ATtD Ch43 pt2
“Bloody hell, who is it?” Christien shuddered, breaking off into a run as the screams that had been echoing in the hall grew louder and more frantic. From what he could hear, someone was in the midst of a very painful death. He slid too quickly past a corner and nearly knocked into the opposite wall in the narrow walkways of the servant corridors, his robe floating out behind him before wrapping around his legs. Two hops and his legs were free to run the rest of the way. He crouched, using his momentum to slide through a low doorway and skid unsteadily to a halt, arms flailing as he broke into the larger, more traveled corridors of White Towers and just missed knocking into two startled bodies reaching for the stable door.
“Saskia, Jacques, excuse my rudeness, but get the hell out of my way!” Christien cursed, whirling in mock ballerina fashion to keep his momentum from barreling the two over. He would have been prouder of his quick reflexes if the end of the maneuver didn’t land him face first into the solid door. “Oh hell…” He groaned, cracking his nose back in place while taking a step back and yanking the door open.
He didn’t know what he had expected to find. The most horrifying possibility was that someone had slain the Heir. The more sensible possibility was that the Gryphons had gotten a hold of some curious fool. Clive in a pool of blood, screaming at the top of his lungs like a mad man, while Lesley cradled his head and Harry looked on disinterested, had not crossed his mind.
“What’s happened here?” Christien asked, taking in the scene and dismissing all thought as he looked around the room for signs of danger. What he wanted to ask was who was it that he had to kill, but even in his agitated state he knew it probably wouldn’t sound courteous.
“Calm yourself, Christien.” Harry said, sounding utterly tired. “The only culprit is my temporary lose of wits and Clive’s inability to control himself. Could you kindly let Mr. Tudor and Ms. Hyte in, and close off the area from prying eyes? I’m afraid this will take some time, as with all birthings.” Yawning, Harry settled back against a pile of hay with a bone weary sigh.
Christien blinked at the odd words but did as he was told without question. He was good at forcing his thoughts aside and moving into action in times of urgency; it came natural to him, and he spent his worried energy setting up status and security wards to keep people from stumbling near.
“You asked to see us, Sire?” Saskia Hyte, a tall, slender brunette with soul felt brown eyes that were at odds with her cold expression, intentionally looked away from Clive’s shaking form and wrapped her silky sleep robe closer to her body.
“Yes, I did.” Harry waited for Jacques to turn his attention from the mess on the floor long enough to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry to have woken you both so early, especially from after such a long evening. Unfortunately, Clive needs your assistance and you two are the only ones with the right expertise for this situation.”
“I’m afraid you think too highly of me, Sire. I know very little beyond household healing charms.” Saskia broke in hesitantly. “I am more than willing to help but I don’t see how much use I can be.”
“I did not ask you here for healing, Ms. Hyte.” Harry amended with a smile that never reached his eyes. “That is why I asked for Mr. Tudor. You, Saskia, are here to ensure that Clive does not die from energy loss. You are familiar with transfusions, correct?”
Startled, Saskia gave a small nod, glancing over to where Clive gave a horrendous scream and fought against Lesley’s calming hands. “My Clan is well versed with all types of transfusions.”
Jacques, long and tanned with wild white hair and even wilder orange eyes, gave Harry a pointed stare. “Well, what ails him? I can’t heal what I don’t know, boy.”
“I don’t expect you to heal him, sir. My only hope is that you can keep him alive, possibly stable if all goes well.” Harry stretched his legs out and considered the best way to explain the situation. It was not easy; the words were there but to speak them aloud admitted a death he could very well have caused with his carelessness. “I-he, he’s in the middle of a process that once started cannot be undone. He will either be strong enough to live or… well, not.”
“What can I do for him?” Jacques asked brusquely, all sharp business. The manner was a relief to the worried expressions on the other faces, and Harry found focus in it.
“Treat the symptoms. Try to slow his bleeding and keep him from injuring himself. I’m afraid magic will be dangerous but potions and physical remedies will work fine. Ms. Hyte will have to tie her energy to him to ensure he has enough power to keep going. He was tied to me but I’m too weak to continue. I… I’m afraid it doesn’t look hopeful. Survival in this situation, especially when not prepared and with no ritual, is practically nil. There is nothing I can do for him. I’ve exhausted my energy trying…” He trailed off, eyes unfocused. “If he lives past transformation he will need some sort of kin-no, he has no direct kin… Uh, Clan, his blood, he should be around one of them to help ease him into his new awareness. Anyone will do, really, but blood is always best to cling to… If he survives.”
Eyes narrowed in thought, the healer summoned up his bag from thin air and began rooting through it. “What you’re speaking of… it’s some form of overdue exritus?”
“Something like that.” Harry admitted with a sigh. “Clive foolishly called out to me and I was too distracted by the blood to not answer. He made a choice and my power awoke Siren in his blood. It is too soon for him, and I am too weak right now to guide him.”
Jacques gave Harry a nod and began laying out bandages and salves while setting up status wards with his wand hand. “Saskia, prepare yourself. This amount of power will require a trance. Christien, if you could get around to some silencing charms…?” Summoning a short table by Clive’s form, the healer floated his chosen materials onto it and started the charms needed to sterilize his hands and the area. “Lesley, are you there for comfort or help? Either way, I’m not letting an extra set of hands go unused.”
Lesley continued to hold Clive as steady as possible, although his eyes now silently followed Christien and his bare chest gleaming beneath his robe around the room. “At least I can help in some way. I wanted to give him my energy but it’s hard to tell if it wouldn’t kill him. Siren and Solus Ta never saw eye to eye.”
“I won’t have that problem.” Saskia reassured quietly, sitting gracefully at Clive’s feet. Settling, she closed her eyes and began to breath deeply as she prepared herself. Jacques worked around the two of them, methodically stripping Clive and tackling the many wounds from where the body had tensed so greatly that the skin had split in long, deep gashes.
“His temperature suggests he should be dead.”
Harry sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Heat is normal; anything lower than a hundred degrees is a bad sign.”
“And his thrashings?”
Harry looked away. Even without his normal coordination, everyone could clearly see Clive was trying to kill himself. “He wasn’t ready.”
“…Well, he’s going to have to be.” Jacques rolled his sleeves up and got to work.
*******
By the time the sun had reached the zenith of the sparkling blue sky, Clive’s screams had quieted and he began to stabilize. A collective sigh went through the castle but, even as Harry and Jacques sent their helpful assistance back to bed and much needed rest, the two of them remained, knowing Clive’s health still wasn’t assured. Clive had made it through the most difficult part but there was the high possibility he would never recover. Even if his body became strong, his mind may never find the capabilities to use it, he could even fall into a permanent coma.
Stretching out and taking up his lunch, Jacques bounced ideas off Harry, hoping to get a better understanding of the situation now that things had calmed. It was obvious with Clive’s painful, physical transformation that the man had acquired a Soul Form, no matter the late age and questionable power Clive held. “If you don’t mind me asking, how is he alive right now?” For all the hours he had worked to save the man, not once did Jacques feel as if anything he had done had truly helped Clive.
“It’s hard to say. To be honest, I don’t really know how I made it.” Harry thought back to his exritus and the intense pain he had lived through. “It does something to the mind. I think someone who has never experienced pain would not survive… that’s all it is, surviving. It’s not strength or rising above it all, but just pure stubbornness. As long as you know you can live through it, it’s not as difficult as believing through the whole ordeal that death is all that can await after so much pain.”
Thoughtfully rumbling to himself, Jacques tilted his head and examined his sandwich. “Why him? What would it take to be able to go through that and live… or was it you?” He folded his legs beneath him and straightened up, pushing his spectacles further back on his nose. “Clive is not what one would call powerful in the big sway of things. He is fit, yes, and athletic, a head for war but not the heart, his magic is above average but there are those here whose mere existence shames him in that department. What makes him capable of transforming into, well whatever he is now?”
“Blood for one, the gods are strong in him and… well, he asked.”
“And you answered.”
Harry shrugged unconcernedly. “I wasn’t paying attention. Grindelwald left the blood curse and the Heir-I, yeah I didn’t know what to quite expect. All of you have been crippled by it. You think you’re strong but before Grindelwald’s curse there was significant loss in power to all the descendants of the gods and before that, when he-I had been on Earth the wizarding community thrived with power. The other mind in here despairs at the sight even as it realizes that all things must pass. It’s a strange thing. Those with the highest natural power were affected the most, to the point that they couldn’t transform and those weaker than them appeared stronger.”
“But a few, the strongest of the blood were able to overcome the curse. Longbottom, Black, Zabini, Riddle…” Draco… but no thinking of that. “I’m waiting for two others from Gryffindor and Slytherin’s blood but no doubt there will be more.” The other two Candidates would be awakening soon, possibly even already awake and searching for him. He scuffed his heel into the hay on the floor, momentarily missing his old sneakers. He had thrown on the boots Draco had loaned him and scuffing just wasn’t available without the consequence of being yelled at later. He gave the boots a particularly hard scrape on the floor, watching the smooth surface of leather dull. He deserved to be yelled at.
“…So, to answer your question, with Grindelwald’s death, Clive and all the gods’ lines were crippled with the wizard’s final curse. I am a natural counter to that curse and if someone entreats me the curse will be removed and nature will take its course.” He waved at Clive’s prone form.
“This is his true form?”
“Yes, the same as if he had lived in a time without the curse… for the most part.” Jacque’s raised a brow, silently asking for an explanation, but Harry was not in the mood to speak of the specifics of his guilt in the situation. Clive hadn’t asked for the curse to be removed, his entreaty had been less specific and far deeper. He should have known, with the man’s loss of family-Hell, they had been talking about him being the last descendent of his noble clan mere moments before and he hadn’t suspected a bloody fucking thing! The stupid fool!
“And if I were to ask…?”
Harry snapped his head up, instinctively scrunching away. “Another time, Jacques, when I am strong and both of us prepared. The proper ritual will ensure your survival compared to this horror of a morning. It will also stop unforeseen problems that I’m quite sure Clive is riddled with.”
“I wasn’t asking, mind, just curious.” Jacques amended quickly at Harry’s worried expression.
Yeah, right, curious if it’s worth trying or not. Harry gave the man an empty smile. He was too tired to deal with all this. And hungry, hell he was hungry. He had forgotten to ask Lesley for food and blood could only take the edge off for so long. “It would give you an increase in power, a transformation obviously, you nearly made it on your own as it is. If you wish for it I will grant it to you a month from today as a thank you for your help with Clive. That gives you time to dwell it over.”
And keeps you from deciding to join the lot that want to kill me as well, Harry grumbled internally, his stomach rumbling something just as disagreeable. He really was in a pisser of a mood going on twenty-four hours now. Grabbing his head to ease some of the ache, he slumped down and watched Clive’s chest rise and fall. Fuck, five more days left and he had already fucked it all up. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
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“Saskia, Jacques, excuse my rudeness, but get the hell out of my way!” Christien cursed, whirling in mock ballerina fashion to keep his momentum from barreling the two over. He would have been prouder of his quick reflexes if the end of the maneuver didn’t land him face first into the solid door. “Oh hell…” He groaned, cracking his nose back in place while taking a step back and yanking the door open.
He didn’t know what he had expected to find. The most horrifying possibility was that someone had slain the Heir. The more sensible possibility was that the Gryphons had gotten a hold of some curious fool. Clive in a pool of blood, screaming at the top of his lungs like a mad man, while Lesley cradled his head and Harry looked on disinterested, had not crossed his mind.
“What’s happened here?” Christien asked, taking in the scene and dismissing all thought as he looked around the room for signs of danger. What he wanted to ask was who was it that he had to kill, but even in his agitated state he knew it probably wouldn’t sound courteous.
“Calm yourself, Christien.” Harry said, sounding utterly tired. “The only culprit is my temporary lose of wits and Clive’s inability to control himself. Could you kindly let Mr. Tudor and Ms. Hyte in, and close off the area from prying eyes? I’m afraid this will take some time, as with all birthings.” Yawning, Harry settled back against a pile of hay with a bone weary sigh.
Christien blinked at the odd words but did as he was told without question. He was good at forcing his thoughts aside and moving into action in times of urgency; it came natural to him, and he spent his worried energy setting up status and security wards to keep people from stumbling near.
“You asked to see us, Sire?” Saskia Hyte, a tall, slender brunette with soul felt brown eyes that were at odds with her cold expression, intentionally looked away from Clive’s shaking form and wrapped her silky sleep robe closer to her body.
“Yes, I did.” Harry waited for Jacques to turn his attention from the mess on the floor long enough to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry to have woken you both so early, especially from after such a long evening. Unfortunately, Clive needs your assistance and you two are the only ones with the right expertise for this situation.”
“I’m afraid you think too highly of me, Sire. I know very little beyond household healing charms.” Saskia broke in hesitantly. “I am more than willing to help but I don’t see how much use I can be.”
“I did not ask you here for healing, Ms. Hyte.” Harry amended with a smile that never reached his eyes. “That is why I asked for Mr. Tudor. You, Saskia, are here to ensure that Clive does not die from energy loss. You are familiar with transfusions, correct?”
Startled, Saskia gave a small nod, glancing over to where Clive gave a horrendous scream and fought against Lesley’s calming hands. “My Clan is well versed with all types of transfusions.”
Jacques, long and tanned with wild white hair and even wilder orange eyes, gave Harry a pointed stare. “Well, what ails him? I can’t heal what I don’t know, boy.”
“I don’t expect you to heal him, sir. My only hope is that you can keep him alive, possibly stable if all goes well.” Harry stretched his legs out and considered the best way to explain the situation. It was not easy; the words were there but to speak them aloud admitted a death he could very well have caused with his carelessness. “I-he, he’s in the middle of a process that once started cannot be undone. He will either be strong enough to live or… well, not.”
“What can I do for him?” Jacques asked brusquely, all sharp business. The manner was a relief to the worried expressions on the other faces, and Harry found focus in it.
“Treat the symptoms. Try to slow his bleeding and keep him from injuring himself. I’m afraid magic will be dangerous but potions and physical remedies will work fine. Ms. Hyte will have to tie her energy to him to ensure he has enough power to keep going. He was tied to me but I’m too weak to continue. I… I’m afraid it doesn’t look hopeful. Survival in this situation, especially when not prepared and with no ritual, is practically nil. There is nothing I can do for him. I’ve exhausted my energy trying…” He trailed off, eyes unfocused. “If he lives past transformation he will need some sort of kin-no, he has no direct kin… Uh, Clan, his blood, he should be around one of them to help ease him into his new awareness. Anyone will do, really, but blood is always best to cling to… If he survives.”
Eyes narrowed in thought, the healer summoned up his bag from thin air and began rooting through it. “What you’re speaking of… it’s some form of overdue exritus?”
“Something like that.” Harry admitted with a sigh. “Clive foolishly called out to me and I was too distracted by the blood to not answer. He made a choice and my power awoke Siren in his blood. It is too soon for him, and I am too weak right now to guide him.”
Jacques gave Harry a nod and began laying out bandages and salves while setting up status wards with his wand hand. “Saskia, prepare yourself. This amount of power will require a trance. Christien, if you could get around to some silencing charms…?” Summoning a short table by Clive’s form, the healer floated his chosen materials onto it and started the charms needed to sterilize his hands and the area. “Lesley, are you there for comfort or help? Either way, I’m not letting an extra set of hands go unused.”
Lesley continued to hold Clive as steady as possible, although his eyes now silently followed Christien and his bare chest gleaming beneath his robe around the room. “At least I can help in some way. I wanted to give him my energy but it’s hard to tell if it wouldn’t kill him. Siren and Solus Ta never saw eye to eye.”
“I won’t have that problem.” Saskia reassured quietly, sitting gracefully at Clive’s feet. Settling, she closed her eyes and began to breath deeply as she prepared herself. Jacques worked around the two of them, methodically stripping Clive and tackling the many wounds from where the body had tensed so greatly that the skin had split in long, deep gashes.
“His temperature suggests he should be dead.”
Harry sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Heat is normal; anything lower than a hundred degrees is a bad sign.”
“And his thrashings?”
Harry looked away. Even without his normal coordination, everyone could clearly see Clive was trying to kill himself. “He wasn’t ready.”
“…Well, he’s going to have to be.” Jacques rolled his sleeves up and got to work.
*******
By the time the sun had reached the zenith of the sparkling blue sky, Clive’s screams had quieted and he began to stabilize. A collective sigh went through the castle but, even as Harry and Jacques sent their helpful assistance back to bed and much needed rest, the two of them remained, knowing Clive’s health still wasn’t assured. Clive had made it through the most difficult part but there was the high possibility he would never recover. Even if his body became strong, his mind may never find the capabilities to use it, he could even fall into a permanent coma.
Stretching out and taking up his lunch, Jacques bounced ideas off Harry, hoping to get a better understanding of the situation now that things had calmed. It was obvious with Clive’s painful, physical transformation that the man had acquired a Soul Form, no matter the late age and questionable power Clive held. “If you don’t mind me asking, how is he alive right now?” For all the hours he had worked to save the man, not once did Jacques feel as if anything he had done had truly helped Clive.
“It’s hard to say. To be honest, I don’t really know how I made it.” Harry thought back to his exritus and the intense pain he had lived through. “It does something to the mind. I think someone who has never experienced pain would not survive… that’s all it is, surviving. It’s not strength or rising above it all, but just pure stubbornness. As long as you know you can live through it, it’s not as difficult as believing through the whole ordeal that death is all that can await after so much pain.”
Thoughtfully rumbling to himself, Jacques tilted his head and examined his sandwich. “Why him? What would it take to be able to go through that and live… or was it you?” He folded his legs beneath him and straightened up, pushing his spectacles further back on his nose. “Clive is not what one would call powerful in the big sway of things. He is fit, yes, and athletic, a head for war but not the heart, his magic is above average but there are those here whose mere existence shames him in that department. What makes him capable of transforming into, well whatever he is now?”
“Blood for one, the gods are strong in him and… well, he asked.”
“And you answered.”
Harry shrugged unconcernedly. “I wasn’t paying attention. Grindelwald left the blood curse and the Heir-I, yeah I didn’t know what to quite expect. All of you have been crippled by it. You think you’re strong but before Grindelwald’s curse there was significant loss in power to all the descendants of the gods and before that, when he-I had been on Earth the wizarding community thrived with power. The other mind in here despairs at the sight even as it realizes that all things must pass. It’s a strange thing. Those with the highest natural power were affected the most, to the point that they couldn’t transform and those weaker than them appeared stronger.”
“But a few, the strongest of the blood were able to overcome the curse. Longbottom, Black, Zabini, Riddle…” Draco… but no thinking of that. “I’m waiting for two others from Gryffindor and Slytherin’s blood but no doubt there will be more.” The other two Candidates would be awakening soon, possibly even already awake and searching for him. He scuffed his heel into the hay on the floor, momentarily missing his old sneakers. He had thrown on the boots Draco had loaned him and scuffing just wasn’t available without the consequence of being yelled at later. He gave the boots a particularly hard scrape on the floor, watching the smooth surface of leather dull. He deserved to be yelled at.
“…So, to answer your question, with Grindelwald’s death, Clive and all the gods’ lines were crippled with the wizard’s final curse. I am a natural counter to that curse and if someone entreats me the curse will be removed and nature will take its course.” He waved at Clive’s prone form.
“This is his true form?”
“Yes, the same as if he had lived in a time without the curse… for the most part.” Jacque’s raised a brow, silently asking for an explanation, but Harry was not in the mood to speak of the specifics of his guilt in the situation. Clive hadn’t asked for the curse to be removed, his entreaty had been less specific and far deeper. He should have known, with the man’s loss of family-Hell, they had been talking about him being the last descendent of his noble clan mere moments before and he hadn’t suspected a bloody fucking thing! The stupid fool!
“And if I were to ask…?”
Harry snapped his head up, instinctively scrunching away. “Another time, Jacques, when I am strong and both of us prepared. The proper ritual will ensure your survival compared to this horror of a morning. It will also stop unforeseen problems that I’m quite sure Clive is riddled with.”
“I wasn’t asking, mind, just curious.” Jacques amended quickly at Harry’s worried expression.
Yeah, right, curious if it’s worth trying or not. Harry gave the man an empty smile. He was too tired to deal with all this. And hungry, hell he was hungry. He had forgotten to ask Lesley for food and blood could only take the edge off for so long. “It would give you an increase in power, a transformation obviously, you nearly made it on your own as it is. If you wish for it I will grant it to you a month from today as a thank you for your help with Clive. That gives you time to dwell it over.”
And keeps you from deciding to join the lot that want to kill me as well, Harry grumbled internally, his stomach rumbling something just as disagreeable. He really was in a pisser of a mood going on twenty-four hours now. Grabbing his head to ease some of the ache, he slumped down and watched Clive’s chest rise and fall. Fuck, five more days left and he had already fucked it all up. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
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