoke out, nonchalantly flicking his nodachi closed. The Aurors tensed at the move, but were still.
"W– What? Of course you are!" Fudge blubbered out, piggy eyes bulging out.
"You hold the Harry Potter hostage–"
"Then why did one of them kill the Death Eater?" Dumbledore asked reasonably, if not a little wearily.
This evening was shaping to be one big mess and really, they didn't need it. On the top of the lost Prophecy–
"T– They could be a decoy!" Fudge was frantic. "Aurors, as Minister of Magic, I command you to attack them–"
"We are not amused." The second twin spoke out as he adjusted Harry's head into a more comfortable position, he then looked at the wizards. "We were sent there to help him."
Fudge's piggy eyes almost fell out of their eye sockets at that proclamation.
He turned red as a lobster.
And from there on, the evening degenerated into disaster.
/END FLASHBACK/
Why was Fudge so desperate to get rid of them? Something was not right, and the twins were not saying anything. And what was worse, they absolutely refused to be parted from Harry.
Nobody was brave – or stupid – enough to risk Apparating to them and snatching Harry away from them. Not after they had seen what they did to the Death Eater who was idiotic enough to try to get the drop on Harry.
Dumbledore sighed. All they could do was to wait for Harry to wake up and tell them what exactly had happened to him.
He dreamed of a frozen wasteland. There was bitter cold and white and black and shades of grey, gray sky and white ground, peppered with snow generously. Numbly, he trudged forward, until his feet bumped into something.
It was big. Hard. Solid.
Numbly, he knelt down, and with a trembling hand, he reached to wipe out the snow off the… person.
The person was dead, he knew that.
Eyes flickering slightly away from the corpse, he noticed some more corpses. Little bumps that were covered with snow, looking as if they were merely asleep, only waiting for someone to wake them up.
The snowflakes prickled slightly at his skin, leaving behind a curiously tingling feeling. He would have welcomed it, if he were not so numb.
With a caressing motion, he moved the snow away from the person's face.
Dark hair, pale face, dark lashed and frozen–
' Sirius,' His mind whispered to him.
Curiously numb, he looked at the face, free of all the earthy troubles, and he felt strangely envious. The man was at peace, and it wasn't really fair, he mused inwardly. He still missed him. The grief erupted behind his ribcage, choking him slightly.
For a few moments, he looked at the man, before he moved on to the next person. Or corpse, in this case.
It was Cedric. The Hufflepuff was also peaceful looking, with a slightly surprised expression on his face, as if he wasn't sure what to make of the situation. He was clothed in Hogwarts' uniform, complete with yellow and black tie, as if he was a parody of a mannequin, just waiting to be used.
A new wave of grief choked him as he gently cupped the cool cheek, reminiscing of those times Cedric had been alive and well and laughing, and talking–
He snatched his hand back as if he were burned. A new emotion made itself known.
Shame.
He could have saved him, should have, would have–
He gulped bitterness down his throat.
He wanted to speak – to whisper, to talk, anything – but no word managed to squeeze itself past his lips.
The next two corpses were his parents.
' James.'
' Lily.'
' When will it end?' He asked himself desperately.
The mocking sight of those little human-shaped hills revealed itself to his gaze, and he dearly wanted to look away, but he couldn't.
This was his punishment, after all.
He felt hands touching his shoulders. Their weight was oppressive, like a scent of death, and as inevitable as corpses' coldness.
And yet, they were reassuring, making Harry want to lean back into the embrace of the owners' hands, to forget, if just for a moment–
And in front of his eyes, the white and gray blurred and shattered into the black – infinite back with poisonously green little numbers running through the dreamscape, the tiny rows of ones and zeros interchanging, mingling, swaying in the dizzying kaleidoscope of movement, before something broke and froze them, and in the next moment, the squiggly, wiggling, nauseatingly glaring picture was shattered into millions of little shards that were all falling toward him, and then, there was nothing–
Gasping, he woke up, his body wet with sweat and tense with fright.
His body thrummed with energy, and yet, he felt so hollow and rattled that it was a rather confusing and nauseating mix of feelings and emotions.
"You are awake," a foreign voice stated needlessly, making Harry's head swivel around as to find out the owner of the voice.
Green eyes collided with the pair of ethereal white figures.
And yet, they were so… cold. So precise and yet wild.
"Who…" he croaked out.
Wordlessly, one of the twins offered him a glass of water.
Nodding gratefully, he drank the soothing liquid, reveling in the feeling of cool liquid sliding down his parched throat.
"Who are you?" He asked cautiously, feeling quite defenseless in front of them, and yet, if they were there, that meant they were… safe, weren’t they?
"We are One and Two." The twin who handed him a glass replied. Harry blinked.
"One… and Two?" He repeated dumbly. "What kind of names are those?"
"Our kind of names," the second twin supplied, a small smirk curling in the left corner of his mouth. "We are the Virii Twins."
Something flashed in Harry's memory. "I… summoned you." He said slowly, his heart clenching at the memory.
"You did," One – or at least, Harry thought that it was One – agreed amiably. "He said you were a fool to try to summon him."
Green eyes behind those ugly glasses widened. "He? Is he– is Sirius alive?" He choked out, his voice so hopeful it made the program a little remorseful at what he would say next.
"We don't know. He said that once something goes into the Veil, it can't come out to where it was thrown from," Two interjected. "It's not your fault," he finished awkwardly, unsure how to deal with taking hope away from those verdant eyes.
"He said… it wasn't your fault," Two repeated.
"But– But why?" Harry choked out. There was one shock after another. He woke up from the nightmare, he saw the Virii Twins – or whatever they were called – and they– they told him that Sirius didn't blame him.
"He called you his pup," One answered, tilting his head curiously. “Though I wonder why, you are not a baby dog or anything."
Harry couldn't decide whether to laugh or throttle the stupid, white ghosty for all he was worth.
"It was a nickname," he finally groused out. "He was an Animagus – a person who could change into an animal – and his form was a huge black dog. And because I was his… godson, I was named his pup." His throat closed with grief, as he barely managed to choke the last words out.
' Pup.'
"Yes. He told us that." Two nodded silently. Harry blinked, unsure if he heard that right.
"And Moony calls you cub," One added, looking at the hunched teen.
His throat was firmly clogged with a ball of grief. He wasn't sure how he could even breathe through that squeezing feeling, but somehow, he did.
He looked at them.
Really looked.
"So why were you… summoned here?" Harry asked. He could grieve later, but it was a small consolation that Sirius didn't blame him.
He twisted his hands in the covers, wishing he had his wand on him.
"We were caught," One explained easily. "Sirius was bypassed, and the thread hooked onto us, as we were literally the only thing there to summon, except for him."
Harry blinked, astonished.
"But I said that I was summoning Sirius! " He protested, his mind still unable to compute the recent changes.
Two sighed. "Yes. You did. Sirius was unable to be summoned, and besides, he told us to take care of you."
The bombshell was dropped.
"Take care of… me?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Yes," One replied.
They were ethereal in the feeble light of candles and fire. Shades of white were only intersected with shades of black and silver, the strangely monochromatic theme making Harry a little sick. He was used to colors, but the Hospital wing was white enough, thank you very much, and his two… guardians, for the lack of better word, didn't help his white-sickness with their choice of color one bit.
He closed his eyes.
There were so many questions to ask, so many answers to hear, but right now, it wasn't important.
"Alright," he told them, his voice a mere whisper.
"Alright."
And the only witness of their little pact was shadows and flames of fire in the hearth, who would be silent evermore.
You're so cold, but you feel alive
Lay your hands on me one last time
They were cold. So cold . He could understand Vampires; they were undead in a sense, but them …?
Still, they felt alive under his fingers, alive, when they curled around him, sandwiching him between them.
They were a program.
They were inhuman, and yet, they were more human than any person Harry had ever met in his short life.
One. And Two. Mere numbers for any other person, but for Harry, those two words meant safety. Coldness. Teasing words and quirky behavior and sickly saffron shades. He still chuckled at the memory of Peeves being freaked out by the Virii twins.
/FLASHBACK/
Peeves thought it was a brilliant idea to… color them in a little, and he bombarded them with balloons, full of paint.
Suffice to say, the Twins were not amused.
Peeves' gleeful cackling was interrupted by the sound of an inhuman growl.
"Ooh, ickle whities awe cwying?" Peeves mocked the pair, flitting above their heads, laughing his head off, his hyena-ish laughter echoing down the corridors.
The Virii Twins glared. It was truly a comical sight, them colored in all shades of rainbow – red, blue, orange, and green the more notable shades on their… clothes.
Harry could barely hold his laughter in.
"We don't find that funny," One spoke out, his voice cold, silver eyes glaring at the somersaulting ghost maliciously.
Two grinned a small cruel grin. "You've messed with the wrong sort, Poltergeist," he purred out.
Harry found out that Two was more malicious of the duo, and One was a tad bit more mother-henish than his… counterpart, for the lack of a better word.
Peeves chuckled. "So what? You gonna make me cry?" He teased the duo.
The Virii Twins grinned creepily.
"Don't mind if we do," they purred out in their synchronized, dual voice.
Peeves' eyes bugged out as he saw the whiteys, as he nicknamed them, change into something… incorporeal, sickly saffron shades and transparency making them look like the messengers of death he was oftentimes threatened with, when he was still alive.
Skeletal bodies and hair not unlike a Gorgon's shimmered as the twins floated into the air, grabbing Peeves even before he gained any sense to flee.
"Play with us?" The first twin mock-pouted at the freaked out Poltergeist.
"Wh– What are you?" Peeves stammered out, soiling his clothes.
They grinned at him; their terrible visages making him shudder with fear and revulsion.
"Just someone you should not mess with." One sing-songed, before they dragged him off.
That night, the third corridor echoed with Peeves' terrified screams.
The next morning, the Twins appeared in Harry's room, with self-satisfied smirks on their lips.
Harry blinked. "Alright, what did you two do?" He demanded, his lips already curling into an anticipatory smile.
"Oh, us?" Two spoke up with a mock-innocent voice. "We just taught him that not all that glitters is gold," he concluded mysteriously.
Harry blinked. As far as he knew, there were not many things that could hurt a ghost.
The Twins kept their mouth shut on that issue, no matter how much Harry begged, whined, and pleaded with them.
/END FLASHBACK/
Peeves had not been heard from nor seen since, and the Bloody Baron was tiptoeing around the program warily, as if he would be attacked any time now.
" Harry!" Ginny screeched out, launching herself at the unsuspecting wizard.
She was caught mid-launch by something… White?
Harry had been given his own hospital room, for privacy, and because the program didn't want to be parted from him. Not many knew about the happenings of that fateful night – but there were rumors, what with the DA members being injured in mysterious circumstances.
His friends were held in the main hospital room, and – from what he could discern – their injuries were bad, but not life-threatening. It made him feel relief and shame – relief that they were still alive, and shame that he couldn't protect them better.
The only ones that visited him were Dumbledore, Poppy, and Lupin.
The short visits were at first excruciatingly painful – all those memories, gestures, intentions were making Harry's head and heart hurt. Although he knew that he wasn't at fault for the whole shebang, that it was the fault of the so-called adult, responsible people didn't diminish that feeling of burning in his chest.
At least he was given the mercy of a little bit of rest, before Dumbledore let the latest Horntail out of the bag.
The prophecy.
Harry was pissed. And hurt. And incensed that the idiotic Headmaster played such a callous play of chance with his– with their lives. Dumbledore may be old, and wise, but in the end, he still fucked up. So many things went wrong that it was a wonder Voldemort hadn’t already conquered the wizarding idiots.
In fact, Harry pondered some hard thoughts on that particular dilemma. Were these… these sheeple even worth it? Worth saving? Harry wasn't saved from his relatives. He wasn't protected, like they were. Sometimes, he felt like a pied piper – after doing the work he got praised, but nothing more. Or worse yet, he was scorned and reviled.
And now, when he knew the main reason for his… special circumstances, he was tempted to say to the old man's face just one word: Bull-shit. Harry may be not a genius, or a bookworm like Hermione, but even he knew some basic facts about self-fulfilling Prophecies.
If he had been dragged into this mess, why wasn't he at least given tools to work with in the first place? He was being kept ignorant – of customs, politics and everything else – and what he knew wasn't enough – not nearly enough for winning. Although the wizarding society was surprisingly recalcitrant in their ideas and opinions – never mind the fashion – to say the least, that shouldn't be an excuse for some truly unmentionable blunders, the latest one being the glaringly obvious Voldemort-sized problem.
And now, they expected him, a child, to deal with the pest, claiming that Harry was the right candidate just because he had the power the Dark Lord knew not.
Harry didn't know whether he wanted to cry because of the utter stupidity of the situation, or give the idiots the finger, and go far, far away – as far away as he could.
He wasn't a hero. He never wanted to be a hero. And looking at his friends – a little worse for wear, a tiny bit haggard still from their adventure in the Ministry – he couldn't help but think on how naïve they were.
While they worried about their next assignment or whether the boy or girl they liked liked them back, Harry had to deal with a fully-fledged Dark Lord and his merry band of miscarriers of justice.
' How fun.'
Inwardly he grimaced. "Hey, Ginny," he greeted the redhead half-heartedly.
Ginny pouted. Or at least, that was what she had attempted to do. "Harry?"
A cautious voice emerged behind Ginny's back. "Who– Who are they?"
Ah, good old Hermione.
The bushy, haired witch watched the Twins warily. Harry blinked. "The Virii twins,” he replied, "Guys, meet One and Two."
You could hear imaginary tumbleweed rolling by, it was so quiet.
The wizarding children gawked at the Twins, while Twins looked at them calmly. Or at least they thought they looked at them calmly. With those black glasses on their faces hiding their eyes, one never knew.
Luna's silver eyes widened with surprise. Usually, the Ravenclaw was something out of sorts, and therefore it was rare to get her to show different emotions than her being spacey, but right now….
"You came through Crossroads," she breathed out, shaken.
The twins looked at her.
"Um… Crossroads?" Hermione asked timidly. The Twins were damned intimidating like that, and Hermione's senses warned her against rebelling around them.
Luna blinked. "Crossroads. The Pathways of the Dead. The Veil ," she explained, her voice hushed with awe.
Now, the ones who didn't know that gaped.
"The Dog Star sent you, didn't he?"
The program was silent.
"L– Luna? What are you talking about?" Ron stammered out, blue eyes wide with confusion and a dash of fear.
Harry sighed. In a matter of seconds, Luna had found out the origin of his… bodyguards, for lack of a better word, and didn't have any scruples to reveal it to… them.
He was uncomfortable with the revelation. And angry with Luna.
They were his.
And that meant no nosing around them in the form of his well-meaning friends. They had already done more harm than good, anyway.
"Luna." His voice was calm, but with a hint of cold anger hidden within, like a strong current of water under the smooth, unassuming surface.
The Ravenclaw girl flinched. Silvery eyes widened further, as she looked at Harry's implacable expression.
"H– Harry…" She stammered out nervously, as she stepped away from Harry's bed.
" I want your oath, so that you will not repeat anything seen or heard about them to anyone or anything, by any means – be it spoken or written word, Pensieve or through Legilimency – anything at all, without my sole permission." He calmly requested, the cool voice making them shudder.
"All of you."
They hesitated; he could see it in their eyes. Even when they went through it, battled with Death Eaters, they were still naïve children – a little singed by the reality of the situation, but otherwise, they were still the big-eyed kids they had been when they first entered Hogwarts.
Green eyes stared at them, making them uncomfortable. They had only wanted to visit their friend, and that would be it. Harry, after all, was the worst one off from the events that transpired in the Ministry. Of course, all of them had been changed – in one way or another – but even then, they didn't expect the extent of change that was wrought upon Harry.
His eyes were darker and sharper, and he had faint rings under his eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights. His face was thinner and sharper looking – and somehow, he managed to look more of an adult man than a teen on the cusp of manhood.
His voice was still the same, but now, it had a note of level-headedness in it, a hardness that hadn't been heard before.
"W– Why?" Ginny managed to get out, her voice wobbly with emotions. "Don't you trust us anymore?"
Harry sighed. "No." His words were blunt. "Now that Voldemort is back for sure, I can't trust anyone, much less you. One carelessly spoken word, a bit of gossip or remark from you to anyone or any thing, and I will be toast. Besides, even if I trusted you, what is to say that they wouldn't catch you and torture you to get the information they want?"
A tense silence reigned.
Neville sighed. "I understand. But Harry– are you sure… about them? Can you trust them?" He cast a nervous glance at the pale shadows that doubled as Harry's bodyguards.
The sharp smile on Harry's face died a quick death. "With my life." He intoned solemnly.
Brown eyes looked into the green ones intently, as Neville suppressed a shudder at the creepy light in the emerald-colored orbs of his best friend.
"I, Neville Franklin Longbottom, do swear upon my life and magic to hold the secrets of one Harry James Potter from anyone and anything, unless he expressly gives permission to disclose them to anyone. So it was said, so mote it be." Neville intoned solemnly, shuddering slightly as he felt his magic taking hold of his promise.
Hermione made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. "But surely, Dumbledore could–" She tried to persuade Harry to let her out of the oath.
"Hermione, shut the fuck up. Either you give me an Oath, or I Obliviate you right now," Harry said sharply. "This is no fucking game, and I won't have you dying or worse just because you were stupid enough to rely on the authorities!"
Hermione flinched. She bit her lips, her eyes stinging with the force of tears behind them.
Harry was… different. He was colder, more ruthless, and just not her Harry.
Those green eyes were scarily similar to Avada Kedavra curse in their color. Those eyes were not the eyes of her friend and all-around shy and timid guy with hero-complex.
"A– Alright," she whispered, defeated.
No matter who Harry was now, he was still her friend.
The Twins smiled.
Show me how it ends - it's alright
Show me how defenseless you really are
"Again! Do you think the Dark Lord would let you rest, just because you were tired?" Moody's scratchy voice barked out sharply. "Get up !"
Inhaling a shaky breath, Harry clenched his teeth and rolled away from the Cruciatus curse.
His body was screaming at him in agony – he had two broken ribs, right shoulder was dislocated, so he was forced to cast with left hand, and oh yeah, he had a killing headache from the Dark Lord Voldysnort’s latest fit of rage.
And he was pissed.
Defenseless.
He was defenseless.
Again.
Sure, he was the best in DADA of his year, and he could go toe to toe with the seventh years, but that wasn't enough.
Not by far.
Silver eyes watched him, their owners motionless.
Since he could walk satisfactorily, Harry had demanded to be taught the dueling and anything else that could help him bring down the snake once and for all.
The Twins helped in terms of Muggle defense, but there was only so much they could do. Their style was tailored to them – most of the time, they cornered their opponent between them and got at 'em, either with knives, or fists and legs, and their more… unique style that included 'ghosting' through the opponent to freak them out and then kill or – in rare cases – incapacitate them.
They winced slightly as they saw Harry crash onto the floor again, his pale lips painted with the red of blood.
Moody was a cruel, ruthless teacher, and Harry was his helpless and cornered prey.
But his green eyes were shining defiantly, the color of the Matrix, of their lost home and that excited them.
Satisfy an emptiness inside
That's alright, let's give this another try
Grimacing slightly, Harry downed the Skele-Gro potion, his hands shaking with exhaustion and pain. His eyes slid over the small bottle of pain relieving potion wistfully, but he refused to take the damned thing. It dulled one's senses uncomfortably, and while Harry would indeed gratefully accept the reprieve of pain for just a little bit of time, this wasn't a solution – at least not in Harry's eyes.
His bones ached. Heck, his entire body ached, even his eyes and teeth, not that he had done anything to compromise them. Pain was his partner and punishment, so he would endure it until–
Until what?
Harry pondered the latest news. The Ministry was forced to admit Voldemort's return, and with that, came Dumbledore's rise in fame, and of course, who would forget the ole' boy savior.
Sighing shakily, he looked at the moon.
It was full and deathly white, a beacon of cool light in the otherwise dark sky. It reminded him of death and Moony and Dementors – all those things that haunted him in his dreams and reality.
And it reminded him of–
Them.
/FLASHBACK/
He was between them, pale skin against their silver – indeed, the only thing that could mark them apart in the moonlight, was their skin and hair.
Gasping slightly, he arched into the mouth of One – or was it Two? He didn't know.
He just felt.
They felt cool against his feverish skin, like silk and steel, danger wrapped up in the harmless exterior.
"Show us," One muttered in his delicate ear, as fingertips traveled down his body, exploring the skin littered with scars and exploiting the places that could bring so much pleasure, when one knew how to use them–
Harry mewled.
His arms were restrained – the bastards – Harry thought sourly for a moment – so he was unable to tug at the braided mane of the Virii Twin in front of him.
A cat-like smile formed on the pale lips of his tormentor, quicksilver pupil-less eyes looking at their prey demandingly.
"Yes, Harry. Show us… how defenseless you really are…" The other breathed into his skin, making Harry shudder at the sensations.
He was sandwiched between them, back against the firm torso of the first one, and the second was prowling over his hapless form like some kind of an ultimate predator that just waited for an opportune moment to devour the helpless prey.
The braided hair tickled the sensitive milky white skin slightly, as the strong hands parted the knees wider and Harry tensed, knowing what would be next–
But he just nuzzled Harry's thigh, mouthing the soft flesh and occasionally teasing it with the light flicks of the tongue.
He jerked.
"Bastards…" The hoarse whisper from the dark-haired boy – no, young man's lips made their lips quirk into a smirk.
"Ah, ah, ah, that wasn't very nice, Har-ry. " One of them sing-songed, quicksilver eyes connecting for a barest moment with its twins.
Their prey only contorted more, sweaty skin gliding against their cool one, the scars a stark contrast against their own unmarred, unblemished flesh.
It was like a mating ball of snakes, the limbs mixed until nobody knew where was the beginning and where was the ending of pleasure.
"Not until you show us…"
A seductive whisper ghosted against Harry's crotch.
Harry wanted to bash his head into concrete and strangle the two idiots.
Really, they were obsessed with making him… Submit? Well, whatever it was, it made him exposed – physically and mentally and it felt really, really uncomfortable, and yet, the feeling was, against all expectations, a pleasurable one.
A guilty pleasure.
But only with them.
/END FLASHBACK/
Show me how it end it's alright
Show me how defenseless you really are
They wanted him. At first, it was only because the youth reminded them of their own home, and they weren't so sickened by watching him – whenever they looked at the others they just felt so… Wrong.
Second, they were curious. Their new… caretaker , for the lack of a better word, was an absolute trouble magnet, and they were very amused at some of the situations Harry had managed to land in. And yet, he reacted unlike any human they knew. He was harsh, disrespectful, bitter, and yet, he had a soft spot for his owl, loved to fly and in some respects, he was delightfully naïve.
Like with that redheaded girl, Ginevra.
Ginny had rubbed them wrong the moment they saw her. She was just so… Whiny? Unbearable? Clingy? Possessive of Harry?
Yes. Harry was theirs and no one else's. The wolf learned that very fast.
And lastly, they wanted to break his stubbornness. Harry was a rebel, but this was a defense mechanism, and it irked them – they wanted the teen to trust them, to yield to them and be theirs of his own volition.
So what if they would have to use some underhanded tricks to get it?
Helplessness was a good emotion to show on Harry's face.
But, not good enough.
They wanted defenselessness.
And so, one night, they cornered him in the training room, when he was kneeling on the floor, exhausted and panting from the strenuous workout.
He was singed, scraped, and his hair was matted with sweat and his skin was slick and shiny with the same salty substance.
Any other time, they would be repulsed by human's smell of sweat and dirt.
To say it bluntly, humans’ excretions were… icky.
Yup, icky.
That wasn't to say they didn't have sex with humans, just that they abhorred the sweat and all that.
But not with him.
His scent lured them in, like some kind of a potent aphrodisiac, and the sweat on Harry's skin just begged for their fingers, hands to touch the silky-looking skin.
Harry's skin was a curious mix of warmth and coolness and they were fascinated.
They knew of the process, but seeing Harry so… disheveled , was an incredible turn-on for them.
Confused green eyes turned suspicious and then dazed and helpless as they progressed with their… plan.
But it was the last expression on Harry's face that did them in.
Defenselessness.
Throwing his head back in abandon, Harry's face was a mixture of relief and pain and something unreadable and for a short moment, they were privileged with seeing Harry as he was, and not his masks.
Since then, they were addicted.
Satisfy an emptiness inside
That's alright, let's give this another try
It was done.
He should have felt relief. Happiness. Anything.
Instead of that, all he could feel, was emptiness
The battle was long and hard – and more gruesome than anything the horror movies could create.
It was do or die, kill or be killed.
Harry had stood with them – men and women twice his age and older – his eyes cold, green diamonds. He was just as ruthless, if not more so than the battle-hardened Aurors and Unspeakables; in ruthlessness he could go toe to toe with the most cunning Slytherin out there.
And all through the battle, at his side, there were twin white-clad silhouettes that shielded his back.
Dark Lord Voldemort was slayed like cattle. For all his superior knowledge of magic and Horcruxes, he was butchered up like a common animal. Of course, he gave as good as he got, but in the end, his last sight was sickly saffron shades of death ramming the enchanted knives made from a unicorn's bones and phoenix's blood – one in his gut and one in his heart – before Harry sliced the snake's head off.
The rest of the battle was easy.
Voldemort's allies fled, and most of them were still slayed – only a small minority managed to escape and even then, it was only a question of time when they would be apprehended and questioned.
They looked at the slender boy– no, man, with awe.
Harry Potter had finally defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The youth's eyes were hard and empty as he strode across the battlefield in his blood-soaked robes.
Once pristine white fabric was now soiled in red, making Harry seem more like a sacrifice than the proud victor of the life and death match.
Nobody dared to approach him.
"Harry..." Dumbledore hesitantly said, blue eyes darkened with regret and remorse.
Dull green eyes looked at the aged Headmaster, making the old wizard flinch.
"It's done." Harry's voice was cold and empty, as if he were a machine.
And indeed, Harry was a machine… of retribution.
But at what price?
"Your friends are waiting for you." Dumbledore tried again.
Dull eyes blinked sluggishly.
"With all due respect, Headmaster, I don't give a damn." Harry's voice was quiet.
"I only want to take care of my wounds and rest. I've done my part, so you, and the entire Wizarding World, leave me be."
Dumbledore flinched. Even if the voice was indifferent, it pained him to see the boy – nay, young man – so empty. He shouldn't have had to wait for the prophecy to fulfill itself, but there was no time to cry over already spilt milk.
He had done so much wrong regarding Harry it was a wonder Harry didn't turn out like Voldemort. He had shaped Harry into a perfect weapon – at the teen's insistence – and Harry's transformation chilled him to the very bones.
Like Harry's two companions.
The Virii Twins were veritable war machines – and something Dumbledore would be glad to never see again, if he had any say in it.
Clad in white, with their pale skin and braided hair they reminded Dumbledore of vampires, but their ability to turn into… Ghosts? Was saying they had to be something else.
And they had such strange names, too, One and Two. Once, he had asked Harry why he didn't change their names, but Harry had only shrugged and said their names were fine as they were, so he didn't see the need.
At first, he was wary of the twins, what with the Veil of Death and all, but they proved to be invaluable allies, if not a little too fixated on one Harry James Potter.
He watched the Virii twins follow the red-cloaked form, their whiteness in a stark contrast with the bloody red of Harry's clothes.
Nobody dared to approach the intimidating trio.
And perhaps , Dumbledore mused , it was for the best.
It's alright
The public demanded that their savior show to accept their gratitude, but Harry ignored the summons. Who the fuck cared for the Order of Merlin First Class? Not him, at any rate.
When Ginny barged into the hospital wing, screeching about loving him and how she just knew he would come back to her, Harry packed his meager belongings and hid in their old training headquarters.
Hermione's Howlers were disposed of, like Molly's, Dobby was more than happy to do the onerous deed.
And they slept.
It's alright
Remus Lupin looked at the two white shades nervously.
"Um, Harry?" He ventured timidly.
Green eyes blinked at him from the school prospects.
"Yes, Remus?" Harry asked. Remus sighed with relief. Harry's voice wasn't so dead anymore. Instead, it was stern and commanding of respect, even when Harry was being friendly.
"Do you really want to... leave?" Remus scratched his chin nervously, sorely wishing for a cup of hot chocolate.
Harry sighed. "Yes. I've done my part, and I don't want to be fawned over," he replied matter-of-factly. "All my life, I've lived like they wanted me to. And now, I want to live for myself. No fame, no idiots and no expectations to deal with."
Remus' lips thinned slightly. "I understand, but what about finishing your studies?"
Harry laughed. "Remus, my training wasn't about having tea parties with the Queen of England." Green eyes shone with amusement.
Remus' cheeks colored.
"Oh… right. I forgot," the werewolf said sheepishly.
And then they laughed, with two amused shades smirking in the background.
It's alright
With the Virii Twins' help – aka hacking into the required databases - Harry was smoothly entrenched into the Muggle world once again.
It was a strange sight, to see the Muggle world continuing with its life, oblivious to the knowledge of how close they came to extinction. It was an amusing thought, and sobering at the same time.
At least the Wizarding World was good for something, Notice-me-Not charms and Fidelius charms were the two things Harry had lived religiously by.
He still had contact with Dumbledore and Remus, but his old friends, he didn't want to see or speak to.
They couldn't understand. Not even Hermione; the only one who came close to understanding him was Luna, and even then, the darned girl almost tipped Harry's advantage on the wrong side of the scale just because she somehow knew.
Nowadays, Harry stayed home, taking online classes about technology and writing stories.
He was looking at the sunset when he felt two pairs of hands wrap around him.
He smiled at the familiarity of the bodies that pressed into him.
"Tonight will be the full moon," One murmured in the dark-haired man's ear.
Harry chuckled. "Good to know," he returned, green eyes sparkling with mischief. "Do you have plans?"
One nodded, a small quirk of lips indicating a smile. "Yes. We plan on totally debauching you and not letting you out of the bed for a long, long time."
Verdant eyes widening, Harry's body shuddered at the remembrance of pleasant memories.
"Oh, yeah," he growled out, before his lips were claimed by Two.
The sparks tingled down his spine to his groin, as his lips were released from the sinful hold.
"Show us… how defenseless you really are," Two demanded, his voice husky with arousal.
Harry smirked.
It will be a long, pleasurable night.
Well, the moonlit nights were always the best ones to make love in.
/The End/