FIC: Inevitable 61: Can't Stop Me (AB/HP)
Inevitable Sixty-One: Can't Stop Me
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. J.K. Rowling owns all things Harry Potter. Only the story is my own.
Note: As a reminder, the first-person point of view is Anita; third-person-limited point of view is Harry. 8,755 words in 10 hours. I rock the bloody Casbah. Yes, I'm also a little obsessive.
Previous parts here.
~~~~~~~
Harry was still yelling at Ron, fists clenched, when McGonagall stormed into the dorm room, Hermione on her heels.
"What is going on?" the professor demanded, drawing herself up. "Miss Granger interrupted my class--"
"I have to go!" Harry cut her off. "Anita's in trouble, she needs me!"
"He was having a nightmare," Ron said, rather subdued. "Screaming and all that."
"It wasn't a nightmare!" Harry shouted. "It was like with your dad and the snake two years ago!"
"Potter!" McGonagall said. "What are you talking about?"
"It was in St. Louis, Anita was attacked by this guy, Olaf, he's like a giant and he kills people, and he nailed her hands to the floor and--"
"Potter," McGonagall interrupted. "Stop."
"So I can go?" Harry demanded, clenching his injured right hand so tightly that blood squeezed to the floor.
"You had a nightmare," McGonagall said as gently as she could. "Nothing more. You are not leaving the school."
"But Ron's dad--"
"That is my final answer."
Which means that since it has nothing to do with the Order of the Phoenix and Voldemort, you don't care, Harry thought bitterly, glaring at her.
McGonagall gave him one last glance before turning and sweeping out of the room. Hermione hovered in the doorway, an ink smudge on her cheek. "Harry..." she tried to say.
"Just leave me alone," Harry muttered, resting his forehead against the wooden post of his bed. His eyes moved around the room, trying to see everything he could, trying to block out those horrible images. It wasn't a dream.
Ron went to the door and put his hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Come on," he said quietly. The door closed behind them with a click.
Harry made himself take a deep breath. He uncurled his palm, to see blood pooling in the cut in his flesh.
Just like Anita, only not all the way through.
Harry deliberately wiped his hand on the bedspread, smearing blood all over the cloth. Then he opened his trunk and began to pull things out.
I've got muggle money, it might be enough for a plane ticket to St. Louis, he thought, digging out the packet of money, his muggle passport and all those phone numbers Jason had slipped into his bag before leaving the States. I can get to London on my broom, wearing my Invisibility cloak. Not sure how I'll get my broom on the plane. Maybe I can tell them it's a present. His fingers closed on the shrunken muggle suitcase, and he enlarged it without thinking, then popped it open on the floor.
His sight blurred with tears as he yanked a shirt out of the trunk. It was one of the shirts that Jason had bought for Harry, that Anita said looked good.
No time to cry! Harry shouted at himself, wiping his eyes. They all tell me I can't dream things in the future, so it had to have happened already. I can't stop it.
"Harry."
Harry's hands slowed when he heard Dumbledore's voice, but he didn't stop shoving things in his suitcase. "I'm not staying."
"Professor McGonagall told me what you dreamed."
Harry threw a belt back into the trunk, blood flying off his palm and spattering on the stone floor.
"What are you going to do?"
"Something!" Harry exclaimed, slamming the lid shut on his suitcase. He finally looked up at Dumbledore and was mildly surprised to see an unfamiliar man dressed in Auror robes standing behind the headmaster.
"Even if it is a false vision from Voldemort?"
Harry sat on the edge of the bed to tie up his trainers, fingers shaking on the laces. "If he put this together, then good for him. He's got me." Harry stood up, breathing heavily. "I'm seventeen. You can't make me stay here."
"No," Dumbledore said gravely. "I cannot."
Harry pulled on a muggle jacket. "Fine."
"Where will you go?"
"London. They have airplanes there." Harry was keeping his voice level, but he had never felt so alone. Anita might need his help, and all his teachers and friends wanted to do was delay him.
"Would you entertain another suggestion?" Dumbledore motioned the Auror forward. "Go with Tonks to a telephone, and call St. Louis. See what has happened."
Harry blinked at the Auror, confused, as the man standing there gave a little wave. "Wotcher, Harry."
Harry shook his head. "What if they need me?" he pressed. "You can't stop me from going."
"Harry, I'm not trying to stop you," Dumbledore said patiently. "I am trying to help."
Then let me have a Time Turner and let me go back to stop this! Harry thought angrily. "What good is that supposed to do?"
"We can call, then if that doesn't work, we can go to the airport," Tonks said. "I can apparate us there faster than you can fly."
Hesitating for only a moment, Harry closed the suitcase and picked it up. "Fine. I call first."
Dumbledore nodded. "I will ask that you put on your Invisibility cloak to leave the school," he said.
Harry, tight-lipped, put the suitcase back on the bed and donned his Invisibility cloak. As he did so, he stretched out his injured right hand. Dumbledore quickly grabbed Harry's wrist and turned his hand over to expose the bleeding mark to the light.
"What happened?" Dumbledore demanded.
Harry jerked his hand back. "Olaf nailed Anita's hands to the ground," he said.
There was a flicker of something in Dumbledore's eyes, that in another man Harry might have called horror. "You'd best hurry," was all the headmaster said.
Harry shrunk his suitcase and stowed it in his pocket beside his money and passport, then flipped the hood of his cloak over his head. He walked out of the room between Dumbledore and Tonks, hissing as Tonks's foot landed on the cloak on the third step. "Watch it!" Harry hissed, feeling hysterical laughter bubble up in him. He squished that down. He had a feeling if he lost it now, there was no way he'd be able to function.
As Dumbledore crossed the common room, Ron and Hermione sprang up to intercept him. "Sir!" Hermione exclaimed. "Is Harry...?"
Dumbledore turned to Tonks and with a wave of his hand, indicated the Auror should continue. "Miss Granger, Harry will be fine," Dumbledore's voice followed Harry and Tonks out of the room.
A tiny part of Harry was curious as to what Dumbledore would say to his friends. Another tiny part didn't care. Most of him was just numb.
Why couldn't Anita move? he wondered as he trailed after the silent Tonks, down the stairs toward the main doors. What was that blood thing next to her?
At that point, his mind rebelled and skipped away, going instead to the blond man, Edward. He killed Olaf, blew his head off and shot him over and over until he was dead.
It was too quick.
Outside Hogwarts, the day was overcast and threatening rain. Tonks clattered down the steps, never looking back. They were halfway down the path to the gates when Tonks said under her breath, "You still with me?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, clenching his hand tight. It hurt, but it was nothing like what Anita had gone through, what-- His mind moved sideways again.
"Dumbledore tells me you can't apparate?"
"No."
"Ever done slide-along apparition? I'll apparate and pull you along. Safe as houses."
Harry stared straight ahead. He didn't care how safe it was, only how fast they could get to a phone and an airport.
"Are you hurt? Besides your hand?" Tonks asked as they passed through the gate.
"No," Harry finally said. "I thought we were going to apparate."
"We are," Tonks said, coming to a stop beside the hedge. "Just grab my arm, and whatever you do, don't let go." She held out her arm.
Harry began to obey, but as his hands came up out of the folds of the Invisibility cloak, something tickled at the back of his mind. He only had Dumbledore's word that this was Tonks. It probably was, who would dare try and fool Dumbledore like that?
Barty Crouch Jr., Harry's mind whispered. Polyjuice for a year, and Dumbledore never knew.
"What's wrong?" the Auror asked. "Don't mind about the blood, we'll bandage your hand in Edinburgh."
Harry pulled the hood of his cloak back enough to look at the man. "Change something."
"What?"
"Your nose, or your hair or something," Harry demanded. "How can I know you're who you say you are?"
Steadily, the Auror met Harry's glare. The colour of the man's eyes changed from brown to bright green, the mouth changed shape, and the nose grew a little flatter. It was a different face, just a little bit like Sirius. "I'm Tonks."
Harry let out a breath. "Fine." He grabbed Tonks's arm.
Everything went black, with the whole world pressing in on him from all sides. He felt rather like he was being forced down a very long tube, one that was too small for him to fit. Then with a pop, they were in a dingy alley in a smoggy city. Harry coughed at the change in the air and rubbed at his ringing ears.
"Shove that cloak into a pocket and we'll go," Tonks said, her features flowing back into her normal face, her hair black. She tapped her wand on her Auror robes and they morphed into something vaguely muggle-looking. "Don't want to attract attention."
"Where are we?" Harry asked as he followed Tonks out of the alley.
"Edinburgh," Tonks said. "Closer to Hogwarts than London. Almost no witches or wizards live here, so it's better than London." She steered Harry down the graffitied street, past barred shop windows and rushing cars.
"How do you know all this stuff?" Harry asked. "Your dad was a wizard, wasn't he?"
"Yeah, but he had family up here, muggles all. We'd come up here for summers sometimes, although why anyone would want to come to Edinburgh for a vacation is beyond me."
Harry stumbled along, not caring where they were going, as long as it had a phone. They crossed several busy roads before Tonks ducked into a tobacconists shop.
The grizzled man behind the counter looked up as they entered. "What can I get you?" he asked, teeth clenched around his pipe.
"My friend here needs to make a call to the States," Tonks said cheerily.
"You'll be needing a phone card, then." The man reached to the side, pulling over a small box. "Any particular one?"
Harry shook his head, fumbling in his pocket for his money. "Whichever."
The man was now staring at him carefully. "How many minutes?"
Harry dropped some crumbled pound notes on the glass countertop. "Doesn't matter, just any of them!"
Tonks grabbed Harry's arm, steadying him. "Family emergency," she said quickly as she gathered up the money. "How much do we own you?"
Never taking his eyes off Harry, the shopkeeper pushed a card over the counter and told Tonks the price. She peeled a note off the pile and then pocketed the rest. The man put the money in his till. "Phone's over there," he said with a nod.
Tonks pulled Harry over to the side wall, where the phone sat under several garish posters for travel offers, to India and Pakistan and Bangladesh and Australia. Harry looked them, trying to figure out what he had to do now.
"What number are you calling?" Tonks asked, lifting the handset. "Harry?"
"Right." Harry went back to his pocket and removed Jason's list of phone numbers. He started to recite Anita's phone number, but stopped on the second number.
She wasn't going to be answering any phones. She was hurt, she had to be in the hospital by now. She had to be.
Who do I call? Harry thought in a rising panic. If Anita's hurt, Richard's not going to be home, he'll be with her! Same with Micah! Harry rapidly scanned down the list, becoming more frantic with each passing number. The names didn't mean anything to him at this point.
Tonks pulled the list from Harry's hand and pushed on his shoulders until he was on his butt on the floor. She crouched in front of him. "Harry. Harry!" He looked up at her, wondering why things were so fuzzy. "Am I calling Anita?"
Harry shook his head.
"Richard? Micah?" Tonks went through the list name by name, and Harry kept shaking his head. Finally, a name penetrated the haze.
"Wait, Jason." Harry grabbed at Tonks's sleeve. "Call Jason, he has to be there."
"Right." Tonks stood up and fiddled with the phone, while Harry braced his elbows on his knees and tried to remember how to breathe. Jason has to be there. He's not attached to Anita, not like that. Maybe he's sleeping. Maybe he doesn't know--
Tonks grabbed Harry's left hand and pressed the handset against his palm. "It's ringing," she said.
Swallowing his nausea, Harry put the receiver to his ear and listened to the hollow tone. Once, twice... the phone kept ringing, and Harry was about to start screaming when finally someone on the other end said, "Hello?"
"Jason?"
"Harry?" Jason said incredulously. "What-- Why are you calling now?"
"Is Anita dead?" Harry blurted out. "Did Olaf-- is he dead?"
"How do you know this?" Jason demanded. "No, Anita's not dead!"
Harry started to tremble. ""Really?"
"Fuck, no! I don't know how the fuck you knew about Olaf, but she's not dead! Richard's with her at the hospital, and Damian and Jean-Claude have been feeding for like hours, but she's not dead!"
Harry stared down at his right hand. The bleeding from the nail mark was beginning to stop. "Is she going to lose her hands?"
There was dead silence on the other end of the line. "How-- No, it doesn't matter. Richard told Jean-Claude that she's in surgery for a knife wound in the gut, and they're doing her hands too. She--" Jason's voice broke. "They're probably not going to have to amputate her hands."
The air in the tobacconists stop was suddenly too thick and cloyingly sweet. "What about..." Harry's voice trailed off as he realized who Jason hadn't mentioned. His mind flashed back to the house, of seeing that bloody shape next to Anita, not quite anonymous enough... "Nathaniel?" His voice broke.
Ragged breathing on the other end of the line was the only thing that told Harry that Jason was still there. "He's... I mean, they got him to shift into his leopard form," Jason said shakily. "He's, um... they don't know if he'll make it."
Harry closed his eyes.
"He probably will," Jason said quickly. "Jean-Claude and Richard and Damian aren't going to let him die, he has to live for Anita. He's at the hospital, everyone's there keeping him warm. He has to live."
"What if he dies?" Harry had to ask.
"Then Anita might die too. But Jean-Claude isn't going to let that happen." Jason coughed. "Harry, how did you know?"
Harry opened his eyes to see Tonks staring at him, not able to hide the worry on her face. "I had a dream, and I saw it. I saw it all." He blinked hard. "But Edward killed Olaf, right?"
"Right," Jason said. "All the way dead."
"How did this happen?" Harry demanded weakly. "I thought she had bodyguards and stuff!"
"She did," Jason said. "We have no idea, but Rafael's in talking to Jean-Claude right now. I've seen Jean-Claude scary before, but never anything like this."
Rafael. Rats. Harry quickly grabbed the phone list from Tonks and pulled the stub of a pencil out of his pocket. "Do you have Elsa's phone number?"
"Harry--"
"Do you have it? Let me talk to Requiem!"
"Requiem's dead still," Jason said. "Only Jean-Claude and Damian are up."
"Then ask Jean-Claude!"
"Are you kidding? Hold on!" The phone clicked and beeped, then Jason's voice came back on. "What are you going to do?"
"I can't very well call up the operator and ask for the Master of London, can I?" Harry demanded.
"Fine! I'm going to Jean-Claude's office."
There was a bit of background noise. "Uh, Jason?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I help if I come home?"
Jason sighed. "I don't know." He cursed under his breath. "All right, here's the number." He rattled off a long list of digits. "I think it's like the Bat-phone, someone will answer it."
Harry had no idea what Jason was on about, but he didn't let it bother him. "Thanks."
"How can I call you if-- I mean, in case anything comes up?" Jason asked.
Harry stared down at the scrawled London number. "I don't know. I haven't got a phone at school."
Tonks pulled the paper out of Harry's hand and flipped it over to scribble something on the back. She gave it back to him. "Tell him to call this number and leave a message," she said.
Quickly, Harry gave Jason the number. "Will do," Jason said. "Harry..."
"Just tell Anita and everyone that I'm... yeah," Harry stuttered. "And you tell Nathaniel that I've got stuff to tell him, he has to get better!"
"Damned straight," Jason said with feeling. "Do you--" His voice froze. "Shit, I have to go, Jean-Claude's calling me."
The phone went dead. Harry stared at it blankly for a moment, then looked up at Tonks. He had never seen her look so grim,
"What now?" she asked, all business.
"I, uh, I need to call London."
Quickly, Tonks got to her feet and went back to the counter. The listening shopkeeper already had another calling card out, and murmured something to Tonks. She shook her head, gave him a bill and pocketed the change.
Harry made himself ignore them, and instead tried to figure out what he was going to say when he called Elsa. She said that she and Christoff sent some people to St. Louis to help, some wererats. If they had anything to do with this...
He hauled himself to his feet as Tonks came back. "Do you want me to call?" she asked.
"No, I'll do it," Harry said. He'd never used a calling card before, but the instructions on the back made a tiny bit of sense, and soon he was listening to the phone ring.
"Yes?" an unfamiliar male voice answered.
"I need to speak with Elsa," Harry said. "Now."
"Who is this?"
"Harry Potter."
"One moment."
Harry stared at the scuffed edge of the number pad, trying to think of something to say to Elsa. It probably wouldn't do to just accuse her men of letting Anita get hurt.
On the other end of the phone came a scuffling noise. "What do you want?" Elsa demanded, coming on the line. "Why are you calling?"
"Did your men have anything to do with what happened to Anita?" Harry asked.
"What are you talking about?" Elsa sounded angry, which was just fine. Harry was getting angry, too.
"Anita got hurt, bad! I thought you were sending people to help protect her, not let her get attacked by some psychopath!"
"Stop!" Elsa ordered. "Explain yourself, now!"
Harry rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. "Anita was attacked this morning. I thought you said--"
"Shut up!" Elsa said. "Is she alive?"
"Yes, but--"
Elsa swore in German. "Christoff will contact Jean-Claude directly on this. You... Where are you?"
"That's not important! What's important is that Anita's hurt! Badly!"
Harry heard the sound of something breaking on the other end of the line. "Yelling at me will not fix that," Elsa said. "Go back to your school, Harry. We will deal with this."
"Wait--" Harry said, but it was too late. Elsa had hung up. "Damn it!"
Tonks took the phone from Harry and hung it up. "Any more calls?" she asked. Harry wordlessly shook his head. "Come on, then."
Harry let Tonks pull him out of the shop and down the road. Anita's alive, and Nathaniel's alive, and Olaf's dead. The words circled around in Harry's head, a mantra of utter relief. Anita and Nathaniel had been hurt, but they were still alive and sometimes that's all you could ask for.
Finally, Tonks gave Harry a shove into a small pub. The place wasn't very full, and no one looked up at their entrance. Taking an out-of-the-way table, Tonks waved over the waitress and said something to her. Harry didn't listen, only stared at his clenched hands.
Anita's alive, and Nathaniel's alive, and Olaf's dead.
"Whose number did I give Jason?" Harry asked after several silent minutes.
"Huh?" Tonks said. "Oh, my dad. He's got a muggle phone in his office at home, for his work. He can send an owl along to you at Hogwarts. I'll just talk to him after I drop you at school."
"Oh."
The waitress came back, putting a mug with steaming black liquid in front of Tonks, and a short glass with about an inch of amber liquid in front of Harry. "Drink up," Tonks said. "Just knock it back."
Harry picked up the glass and sniffed it. "What's this?"
"Scotch."
Harry raised his eyebrows, then steeled himself and swallowed the stuff as quickly as he could. It burned on the way down, warming his stomach. "That's foul!" Harry exclaimed quietly. "Why did I do that?"
Tonks picked up her mug with both hands. "Old muggle cure for shock," she said. "You'll get some food in you soon."
"Not hungry," Harry muttered. His body was beginning to loosen up, warmth spreading to every limb.
"Yeah, I know." Tonks set her mug down and pulled her napkin off the table. She picked up Harry's injured hand and pressed the folded paper against the seeping cut. "I don't know what happened to you, or your friends, but you need to decide what you're going to do next."
Harry glared at her. "If you've got something to say, then say it."
Tonks seemed unimpressed. "Am I taking you to the airport?"
Harry stared down at the table, just as the waitress deposited a chicken sandwich in front of him. He really, really wanted to go to St. Louis and see that Anita and Nathaniel were really going to live.
But what would that solve?
He picked up the sandwich and nibbled at the edge of the bread. "Guess not," he said, and even saying the words hurt.
Jason promised me they'd be okay. Maybe. They have to be.
"All right, then."
Harry ate the sandwich in silence, listening to the normal conversation in the pub, the sound from the darts game nearby, the bartender softly singing a drinking song as he restocked the bar.
It's not fair! Harry thought, making himself swallow his mouthful. Anita got hurt and Nathaniel got-- His brain refused to deal with that, skipped away, and he couldn't make himself to back. Bad things happen, and everyone acts like it's just the same.
Sirius died, and things went on. Mum and Dad died, and things went on. It's just not fair!
Harry finished his lunch, and ended up staring at the plate while Tonks paid. He didn't protest as she dragged him up and pulled him out of the pub and back into the street, then down a nearby alley.
As soon as they were out of sight of the road, Tonks pulled out her wand and transfigured her robes back to their proper shape. "Go on, then, get into your cloak," she said as she morphed back into the man she'd been earlier that day.
Harry slipped his Invisibility cloak back on, doing up the buttons. Something occurred to him as he reached out for Tonks's arm. "Hey, when you're like a guy, are you, you know, like a guy?"
Tonks gave him a look. "Wouldn't be much of a disguise if I wasn't," she said, then apparated them away.
~*~
Dumbledore was waiting for them in the Entrance Hall. Harry quickly pulled off his Invisibility cloak and shoved it in his pocket, then squarely met Dumbledore's questioning eyes.
"How are things?" Dumbledore asked.
"No one's dead," Harry said flatly. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to get ready for class."
He pivoted to head up the stairs, only to find his way blocked by Snape. "Going out on a school day?" Snape said mockingly. "What a nice... bending of the rules." His eyes burned as he glared at Harry.
"Severus, I allowed it," Dumbledore said.
Snape sneered. "How… fortunate."
Harry stared at Snape, the numbness in his head growing cold. He hated Snape, but that hatred was a distant thing, beyond the pain in his hand, the horror of seeing his friends hurt, dying... of seeing someone's head explode in front of him.
Snape moved first, walking past Harry, glowering. Harry turned his head to watch him go, only then realizing that Dumbledore was still standing in the hall.
"Tonks told me what occurred," Dumbledore said quietly.
Harry blinked. "Where is she?"
"She has gone to make a fire-call," Dumbledore said.
"Right," Harry muttered. Not really wanting to hear any of Dumbledore's reassurances, Harry climbed up the stairs and headed toward Gryffindor tower.
He'd only been gone for a few hours, but everything felt wrong, like decades had passed since he walked down these corridors. Hints of magic were everywhere, and it was all a giant lie.
Magic's not fun, it hurts, Harry thought, ignoring the looks from a group of passing girls. It's fucking hard and painful, and it's never really enough.
He rubbed his injured palm. How had he been hurt? How had the dream, or whatever it was, hurt him physically? It wasn't possible. He hadn't gone anywhere; Ron would have said something.
But my magic, me and Anita, we stopped that man.
But how?
A hush swept over the Gryffindor common room as Harry stepped inside. Ron jumped up and dashed over as Harry walked resolutely to the dorm stairs. "Harry, what's going on?" Ron demanded. Harry ignored him and continued up the steps. Ron trailed along after him. "Harry?"
Neville and Dean were in their dorm room when Harry stormed through the door. Harry ignored them too, and went over to his still-open trunk. He dropped his Invisibility cloak into it, then emptied his pockets, letting the loose pound notes flutter down like snowflakes on top of his passport.
"Harry?" Ron said again. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "Can you go away?"
"Dumbledore said you'd gone, but he wouldn't tell us why!" Ron said.
"Maybe because it's not any of your business," Harry pointed out, dropping his broom into the trunk and kicking the lid closed. "Doesn't matter, right? It's only a dream."
"Hey, Neville, why don't we..." Dean said, standing up.
"Yeah, there's that thing," Neville added awkwardly, hurrying out of the room after Dean.
Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "What did you expect me to believe?" he demanded as Harry stepped out of his shoes.
"Nothing," Harry said. "Just nothing." He pulled back the covers on his bed and sat down. The blood was still on his bedspread, a large rust-coloured stain. "I'm going to sleep."
"Dinner's in half an hour," Ron said. "Then we've got Astronomy at midnight, you can't go to sleep now."
Harry burst out laughing. He knew the sound was wild and painful, but he didn't know how to stop. "Good one, Ron," he said when he could speak again. Ron was looking at him as if he'd gone mad, and Harry wondered if that wasn't it. "Astronomy. Right."
He pulled off his glasses and laid down, fully clothed. He turned onto his side, facing away from the door and from Ron.
"Harry..." Ron tried again. After a minute, when Harry didn't respond, Ron left, closing the dorm door behind him.
The sun was setting, casting a muted glow on the walls. Harry stared straight ahead, unable to close his eyes, but unable to focus on anything.
Anita's alive, and Nathaniel's alive, and Olaf's dead.
The images that his mind had been protecting him from all afternoon started to trickle back, in the stillness. The mess of... He took a deep breath, and wished he had more of that awful scotch to numb things.
The mess of Nathaniel's body.
Jason told me that they made him shift back and he'd be okay. Maybe.
He has to be okay.
And Olaf was dead. Harry had never seen what a bullet could do to a human body. He'd fired a gun, had seen Anita shoot, but never had he seen a bullet hit a human. Red blood, grey brains, yellow-white bone, exploding from a recognizable head to nothing but meat, after bullets hit Olaf's body.
I'm glad he's dead! Harry told himself, fingers digging into the mattress. If I'd have been there, I'd have killed him myself!
"But I was there," Harry whispered, feeling the pain in his hand again. I was there and all I did was stop him, not kill him, not hurt him. He was hurting my friends, going to kill Anita and Nathaniel, and all I did was make him stop moving. Edward shot Olaf dead.
I couldn't even help Anita the way she needed me.
A hard lump was forming in his chest, feeling like a tarry mass, threatening to grow and choke him with self-hatred and pain and rage. I couldn't help Anita and Nathaniel when they needed me.
Hardly able to breathe, Harry stared at the darkening wall for a very long time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The pain was a dull thing, fuzzy aching in my hand and my head and in my side, even with me lying flat on my back as I woke up. Opening my eyes didn't make the pain go away.
I blinked slowly, looking at the hospital ceiling. Everything was soft around the edges. The after-effects of drugs, probably.
Olaf hadn't used any drugs.
I took a deep breath, ignoring the shooting pain in my side. After Edward had burst into my house and blown Olaf's head off, I'd passed out. How I'd gotten to the hospital, I had no idea.
I was missing something. I thought hard, trying to think about what was missing. It wasn't something about me, it was--
Nathaniel.
I closed my eyes, prickles of tears under my eyelids. What happened to Nathaniel? Would Edward have helped him, called an ambulance? What could anyone do for Nathaniel?
A soft movement by my right side pulled me back. Slowly, I managed to turn my head to look, and what I saw stole my breath away.
Nathaniel, the way he was supposed to be, whole and unbloodied, was hunched over on the side of the bed, his head resting on the railing facing away from me. I stared at that auburn hair. Maybe it was a dream, a horrible dream I'd had...
No, that wasn't it. A dream wouldn't have given me all this pain; the blood wouldn't be so red in my memory. I could never image something so monstrous happening to Nathaniel in a dream.
I tried to move. My right hand twitched, sending sharp pains up my arm. My legs moved no problem, but when I tried to clench my left hand, the one I'd lifted up the nail to try and stop Olaf, I couldn't feel a thing below my elbow. I looked over, and all I saw was blanket covering my arm.
A tiny sound escaped my mouth. At the noise, Nathaniel stirred. I froze, watching as he sat up, then slowly lifted his head to look at me.
He was perfect. His skin was white as a sheet, dark circles under his eyes, and he looked like crap, but I'd never seen anything so perfect in my life.
"Anita?" he whispered, pushing one hand through his hair, which now only reached down to below his ears. His pain-filled violet eyes eased when he saw me awake. "Anita."
I tried to grab his hand, but my arm was strapped to an IV board. Nathaniel curled his fingers around mine, his other hand, the one I'd seen in that box, clenched into a tight fist on his lap. "Hi," I said roughly.
Nathaniel bent down and rested his forehead against a patch of bare skin on my arm. "Oh, thank God," he said, squeezing my fingers. "Thank God."
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I opened the marks between us and felt Nathaniel's emotions wash over me, so near, so precious. I also felt Jean-Claude and Richard and Damian, their mingling relief as they touched my mind in turn.
"How?" I asked, trying to sit up.
Nathaniel kissed my arm, then untangled his hand from my grip to push the little button on the side of the bed to lift my upper body. "Do you remember how you made Gregory shift into his wereleopard form to heal him?" he asked unsteadily.
I gave him a tiny nod.
"Micah said that Richard got into your mind and made you pull me across."
I blinked up at him. "But I was unconscious."
Nathaniel smiled a tiny, sad smile. "You were in and out of it. Richard wouldn't let you pass out totally until after I... well, Yeah."
Now I was frowning. "But I couldn't hear any of you guys, not in my head, once I got in the house." I swallowed a few times, my mouth dry. "How..."
"Edward snapped the magic bone."
"Edward?" I looked around the room, and was vaguely surprised when I didn't see him leaning up against a wall somewhere. "He... he shot Olaf."
Nathaniel ducked his head, the loose strands of his hair falling to hide his face. "I guess."
I closed my eyes. Olaf was dead. Nathaniel was alive, although weak as hell, I could feel that. I was going to live.
I tried once again to move my left hand, but nothing responded. The rising panic wasn't helping.
"What?" Nathaniel asked, turning his head. "You're freaking out. What's wrong?" He looked scared.
I took a deep breath. I was alive. Nathaniel was alive. I could deal with this. "Did they have to--" My voice cracked, and I had to start again. "Did they have to cut off my hand?"
Nathaniel's eyes grew huge in his pale face. "No, no," he said in a rush, leaning over the bed to pull back the covers. I could see a vaguely arm-shaped lump, wrapped in layers of bandages. "The nail went though a bone and stuff, but after surgery you started twitching. They think you have nerve damage, and they gave you medicine to calm the twitching, making your arm numb."
I let out a shaky breath. "I didn't lose my hand."
Nathaniel shook his head hard, hair flying. "You didn't lose your hand."
"And I didn't lose you."
He put a finger over my lips, shushing me. "Never."
The next moment, the heartbroken expression on Nathaniel's face was wiped away, and he was reaching for something beside my pillow that I couldn't see. His panic slid over me in a wave, making me twist my head toward the opening door.
When I saw Edward standing there, I wasn't all that reassured.
Edward only had eyes for Nathaniel. "Do you really think that you can stop me before I shoot you?" he said, letting the door swing closed behind him.
"No, but I can slow you down long enough for Anita to stop you," Nathaniel said quickly.
"Stop it, both of you!" I exclaimed. "No killing!" I sent reassuring thoughts to Nathaniel while I glared at Edward. "You almost didn't show up in time today. Were you waiting to make a grand entrance?"
He gave me cool eyes, nothing human looking back at me. "No."
"Then what happened?" I demanded. I felt Nathaniel's fingers slide back into mine. In spite of the pain, I held onto him as tight as I could.
Edward leaned against the wall, perfectly poised. There was a tightness around his mouth, however, that told me that he wasn't as calm as he was pretending. "I almost wasn't there at all."
"What are you talking about? Weren't you tracking Olaf?"
Edward shook his head once. No. "I got a phone call from your vampire boyfriend for help."
"Wait, Jean-Claude?" I said. "Why did he call you? Did he know you were in town?"
"No. I suspect that he was running out of options," Edward said. "I got here yesterday. Did you see the magic bone Olaf was using?"
It wasn't like Edward to jump around like this. I nodded. "It was a voodoo fetish, I've seen something sort of similar before, but had no idea what it was for." I coughed a little, wishing I had some water.
"There were a bunch around the house," Edward explained. "Apparently they were supposed to drain your power."
"Drain-- How do you know this?"
Nathaniel leaned over to the floor. "John Burke and Larry were at the house this afternoon, Micah said. They found it," he said, sitting up with a bottle of water in his hand.
"But how did it affect me?"
Nathaniel put the bottle between his knees and unscrewed it one-handed, his other hand still clenched in a fist. "There was a strand of your hair on it." He held the bottle to my lips, and I had no choice but to drink.
"Olaf doesn't use magic," I said when I was done. "Right?"
Edward was looking more and more unhappy. "It was a change in his pattern, yes. But he'd never targeted a victim who used magic before."
I just stared. None of this made any sense. "What does this have to do with why you were in town?"
Edward paced across the room, as if he was bored. "I heard about a voodoo priest being killed in Mississippi. It was the last place anyone had seen Olaf, and the coincidence...."
"Not a coincidence." I wanted to close my eyes and not deal with this. I could feel Nathaniel's exhaustion like a living thing, and the fuzzy edge around my own pain was beginning to sharpen as the drugs wore off.
"No."
"What about the rest? What about Tony?"
"Your bodyguard?" Edward leaned against the windowsill, staring out at the night. "Funny thing, that. According to Rafael, his stuff is gone and his bank account is substantially bigger."
"Rafael told you that?" I demanded, incredulous.
"No, he told Jean-Claude. I tapped the Circus's phone yesterday." Edward turned around. "Tony arranged for your next bodyguard to be a few hours late."
"Rafael's really..." Nathaniel shuddered. "I've never seen him like this. Ever."
"There's also the matter of what happened to him," Edward said, looking at Nathaniel.
"He's got a name," I said angrily, pain colouring my words. "He's Nathaniel and he almost died, so stop acting like that!"
Edward was unperturbed. "There was a high-powered tranquilizer gun, with several shot of a lycanthrope sedative, in the house. The drug is so new it's not even on the market, I've only ever seen the military use it."
"Then how do you know about it?" I demanded.
"I've used it a couple of times," Edward said. "It takes a very long time to be metabolized. Olaf knew who he was going to be taking down."
Nathaniel stroked his fingers up and down my arm, seeking comfort. "The bell rang, and I thought Micah forgot his key," he said in a whisper.
"Olaf planned this very carefully," Edward said before I could say anything to Nathaniel. "There was only one thing that wasn't according to his plan."
"What?" I asked.
"Damian," Nathaniel answered. "The police told Jean-Claude there was a box of, um, stuff at the basement steps. They think he was going to do things to Damian."
A wave of nausea swept over me, and I thought desperately about something else, anything else. Not what that psychopath would have done to Damian while Damian was dead to the world.
"That wasn't what I meant." Edward stopped at the end of the bed. "I'm talking about whatever magic you called up."
"What magic?" I asked. There was something in my head. Something about...
Oh God. Harry. I'd seen Harry, clear as day, that's how Olaf was stopped. Harry had been there and grabbed my hand and made Olaf stop in his tracks with a spell.
"The fuzzy dark shape by your head," Edward said. "You know me, Anita. I'm not magical, and even I saw something. Olaf was leaning over you, going to stab you again, but he was just frozen when I came through that door. Nothing freezes a man like Olaf, not like that."
Heart fluttering, I made eye contact with Edward. "That wasn't my magic," I said.
Edward narrowed his eyes. "But there was magic."
"I couldn't use my magic, remember? Magic bone?"
Edward shook his head. "You can tell me tomorrow," he said as he walked to the door. "I've got to go check a trap."
"What?"
"A rat trap."
"Edward, Rafael's going to find Tony before you are."
"We'll see." With that cryptic shot, Edward left.
Nathaniel let out a shaky breath. "Was there magic?" he asked.
I nodded, my head beginning to pound. "Yeah. Harry... I don't know how, but Harry was there." I had to take a deep breath. "He grabbed my hand and he used his magic to stop Olaf."
"But Harry's in Scotland. How could he help you?"
I turned my head to stare into Nathaniel's eyes. "I don't know."
He ducked his head to look at his hands in his lap. Slowly, he uncurled his clenched fist and stared at it as if he'd never seen it before. "Jean-Claude and Richard and Micah are all talking to the doctor," he said in a tired voice. "Micah wanted me to stay at the shifter hospital, where they took me after--" He swallowed and made himself continue. "But when I woke up I came here, to you."
"Nathaniel..."
"Richard and Micah got there just before the police," Nathaniel interrupted, talking very fast. "That's what Micah said. Then Richard came here with you and Micah drove me to the shifter hospital and Jean-Claude came when it got dark. Damian's still feeding."
"Nathaniel--" I tried again.
"Why didn't you know something was wrong?"
I forgot what I was trying to say. "What?"
Nathaniel twisted his fingers tightly. "Why did you come in the house? Didn't you know something was wrong?"
"Nathaniel, I--"
"I couldn't hear you through the marks, why didn't you know you couldn't hear me and that something was wrong?" Nathaniel asked.
His demand hit me like a kick in the gut. I could only lie there, air knocked out of my lungs, as the door pushed open again and Micah, Richard and Jean-Claude entered the room.
Micah was the first one to me, kissing the top of my head. "Hi," he whispered, touching my cheek. It took me a minute to look at him, and what he saw on my face made his smile falter. He looked over at Nathaniel, who had turned away. "What's going on?"
"We saw Edward leave," Richard said, frowning. He was dressed in a blood -spattered dress shirt and slacks, school stuff. He must have been on his way to school when I started screaming this morning. "Was it him?"
"No," I whispered.
Jean-Claude sat on the edge of the bed and touched my face. "Ma petite," he said in a low voice. The words held all the thing he couldn't say, and I blinked back the tears in my eyes. "It is good to see you awake."
"Yeah."
Micah rounded the bed and tried to put his hand on Nathaniel's back, but the younger wereleopard shrugged it off and stood up shakily, walking over to the window.
I turned my head away.
Jean-Claude stroked my cheek and throat, as if he had seen nothing out of the ordinary. "The doctor will be along shortly, ma petite, to tell you what is happening. He said you will be fine."
"The police wanted to talk to you, but they'll come tomorrow," Richard said.
I glanced at him. "Police?"
"A man's head was blown off in your living room, ma petite," Jean-Claude said. "The police saw what happened to Nathaniel and yourself, which is why Edward is walking around free. They still wish to talk to you about it."
I tried to care, but the thin tendrils of Nathaniel's blame were stopping anything from sinking in.
"I can take you home tomorrow," Micah said. "Well, not home, we're still cleaning that up..." He cast a sideways glance at Nathaniel, who hadn't moved from the window. "But the Circus, for a little while."
The pain and the blame and the exhaustion were dragging at me, making it hard for me to pay attention. Jean-Claude leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, his breath cool on my skin. "Ma petite, I will leave you to get some rest. If you need anything, just call."
I blinked slowly. "Okay."
Richard came around the side of the bed and touched my cheek. "I'll go too, I've got stuff to do."
"Sure," I whispered. "Thanks." I had to stop and think about the words. "For Nathaniel."
"You're welcome," he said, giving one of those smiles I'd fallen in love with.
"Nathaniel, I'll take you--" Micah began to say.
"No, I'm staying here," Nathaniel said quickly, not turning around.
"Nathaniel--"
"No." Nathaniel pivoted, almost falling over, but with more power in him than I'd ever seen. "I'm staying with Anita."
Micah looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay." He looked down at me. "I'm going to go get some food, then I'll be back up here. Rafael's put two bodyguards on your door."
"Doesn't matter any more," I said drowsily, sleep dulling the pain I was feeling. "Don't know if I can stay up for the doctor."
"It'll be okay," Micah said.
I closed my eyes, just for a moment, and whispered, "Love you guys."
The bed dipped slightly as I heard soft male voices leaving, and the sound of the door shutting. I smelled Nathaniel's hair, warm and vanilla. Like the hair that had been in that box, this morning.
Why hadn't I known something was wrong before I walked up those steps?
Tears began to slide down my cheeks, as Nathaniel lifted my hand onto my stomach and curled up along my side. He pressed his cheek against mine, my tears wetting both our faces.
"I'm sorry," Nathaniel whispered, his breath hot against my neck. "I'm sorry."
I tried to say something, but I was just so tired.
"Harry called Jason, this afternoon," Nathaniel continued. "Harry told him that I had to get better, that we had stuff to do. How did Harry know? Was he really there?"
"I don't know. I saw him, but how could he have been?"
"I'm sorry," Nathaniel whispered again, putting his head on my shoulder. He was shaking, a fine trembling in his muscles. My mind couldn't even begin to grasp what Olaf had done to him before I'd gotten there this morning.
The door opened, too early to be Micah, and I opened my eyes. A nurse stood by the IV, a needle in her hand. "Just something for the pain," she said, eyes flicking to Nathaniel pressed up against me.
The rush of the morphine took away all the lingering pains, making me gasp. After the nurse had gone and I was drifting, Nathaniel raised his head and asked, "Was that morphine?"
I nodded.
"I remember how it feels," Nathaniel said, dropped his head back down. "It doesn't dull the pain for me anymore."
I wanted to say something, but knowing Nathaniel was alive and Olaf was dead seemed like enough right now, and I passed out again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When the sun rose the next morning, Harry was sitting on Hogwarts' front steps. It was cold, and he was wrapped up in his grey cloak as he stared out at the misty forest.
Eventually, a large shape stumbled out of the distant hut, and started shambling in the direction of the school. Harry watched as Hagrid grew closer.
Harry had woken up hours before sunrise. He'd gotten dressed and pulled on his grey cloak, leaving the Invisibility cloak in his trunk, and wandered through the school blindly for a while. Maybe they'll catch me, and expel me, he'd thought, half-hopeful.
But no one had seen him, and no one bothered him. Now, he sat on the steps, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do.
Sitting here, not knowing if Nathaniel had survived the night, if the wereleopard had pulled Anita or Damian down into death... Harry shook his head, hunching down into his cloak. He had to believe they were all right. There was no other option.
They have to be alive.
Hagrid caught sight of Harry sitting, half-hidden, on the steps, and jerked back in surprise. "Harry! Yer out early!"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, not moving.
Hagrid settled down on the steps, eying Harry. "Dumbledore said you had a family emergency," he said gruffly.
"Yeah."
"Not them muggles, though. Everyone all right?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know, do I? Just been sitting here."
"I'm sure they're all righ'," Hagrid said with conviction.
A ruined body, all blood and meat and nothing left of Nathaniel.
Jason said Nathaniel was alive.
"Ron and Hermione came down yesterday," Hagrid continued. "They was worried about yuh."
Harry watched as a curl of mist snaked over Hagrid's hut, and disappeared into the morning sun. "Have you ever seen something bad, real bad?" he asked. "And you can't tell people because they won't understand?"
"Well... Harry..."
"I can't tell them what happened, they won't get it!" Harry tried to imagine explaining what had happened to Anita and Nathaniel to Hermione, and he felt a little ill, and very old. "I wouldn't know where to start."
Hagrid shrugged. "They're yer friends, Harry. They may not understand, but they do care."
Harry's stomach twisted over. "If they care or not isn't going to save Nathaniel," he said softly.
They lapsed into silence, and the minutes stretched out. After what felt like forever, Hagrid cleared his throat and pointed at the sky. "Mite bit early for an owl," he said.
Harry looked up, and his heart dropped. The owl wasn't heading for Dumbledore's office; it was heading straight for Harry.
The majestic bird swooped down and ruffled its wings back before holding out a thin roll of parchment to Harry, who just stared. Hagrid ended up having to take the roll from the bird. "Early for a letter," Hagrid said with false cheer.
Harry couldn't move his hand to take the letter.
"Do you want me to read it?" Hagrid asked after a minute. Mouth dry, Harry shook his head, and reached out to grasp the tiny roll of parchment. He smoothed out the roll, crimped a little from the owl's grasp, and read the spiky handwriting.
Harry Potter,
My daughter Nymphadora informed me yesterday that you were expecting a call due to a family emergency in the United States. I received a telephone call from a man named Jason Schuler at approximately five this morning, with the following message:
Anita's surgery was fine, she should have full use of her hands in a couple of weeks. Nathaniel is going to be perfectly fine. He got up and walked out of the hospital last night, right to Anita's side. They'll recover one hundred percent in a while.
Thank you for whatever you did, because otherwise things would have gone the other way.
Ted Tonks.
Harry stared at the paper. He'd read the words, but they hadn't made any sense.
Nathaniel was going to be okay. He was alive and he was going to be okay. Anita was going to be okay.
A sob tore its way out of Harry's throat, then another. The parchment fluttered to the ground as he doubled over, burying his head against his knees, ragged sobs making his shoulders shake as he finally let out the bottled-up pain and terror and fear of losing his new family.
... to be continued
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. J.K. Rowling owns all things Harry Potter. Only the story is my own.
Note: As a reminder, the first-person point of view is Anita; third-person-limited point of view is Harry. 8,755 words in 10 hours. I rock the bloody Casbah. Yes, I'm also a little obsessive.
Previous parts here.
~~~~~~~
Harry was still yelling at Ron, fists clenched, when McGonagall stormed into the dorm room, Hermione on her heels.
"What is going on?" the professor demanded, drawing herself up. "Miss Granger interrupted my class--"
"I have to go!" Harry cut her off. "Anita's in trouble, she needs me!"
"He was having a nightmare," Ron said, rather subdued. "Screaming and all that."
"It wasn't a nightmare!" Harry shouted. "It was like with your dad and the snake two years ago!"
"Potter!" McGonagall said. "What are you talking about?"
"It was in St. Louis, Anita was attacked by this guy, Olaf, he's like a giant and he kills people, and he nailed her hands to the floor and--"
"Potter," McGonagall interrupted. "Stop."
"So I can go?" Harry demanded, clenching his injured right hand so tightly that blood squeezed to the floor.
"You had a nightmare," McGonagall said as gently as she could. "Nothing more. You are not leaving the school."
"But Ron's dad--"
"That is my final answer."
Which means that since it has nothing to do with the Order of the Phoenix and Voldemort, you don't care, Harry thought bitterly, glaring at her.
McGonagall gave him one last glance before turning and sweeping out of the room. Hermione hovered in the doorway, an ink smudge on her cheek. "Harry..." she tried to say.
"Just leave me alone," Harry muttered, resting his forehead against the wooden post of his bed. His eyes moved around the room, trying to see everything he could, trying to block out those horrible images. It wasn't a dream.
Ron went to the door and put his hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Come on," he said quietly. The door closed behind them with a click.
Harry made himself take a deep breath. He uncurled his palm, to see blood pooling in the cut in his flesh.
Just like Anita, only not all the way through.
Harry deliberately wiped his hand on the bedspread, smearing blood all over the cloth. Then he opened his trunk and began to pull things out.
I've got muggle money, it might be enough for a plane ticket to St. Louis, he thought, digging out the packet of money, his muggle passport and all those phone numbers Jason had slipped into his bag before leaving the States. I can get to London on my broom, wearing my Invisibility cloak. Not sure how I'll get my broom on the plane. Maybe I can tell them it's a present. His fingers closed on the shrunken muggle suitcase, and he enlarged it without thinking, then popped it open on the floor.
His sight blurred with tears as he yanked a shirt out of the trunk. It was one of the shirts that Jason had bought for Harry, that Anita said looked good.
No time to cry! Harry shouted at himself, wiping his eyes. They all tell me I can't dream things in the future, so it had to have happened already. I can't stop it.
"Harry."
Harry's hands slowed when he heard Dumbledore's voice, but he didn't stop shoving things in his suitcase. "I'm not staying."
"Professor McGonagall told me what you dreamed."
Harry threw a belt back into the trunk, blood flying off his palm and spattering on the stone floor.
"What are you going to do?"
"Something!" Harry exclaimed, slamming the lid shut on his suitcase. He finally looked up at Dumbledore and was mildly surprised to see an unfamiliar man dressed in Auror robes standing behind the headmaster.
"Even if it is a false vision from Voldemort?"
Harry sat on the edge of the bed to tie up his trainers, fingers shaking on the laces. "If he put this together, then good for him. He's got me." Harry stood up, breathing heavily. "I'm seventeen. You can't make me stay here."
"No," Dumbledore said gravely. "I cannot."
Harry pulled on a muggle jacket. "Fine."
"Where will you go?"
"London. They have airplanes there." Harry was keeping his voice level, but he had never felt so alone. Anita might need his help, and all his teachers and friends wanted to do was delay him.
"Would you entertain another suggestion?" Dumbledore motioned the Auror forward. "Go with Tonks to a telephone, and call St. Louis. See what has happened."
Harry blinked at the Auror, confused, as the man standing there gave a little wave. "Wotcher, Harry."
Harry shook his head. "What if they need me?" he pressed. "You can't stop me from going."
"Harry, I'm not trying to stop you," Dumbledore said patiently. "I am trying to help."
Then let me have a Time Turner and let me go back to stop this! Harry thought angrily. "What good is that supposed to do?"
"We can call, then if that doesn't work, we can go to the airport," Tonks said. "I can apparate us there faster than you can fly."
Hesitating for only a moment, Harry closed the suitcase and picked it up. "Fine. I call first."
Dumbledore nodded. "I will ask that you put on your Invisibility cloak to leave the school," he said.
Harry, tight-lipped, put the suitcase back on the bed and donned his Invisibility cloak. As he did so, he stretched out his injured right hand. Dumbledore quickly grabbed Harry's wrist and turned his hand over to expose the bleeding mark to the light.
"What happened?" Dumbledore demanded.
Harry jerked his hand back. "Olaf nailed Anita's hands to the ground," he said.
There was a flicker of something in Dumbledore's eyes, that in another man Harry might have called horror. "You'd best hurry," was all the headmaster said.
Harry shrunk his suitcase and stowed it in his pocket beside his money and passport, then flipped the hood of his cloak over his head. He walked out of the room between Dumbledore and Tonks, hissing as Tonks's foot landed on the cloak on the third step. "Watch it!" Harry hissed, feeling hysterical laughter bubble up in him. He squished that down. He had a feeling if he lost it now, there was no way he'd be able to function.
As Dumbledore crossed the common room, Ron and Hermione sprang up to intercept him. "Sir!" Hermione exclaimed. "Is Harry...?"
Dumbledore turned to Tonks and with a wave of his hand, indicated the Auror should continue. "Miss Granger, Harry will be fine," Dumbledore's voice followed Harry and Tonks out of the room.
A tiny part of Harry was curious as to what Dumbledore would say to his friends. Another tiny part didn't care. Most of him was just numb.
Why couldn't Anita move? he wondered as he trailed after the silent Tonks, down the stairs toward the main doors. What was that blood thing next to her?
At that point, his mind rebelled and skipped away, going instead to the blond man, Edward. He killed Olaf, blew his head off and shot him over and over until he was dead.
It was too quick.
Outside Hogwarts, the day was overcast and threatening rain. Tonks clattered down the steps, never looking back. They were halfway down the path to the gates when Tonks said under her breath, "You still with me?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, clenching his hand tight. It hurt, but it was nothing like what Anita had gone through, what-- His mind moved sideways again.
"Dumbledore tells me you can't apparate?"
"No."
"Ever done slide-along apparition? I'll apparate and pull you along. Safe as houses."
Harry stared straight ahead. He didn't care how safe it was, only how fast they could get to a phone and an airport.
"Are you hurt? Besides your hand?" Tonks asked as they passed through the gate.
"No," Harry finally said. "I thought we were going to apparate."
"We are," Tonks said, coming to a stop beside the hedge. "Just grab my arm, and whatever you do, don't let go." She held out her arm.
Harry began to obey, but as his hands came up out of the folds of the Invisibility cloak, something tickled at the back of his mind. He only had Dumbledore's word that this was Tonks. It probably was, who would dare try and fool Dumbledore like that?
Barty Crouch Jr., Harry's mind whispered. Polyjuice for a year, and Dumbledore never knew.
"What's wrong?" the Auror asked. "Don't mind about the blood, we'll bandage your hand in Edinburgh."
Harry pulled the hood of his cloak back enough to look at the man. "Change something."
"What?"
"Your nose, or your hair or something," Harry demanded. "How can I know you're who you say you are?"
Steadily, the Auror met Harry's glare. The colour of the man's eyes changed from brown to bright green, the mouth changed shape, and the nose grew a little flatter. It was a different face, just a little bit like Sirius. "I'm Tonks."
Harry let out a breath. "Fine." He grabbed Tonks's arm.
Everything went black, with the whole world pressing in on him from all sides. He felt rather like he was being forced down a very long tube, one that was too small for him to fit. Then with a pop, they were in a dingy alley in a smoggy city. Harry coughed at the change in the air and rubbed at his ringing ears.
"Shove that cloak into a pocket and we'll go," Tonks said, her features flowing back into her normal face, her hair black. She tapped her wand on her Auror robes and they morphed into something vaguely muggle-looking. "Don't want to attract attention."
"Where are we?" Harry asked as he followed Tonks out of the alley.
"Edinburgh," Tonks said. "Closer to Hogwarts than London. Almost no witches or wizards live here, so it's better than London." She steered Harry down the graffitied street, past barred shop windows and rushing cars.
"How do you know all this stuff?" Harry asked. "Your dad was a wizard, wasn't he?"
"Yeah, but he had family up here, muggles all. We'd come up here for summers sometimes, although why anyone would want to come to Edinburgh for a vacation is beyond me."
Harry stumbled along, not caring where they were going, as long as it had a phone. They crossed several busy roads before Tonks ducked into a tobacconists shop.
The grizzled man behind the counter looked up as they entered. "What can I get you?" he asked, teeth clenched around his pipe.
"My friend here needs to make a call to the States," Tonks said cheerily.
"You'll be needing a phone card, then." The man reached to the side, pulling over a small box. "Any particular one?"
Harry shook his head, fumbling in his pocket for his money. "Whichever."
The man was now staring at him carefully. "How many minutes?"
Harry dropped some crumbled pound notes on the glass countertop. "Doesn't matter, just any of them!"
Tonks grabbed Harry's arm, steadying him. "Family emergency," she said quickly as she gathered up the money. "How much do we own you?"
Never taking his eyes off Harry, the shopkeeper pushed a card over the counter and told Tonks the price. She peeled a note off the pile and then pocketed the rest. The man put the money in his till. "Phone's over there," he said with a nod.
Tonks pulled Harry over to the side wall, where the phone sat under several garish posters for travel offers, to India and Pakistan and Bangladesh and Australia. Harry looked them, trying to figure out what he had to do now.
"What number are you calling?" Tonks asked, lifting the handset. "Harry?"
"Right." Harry went back to his pocket and removed Jason's list of phone numbers. He started to recite Anita's phone number, but stopped on the second number.
She wasn't going to be answering any phones. She was hurt, she had to be in the hospital by now. She had to be.
Who do I call? Harry thought in a rising panic. If Anita's hurt, Richard's not going to be home, he'll be with her! Same with Micah! Harry rapidly scanned down the list, becoming more frantic with each passing number. The names didn't mean anything to him at this point.
Tonks pulled the list from Harry's hand and pushed on his shoulders until he was on his butt on the floor. She crouched in front of him. "Harry. Harry!" He looked up at her, wondering why things were so fuzzy. "Am I calling Anita?"
Harry shook his head.
"Richard? Micah?" Tonks went through the list name by name, and Harry kept shaking his head. Finally, a name penetrated the haze.
"Wait, Jason." Harry grabbed at Tonks's sleeve. "Call Jason, he has to be there."
"Right." Tonks stood up and fiddled with the phone, while Harry braced his elbows on his knees and tried to remember how to breathe. Jason has to be there. He's not attached to Anita, not like that. Maybe he's sleeping. Maybe he doesn't know--
Tonks grabbed Harry's left hand and pressed the handset against his palm. "It's ringing," she said.
Swallowing his nausea, Harry put the receiver to his ear and listened to the hollow tone. Once, twice... the phone kept ringing, and Harry was about to start screaming when finally someone on the other end said, "Hello?"
"Jason?"
"Harry?" Jason said incredulously. "What-- Why are you calling now?"
"Is Anita dead?" Harry blurted out. "Did Olaf-- is he dead?"
"How do you know this?" Jason demanded. "No, Anita's not dead!"
Harry started to tremble. ""Really?"
"Fuck, no! I don't know how the fuck you knew about Olaf, but she's not dead! Richard's with her at the hospital, and Damian and Jean-Claude have been feeding for like hours, but she's not dead!"
Harry stared down at his right hand. The bleeding from the nail mark was beginning to stop. "Is she going to lose her hands?"
There was dead silence on the other end of the line. "How-- No, it doesn't matter. Richard told Jean-Claude that she's in surgery for a knife wound in the gut, and they're doing her hands too. She--" Jason's voice broke. "They're probably not going to have to amputate her hands."
The air in the tobacconists stop was suddenly too thick and cloyingly sweet. "What about..." Harry's voice trailed off as he realized who Jason hadn't mentioned. His mind flashed back to the house, of seeing that bloody shape next to Anita, not quite anonymous enough... "Nathaniel?" His voice broke.
Ragged breathing on the other end of the line was the only thing that told Harry that Jason was still there. "He's... I mean, they got him to shift into his leopard form," Jason said shakily. "He's, um... they don't know if he'll make it."
Harry closed his eyes.
"He probably will," Jason said quickly. "Jean-Claude and Richard and Damian aren't going to let him die, he has to live for Anita. He's at the hospital, everyone's there keeping him warm. He has to live."
"What if he dies?" Harry had to ask.
"Then Anita might die too. But Jean-Claude isn't going to let that happen." Jason coughed. "Harry, how did you know?"
Harry opened his eyes to see Tonks staring at him, not able to hide the worry on her face. "I had a dream, and I saw it. I saw it all." He blinked hard. "But Edward killed Olaf, right?"
"Right," Jason said. "All the way dead."
"How did this happen?" Harry demanded weakly. "I thought she had bodyguards and stuff!"
"She did," Jason said. "We have no idea, but Rafael's in talking to Jean-Claude right now. I've seen Jean-Claude scary before, but never anything like this."
Rafael. Rats. Harry quickly grabbed the phone list from Tonks and pulled the stub of a pencil out of his pocket. "Do you have Elsa's phone number?"
"Harry--"
"Do you have it? Let me talk to Requiem!"
"Requiem's dead still," Jason said. "Only Jean-Claude and Damian are up."
"Then ask Jean-Claude!"
"Are you kidding? Hold on!" The phone clicked and beeped, then Jason's voice came back on. "What are you going to do?"
"I can't very well call up the operator and ask for the Master of London, can I?" Harry demanded.
"Fine! I'm going to Jean-Claude's office."
There was a bit of background noise. "Uh, Jason?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I help if I come home?"
Jason sighed. "I don't know." He cursed under his breath. "All right, here's the number." He rattled off a long list of digits. "I think it's like the Bat-phone, someone will answer it."
Harry had no idea what Jason was on about, but he didn't let it bother him. "Thanks."
"How can I call you if-- I mean, in case anything comes up?" Jason asked.
Harry stared down at the scrawled London number. "I don't know. I haven't got a phone at school."
Tonks pulled the paper out of Harry's hand and flipped it over to scribble something on the back. She gave it back to him. "Tell him to call this number and leave a message," she said.
Quickly, Harry gave Jason the number. "Will do," Jason said. "Harry..."
"Just tell Anita and everyone that I'm... yeah," Harry stuttered. "And you tell Nathaniel that I've got stuff to tell him, he has to get better!"
"Damned straight," Jason said with feeling. "Do you--" His voice froze. "Shit, I have to go, Jean-Claude's calling me."
The phone went dead. Harry stared at it blankly for a moment, then looked up at Tonks. He had never seen her look so grim,
"What now?" she asked, all business.
"I, uh, I need to call London."
Quickly, Tonks got to her feet and went back to the counter. The listening shopkeeper already had another calling card out, and murmured something to Tonks. She shook her head, gave him a bill and pocketed the change.
Harry made himself ignore them, and instead tried to figure out what he was going to say when he called Elsa. She said that she and Christoff sent some people to St. Louis to help, some wererats. If they had anything to do with this...
He hauled himself to his feet as Tonks came back. "Do you want me to call?" she asked.
"No, I'll do it," Harry said. He'd never used a calling card before, but the instructions on the back made a tiny bit of sense, and soon he was listening to the phone ring.
"Yes?" an unfamiliar male voice answered.
"I need to speak with Elsa," Harry said. "Now."
"Who is this?"
"Harry Potter."
"One moment."
Harry stared at the scuffed edge of the number pad, trying to think of something to say to Elsa. It probably wouldn't do to just accuse her men of letting Anita get hurt.
On the other end of the phone came a scuffling noise. "What do you want?" Elsa demanded, coming on the line. "Why are you calling?"
"Did your men have anything to do with what happened to Anita?" Harry asked.
"What are you talking about?" Elsa sounded angry, which was just fine. Harry was getting angry, too.
"Anita got hurt, bad! I thought you were sending people to help protect her, not let her get attacked by some psychopath!"
"Stop!" Elsa ordered. "Explain yourself, now!"
Harry rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. "Anita was attacked this morning. I thought you said--"
"Shut up!" Elsa said. "Is she alive?"
"Yes, but--"
Elsa swore in German. "Christoff will contact Jean-Claude directly on this. You... Where are you?"
"That's not important! What's important is that Anita's hurt! Badly!"
Harry heard the sound of something breaking on the other end of the line. "Yelling at me will not fix that," Elsa said. "Go back to your school, Harry. We will deal with this."
"Wait--" Harry said, but it was too late. Elsa had hung up. "Damn it!"
Tonks took the phone from Harry and hung it up. "Any more calls?" she asked. Harry wordlessly shook his head. "Come on, then."
Harry let Tonks pull him out of the shop and down the road. Anita's alive, and Nathaniel's alive, and Olaf's dead. The words circled around in Harry's head, a mantra of utter relief. Anita and Nathaniel had been hurt, but they were still alive and sometimes that's all you could ask for.
Finally, Tonks gave Harry a shove into a small pub. The place wasn't very full, and no one looked up at their entrance. Taking an out-of-the-way table, Tonks waved over the waitress and said something to her. Harry didn't listen, only stared at his clenched hands.
Anita's alive, and Nathaniel's alive, and Olaf's dead.
"Whose number did I give Jason?" Harry asked after several silent minutes.
"Huh?" Tonks said. "Oh, my dad. He's got a muggle phone in his office at home, for his work. He can send an owl along to you at Hogwarts. I'll just talk to him after I drop you at school."
"Oh."
The waitress came back, putting a mug with steaming black liquid in front of Tonks, and a short glass with about an inch of amber liquid in front of Harry. "Drink up," Tonks said. "Just knock it back."
Harry picked up the glass and sniffed it. "What's this?"
"Scotch."
Harry raised his eyebrows, then steeled himself and swallowed the stuff as quickly as he could. It burned on the way down, warming his stomach. "That's foul!" Harry exclaimed quietly. "Why did I do that?"
Tonks picked up her mug with both hands. "Old muggle cure for shock," she said. "You'll get some food in you soon."
"Not hungry," Harry muttered. His body was beginning to loosen up, warmth spreading to every limb.
"Yeah, I know." Tonks set her mug down and pulled her napkin off the table. She picked up Harry's injured hand and pressed the folded paper against the seeping cut. "I don't know what happened to you, or your friends, but you need to decide what you're going to do next."
Harry glared at her. "If you've got something to say, then say it."
Tonks seemed unimpressed. "Am I taking you to the airport?"
Harry stared down at the table, just as the waitress deposited a chicken sandwich in front of him. He really, really wanted to go to St. Louis and see that Anita and Nathaniel were really going to live.
But what would that solve?
He picked up the sandwich and nibbled at the edge of the bread. "Guess not," he said, and even saying the words hurt.
Jason promised me they'd be okay. Maybe. They have to be.
"All right, then."
Harry ate the sandwich in silence, listening to the normal conversation in the pub, the sound from the darts game nearby, the bartender softly singing a drinking song as he restocked the bar.
It's not fair! Harry thought, making himself swallow his mouthful. Anita got hurt and Nathaniel got-- His brain refused to deal with that, skipped away, and he couldn't make himself to back. Bad things happen, and everyone acts like it's just the same.
Sirius died, and things went on. Mum and Dad died, and things went on. It's just not fair!
Harry finished his lunch, and ended up staring at the plate while Tonks paid. He didn't protest as she dragged him up and pulled him out of the pub and back into the street, then down a nearby alley.
As soon as they were out of sight of the road, Tonks pulled out her wand and transfigured her robes back to their proper shape. "Go on, then, get into your cloak," she said as she morphed back into the man she'd been earlier that day.
Harry slipped his Invisibility cloak back on, doing up the buttons. Something occurred to him as he reached out for Tonks's arm. "Hey, when you're like a guy, are you, you know, like a guy?"
Tonks gave him a look. "Wouldn't be much of a disguise if I wasn't," she said, then apparated them away.
~*~
Dumbledore was waiting for them in the Entrance Hall. Harry quickly pulled off his Invisibility cloak and shoved it in his pocket, then squarely met Dumbledore's questioning eyes.
"How are things?" Dumbledore asked.
"No one's dead," Harry said flatly. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to get ready for class."
He pivoted to head up the stairs, only to find his way blocked by Snape. "Going out on a school day?" Snape said mockingly. "What a nice... bending of the rules." His eyes burned as he glared at Harry.
"Severus, I allowed it," Dumbledore said.
Snape sneered. "How… fortunate."
Harry stared at Snape, the numbness in his head growing cold. He hated Snape, but that hatred was a distant thing, beyond the pain in his hand, the horror of seeing his friends hurt, dying... of seeing someone's head explode in front of him.
Snape moved first, walking past Harry, glowering. Harry turned his head to watch him go, only then realizing that Dumbledore was still standing in the hall.
"Tonks told me what occurred," Dumbledore said quietly.
Harry blinked. "Where is she?"
"She has gone to make a fire-call," Dumbledore said.
"Right," Harry muttered. Not really wanting to hear any of Dumbledore's reassurances, Harry climbed up the stairs and headed toward Gryffindor tower.
He'd only been gone for a few hours, but everything felt wrong, like decades had passed since he walked down these corridors. Hints of magic were everywhere, and it was all a giant lie.
Magic's not fun, it hurts, Harry thought, ignoring the looks from a group of passing girls. It's fucking hard and painful, and it's never really enough.
He rubbed his injured palm. How had he been hurt? How had the dream, or whatever it was, hurt him physically? It wasn't possible. He hadn't gone anywhere; Ron would have said something.
But my magic, me and Anita, we stopped that man.
But how?
A hush swept over the Gryffindor common room as Harry stepped inside. Ron jumped up and dashed over as Harry walked resolutely to the dorm stairs. "Harry, what's going on?" Ron demanded. Harry ignored him and continued up the steps. Ron trailed along after him. "Harry?"
Neville and Dean were in their dorm room when Harry stormed through the door. Harry ignored them too, and went over to his still-open trunk. He dropped his Invisibility cloak into it, then emptied his pockets, letting the loose pound notes flutter down like snowflakes on top of his passport.
"Harry?" Ron said again. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "Can you go away?"
"Dumbledore said you'd gone, but he wouldn't tell us why!" Ron said.
"Maybe because it's not any of your business," Harry pointed out, dropping his broom into the trunk and kicking the lid closed. "Doesn't matter, right? It's only a dream."
"Hey, Neville, why don't we..." Dean said, standing up.
"Yeah, there's that thing," Neville added awkwardly, hurrying out of the room after Dean.
Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "What did you expect me to believe?" he demanded as Harry stepped out of his shoes.
"Nothing," Harry said. "Just nothing." He pulled back the covers on his bed and sat down. The blood was still on his bedspread, a large rust-coloured stain. "I'm going to sleep."
"Dinner's in half an hour," Ron said. "Then we've got Astronomy at midnight, you can't go to sleep now."
Harry burst out laughing. He knew the sound was wild and painful, but he didn't know how to stop. "Good one, Ron," he said when he could speak again. Ron was looking at him as if he'd gone mad, and Harry wondered if that wasn't it. "Astronomy. Right."
He pulled off his glasses and laid down, fully clothed. He turned onto his side, facing away from the door and from Ron.
"Harry..." Ron tried again. After a minute, when Harry didn't respond, Ron left, closing the dorm door behind him.
The sun was setting, casting a muted glow on the walls. Harry stared straight ahead, unable to close his eyes, but unable to focus on anything.
Anita's alive, and Nathaniel's alive, and Olaf's dead.
The images that his mind had been protecting him from all afternoon started to trickle back, in the stillness. The mess of... He took a deep breath, and wished he had more of that awful scotch to numb things.
The mess of Nathaniel's body.
Jason told me that they made him shift back and he'd be okay. Maybe.
He has to be okay.
And Olaf was dead. Harry had never seen what a bullet could do to a human body. He'd fired a gun, had seen Anita shoot, but never had he seen a bullet hit a human. Red blood, grey brains, yellow-white bone, exploding from a recognizable head to nothing but meat, after bullets hit Olaf's body.
I'm glad he's dead! Harry told himself, fingers digging into the mattress. If I'd have been there, I'd have killed him myself!
"But I was there," Harry whispered, feeling the pain in his hand again. I was there and all I did was stop him, not kill him, not hurt him. He was hurting my friends, going to kill Anita and Nathaniel, and all I did was make him stop moving. Edward shot Olaf dead.
I couldn't even help Anita the way she needed me.
A hard lump was forming in his chest, feeling like a tarry mass, threatening to grow and choke him with self-hatred and pain and rage. I couldn't help Anita and Nathaniel when they needed me.
Hardly able to breathe, Harry stared at the darkening wall for a very long time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The pain was a dull thing, fuzzy aching in my hand and my head and in my side, even with me lying flat on my back as I woke up. Opening my eyes didn't make the pain go away.
I blinked slowly, looking at the hospital ceiling. Everything was soft around the edges. The after-effects of drugs, probably.
Olaf hadn't used any drugs.
I took a deep breath, ignoring the shooting pain in my side. After Edward had burst into my house and blown Olaf's head off, I'd passed out. How I'd gotten to the hospital, I had no idea.
I was missing something. I thought hard, trying to think about what was missing. It wasn't something about me, it was--
Nathaniel.
I closed my eyes, prickles of tears under my eyelids. What happened to Nathaniel? Would Edward have helped him, called an ambulance? What could anyone do for Nathaniel?
A soft movement by my right side pulled me back. Slowly, I managed to turn my head to look, and what I saw stole my breath away.
Nathaniel, the way he was supposed to be, whole and unbloodied, was hunched over on the side of the bed, his head resting on the railing facing away from me. I stared at that auburn hair. Maybe it was a dream, a horrible dream I'd had...
No, that wasn't it. A dream wouldn't have given me all this pain; the blood wouldn't be so red in my memory. I could never image something so monstrous happening to Nathaniel in a dream.
I tried to move. My right hand twitched, sending sharp pains up my arm. My legs moved no problem, but when I tried to clench my left hand, the one I'd lifted up the nail to try and stop Olaf, I couldn't feel a thing below my elbow. I looked over, and all I saw was blanket covering my arm.
A tiny sound escaped my mouth. At the noise, Nathaniel stirred. I froze, watching as he sat up, then slowly lifted his head to look at me.
He was perfect. His skin was white as a sheet, dark circles under his eyes, and he looked like crap, but I'd never seen anything so perfect in my life.
"Anita?" he whispered, pushing one hand through his hair, which now only reached down to below his ears. His pain-filled violet eyes eased when he saw me awake. "Anita."
I tried to grab his hand, but my arm was strapped to an IV board. Nathaniel curled his fingers around mine, his other hand, the one I'd seen in that box, clenched into a tight fist on his lap. "Hi," I said roughly.
Nathaniel bent down and rested his forehead against a patch of bare skin on my arm. "Oh, thank God," he said, squeezing my fingers. "Thank God."
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I opened the marks between us and felt Nathaniel's emotions wash over me, so near, so precious. I also felt Jean-Claude and Richard and Damian, their mingling relief as they touched my mind in turn.
"How?" I asked, trying to sit up.
Nathaniel kissed my arm, then untangled his hand from my grip to push the little button on the side of the bed to lift my upper body. "Do you remember how you made Gregory shift into his wereleopard form to heal him?" he asked unsteadily.
I gave him a tiny nod.
"Micah said that Richard got into your mind and made you pull me across."
I blinked up at him. "But I was unconscious."
Nathaniel smiled a tiny, sad smile. "You were in and out of it. Richard wouldn't let you pass out totally until after I... well, Yeah."
Now I was frowning. "But I couldn't hear any of you guys, not in my head, once I got in the house." I swallowed a few times, my mouth dry. "How..."
"Edward snapped the magic bone."
"Edward?" I looked around the room, and was vaguely surprised when I didn't see him leaning up against a wall somewhere. "He... he shot Olaf."
Nathaniel ducked his head, the loose strands of his hair falling to hide his face. "I guess."
I closed my eyes. Olaf was dead. Nathaniel was alive, although weak as hell, I could feel that. I was going to live.
I tried once again to move my left hand, but nothing responded. The rising panic wasn't helping.
"What?" Nathaniel asked, turning his head. "You're freaking out. What's wrong?" He looked scared.
I took a deep breath. I was alive. Nathaniel was alive. I could deal with this. "Did they have to--" My voice cracked, and I had to start again. "Did they have to cut off my hand?"
Nathaniel's eyes grew huge in his pale face. "No, no," he said in a rush, leaning over the bed to pull back the covers. I could see a vaguely arm-shaped lump, wrapped in layers of bandages. "The nail went though a bone and stuff, but after surgery you started twitching. They think you have nerve damage, and they gave you medicine to calm the twitching, making your arm numb."
I let out a shaky breath. "I didn't lose my hand."
Nathaniel shook his head hard, hair flying. "You didn't lose your hand."
"And I didn't lose you."
He put a finger over my lips, shushing me. "Never."
The next moment, the heartbroken expression on Nathaniel's face was wiped away, and he was reaching for something beside my pillow that I couldn't see. His panic slid over me in a wave, making me twist my head toward the opening door.
When I saw Edward standing there, I wasn't all that reassured.
Edward only had eyes for Nathaniel. "Do you really think that you can stop me before I shoot you?" he said, letting the door swing closed behind him.
"No, but I can slow you down long enough for Anita to stop you," Nathaniel said quickly.
"Stop it, both of you!" I exclaimed. "No killing!" I sent reassuring thoughts to Nathaniel while I glared at Edward. "You almost didn't show up in time today. Were you waiting to make a grand entrance?"
He gave me cool eyes, nothing human looking back at me. "No."
"Then what happened?" I demanded. I felt Nathaniel's fingers slide back into mine. In spite of the pain, I held onto him as tight as I could.
Edward leaned against the wall, perfectly poised. There was a tightness around his mouth, however, that told me that he wasn't as calm as he was pretending. "I almost wasn't there at all."
"What are you talking about? Weren't you tracking Olaf?"
Edward shook his head once. No. "I got a phone call from your vampire boyfriend for help."
"Wait, Jean-Claude?" I said. "Why did he call you? Did he know you were in town?"
"No. I suspect that he was running out of options," Edward said. "I got here yesterday. Did you see the magic bone Olaf was using?"
It wasn't like Edward to jump around like this. I nodded. "It was a voodoo fetish, I've seen something sort of similar before, but had no idea what it was for." I coughed a little, wishing I had some water.
"There were a bunch around the house," Edward explained. "Apparently they were supposed to drain your power."
"Drain-- How do you know this?"
Nathaniel leaned over to the floor. "John Burke and Larry were at the house this afternoon, Micah said. They found it," he said, sitting up with a bottle of water in his hand.
"But how did it affect me?"
Nathaniel put the bottle between his knees and unscrewed it one-handed, his other hand still clenched in a fist. "There was a strand of your hair on it." He held the bottle to my lips, and I had no choice but to drink.
"Olaf doesn't use magic," I said when I was done. "Right?"
Edward was looking more and more unhappy. "It was a change in his pattern, yes. But he'd never targeted a victim who used magic before."
I just stared. None of this made any sense. "What does this have to do with why you were in town?"
Edward paced across the room, as if he was bored. "I heard about a voodoo priest being killed in Mississippi. It was the last place anyone had seen Olaf, and the coincidence...."
"Not a coincidence." I wanted to close my eyes and not deal with this. I could feel Nathaniel's exhaustion like a living thing, and the fuzzy edge around my own pain was beginning to sharpen as the drugs wore off.
"No."
"What about the rest? What about Tony?"
"Your bodyguard?" Edward leaned against the windowsill, staring out at the night. "Funny thing, that. According to Rafael, his stuff is gone and his bank account is substantially bigger."
"Rafael told you that?" I demanded, incredulous.
"No, he told Jean-Claude. I tapped the Circus's phone yesterday." Edward turned around. "Tony arranged for your next bodyguard to be a few hours late."
"Rafael's really..." Nathaniel shuddered. "I've never seen him like this. Ever."
"There's also the matter of what happened to him," Edward said, looking at Nathaniel.
"He's got a name," I said angrily, pain colouring my words. "He's Nathaniel and he almost died, so stop acting like that!"
Edward was unperturbed. "There was a high-powered tranquilizer gun, with several shot of a lycanthrope sedative, in the house. The drug is so new it's not even on the market, I've only ever seen the military use it."
"Then how do you know about it?" I demanded.
"I've used it a couple of times," Edward said. "It takes a very long time to be metabolized. Olaf knew who he was going to be taking down."
Nathaniel stroked his fingers up and down my arm, seeking comfort. "The bell rang, and I thought Micah forgot his key," he said in a whisper.
"Olaf planned this very carefully," Edward said before I could say anything to Nathaniel. "There was only one thing that wasn't according to his plan."
"What?" I asked.
"Damian," Nathaniel answered. "The police told Jean-Claude there was a box of, um, stuff at the basement steps. They think he was going to do things to Damian."
A wave of nausea swept over me, and I thought desperately about something else, anything else. Not what that psychopath would have done to Damian while Damian was dead to the world.
"That wasn't what I meant." Edward stopped at the end of the bed. "I'm talking about whatever magic you called up."
"What magic?" I asked. There was something in my head. Something about...
Oh God. Harry. I'd seen Harry, clear as day, that's how Olaf was stopped. Harry had been there and grabbed my hand and made Olaf stop in his tracks with a spell.
"The fuzzy dark shape by your head," Edward said. "You know me, Anita. I'm not magical, and even I saw something. Olaf was leaning over you, going to stab you again, but he was just frozen when I came through that door. Nothing freezes a man like Olaf, not like that."
Heart fluttering, I made eye contact with Edward. "That wasn't my magic," I said.
Edward narrowed his eyes. "But there was magic."
"I couldn't use my magic, remember? Magic bone?"
Edward shook his head. "You can tell me tomorrow," he said as he walked to the door. "I've got to go check a trap."
"What?"
"A rat trap."
"Edward, Rafael's going to find Tony before you are."
"We'll see." With that cryptic shot, Edward left.
Nathaniel let out a shaky breath. "Was there magic?" he asked.
I nodded, my head beginning to pound. "Yeah. Harry... I don't know how, but Harry was there." I had to take a deep breath. "He grabbed my hand and he used his magic to stop Olaf."
"But Harry's in Scotland. How could he help you?"
I turned my head to stare into Nathaniel's eyes. "I don't know."
He ducked his head to look at his hands in his lap. Slowly, he uncurled his clenched fist and stared at it as if he'd never seen it before. "Jean-Claude and Richard and Micah are all talking to the doctor," he said in a tired voice. "Micah wanted me to stay at the shifter hospital, where they took me after--" He swallowed and made himself continue. "But when I woke up I came here, to you."
"Nathaniel..."
"Richard and Micah got there just before the police," Nathaniel interrupted, talking very fast. "That's what Micah said. Then Richard came here with you and Micah drove me to the shifter hospital and Jean-Claude came when it got dark. Damian's still feeding."
"Nathaniel--" I tried again.
"Why didn't you know something was wrong?"
I forgot what I was trying to say. "What?"
Nathaniel twisted his fingers tightly. "Why did you come in the house? Didn't you know something was wrong?"
"Nathaniel, I--"
"I couldn't hear you through the marks, why didn't you know you couldn't hear me and that something was wrong?" Nathaniel asked.
His demand hit me like a kick in the gut. I could only lie there, air knocked out of my lungs, as the door pushed open again and Micah, Richard and Jean-Claude entered the room.
Micah was the first one to me, kissing the top of my head. "Hi," he whispered, touching my cheek. It took me a minute to look at him, and what he saw on my face made his smile falter. He looked over at Nathaniel, who had turned away. "What's going on?"
"We saw Edward leave," Richard said, frowning. He was dressed in a blood -spattered dress shirt and slacks, school stuff. He must have been on his way to school when I started screaming this morning. "Was it him?"
"No," I whispered.
Jean-Claude sat on the edge of the bed and touched my face. "Ma petite," he said in a low voice. The words held all the thing he couldn't say, and I blinked back the tears in my eyes. "It is good to see you awake."
"Yeah."
Micah rounded the bed and tried to put his hand on Nathaniel's back, but the younger wereleopard shrugged it off and stood up shakily, walking over to the window.
I turned my head away.
Jean-Claude stroked my cheek and throat, as if he had seen nothing out of the ordinary. "The doctor will be along shortly, ma petite, to tell you what is happening. He said you will be fine."
"The police wanted to talk to you, but they'll come tomorrow," Richard said.
I glanced at him. "Police?"
"A man's head was blown off in your living room, ma petite," Jean-Claude said. "The police saw what happened to Nathaniel and yourself, which is why Edward is walking around free. They still wish to talk to you about it."
I tried to care, but the thin tendrils of Nathaniel's blame were stopping anything from sinking in.
"I can take you home tomorrow," Micah said. "Well, not home, we're still cleaning that up..." He cast a sideways glance at Nathaniel, who hadn't moved from the window. "But the Circus, for a little while."
The pain and the blame and the exhaustion were dragging at me, making it hard for me to pay attention. Jean-Claude leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, his breath cool on my skin. "Ma petite, I will leave you to get some rest. If you need anything, just call."
I blinked slowly. "Okay."
Richard came around the side of the bed and touched my cheek. "I'll go too, I've got stuff to do."
"Sure," I whispered. "Thanks." I had to stop and think about the words. "For Nathaniel."
"You're welcome," he said, giving one of those smiles I'd fallen in love with.
"Nathaniel, I'll take you--" Micah began to say.
"No, I'm staying here," Nathaniel said quickly, not turning around.
"Nathaniel--"
"No." Nathaniel pivoted, almost falling over, but with more power in him than I'd ever seen. "I'm staying with Anita."
Micah looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay." He looked down at me. "I'm going to go get some food, then I'll be back up here. Rafael's put two bodyguards on your door."
"Doesn't matter any more," I said drowsily, sleep dulling the pain I was feeling. "Don't know if I can stay up for the doctor."
"It'll be okay," Micah said.
I closed my eyes, just for a moment, and whispered, "Love you guys."
The bed dipped slightly as I heard soft male voices leaving, and the sound of the door shutting. I smelled Nathaniel's hair, warm and vanilla. Like the hair that had been in that box, this morning.
Why hadn't I known something was wrong before I walked up those steps?
Tears began to slide down my cheeks, as Nathaniel lifted my hand onto my stomach and curled up along my side. He pressed his cheek against mine, my tears wetting both our faces.
"I'm sorry," Nathaniel whispered, his breath hot against my neck. "I'm sorry."
I tried to say something, but I was just so tired.
"Harry called Jason, this afternoon," Nathaniel continued. "Harry told him that I had to get better, that we had stuff to do. How did Harry know? Was he really there?"
"I don't know. I saw him, but how could he have been?"
"I'm sorry," Nathaniel whispered again, putting his head on my shoulder. He was shaking, a fine trembling in his muscles. My mind couldn't even begin to grasp what Olaf had done to him before I'd gotten there this morning.
The door opened, too early to be Micah, and I opened my eyes. A nurse stood by the IV, a needle in her hand. "Just something for the pain," she said, eyes flicking to Nathaniel pressed up against me.
The rush of the morphine took away all the lingering pains, making me gasp. After the nurse had gone and I was drifting, Nathaniel raised his head and asked, "Was that morphine?"
I nodded.
"I remember how it feels," Nathaniel said, dropped his head back down. "It doesn't dull the pain for me anymore."
I wanted to say something, but knowing Nathaniel was alive and Olaf was dead seemed like enough right now, and I passed out again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When the sun rose the next morning, Harry was sitting on Hogwarts' front steps. It was cold, and he was wrapped up in his grey cloak as he stared out at the misty forest.
Eventually, a large shape stumbled out of the distant hut, and started shambling in the direction of the school. Harry watched as Hagrid grew closer.
Harry had woken up hours before sunrise. He'd gotten dressed and pulled on his grey cloak, leaving the Invisibility cloak in his trunk, and wandered through the school blindly for a while. Maybe they'll catch me, and expel me, he'd thought, half-hopeful.
But no one had seen him, and no one bothered him. Now, he sat on the steps, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do.
Sitting here, not knowing if Nathaniel had survived the night, if the wereleopard had pulled Anita or Damian down into death... Harry shook his head, hunching down into his cloak. He had to believe they were all right. There was no other option.
They have to be alive.
Hagrid caught sight of Harry sitting, half-hidden, on the steps, and jerked back in surprise. "Harry! Yer out early!"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, not moving.
Hagrid settled down on the steps, eying Harry. "Dumbledore said you had a family emergency," he said gruffly.
"Yeah."
"Not them muggles, though. Everyone all right?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know, do I? Just been sitting here."
"I'm sure they're all righ'," Hagrid said with conviction.
A ruined body, all blood and meat and nothing left of Nathaniel.
Jason said Nathaniel was alive.
"Ron and Hermione came down yesterday," Hagrid continued. "They was worried about yuh."
Harry watched as a curl of mist snaked over Hagrid's hut, and disappeared into the morning sun. "Have you ever seen something bad, real bad?" he asked. "And you can't tell people because they won't understand?"
"Well... Harry..."
"I can't tell them what happened, they won't get it!" Harry tried to imagine explaining what had happened to Anita and Nathaniel to Hermione, and he felt a little ill, and very old. "I wouldn't know where to start."
Hagrid shrugged. "They're yer friends, Harry. They may not understand, but they do care."
Harry's stomach twisted over. "If they care or not isn't going to save Nathaniel," he said softly.
They lapsed into silence, and the minutes stretched out. After what felt like forever, Hagrid cleared his throat and pointed at the sky. "Mite bit early for an owl," he said.
Harry looked up, and his heart dropped. The owl wasn't heading for Dumbledore's office; it was heading straight for Harry.
The majestic bird swooped down and ruffled its wings back before holding out a thin roll of parchment to Harry, who just stared. Hagrid ended up having to take the roll from the bird. "Early for a letter," Hagrid said with false cheer.
Harry couldn't move his hand to take the letter.
"Do you want me to read it?" Hagrid asked after a minute. Mouth dry, Harry shook his head, and reached out to grasp the tiny roll of parchment. He smoothed out the roll, crimped a little from the owl's grasp, and read the spiky handwriting.
Harry Potter,
My daughter Nymphadora informed me yesterday that you were expecting a call due to a family emergency in the United States. I received a telephone call from a man named Jason Schuler at approximately five this morning, with the following message:
Anita's surgery was fine, she should have full use of her hands in a couple of weeks. Nathaniel is going to be perfectly fine. He got up and walked out of the hospital last night, right to Anita's side. They'll recover one hundred percent in a while.
Thank you for whatever you did, because otherwise things would have gone the other way.
Ted Tonks.
Harry stared at the paper. He'd read the words, but they hadn't made any sense.
Nathaniel was going to be okay. He was alive and he was going to be okay. Anita was going to be okay.
A sob tore its way out of Harry's throat, then another. The parchment fluttered to the ground as he doubled over, burying his head against his knees, ragged sobs making his shoulders shake as he finally let out the bottled-up pain and terror and fear of losing his new family.
... to be continued