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morethanalittleconfused · 3 years

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I accidentally wrote a 5k fanfic about incidents caused aboard the ghost by differences between species

I've been reading a lot of those old tumblr posts that are like “what if humans are actually just really, really hardy and alien species would be just completely blown away with the shit we put up with without a second thought” and it's got me thinking about the crew of the Ghost trying to get used to each other at first with three humans that are all just absolutely fucking insane, even more so than even your average human.

Rebels spoilers ahead, as well as a trigger warning for blood, vomit and general injuries

It starts with Hera and Kanan. It’s just the two of them, aboard the Ghost, and it takes some getting used to.

At first Hera is shocked by the way Kanan's body seemingly has no limits. He has never once complained about the temperature of the ghost, even when they were running low on power and Hera could feel her limbs start to get sluggish from the cold. Two weeks later he somehow managed to find his way back to the ghost after being in -2 degree Celsius weather for a half an hour with no coat on. When he walked back through the hatch with snow blowing in his loose hair and a red nose and said “it's cold as shit out there” after Hera had been panicking about losing him for the literal entire time, she had to practically scrape her jaw off of the floor. She would have been dead after a few minutes, and yet here he was, now steaming from a shower and shirtless, bitching about how the caf maker was broken.

As time went on, she learned his body did have some limits to the heat. At about 35 degrees he got irritable and short, but that was about when she started getting uncomfortably warm, too. But he would tolerate it. And more. He kept impressing her with the things he somehow managed to pull off, in conditions she would have thought would kill him. He could get knocked around far more than she thought he should be able to, and would haul himself back to the ship with a grin every time.

The way his body worked constantly surprised her. She noticed it first in how quickly he healed, and in how much he ate.

He could eat literally anything. Things she thought were poisonous for most species. He loved chocolate, and would easily eat ten times the amount that would send her to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. He could withstand a ridiculous amount of alcohol, and could drink unprocessed coffee with no problem by the cup. Caf didn't seem to really affect him because his body processed it so fast. And he ate so. Much. it was ridiculous. The good thing was it didn't really seem to matter what.

Hera didn't need much food, but it had to be good. It had to count. Too much filler and she would lose strength. Her body couldn't process a lot, and if what she got wasn't exactly what she needed, her health went downhill, quick.

Kanan was not the same. He could, and would, eat anything. He didn't have any noticeable preference for plants or meat, or the quality of the food. If he could get his hands on it, he would eat it. He would eat food out of the refrigerator she would have considered to be dangerous. He put appalling amounts of random, unrelated food in a pan, cooked it, and acted like that was an acceptable thing to do. Omelets? She hated the very idea but he seemed to think they were wonderful.

And yet, for all that, they had once been stranded for over a week with only enough rations for one, and Kanan had insisted that she take the vast majority of the ration bars. She pushed back, and he then presented her with the absolutely shocking fact that humans can survive for over a month with no food. She was absolutely flabbergasted, and he took advantage of her stunned silence to press another ration into her hand, smirk at her and say, “I can take it. Trust me.”

Another thing she noticed very quickly was how fast he healed.

He could be bleeding openly one minute, and the wound seemed to close itself the next. She knew human blood had clotting factors far beyond that of nearly any other being, but it was ridiculous how fast he sealed himself up. Further into their relationship she got to see this close up when she accidentally touched some of his congealed blood on the floor of the refresher after cleaning him up. She had had to turn away and take a few deep breaths at the slimy, gelatinous texture. He had gently huffed out a laugh.

“Kinda gross huh?”

“Yeah... it's… unique.”

“I've always been kind of fascinated by the way it congeals so quickly. Handy I guess.”

Out of sheer curiosity she had run the end of a pen through the small puddle and been horrified to see that it mostly stuck together.

“It just… does that? Inside you? And that doesn't cause problems?”

“It can. If it clots when it's not supposed to. But mostly it keeps me alive.”

And it did. And though she wouldn't say it to his face, his ability to pull through seemingly anything took just one more worry off her plate. His wounds would be almost completely closed in often under a week, where she would have been dealing with bandages and salves for a month. He almost never got infections, and could keep going with seemingly incapacitating injuries.

They had once narrowly escaped a fight with a gang of imps and made it back to the ghost with almost no problems. She had a sprained ankle, so he had supported her most of the way there, and they had patched up each other's scrapes. He had needed a bit of training so he didn't just slap a bandaid on what could have been a potentially life threatening injury for her, but he did alright. It was only later, when they were sitting in the cockpit, well into hyperspace, and he had coughed suddenly, when things went sideways. She turned to see blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth, and more on his hand when he pulled it away. They both looked at it for a moment, then Hera almost blacked out as a sudden wave of adrenaline washed over her.

“Kanan you're- are you- let me make the calc- are you dying?”

“What? Oh- no I had thought I just cracked a few of my ribs but it would appear I must have broken at least one of them.”

“BROKEN? Your bone? Like in half?”

“I- yeah?”

“Chopper we need to get to the nearest med center right now. Tell them were coming. I dont care if its a fucking imperial light cruiser”

“Wait no lets not be hasty-”

“HASTY? YOU BROKE YOUR BONES KANAN”

“Okay i know it looks bad but really i'm not going to keel over and die right now. Make sure it's a safe med center and cheap too. I can wait.”

“Kanan your bones are literally broken.”

“Yeah. It's happened before and it will happen again. I've broken my arm twice. I've broken one of the bones in my lower leg. A couple toes. At least one finger. And don't even get me started on my nose. It didn't always look like this.” At that he had huffed out a small laugh, but then winced and brought a hand to his lower chest. Almost as an afterthought, he reached down and pulled up the hem of his shirt. She had started to avert her eyes at the sliver of hip he showed, but as he pulled the shirt up higher and revealed more, she felt the breath taken out of her. His skin was mottled a whole host of awful colors, angry and puffy. He coughed that wet cough again and said, “Maybe I do need a med center after all”

She was incredibly relieved when they dropped out of hyperspace and into the welcoming arms of medicine. She was less happy when Kanan was returned to her, that night no less, with only bandages around his chest and a note to “take it easy for a while” she was appalled to say the least.

His ridiculously resilient body sometimes created just as many problems as it solved, though. He got into bar fights after downing enough alcohol to kill a bantha, and got the piss kicked out of him. He ran headfirst into danger with little consideration for life or limb. He was reckless, and incredibly hotheaded, and overall behaved like a clown. She had no idea how the Jedi accepted humans into their ranks, if Jedi he was. Restraint, my ass.

His recklessness applied to food as well. He didn't really seem to mind what he ate, content with the knowledge that if it didn’t work out, he could always regurgitate it back up. Twi’leks could not vomit, like many other species. It was yet another bizarre human trait. The ability to purge substances from your body without them having to pass through your entire digestive tract and cause more issues had always seemed like a neat trick to Hera. That is, of course, until she saw it in action.

She was roused one night by a strange noise coming from the refresher, and she had padded to the door, only to find it open. Blinking in the harsh light, she saw Kanan curled on the floor, wearing no shirt. His hair was loose and hanging around his face, and he was panting heavily. She only had time to say “Kanan, what-” before he coughed and vomited into the bowl.

Her immediate reaction ricocheted from “Oh my god he's dying” to “I’m actually going to die just having to witness this” to “Oh stars he is actually dying” so fast she could barely process it. She was immediately horrified but had no idea how to help him.

“Kanan are you- do you need a medic? How- chop- CHOPPER! How do I help you? Are you hurt?”

He had turned and peered up at her with puffy eyes and a runny nose. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He tried to talk but his voice came out too rough and he had to try again. Even then it was strangely thick.

“Hera? Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I okay Kanan? You're in here dying for stars sake and I have no idea how to help you and where the hell is chopper-”

“Hey. hey.” He turned away for a moment and took a long breath in through his nose. “Calm down for a sec. I feel like shit so you're going to have to talk slower. Are you hurt or something?”

“Hurt? No I'm not hurt i’m just- you- you're in here- I don’t even know-”

He closed his eyes and took another long breath in through his nose.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah i’m just… trying really hard not to throw up again.”

“Oh.”

He opened his eyes again and looked up at her again.

She shifted against the door frame. “But you're… okay? This isn't life threatening?”

He huffed out a soft laugh, then seemed to immediately regret it as he dropped his head between his knees for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and tipped his head back up.

“No. I'm good, I just ate something bad at that pub. And I also probably drank a bit too much as well. But I think it was definitely the squids fault.”

“Oh. So this is… normal?”

“More so than I would like. Yes.”

“Okay so…” she took a deep breath to calm her nerves now that it was apparent he wasn't in any imminent danger. “Do you need anything? How can I help you?”

“Some tea maybe. Some crackers. Anything ginger you have. It'll work itself out with time.”

She stood in the door, unsure of what to do, wanting to help him, and watched as he drew a quick breath in and closed his eyes again.

“Hera. Tea. Now”

“Right.”

As she dashed to the kitchen she heard the sounds of retching from behind her.

There were some strange things about humans that became interesting as their relationship developed beyond mere captain and crew. His hair, for example. At first she had thought it was appalling, the sheer volume of it. It was everywhere. But all it took was threading her hands through it a few times, and hearing the wonderful noises he made, before she quickly changed her opinion.

Related to his hair was the fact that humans seemed to enjoy a certain level of pain, which she could not understand. He would moan audibly when she tugged at his hair, which startled her the first time, in the best way. Once, when she was feeling particularly adventurous, she had dragged her sharp canines across the delicate skin of his throat, and had been surprised to find the taste of metal filling her mouth, sharp and bright. She was even more surprised at the way he had shuddered and come apart beneath her, just like that.

Then, later, when Zeb and Sabine joined the crew, there was yet another learning curve as Hera adjusted to another human as well as a Lasat, and Zeb adjusted to Kanan and Sabine at the same time.

Sabine was just as reckless. She was a fighter too, but she didn't have the force to help her out. Hera had more than a few small heart attacks in the early days of Sabine's presence before she fully appreciated that she could take almost as much of a beating as Kanan. Sabine had once walked over a half a mile back to the ship with a broken leg, and when Hera pressed her on just how she managed to do that, Sabine had gotten quickly tired of the argument, ending it with a, “I don't know what to tell you, Hera! I didn't have any other options! I had to do it, so I did.”

Hera was used to most of Kanan's strange human quirks, but Sabine presented a new and entirely alarming one, which Hera first came in contact with on a supply run. Sabine needed a monthly supply of medical supplies. Hera knew very little about menstruation, as that was a trait entirely unique to human females. Why their biology decided that it was necessary was completely beyond Hera, it seemed incredibly inefficient. Sabine made as little fuss about it as possible, but Hera had embarrassed everyone about three months in when Sabine asked hera to go get her data pad from her room. Hera had burst back into the common room, and only then was able to identify the smell Sabine was carrying with her that had been tugging at the edges of Hera’s mind all day. Blood. She turned on Sabine with a very distressed, “Sabine are you injured? Are you sick?”

To which Sabine had responded, with a distinct note of confusion, “No? Why?”

And Hera, without thinking, had said, “There's blood all over your bed? Did you hurt yourself?”

Sabine had gaped at her for a moment, then blushed ever so slightly. “I uh- I forgot to wash my sheets after... Sorry. I forgot about that before I told you to go into my room.”

Hera still had not connected the dots and was opening her mouth to further interrogate Sabine as to why her bedsheets were covered in blood when Kanan had jumped up and said, “Hera! Let's go for a walk, yes?” and pulled her gently out of the room, but not before she heard Zeb turn to Sabine and say, “So, why were you bleeding?”

Zeb apparently hadn't had much contact with the more alarming of the humans' quirks, as he had his own room, until Ezra showed up. Then Zeb had to learn for himself just how absolutely wild human biology was for himself. He arguably had a rougher go of it, because while he had the rest of the crew to help him out, he was literally sharing a room with a teenage human.

The first time Ezra got food poisoning was just about as rough for Zeb as it was for Kanan and Hera, except it happened in Zebs room. Ezra was mostly self-sufficient, but Zeb had come hollering down the hall. He had broken the “do not open my door without knocking” rule Hera kept firmly in place, but she couldn't even be mad at him. Hera was just glad Kanan had been in his own bed that night. She had woken to see Zeb standing in her door, his fur standing up like a spine down his back, one ear folded inside out, panting hard.

“Hera the kid- he’s- I don’t know what the fuck happened but he- I think he’s hurt- or- or something but I don’t know how to help him- it’s Ezra-”

At which point Kanan, who had been woken by Zebs racket, slid open his door wearing only his sleep pants. He took one moment to assess the situation, looked down the hall and said, “Oh, Ezra’s throwing up. Do you want me to take care of him, Hera?”

Hera sighed and got up from her bed.

“No, you get Zeb some tea or something. I've learned well enough how to hold hair back at this point.”

Zeb, still looking entirely horrified by the situation, allowed himself to be led into the galley by Kanan. Sabine poked her head out of her door, decided this crisis did not involve her, and went back to sleep.

The same situation had happened the first time Ezra had gotten a bloody nose in the middle of the night. It was the kind Hera had witnessed with Kanan, and knew firsthand how horrifying it was if one didn't know humans noses just Did That sometimes. It was a middle of the night kind of bloody nose, where Ezra had presumably woken up with blood all over his face and in his mouth and in his hair and on his sheets, and had tried to catch the blood in his hands, which was all well and good until he somehow had to get down from the top bunk and open two doors to get to the refresher. That left Zeb to wake up to a room smelling of blood, with blood on the floor, on the door panel, and a trail leading to the refresher where he found Ezra leaning over the sink which was also, conveniently, covered in blood. All it had taken was for Ezra to turn his face toward the creature standing in the door and say “Zeb?” before Zeb was hurtling down the hall in a panic, calling for Kanan to come help him because the kid was dying.

Sabine, who had been up working on a project, was the first to respond to this particular “The human is dying!” call. She took one look at Ezra, standing in his pajamas with blood on his hands and said, “That sucks,” and turned back to her room.

Hera, who was making her way down the hall to check on if Ezra really was dying this time, had the pleasure of seeing Sabine turn back and say, “If you want a tampon to stop up the bleeding, they're in the bottom left drawer.” This worked surprisingly well at stopping Ezras bloody nose, because he was blushing so hard there was no blood left for his nose. Hera turned back to comfort Zeb, telling him she had reacted the exact same way the first time Kanan had woken up with a bloody nose. She saw him come out of his panic in time to realize she had effectively confessed to sleeping with Kanan, but wisely decided not to say anything. Nothing he didn't already know.

The humans were absolutely bizarre to spend time around. They ended up installing a wall in the galley that had live plants in it, not because they needed fresh plants to eat, but because their brain chemicals got thrown off if they weren't around plants for too long.

They had empathy for everything. Hera had once witnessed Ezra cry in a market when they passed a fruit stand with a deformed Meiloorun. When Hera asked why he was crying, he had looked up at her with these huge eyes, sniffed, and said, “I just feel so bad for it! No one will buy it!” They had, of course, bought it. Kanan tried not to get attached to anything, but he apologized for bumping into inanimate objects, and Sabine got visibly sad when they had to throw out a good piece of gear because it was broken or old.

They all three loved swimming. They were awful at it, just barely flopping around on the surface, but any time they were near even relatively safe water, they were in it, having the time of their lives. Kanan had once explained to Hera that humans have an extra fun little bit of evolution called the mammalian dive reflex, which slows their heart rate and lowers their blood pressure when they are in water, making it calming and enjoyable. Hera was skeptical until she watched Ezra calmly floating down a river on his back and wished she had that, instead of feeling nothing but panic anytime she had to float in water.

They were mimics. They could replicate a stunning array of sounds, from animals to tech. Ezra's favorite way of annoying her was to make the noises her ship made when something went wrong, just to see how much she would panic before she realized it was him. They would sing along to anything, even if it was just instruments, and Hera would never admit it, but she loved Kanan's voice.

They could sleep anywhere. One of her favorite memories was walking around Chopper Base after a particularly exhausting mission and finding the three of them, Kanan in the middle, with one kid leaning on either shoulder, asleep, leaning against a crate. They had looked so peaceful, and yet she was again surprised at them. It was far too cold for her to even consider sleeping, there were fighters landing only a few hundred meters away, people running all over, and they were snoozing with smiles on their faces, just glad to be home.

And humans would pack bond with literally anything. She had thought Kanan was bad until she met Ezra. It was ridiculous. Her father had said that she was improper for developing a fondness for a droid, but the kid formed a relationship with everything that moved. It got them out of a few tight spots, sure, but she would never get used to having to sit still as some enormous predator loomed in their faces. The sight of Ezra staring down a cat the size of the ghost on some jungle planet, the cat's fangs mere inches from his face as it huffed at him, was something she would never forget.

They were wild and hard headed and strong and made her life so much more interesting.

Early on, Kanan’s strange human ability to adapt to seemingly anything had been a momentary point of contention between the two of them, and was still something she struggled with. It took time for her to be okay with the fact that humans and Twi’leks were just built differently. But it frustrated Hera how weak she felt compared to him. It infuriated her the way he could just walk off something that would have killed her. She had always striven to be adaptable and up for anything. She was strong, and she knew it. But she felt her inadequacies sharply next to Kanan. Early in their partnership they had been in the galley repairing themselves from yet another fight, when Hera had turned to see Kanan casually sewing his own skin up with a needle. The way he could just puncture his own skin like that, with nothing more than a wince and a hiss of breath, had made her see red for a moment and she had to excuse herself to the cockpit to take a breath. They had talked about it, and he had helped her to realize that she was, of course, strong. Humans were adapted differently, so it was entirely unfair for her to be comparing them. But they could compare emotionally, and she was one of the strongest people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. The two of them were forged in war, and had been through incredible things. She had fought prejudice and overcome so many obstacles to get to where she was, the best pilot in the resistance, without question. As he had said the last part, she heard him smirk a bit, and looked over at him, bathed in the blue light of hyperspace, to find him with a little crooked grin on his face and his hair falling down around his ears. She had felt her guarded heart open a little bit more at that, and had to turn and gaze back out at the stars before her heart opened completely to this rogue of a man.

Later, pressed against his chest in a supply closet, hiding from some stormtroopers, she would marvel at just how fast humans' hearts beat. She knew they were supposed to beat about two times faster than a twi’lek, but his seemed like it was fit to fly out of his ribcage. She found herself thinking, “Is it supposed to be doing that? Is this why he's such a hot headed idiot?” Later she would discover it did not always beat that incredibly fast, usually just a bit faster than hers. It made him ridiculously warm, and also may have contributed to why he was so quick to anything. Not rushed. Not hasty. Just quick. Quick to anger. Quick to smile. Quick to fight. Quick to laugh. Quick to love.

Maybe that was why it was such a shock when he finally reached his limit. She had gotten used to him pulling through impossible situations. She had forgotten that they had limits, just like her.

And then, years later, a glimmer of hope. Ahsoka and Sabine, travelling the galaxy over, searching for Ezra. While Kanan was gone forever, she still had a chance to get one of her boys back.

And of course, there was always Jacen. Her beautiful little boy, who was soft and sweet and yet surprisingly strong, just like his father. And Hera was comforted to know that wherever this wild galaxy would take him, he had Kanan Jarrus’ blood coursing through his veins to keep him safe.

#kanan jarrus #kanan x hera #caleb dume #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #hera syndulla #sabine wren #garazeb orrelios #star wars #i accidentally wrote a fanfic #enjoy #tw #blood #angst #blood tw #rebels spoilers #rebels fanfic #fanfic #kanan x hera fanfic

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hoe-doroki · 4 years

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gratitude

warning: eating disorder, food restricting, food withholding

pairing: Izuku x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 1.4k

a/n: This is the second of four attempts to answer this ask. This is a story with a reader who is food restricting, so everyone be careful to take care of yourselves! The other three attempts are Trust Yourself, A Start, and Picnic. All parts are unrelated to each other.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

You hadn’t expected him to spot that something was wrong so immediately.

You probably should have. The man was trained in understanding people, especially unusual behavior, and he was quite possibly the most observant person in Japan, if not the planet. If there was one person that you should have known you couldn’t get away with shit with, it was Izuku Midoriya.

The two of you were out to dinner—date night. Date night was Monday, since it was Izuku’s most frequent day off from hero work. About ten minutes after your food had arrived, Izuku’s eyes zeroed in on your plate. You’d picked your meal apart, spreading bits of it across your plate, but very little had made it to your mouth. The two of you had chatted a lot, always having a lot to say even though you’d been together for years now. There hadn’t been a lot of opportunity to chew, you told yourself.

Although, Izuku’s plate was almost empty. He was always hungrier than you were, though, so that didn’t account for much.

“Did your meal not taste good?” he asked.

You shrugged. “It wasn’t my favorite.”

That wasn’t a lie. This was a nice restaurant—Izuku was wearing a jacket and everything—but the food hadn’t tasted like much and you’d lost your appetite a couple of bites in.

“Do you want to try something else?” Izuku asked. “Or maybe get dessert?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I guess I wasn’t that hungry.”

“Honey?” Izuku took your hand in his and gave a little squeeze, bringing your eyes up to his. His brows were quirked up in gentle concern, but he still had a barely-there smile on his face. Like he couldn’t help but smile when he looked at you, even when he was concerned. “Are you feeling…in your head again?”

“What do you mean?”

He’d been vague, you could be vague too. You didn’t have to assume what his words meant, even though the two of you were better at understanding each other than anyone else. And then you hated that you were being testy, pushing him away when you so desperately wanted to crawl to the other side of the table and sink to the dark lacquered floor and rest your head in his lap. But you were better at pushing away than asking for comfort, so you went with what you knew.

“You’ve been distracted,” Izuku said, “these past few days. Really tired. Smiling a little less. And now,” he pointed down at your plate, still with about 3,000 yen’s worth of food on it.

So he’d been noticing for days. In a better world, maybe you would have been flattered, but it was hard to feel anything but shame. You couldn’t even look at your plate anymore, so you stared into your water glass, watching the low light of the restaurant dancing on the surface.

“Honey,” he squeezed your hand again, bringing your eyes back up to his. The light danced in them too. “Do you want to do our gratitude practice?”

Truthfully, you didn’t feel like it. You didn’t want to do it in this restaurant, with all these people around, you didn’t want to be here with the leftover food on your plate—you just wanted to go back home, take some melatonin, and pass out.

Izuku kept trying. “Do you mind if I do it then, and then you can do it if you want?”

You shrugged. “If you want to.”

“Thanks.” Izuku smiled. “Okay. I am grateful for my arms. They’ve given me a number of second chances and were patient with me when I was undeserving of it. I am happy that I can give them what they need by eating the protein they need to grow and stay strong enough for me to do my job.” He nodded when he was done, looking from his arms back to you. “Do you want to go now?”

Izuku’s eyes were hopeful as his other hand sought out yours. You offered it to him and stared at him, remembering that you were both on the same team. The two of you had done this before, last time your anxiety had gotten to be too much, and you could do it again. He’d seen it before. He’d seen you before.

“I…” you started shakily, uncertainly. It had been a while since the two of you had done this, but you remembered how it went. You just needed to be honest. “I am grateful for my feet. They take me where I need to go, and they do that best when I give them the energy they need.”

Izuku nodded at you encouragingly, his smile growing.

“They desire for me to have the nutrients that I need to stay strong, and I want to give them that, even when it’s difficult.”

“And you can, and you do!” Izuku said, his voice genuinely excited. “You’ve done it every single day that you’ve been alive, even when it’s hard, and I’m so proud of you for that.”

“But it’s so easy for other people,” you murmured, feeling the weight of disappointment in yourself. That you’d been good for so long and now this was happening again. That you never seemed to be done with it.

“That’s why you’re so impressive, darling,” Izuku said. “Doing the hard thing is always something I’m going to be proud of you for, whether it’s a challenging day at work or managing to get dressed on a day you want to stay in bed or eating some rice when you want to skip it. It all reminds me that you’re one of the strongest, most resilient people I know. So, what’s the next step?”

You looked back down at your dish. The food was mostly cold, since you’d spread it all over the plate. And it would probably be just as tasteless as it had been when it was fresh. But you wanted to do this for Izuku. For yourself.

You pulled one of your hands from Izuku’s and took a bite of your food, taking your time chewing it as Izuku talked.

“Remember the gratefulness you just sent to your feet? Now they’re going to be grateful back,” he said. “And then it’ll be easier to walk back to the train, and I’ll give them a massage when we get home so that I can show them how grateful I am to them too.”

The second bite went down easier than the first. Getting started was the hardest part, but you were remembering all the things you could be grateful for. The chef who’d made the food, the server who had brought it to you and taken care of both you and Izuku, the farmers who’d grown it. Even if you couldn’t appreciate the food itself in the way that most people would—the way that you could on a better day—you could still appreciate how it had gotten to you.

“Ooh, I forgot the thing I’m most grateful for!” Izuku said.

“What’s that?” you asked, suspiciously.

“You,” he said, the earnestness spilling off of him. He looked so in love with you every time your eyes met it was a miracle you didn’t melt into the floor. “Every day I can’t believe that I’m the person who gets to be with you, who you choose to spend your time with, who gets to wake up beside you.”

“Stop,” you said, face heating up.

“I’ll never stop,” Izuku said immediately. “I love you so, so much and you’re just amazing to me. Thank you for choosing me.”

“Thank you for putting up with me.”

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound right,” Izuku said, cocking his head at you. “I think you meant to say something else.”

You certainly hadn’t, but he was checking you. Inviting you to put something else out into the world, something better. Something that you could step into and really enjoy living out.

“Thank you…” you started again, “for knowing me. Better than anyone else ever could.”

That brought a big smile to his face. His chest puffed up, almost like his heart was swelling inside its cavity. “Thanks for letting me.”

You had doubts. Every day, there was baggage stacked around you, sometimes too much to carry, often so much that you couldn’t quite stand up to see over it. But somewhere, between the anxiety and uncoiled control, the uncertainty and the shame, you saw Izuku and his words made it through your cotton-filled ears. And somehow…

You believed him.

#bnha x reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #tw: eating disorder #tw eating disorder #cw: eating disorder #cw eating disorder #eating disorder #bnha fanfic #bnha imagines #bnha imagine

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

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Season 1, Episode 9: Wolf’s Bane

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

Notes: This ended up being way longer than I anticipated, but I lost all self control while writing. Someone please stop me before this turns into an entire full length novel about Teen Wolf...

P.S. Derek is resurrected just long enough to be helpful, Y/N gets a lesson in seeing the future, and we finally identify the alpha (which is, of course, groundbreaking information for us all)

————————

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as I walked through the doors of the high school. My stomach was in knots. It had been for days, actually. It’d gotten all twisted up last Friday, after I drove Allison and Jackson home, somehow managing to only get worse with each passing day.

To say that I was dreading today would be the worlds most massive understatement.

I wasn’t looking forward to seeing anyone. Not Allison, because the guilt I felt every time I looked at her was starting to eat me alive. Not Lydia or Jackson, because they’re both way too self-absorbed to be around when you’re feeling down. And I absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent would not be talking to Scott or Stiles.

As if on cue, my eyes landed on Scott’s dejected frame as I neared my locker. He was leaning against it, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes rose from the tiled floor to meet mine, and I stopped.

Nope.

I turned on my heel and speed walked the other way. I would gladly carry my things around all day over talking to him right now. He called my name, but I continued as if I hadn’t heard him. Within seconds, he was at my side.

I let out a frustrated huff. I thought I could outrun him longer than that.

“Hey! You can’t just ignore me for an entire weekend.” He hissed the words out in a rush, as if he had any right to be angry with me.

He’d been ridiculously persistent about apologizing. I’d gotten so many texts and calls from him that I had to eventually just turn my phone off. When I did that, he showed up at my house. I was pretty sure he stayed out there for a couple hours on Saturday, but I locked myself in my room upstairs, so I wasn’t positive.

My jaw clenched as I forced my gaze to stay on the hall in front of me. He kept up with my quick pace easily, unrelenting. I felt his eyes boring into the side of my head, urging me to respond.

I had so much to say, but no idea how to get the words out. I was still furious with him. He’d ruined whatever I had with Stiles in the most spectacularly dickish way and, to top it off, nearly killed me. Like, how the fuck do you even begin talking about that?

“Will you at least tell me if you’re okay? Y/N!” At the harsh snap of my name, I spun around to face him with a glare.

He staggered back a step, an arm raising defensively, and stared at me with wide eyes.

“You want me to talk to you? Then tell me what the hell is going on.” My voice was hard with days-long built up anger.

“What do you mean?” He just blinked, trying to look innocent, and I scoffed.

“You’ve been keeping things from me.” I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows expectantly.

It was absurdly obvious at this point. He and Stiles both knew way more about well, everything, than I did. The alpha. The full moon. Jackson. I could just feel it. I was being kept out of the loop, despite them constantly roping me into their supernatural problems.

They either needed to start giving me all the information, or just leave me out of it entirely.

He looked like he was about to argue, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he thought better of it with a heavy sigh. He glanced away briefly to scan the bustling hallway before finding my eyes again. “To protect you.”

A rush of air left my lungs in a harsh scoff. Was he actually serious right now?

“I don’t need protection.” I snapped, appalled that he would even try that excuse. I didn’t need him deciding what was best for me, or what information was safe to tell me. “I need to know what’s happening!”

“I can’t...” His voice broke regretfully, his eyes rounding with sadness. There was an internal conflict raging behind them, but the wrong side was winning.

My heart tugged painfully as I blinked back a few frustrated tears. I didn’t let myself get emotional over the weekend. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t. There was still too much to process. It was like I was being forced to complete a puzzle for my life with only a third of the pieces available.

Ultimately, it felt like he didn’t trust me. After everything I’d helped him and Stiles with, I deserved to be an equal partner. Not someone they call when no one else can help because they don’t know he’s a werewolf. Not someone they keep at arms length.

“Then maybe we can’t be friends.” My voice was barely above a whisper as I choked the words out.

I didn’t want to believe that it’d already come to that. He and Stiles were the first people in all the places I’ve lived that never judged me. Our friendship had been surprisingly organic, despite the way it started. I’d never felt like an outsider.

Well, until they started keeping secrets from me.

I stuck around just long enough to catch the crestfallen look on his face before I turned and walked away.

I tugged a hand through my hair and tried to collect myself as I neared my first period class. The break from my problems was short lived, since I share it with him, Stiles, and Allison. My eyes immediately found Stiles as soon as I walked through the classroom door. He was leaning back in his seat, balancing a pencil between his two pointer fingers.

His eyes slowly rose to meet mine and he perked up with a jolt, the pencil clattering to the floor. I looked away, already feeling my resolve crumble at the sight of his big, honey eyes. I slid into my desk which was, unfortunately, right behind him.

I bent down to place my bag onto the tiles beside my feet, taking my time rummaging through its contents to find my English folder. When I eventually sat upright, I reeled back at the sight of Stiles turned around to face me.

One of his plaid covered arms was slung across the back of his chair, his fingers tapping anxiously on the corner of my desk. He looked at me with rounded, hopeful eyes. I swallowed as my heart skipped a beat at the sight. I needed to hold it together. I was mad at him.

“Can we talk?” He murmured timidly as his eyes swept over my face.

I’d gotten a handful of messages from him over the weekend, too, but he’d given me more room to breathe than Scott. Before I could even fully process his question, a harsh voice drew my attention away from him.

“Y/N, what the hell?” Allison plopped into her seat beside me, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “You didn’t answer me all weekend. How are you doing?”

Shit. I’d honestly forgotten about the few texts she’d sent after I turned my phone off. A moment later, Scott walked into the room, eyes firmly planted on the floor. I sunk down into my chair, feeling like the walls were closing in around me. I couldn’t face them all at once right now.

Allison threw a hand up in exasperation and I chewed on my bottom lip anxiously. I had to say something.

“I’m...fine.” Yeah, that didn’t sound remotely close to believable, even to my own ears.

I was fine, though. Mostly. The pain in my leg had dissipated enough that some Advil in the morning made it bearable throughout the day. Emotionally, though? I hadn’t even began working through everything. Scott slowly sat at his desk right in front of Allison, shoulders slumped.

“Are you sure? You literally flew like twenty feet in the air.” Her eyes were wide with concern as she watched me closely. Man, I really am the worst friend in the world for ignoring her. If something like that happened to her, I’d be worried sick.

I saw Scott stiffen from the corner of my eye.

“Whoa, wait a minute. Back up. What are we talking about here?” Stiles’ eyes twitched before jumping back and forth between us.

I let my gaze flicker back to him, surprised. He didn’t know? I glanced at Scott, chest tightening at his guilt ridden expression. Well, I guess there’s my answer.

“Sorry.” Allison mouthed the word silently with a grimace before turning toward the front of the room.

“Hey. Yeah. Stiles talking. What the hell?” I rested my elbows on my desk and rubbed at my temples, letting my eyes fall closed.

It was way too early for all of this. It wasn’t my job to tell him that his best friend almost killed me. We weren’t even on speaking terms right now. Plus, I couldn’t say anything in front of Allison anyway. I was stuck, and I could feel his eyes watching me closely.

“Alright everyone, let’s get started.” Our teacher walked into the room and threw his stuff onto his desk loudly.

I peaked up through my arms, watching as Stiles’ eyes narrowed and lingered on mine for a long moment. He pursed his lips and hesitated before finally turning his back to me. I let out a relieved breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

This was going to be such a long day.

————————

I walked into the cafeteria, feeling emotionally exhausted. I’d spent the first half of the day avoiding anyone who tried talking to me. After class this morning, I was even more aware of the fact that I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with my problems right now.

My eyes instantly landed on Scott and Stiles, who were sitting by themselves. I let my gaze wander over the room until I found Allison and Lydia. They were sitting clear on the opposite end, which was a little overkill, if you ask me.

It was weird to see our friend group so separated, but Allison and Scott were still barely speaking, and Jackson was M.I.A because he decided to break up with Lydia via text this morning.

While I wasn't the least bit surprised, and honestly glad to be rid of him, she was still devastated. I headed in their direction, not looking forward to repairing another broken heart, when I heard something that made me stop.

“Scott. Can you hear me? You can, can’t you?” It was Jackson, standing in a corner by the vending machines.

My brows furrowed as I followed his intense gaze to where Scott and Stiles sat. Scott was whispering something frantically, looking panicked.

“Are you trying to pretend not to hear me?” Jackson sounded way too smug for his own good, which honestly wasn’t unusual.

Scott snapped at Stiles across the room, who just threw his hands up with a shrug.

“So what else can you do? Huh? Can you see better? Are you stronger? More powerful? I knew there was no way you suddenly got that good at lacrosse. Which means you’re actually a cheater, aren't you? I mean, can you even play lacrosse?”

I watched as Scott’s jaw clenched angrily, my heart dropping into my stomach at his words. His fingers tightened around the water bottle he was holding, his entire arm trembling with barely contained rage.

“I bet my new co-captain is going to score a bunch of shots tonight. Aren’t you? And while you’re pretending you’re not a lying cheat, I’m gonna ruin your life if you don't give me what I want. You know what I’m going to start with? Her.”

My eyes flickered toward Allison, who was laughing at something Lydia said, blissfully unaware of what was happening. “I’m going to destroy any chance you have left with her. And when I’m done with that, I’m going to get her alone, and get my hands all over that tight little body...”

Oh, my God. Okay. I did not need to hear anymore of that. I started walking toward Scott and Stiles briskly, my heart racing.

Jackson knows. How the hell does he know? Why didn't they tell me he knows?

A few seconds later, I stumbled to a halt in front of their table. Stiles looked up at me with wide eyes, lips parting mid-chew. I ignored him, putting a hand on the table and leaning down so there were only a few inches between Scott and I.

“Did you tell Jackson?” I hissed quietly, sounding way more freaked out than I meant to.

He sat there for a few moments, his jaw tensing repeatedly as he tried to tune him out. His eyes flickered up to mine, intense anger swirling inside them. “No. How do you even—it doesn’t matter. That’s the least of my worries right now.”

“That’s the least of your worries?” My voice rose with surprise. Just how much had they been keeping from me?

He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. I turned my head and saw that Jackson had disappeared.

“So...are you talking to me again?” His tone had lost some of it’s edge, but I could tell he was still fuming internally.

I stood up straight and squared my shoulders. I’d nearly forgotten that I was supposed to be ignoring them. “No. I just...”

“If you were...would you help me with something?” He looked hopeful, and I took a moment to consider it.

“No.” Stiles interjected before I had a chance to respond. He glared at Scott before his hard eyes moved to me. “No. You’re not getting involved.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise. Who the hell did he think he was? He had no right to tell me what to do. In fact, his dismissal only made me want to do it more.

“I’ll help.” I narrowed my eyes at Stiles angrily before moving my attention to Scott. “If you tell me everything that’s going on.”

He pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. A jolt of hope rose through my chest.

“No way. Not gonna happen.” Stiles scoffed, his tray clattering against the table as he slammed his water bottle down onto it.

My eyes jerked back to him, my jaw clenching. “Stilinski, I swear to—”

“Y/N.” Scott interrupted, his voice soft. “He’s actually right. It’s better this way.”

I stood there for a moment, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. I couldn't believe they were being so stubborn about this. It seemed like things had shifted so suddenly. One day, I was helping them with everything and the next, I’m being left out entirely.

“Fine. I’ll find out myself.” I huffed and turned on my heel, stalking away from them and right through the doors.

I didn't stop until I stomped my way out into the parking lot. I was beyond over their secrets and lies. I wanted answers, and I knew where to get them. I wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to do what I was about to do, but this person said they’d help me once before.

I just hoped the offer was still good.

———————

I looked up at the house and let out a long sigh, shaking my arms at my sides to get rid of some of the nerves vibrating through me. I can do this.

It’s not scary. It’s not scary. It’s not—

I nearly jumped out of my skin as something rustled in a nearby tree, but felt my shoulders sag with relief as a squirrel ran across the ground in front of me. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to gather enough courage to get closer.

I forced myself up the rickety porch steps, one foot in front of the other. My hand came up and lightly rapped on the front door. The second my knuckles connected with the chipped wood, it swung open with a loud squeal.

I peaked my head inside, squinting through the darkness that blanketed the entrance despite it being the middle of the day. “Derek?”

It didn’t look like he was here. It didn't look like anything living had been here for awhile, actually. Almost every surface in the house was covered by a thin layer of dust, broken furniture cluttering the space. I took a tentative step inside, my heartbeat rising as I glanced around. Truthfully, I was still terrified of the guy, but he’d saved me from Scott a few days ago. I knew he couldn't be all bad.

The floorboards creaked at the top of the stairs, and my head whipped in that direction. My eyes scanned the area as best they could through the dark, but didn’t find anything. I tried to steady my breathing as I continued forward. Another sound made me whirl around, but once again, I was alone. Okay. Maybe this was a bad idea. I should just leave.

I turned toward the door, and immediately let out a startled scream at the sight of a tall figure standing right in front of me.

“Y/N.” Derek greeted, his voice entirely too level.

I put a hand on my chest and tried to catch my breath. “Goddamn. Do you always have to do that?”

His eyes wandered over my face skeptically, his lips pressed into a firm line. I took a small step back, my shoulders tensing. Even if I knew he wasn’t completely evil, he was still scary as shit.

“What exactly are you doing here?”

“You’ve been helping Scott, right?” I wheezed out, deciding to get right to business. He just stared at me blankly, so I continued. “Well he hasn't really been honest with me lately, and I want answers.”

His thick brows pulled together as he took a slow step toward me. “And you thought I would give them to you?”

I scrambled back again, watching him closely. I wasn't even sure if he was trying to be intimidating. His whole aura was just...a lot. It was the leather jacket he always wore, and the scowl that seemed permanently etched into his face. Not to mention the fact that he somehow always found a way to emerge from the shadows.

“I...I don't know.” I stammered, losing the small bit of confidence I had.

“I would say, if Scott doesn't want you involved, it’s probably for a good reason.” His hazel eyes stayed locked onto mine. They were almost impossible to read.

It was obvious he wasn't going to tell me anything. I couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. I knew it was a long shot. I figured, though, that while I was here I should bring up something else that’d been nagging at me...

“A few weeks ago, you said you could help me learn control.” I rushed the words out, my skin prickling with anxiety.

He studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slowly. “So?”

“So...” I drawled, squaring my shoulders in an effort to look confident. “Help me.”

———————

“Y/N, just concentrate.”

I blew out a frustrated huff and let my eyes pop open.

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last hour?” I snapped, sagging back into the dilapidated couch we sat on.

Derek had been trying to help me “vision”, as he called it, for what felt like an eternity. I wasn’t getting anywhere despite his advice. He apparently knew a lot about almost every supernatural creature there was. Not that I fell into that category. I was more like...supernatural adjacent.

He’d made sure I knew that I was still human, but I was already well aware. There’s no super strength or heightened reflexes going on here. Just bad dreams and occasional sleepwalking.

“You need to find something that helps you get control. We call it an anchor.” He insisted from beside me, resting his elbows on his knees and gesturing with his hands.

“An anchor.” I said slowly, trying the word out for myself.

He nodded and rose to his feet suddenly. “It can be a feeling, a memory, an object...even a person. It’s just something that helps you concentrate and focus your power.”

I watched as he walked across the room and crouched down a few feet away. He inspected the floor for a few moments before picking something up and striding back to where I sat. He held his hand out, palm facing the ceiling, and my face scrunched in confusion.

“Why are you giving me a rock?” My gaze flickered back up to his face and he rolled his eyes impatiently. It was the first actual emotion—other than anger—I’d ever seen him express.

“It’s just a physical object to help you. Try to think about something that makes you feel a strong emotion.” I studied the small stone skeptically, but eventually took it from him.

I rolled it around in my palm, trying to wrack my brain for anything that could cause a reaction. I went over the past few weeks, letting my eyes fall closed.

I thought about mom, and how she’d packed up her entire life several times just so I could have a chance at a normal life. I thought about how quickly Allison and I had become friends, and how horrible it was that I was still keeping everything from her. I thought about Lydia, and wondered if she would ever stop pretending to be a moron. And Jackson, well, I was pretty sure there were no redeeming qualities beneath his superficial exterior.

Then, my mind wandered to Scott. Ever since that first night I moved into the house next to his, he’d been a constant in my life. For better or worse. I’d helped him through so many ridiculous situations. Digging up Derek’s sister, avoiding death at the hands of Allison’s family, and running from the alpha to name a few. He’d been there for me countless times, too.

And lastly...there was Stiles. My heart twisted painfully at the thought of him, my face falling into a grimace.

“There.” Derek spoke up suddenly, making me jump. My eyes fluttered open to look at him in question. “Whatever you just did was working.”

My skin exploded with heat as embarrassment rushed through me, even though he had no idea what I’d been thinking about. Great. My anchor is a spastic teenage boy who spends most of his time lying to me.

“Try again.” Derek insisted and sat back down on the other end of the couch. I let out a long sigh.

Here goes nothing.

My eyes slipped closed and I let my mind wander back to Stiles. I replayed our most significant moments together. Like all the times he protected me at the school that night we were trapped, and the way he’d kissed me out of relief when I didn't get eaten alive. Then there were the two times we’d shared a bed. Those were the only nights I’d managed to escape my vivid, and sometimes terrifying dreams since moving here.

I thought back to last week and felt my lips pull into a frown. All my recent memories of him had been tarnished by the secrets he was keeping.

My fingers clenched around the rock. It suddenly felt like my senses were dulling. My brows furrowed as I started to drift off. It didn’t feel like I was falling asleep, just that I wasn’t fully conscious in the present. My mind was going somewhere else.

My skin slowly went numb. My ears rang as the sound of Derek’s shuffling beside me drifted into nothingness. The ground shifted beneath me and my eyes jerked open.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as shock surged through me. I was standing in the middle of a field. It was dark, the only illumination coming from the massive overhead spotlights. My head whipped from side to side as I tried to figure out exactly where I was.

It was...the lacrosse field? At school? I took a few tentative steps forward, arms wrapping around myself as the frigid air bit into my skin.

What the hell was this? I was just in Derek’s house a second ago. Was I hallucinating or something?

I let out a shuddering breath, a cloud of condensed air fanning my face. Just then, a bloodcurdling scream sounded from behind me. I spun on my heel painfully fast, but immediately stiffened at the sight on the other end of the field.

There was someone crumpled on the turf, covered in blood. I moved forward slowly, feeling a strong urge to see who it was. The only thing I could hear was the hammering of my own heart in my ears. There wasn’t a single other soul around, adding to the eerie emptiness.

It felt like it took days to reach the body. When I got close enough to see their face, though, I broke out into a sprint.

It was Lydia.

She was wearing what looked like a formal dress, blood splattered across her torso. I fell onto my knees beside her, hands shaking as they gripped her shoulders. I turned her onto her back and brushed big clumps of strawberry blonde hair away from her face.

I couldn’t tell if she was breathing. My eyes flickered down to her side and I reeled back at the sight of deep bite marks just above her hip. With a grimace, I bent over her body and placed my ear against her chest to try and hear a heartbeat.

Oh, God. Please have a heartbeat.

I froze at the sound of rustling from the tree line nearby. My gaze slowly lifted, landing on two glowing red eyes in the shadows.

Only this time, they were attached to a man.

With a harsh gasp, my eyes popped open. I sputtered out a few coughs and felt a steadying hand at my back, pulling me up into a sitting position. My eyes moved around frantically as I tried to get my bearings.

My shoulders sagged as I realized I was back in Derek’s house. Had I even left? What the hell was that? When did I lay down?

He leaned close, his eyes searching mine. “What did you see?”

I blinked, trying to process what the hell just happened. I’d never experienced anything like that in my life. It felt so real.

“Lydia.” I gasped, my chest heaving with labored breaths.

I put a hand over my heart, trying to steady it. My head jerked from side to side as I took in the dusty floors and broken walls around me. I wasn’t fully convinced that I was actually here.

“Okay, good.” Derek nodded encouragingly, and my eyes snapped back to his. “What was she doing?”

My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to gather my thoughts. I finally got my breathing under control, but my heart was still clattering in my chest painfully. It felt like I’d just been in a dream, but it wasn't like any dream I’d ever had before. My stomach twisted painfully. I knew exactly what it was, but that meant...

“Y/N.” He urged, eyes still studying my every move.

“I—” I swallowed, trying to collect myself. “I think she was dead.”

———————

This plan was beyond stupid.

I was sitting in the passenger seat of Derek’s car, which was parked in front of the long term care section of the hospital. Since he’d helped me earlier, I agreed to do him a favor. Apparently that meant I’d be talking to his comatose uncle’s nurse.

He told me that Stiles had traced the weird text Allison got that night we were stuck in the school, and it came from a computer here while logged into Ms. McCall’s account. The fact that I knew nothing about any of this made me ten times angrier with him.

“And what is Scott doing again?” I sighed, unbuckling my seatbelt.

“Stealing Allison’s necklace.” Derek deadpanned, as if it should’ve been obvious.

“Right. Of course, because it has a symbol on it that your sister left as a clue for you...”

I glanced over at him and he nodded slowly, face as stoic as ever. I swear this guy has never smiled a day in his life. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

I popped the car door open and stepped outside, letting my eyes slowly scan the building. I swallowed nervously and stole one last glance at Derek over my shoulder. His eyebrows rose expectantly and I forced myself to turn back around.

I had a bad feeling deep in my gut, but tried to ignore it as I hesitantly stepped toward the door. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and let out a long breath. This was fine. Just because I was doing a favor for a slightly terrifying werewolf, didn’t mean I was going to get hurt.

I pulled the door open and took a few tentative steps inside. When I noticed a moment later that the place was completely deserted, I froze. There wasn’t a single other person around, nothing but eerie silence filling the space. It was late, yeah, but there should be someone here.

“Uh...hello?” I called, hoping the nurses were just on break nearby or something.

When I got no response, I continued forward slowly. I scanned the area quickly, trying to find any signs of life. The unusual stillness made the hairs on my arms stand up straight with apprehension. I peered through the glass above the welcome desk to my left, trying to find anything useful.

Well, as long as no one is around...

I jogged around the desk and jiggled the mouse beside the computer. The screen hummed to life and I glanced up quickly to make sure I was still alone, before clicking through the open tabs until I found the patient database.

I hastily typed Peter Hale—the name of Derek’s uncle—and quickly scanned his file. I found his room number easily and shut the computer down before going on my way.

As soon as I turned the corner, though, I ran smack into a hard chest. I let out a surprised yelp and stumbled over my own feet, the other person rearing back with a dramatic flail of their arms.

“Jesus! What are you doing here?” Stiles practically yelled, his voice a mixture of anger and shock as he looked at me with wide eyes.

Well, damn. I wasn’t expecting that.

“What are you doing here?” I leaned toward him and hissed, my voice a harsh whisper despite us being the only people around. “You’re supposed to be starting tonight.”

His eyes lit up with surprise and I felt a blush creep up my neck. I’d heard from Lydia that he’d been promoted to first line on the lacrosse team. It wasn’t like I was keeping tabs on him or anything, but he’d been hoping for this all year, so I was confused to see him here instead. The game should be starting any minute.

“I’m just...checking something out.” He stuttered, one of his hands coming up to scratch at the back of his head.

I rolled my eyes and turned on my heel, ready to walk away from him. He just couldn’t stop lying to me. It didn’t matter anyway. I had a mission to accomplish and I shouldn’t be wasting time by talking to him.

I only made it a few steps before a gentle hand gripped my elbow.

“Hey,” He called softly, and I hesitated a moment before turning to face him. “Scott told me what happened. Are you okay?”

I let my eyes trail over him slowly. He still wore the white undershirt and blue plaid button-up he’d had on at school, but had added his black jacket on top. The same one he’d let me borrow a few times before. He was studying me with his big, caramel eyes.

He looked and sounded like the same Stiles, but something felt different between us. After the events of the last few days, it was like there was a roadblock whenever we tried talking. We were more distant than we’d ever been, and it didn’t sit right in my chest.

I opened my mouth to respond, but paused when my phone started ringing loudly in my back pocket. I tugged my arm out of his hold and quickly pulled it out of my back pocket, scoffing when I saw Derek’s name on the screen.

“What?” I sighed, hoping he didn’t need me to do anything else. I wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible.

“Did you find her?” He rushed the words out quickly, sounding anxious.

My eyes flickered to Stiles, who was watching me closely, his brows pinched in confusion. I just walked around him and started toward Peter’s room. I heard his quick footsteps as he trailed after me, but tried my best to ignore him.

“No one is here.” I finally made it to his room and stopped in the doorway. It was empty, too.

“What?” Derek barked, voice rising.

“What do you mean, what? His nurse isn’t here, and he’s gone too. Are you sure this—”

“Y/N, you have to get out of there. Right now. It’s him. He’s the alpha! Get out!”

I staggered back a step at his frantic yelling and let my arm fall down to my side, ending the call. My heart lurched in my chest as I heard shuffling from around the corner.

“Was that Derek?” Stiles snapped anxiously behind me. “Did he just say—”

“Well, hello there.” My head jerked to the side at the sudden voice, my eyes widening as they landed on a man who was leaning against the wall a few feet away.

He was partially cloaked in darkness, but I could make out that he was tall and had shaggy brown hair. His lips twitched up into a slow smirk and I noticed that half of his face was covered in nasty looking scars. I could only assume that it was Peter.

Stiles suddenly gripped my hand and tugged me down the hall with him as he started running away. We only made it a few steps before a nurse appeared out of nowhere, stepping into our path. We stumbled back, nearly crashing right into her.

“What are you doing here? Visiting hours are over.” She practically snarled with a sinister smile.

“You...” Stiles pointed at her with a shaky hand, looking between her and Peter frantically. “And him...you’re the one...oh my—and he’s the...oh my God, we’re gonna die.”

Just then, Derek stepped around the corner and smashed his elbow into the nurse’s face. I staggered back with a gasp, not expecting the violent move. She crumpled to the floor in a heap, passed out cold. I just stared at her body with wide eyes.

“Oh, that’s not nice...” My head whipped around as Peter drawled lazily. “That’s my nurse.”

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people.” Derek took a threatening step forward, his face a hardened mask of anger. “Get out of the way.”

He hadn’t even so much as glanced at us as he muttered the words, but it was obvious who he was talking to. Stiles wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against his chest before sliding us to the floor. I pressed my back into the wall, my body trembling with fear.

“You think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family?” Peter strode toward Derek quickly, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Stiles murmured, causing my eyes to snap up toward him. He had one arm wrapped around me, the other propped up against the wall caging me in safely. His eyes flickered over me quickly as if surveying for signs of damage.

Derek suddenly growled loudly, and I peered around Stiles’ shoulder just in time to see his eyes flashing bright blue as he snarled, his canines extending. He jumped up, using a wall as leverage, and pounced on Peter. He easily shook him off, spinning around to slam his back into the wall next to where we were still crouched.

A chunk of the molding snapped off, dust and drywall sprinkling down onto us. Stiles and I instantly scrambled away as fast as possible. He grabbed my hand tightly, our fingers weaving together as he hauled me to my feet. We nearly trampled over the nurse’s body, but stumbled back just in time to step around her.

Peter leaned down and gripped Derek by the throat before pulling him up off the tiled floor. He strode forward, pulling Derek along with him as he made his way down the hall toward us. Stiles and I stumbled backward with each quick step he took.

My heart was pounding in my throat as I tried to get control over my breathing. Derek’s hands came up to claw at Peter’s arm as his legs kicked wildly, looking for any leverage to escape.

“My mind, my personality, were literally burned out of me. I was acting on pure instinct.” He suddenly released his hand and Derek slammed to the floor with a pained groan.

“You want forgiveness?” Derek roared, jumping to his feet and landing a hard punch to Peter’s jaw.

He easily deflected his next attempt and headbutted Derek harshly. He stumbled back a few steps, and Peter used this to his advantage as he kicked him harshly in the chest. “I want understanding.”

Derek flew several feet in the air before crashing to the floor and sliding all the way down the hall until he lay crumpled at our feet. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and spit out a mouthful of blood. I suddenly realized we were back in the main waiting area, and pulled Stiles by his hand that was still entwined with mine. We kneeled down behind the desk as the two werewolves continued fighting in front of us.

“Do you have any idea what it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing, cell by cell, even more slowly coming back to consciousness.” Peter wandered his way forward slowly, menacingly. “Yes, becoming an alpha, taking that from Laura pushed me over a plateau in the healing process. I can’t help that.”

Derek rose to his feet and swung his arms wildly. It was obvious that Peter’s words had struck a cord in him. He easily blocked each punch before gripping Derek’s wrist tightly and effortlessly snapping the bone. He let out a pained roar and I flinched as the sound echoed through the room.

“I tried to tell you what was happening. I tried to warn you.” Peter released Derek’s arm before fisting the sides of his leather jacket and throwing him over the desk.

He smashed through the glass barrier, pointed shards raining down on us as he landed harshly on the floor beside our crouched position. Stiles spazzed out next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders frantically and tucking my head into his chest before leaning his body over mine. My chest swelled at the protective gesture.

Heavy silence blanketed the room for a long moment. I let out a shaky breath, trying to stay as still as possible. Stiles shifted over me and I peeked around him to see what was going on. Derek started crawling away from us slowly, looking seriously injured.

“We have to do something.” I gasped, heart racing painfully in my chest.

Stiles looked down at me with wide eyes, like I’d lost my mind. “Yeah. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

Before I could protest, he pulled me to my feet. Neither werewolf even spared us a glance as we bolted out the front doors. I didn’t want to leave Derek in there. It didn’t feel right. I wasn’t sure what I could do to help, but there had to be something.

Stiles dragged me all the way to his Jeep and wrenched the passenger door open. I just stood there, frozen.

“Y/N. Get in!” He yelled, his eyes wide with urgency.

“He’s gonna die in there.” My voice quivered as I looked back toward the hospital.

Stiles tilted his head up to the sky in exasperation before looking at me with narrowed eyes. “He’ll be fine. He’s surprisingly hard to kill.”

He jerked his arm forward, gesturing for me to get in, and I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. I knew there was nothing I could do, but I wanted so badly to help. I stole one last glance at the building and let out a heavy sigh, sliding into the car begrudgingly. Stiles slammed the door closed behind me and ran around the hood before jumping into the driver’s seat.

A moment later, he sped out of the parking lot. We didn’t say a single word the entire ride home.

We’d been sitting here, in front of my house, for the last several minutes. Thick tension crackled in the air between us, but we were both too stubborn to be the first one to break. I sat there for a few more seconds, indecision clawing at my insides. I wasn't exactly jumping to talk to him, but part of me didn't want to leave him, either.

Something about his presence was calming. Even as we sat here in tense silence, I knew it was better than being alone. But we couldn’t stay like this all night. With a dejected sigh, I reached for my seatbelt, but paused when he spoke up unexpectedly.

“You know, I’ve been trying my best to keep you out of this stuff.” His words were sharp as his fingers tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.

I turned toward him slowly, relaxing back into my seat. “I never asked you to do that.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve almost died in the last couple months?” His jaw clenched as his eyes swept in my direction. Their normal amber color had darkened as several intense emotions swirled inside them. Frustration, anger, worry. “Everyone who’s involved with the supernatural keeps almost dying. We aren’t going to stay this lucky.”

“Then let’s not rely on luck anymore. We can learn to take care of ourselves.” I insisted, leaning toward him slightly.

I was tired of taking a backseat in all of this. Today, for the first time, I felt like I was truly a part of the team. Even though I had to go through Derek to get here, it was so much better than being kept in the dark.

“I’m too busy worrying about you to take care of anything else.” His voice was barely above a whisper as his eyes flickered around my face before looking away.

I just stared at him in confusion. “Why would you worry about me?”

Out of all the people in his life, I should be at the bottom of the list. Hell, I shouldn't even be on the list.

“You’re joking, right? You keep showing up in places you shouldn’t be. You’re constantly almost getting hurt. You sleepwalk into the woods half the time and—and I’m terrified that one of these days I’m gonna be too late to help.”

He rushed the words out, his eyes wide and intense. He was giving me this look, like I was the most important person in the world. My heart tugged uncomfortably in my chest and I swallowed.

“I haven't even done that in—” My words caught in my throat at the way his head tilted incredulously and I sighed. “You don’t always have to be there, Stiles. You don’t always have to look after everyone else.”

His eyes twitched and his lips rolled into a thin line. “You’re not gonna stay out of this, are you?”

I shook my head slowly. “I know I can help somehow. I can feel it. And if I know that, and don’t...then I don’t think I can call myself one of the good guys.”

Silence fell over the car again, but this time it wasn't awkward or tense. I studied the way the streetlights illuminated his freckled face. Shadows created hard lines around his jaw that contrasted the soft gaze of his eyes as they bored into mine. My stomach fluttered with a foreign emotion and I chewed on my bottom lip as I fidgeted in my seat, suddenly feeling nervous. Something had shifted in the air between us, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“Is it obvious yet how much I like you?” His gaze flickered down to my mouth quickly and my breath hitched at his words.

“Painfully.” I felt myself leaning closer to him without actually meaning to. Yes, I was still mad at him, but right now that didn’t seem to matter so much.

He met me halfway, our lips molding together instantly. My eyes slipped shut as one of his hands came up to gently tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear. His slender fingers wrapped around the side of my neck as his head tilted, his lips slanting over mine. My mouth parted against his and our tongues explored each other almost urgently.

This wasn’t anything like the kisses we’d shared before. It was intense, and rushed, like we couldn’t close the distance between us fast enough. I could practically taste everything he felt for me, all the things he wanted to say but didn’t know how. Without breaking away, I blindly undid my seatbelt and fisted the sides of his jacket to pull him against me.

One of his arms slid around my waist and my hands flattened against his chest before gliding up to rest on the sides of his head. His buzzed hair poked at my skin as he tugged me forward. I fumbled across the gearshift until I landed in his lap, my knees resting on either side of his hips.

He hummed against my lips in satisfaction as his fingers tangled themselves in the hair at the back of my head. His other hand pressed me impossibly closer, and I arched up into him. He pulled away unexpectedly, and I felt my eyes flutter open to look at him in question.

“Can—can I...?” He murmured breathlessly, his gaze flickering between my neck and eyes. I nodded a little too eagerly, but couldn’t find it within myself to feel embarrassed.

He tilted his head down cautiously and I let out a shuddering sigh as his warm breath fanned my skin. My head fell back, a quiet whimper leaving me as he began peppering delicate kisses down my throat.

A sudden, low whistle had my eyes popping open again.

Stiles didn't seem to notice—or maybe he just didn't care—as his lips maintained their slow pace against me. I squinted into the darkness, my gaze almost immediately landing on Scott as he practically hung out of his bedroom window with a teasing grin.

I pushed against Stiles’ chest with a breathy laugh. He groaned lowly in protest, but didn't put up a fight as he sagged back in his seat. His big eyes shined up at me with confusion and I jerked my head toward the houses. He looked over and scoffed in annoyance as he realized we had an audience, before his head slowly lulled back in my direction.

“Goodnight, Stiles.” I couldn't control the smile tugging at my lips as I cupped his freckled cheeks and placed a gentle kiss just beside his mouth.

I popped the door open and jumped down, straightening out my shirt with my palms. Stiles shut the door after me and leaned an elbow out the window before letting his chin rest on his forearm. He just stared at me with a small smile on his face, his eyes shining under the streetlights. My heart fluttered at his awe-struck expression and I forced myself to turn around.

If I didn’t go now, I might never be able to walk away from him.

“Night, Scott!” I called up to his room as I unlocked my front door.

His muffled reply came just before I let the door close behind me. I sagged against it, a big grin slowly taking over my face. Being with Stiles had given me a chance to forget about all the crazy shit that happened today, if only for a few minutes.

I knew our problems were really just beginning. Yeah, we identified Peter as the alpha, but something told me being exposed wouldn’t faze him. He was clearly a deranged psychopath that wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. And what he wanted was a pack. I felt like we had a chance to fight back, though. Despite the challenges that were undoubtedly ahead, I was more confident than ever before.

It finally felt like I had all the puzzle pieces.

Episode 8 Episode 10

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hawkinsschoolcounselor · 3 years

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Hi, this ask is a bit longer, sorry. this is PART 1. I'm here cos I'd like to know your thoughts on the way the responsible st people are treating their fans. Frankly, there's a number of folks I know who once were really into the show but are now losing or have lost interest due to the lack of info we're given. also found plenty of people on the internet that feel the same way. It's a shame but I think most of them are disappointed, angry, annoyed or simply stopped caring.

“Part 2: Maybe via screenshot? I, too, find myself struggling to keep my interest alive. I'm really not trying to be unreasonable here. I know we're in the middle of a pandemic and I doubt anyone'd expect s4 to be released within the next 2 months. but I find one has to become a little creative these days, but no, frankly this lack of content is insulting. No teaser trailer, no serious updates, only unofficial ones. Barely any twitter activity and if there's a new tweet it's only unrelated stuff.

Part 3: I don't think this presumptuous 'it's st. Everyone loves it no matter what' attitude is a wise move. How do you feel about it? I'm assuming your analysis, which are great btw, help you staying interested, don't they? But they seem to forget not everyone does that. At the end of the day people are people and people might lose interest and move on. It's a shame though. Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. Thanks for your patience.”

Thank you for writing in. There’s never a need to be sorry about an Ask made in good faith. I thought this one might be good to answer immediately even though I’m very behind in my responses.

I understand your frustration. It’s been over a year since season 3, and we probably would have gotten season 4 by now if not for Covid. When one considers that we probably aren’t getting season 4 until, conservative guess, this Spring, it’s difficult to not get frustrated. I do think, though, that we need to be careful about where we aim that frustration.

Perhaps it’s because I’m older, but I harbor no anger at the Duffers or anyone else responsible for creating Stranger Things. I grew up in the time before social media or streaming services. Aside from VCRs, we had no means of on-demand television, and our entertainment news was mostly limited to TV Guide. Behind-the-scenes peeks and TV trailers were sparse, generally limited to the weeks leading into the new Fall TV season. This just isn’t fazing me like it may the younger generation. I understand, though. Many of you are simply accustomed to what you grew up with, just as I am.

I do feel a need to defend the showrunners. We get quite a bit of information, official and not. We’ve gotten teasers, cast announcements, and the postings of a Twitter account run by one of the Duffer’s assistants. Yes, a lot of that content has slowed, likely due to not having planned for an extended delay, but I hesitate to cast any blame on them for it. I simply remind myself that they do not really owe us anything. I repeat, they do not owe us anything.

We receive the fruits of their labor in the form of a very entertaining TV show. It is something they’ve chosen to do, and they are doing their best to do it. I fear we may be at risk of being spoiled by our current (at least prior to the shutdown) level of access to entertainment. Instant, on-demand gratification has become the norm as a result of social media and streaming services. It’s really hard to blame you, and anyone else, for getting upset now that this trend has been suddenly disrupted, but we need to engage in some self-reflection here. What right do we really have to demand anything from these people?

Production is still on despite several other shows being outright cancelled. All reasonable steps are being taken to ensure a safe filming environment so that we can get the show as soon as possible. We do get updates from the social media accounts, even if those updates have become fewer and farther between. There’s an element of diminishing returns when it comes to this sort of thing. There’s only so much they can give us without spoiling the product itself. They simply be scraping the bottom of the barrel at this point.

We do have some unofficial “leaks,” yes. Honestly, I’m not sure how unofficial those really are, though. The set photos that have come out have been minimal to the point that I feel they may have been designed to be as such. If it were really all the work of rogue production crewmembers or fans sneaking in, I would have expected a lot more. I’m not saying that it all has been authorized content masquerading as leaks, but I am saying it could be. They know the fans who are still following things are the ones who would look at unofficial sources. It’s not too much of a stretch to consider that they’ve done this on purpose to get the online fanbase speculating in order to keep interest going. I know it’s certainly given me something to do after I analyzed almost everything I could think of from the existing episodes. Not everyone does that, as you say, but the more casual fans probably aren’t even paying attention to the time between seasons. Others, like me or you, are either creating, or consuming, fan content in the meantime.

I ask patience and understanding of you all. These are the people who have clearly created something you love. They are suffering from this pandemic, as well, but they are still trying their best to give us what we want. We may all need to lower our expectations a bit. I fear they’ve grown to be too high in recent years, resulting in an unfair demand on content creators. Since this is the season of good will towards man, I’ll simply leave you with this reminder: patience, tolerance, and respect are things we often demand from others, but fail to demand of ourselves. Everyone involved in the show is working hard to get things done, and we need to show patience, tolerance, and respect while we wait.

#stranger things #stranger things 4

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bigasswritingmagnet · 3 years

Text

When History Comes Calling Ch 6/14

art by @snuffes

Fandom: Mass Effect Rating: Teen Pairing: none, some background Fshep/Garrus

Summary: In 2170, Mindoir was attacked by slavers. Hundreds were taken captive, hundreds more were slaughtered. Kiryn was the only Shepard to make it out alive. For years, he buried his grief, kept his head high, and did whatever he needed to survive.He survived Mindoir and the batarians and when the Reapers came he survived them too.

But when the war ends and he escapes his batarian masters to the Citadel, the discovery that his twin sister is alive and well might just be the thing that breaks him. The Hegemony's greatest assassin will remember what it means to have something to lose.

AO3 link in notes! “How come Joker gets a whole bed and I have to sleep on a couch?”

“Because I have brittle bone disease, and you once won hand to hand combat with a krogan.”

“I have to sleep on a couch too, and I’m not complaining.”

“Because you fit on a couch, Esteban. You’re couch sized.”

“You could ask Garrus if you can bunk with him.”

“No thanks. I’ve been shot all the times I want.”

A faint pinging noise.

“Shepard says if we don’t bring breakfast in ten minutes she starts breaking windows.”

“Ah jeez. Garrus! Come on! We gotta go before Shepard pisses off the nurses again!”

“I hope they let her out soon, I don’t know how much more of her that hospital can take.”

“Well the doctor says…”

The voices faded as the speakers passed out of the bug’s range. Kiryn very nearly scowled in his frustration. This was the third time he’d missed out on information of Keris’ medical status.

He needed to get more listening devices. One for every room of that stupid, oversized cavern of an apartment. Nobody ever stayed put when they started a conversation, even an important one. He never should have wasted one in the office. Nobody spent any time in there, because it was Keris’ office, and she was in the hospital.

The kitchen had been a good call, but apparently people had conversations about highly confidential top secret Alliance projects anywhere they damn well pleased, up to and including the bathroom. Weren’t these people supposed to be professionals? One of them was the Shadow Broker for crying out loud.

The emails had been worse than disappointing. They had been concerning. Not in content, but in quantity. He had expected the bulk of his sister’s communication to be work related. But out of an entire year’s worth of correspondence, barely fifty of them had been entirely unrelated to her work. At least they had been relatively positive messages, mostly requests to spend time together in a non-combat situation. He just hoped Keris had taken them all up on that offer. She never seemed to reply to the emails she got.

Kiryn sat up, startling the man on the other bed. He wasn’t sure what to make of the man, who went by Tucker. He couldn't possibly know Kiryn's reputation - he was from a colony just outside Alliance space, and this was the farthest he'd ever been from home. He'd been a beet farmer, of all things.

Kiryn had never threatened him. In fact, Kiryn barely spoke to the man. He spent most of his time staring silently at the ceiling, listening to the conversations via his listening devices. Tucker couldn't hear anything, Kiryn had made sure, so there was no way that was worrying him.Kiryn was never rude or angry or moody; he kept up his neutral expression as he always did, showing no emotions whatsoever.

So why on earth was Tucker so afraid of him?

“Good morning,” he said.

“Mmhmm,” Tucker said, dropping the datapads he’d been trying to sort. He started to retrieve them, only to drop them again when Kiryn stood up. Kiryn stared at him, trying to think of something to say that would reassure the man. The only thing that really came to mind was “don’t worry I only kill people for money and I promise I wouldn’t take a contract on you if anyone offered it”-- and Kiryn suspected that wasn’t quite going to cut it.

“Have a nice day,” he said, finally. Tucker shrank away from him as he slipped out the door. What a strange man.

As obsessive as C-Sec was about keeping tabs on the refugees, they sure weren't doing a very good job of watching all the possible ways in and out. This had been a loading dock, which meant there were all sorts of service entrances. Sure, those doors were locked, but they used the same keycards as the open entrances. All Kiryn had had to do was get his hands on a security pass -- neatly snagged off a passing officer too busy talking on his omnitool -- and he could come and go as he pleased. There was one door that the cameras didn't quite reach, around a corner the guards didn't bother to keep an eye on.

Kiryn was becoming quite fond of C-Sec, in a condescending sort of way. Bless their little hearts, they tried so hard. If Kiryn had been interested in doing any real damage, they'd never catch him until it was far, far too late. Truly it was fortunate that everyone was too busy trying to get themselves sorted out to even think about the kinds of political maneuverings that required murder.

He found that he enjoyed exploring the Citadel. So much of it was a novelty: being able to disappear so easily into the crowd, not needing to keep constant watch for security systems or guards, to keep to his own schedule rather than that of his target, to just casually be . He could go into a store that caught his interest without a purpose, or sit on a bench and watch people go by, or even just meander aimlessly around with no destination in mind.

Perhaps this was what it meant to enjoy freedom.

He didn't even need to be efficient when he did have a goal in mind. He could go to the wards and find the quiet little shop that discreetly sold the tools of his trade, buy some more listening devices, and take himself up to the Presidium for lunch before heading back to Keris' apartment. No rush at all, so long as he got there before visiting hours ended. He'd been listening in for long enough to get a good sense of everyone's schedules. They tended to take shifts at the hospital with Keris, but they also had their own jobs to do. In general, the apartment was all but guaranteed to be empty between 10 am and 3pm.

"I'm getting a little worried about you, Garrus," said Tali'zorah vas Normandy, and Kiryn nearly choked on his noodles. Reaching out to grab a napkin, he turned the silver holder until he could see beside him. Only one seat away, three of Keris' friends were sitting down to lunch.

Of all the worst luck... He hunched his shoulders and tried to be as invisible as possible. They don't know what you look like, he tried to remind himself. For that matter, they didn't even know anyone had been in Keris' apartment. They weren't looking for anyone. But if they did figure it out, he couldn't risk someone looking at the security cameras and remembering the guy at the noodle place.

"What are you talking about? I'm fine," said Garrus Vakarian, the turian his sister was, actually, as a matter of fact, dating for real. Kiryn still hadn’t figured out what to think about that.

"No, Tali's right. You spend every minute you can in the hospital." James Vega was even bigger than he sounded.

"Where else should I be?" Vakarian snapped. Kiryn watched his reflection jab irritably at the electronic menu. "I can do my work from there just fine."

"I know," Tali’zorah said, gently, "but you don't do anything else. Or go anywhere else. At all."

"You want me to just leave her in there alone?" There were even fewer turians in batarian space than there were humans, so Kiryn wasn't as good at reading them, especially when distorted by a reflection. But even he could hear anxiety pretending to be anger when he heard it.

"C'mon, Scars, we're not saying you should never visit her. But she's not going anywhere. She's fine now, she said so herself."

"She said she was fine when she was barely out of the coma, too," Vakarian said. "After what happened last week, you still think she's fine?"

Last week? What had happened last week? Nobody had said anything last week. Unless they'd said it out of range of the listening devices. His hand tightened on his chopsticks, his ears straining to pick up every word over the bustle of the crowd.

"It was just a bad reaction to the medication. The doctors fixed it."

"And if she has a bad reaction to this stuff too? What then?"

Kiryn tried to remember to keep eating, to just blend in, be another member of the crowd. Everything suddenly tasted foul; it was hard to swallow. He agreed with Vakarian whole-heartedly. A mental image of Keris sitting small and alone in a dark hospital room, flashed across his mind. Just the thought made him feel cold. These were supposed to be her friends!

"Hey, can you pass the soy sauce?"

The voice was so unexpected Kiryn looked up. He turned away again, but the damage had been done. Vega had seen his face. Kiryn slid the bottle over, muttering something, trying to look engaged with his soup.

"Hey, do I know you? You look real familiar, man."

No. No, no, no, no.

He shook his head, his stomach twisting into knots.

"Military, right?" Shit . "I was stationed out on Arcturus Prime a few years back; were you ever out that way?"

Kiryn shook his head firmly and stood.

"No."

"But--"

Kiryn turned quickly and left, knowing this was suspicious, thinking of a thousand better ways he could have handled it... but his heart was thudding against his ribs so hard he couldn't breathe.

He should hold off on going back to Keris' apartment for a few days, until the incident had faded from their minds. He wasn't going to. The reminder of just how much information he was missing was not one he could easily put aside. What if Vakarian was right, and something did happen and Kiryn never knew about it?

He would just need to be quick, and careful.

This time he did not go in the front door, even though he knew the code. He could not risk being seen by the cameras out front. But he'd had a chance to get his hands on blueprints of Tiberius Towers and the buildings beside it. There was a parking garage beneath them. All three had access.

He walked faster than he should have. The adrenaline and something tight in his chest he couldn't understand drove him on. He found the elevator and stairwell. He took the stairs, but only two flights. There was the opening to the air vents. Unpleasant, slow, and difficult, but much, much safer. No risk of being seen. He could be absolutely sure no one was in the apartment before he entered.

The added bonus was that it forced him to slow down. He had to focus on making as little sound as possible, regulating his breathing, and counting the floors as he went. The cold air in the vent went a long way to clearing his mind. By the time he was high up enough, his heartbeat had slowed and he could think straight again, although he still couldn’t shake that tightness in his chest.

It had been an unfortunate coincidence, and he hadn’t handled it well. However, given that no one knew about the bugs, no one was on the alert for any strange behavior. As far as they knew, he was just a weird guy at the ramen place. Right? Right.

So just calm down and get a grip. Everything was fine.

There was a series of laser tripwires criss-crossing the vents leading to Keris’ apartment. Before he could pull up his omnitool and figure out how to deactivate them, they turned off. That was….weird. He checked their schematics and found that they had genetic sequence readers, just like the door. They didn’t seem to be set to track any coming and goings. The alarm was simply wired not to go off when certain people went by. And apparently the readers weren’t very advanced, if 50% was close enough to do it.

It might have been making his life more convenient, but he wasn’t any less annoyed at how slipshod Keris’ security system was. She should really know better.

Kyrin had a lot of little tools in his kit, things that weren’t necessary but made his job easier. Some were quite specialised. You couldn’t get past everything with an omnitool. Of particular use was a device that looked almost like something you’d find at a dentist’s office, which was able to unscrew things from around a corner. Like, say, the screws to a vent cover from inside the vent.

Kiryn was at the top of his field for many reasons. His physical prowess and tactical skill made him one of the best. But there were two things that made him the best: he minded the little details, and he always always managed his escape routes as he went. It was for this reason that, despite his urgency, he took the time to strip the screws and glue them into place on the vent cover, so he could come and go with ease.

This time he was not going to dawdle. In, plant the bugs, get out. He’d go to the wards and find a hotel that charged by the hour, ridiculous or not, and work on his sniper rifle. That would make him feel better. Or at least calmer.

He put a bug in every room in the apartment, every hallway. Under every couch, the poker table, the conference table, hidden in the branches of a tree, at the bottom of a painting. One in the bar, at the far back where it couldn’t be seen.

Nothing was ever going to happen to Keris that Kiryn did not know about. Not anymore.

#mass effect #commander shepard #femshep #dudeshep #twin au #alternate universe fic

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musingbof · 3 years

Text

Where I used to live, many people knew me.

More so, people knew what I looked like. They’ve seen me and occasionally talked to me.

I was more alive then, I think. I’m sure that’s the only reason they said hi to begin with was because I was less haunted. Back then I would actually talk to people about my problems, but in the end it only proved to hurt me.

People like the ones I used to talk to aren’t worth it. Not anymore. It’s not worth the half hour of time I would have spent alone if I wasn’t desperately trying to keep bad people around.

Now, I’m tired all the time, and can hardly think without it turning into something painful. The only semi-worth while thing my body does is keeping me alive, breathing when my i lack the oxygen.

Because of this, introspective thoughts only come minutely.

I breath deeply, but it lasts for only a few seconds before I have to start again. Just as it is in most people, it’s automatic.

It happens without much concentration, and even when I try and take control, my breaths come in faster than my weakend lungs can support.

I suppose that’s my fault, but I don’t smoke as much as I used too. It’s not that I did much before. It’s an impulsive thing, smoking a cigarette when I’m stressed, but it never goes beyond that.

Still, my chest aches for a reason I’m sure is unrelated.

When I was younger, people would talk to me all the time. They knew me, but I wasn’t particularly popular, nor was I quiet and reclusive. Really, I was more of a trouble maker. I was a bad kid— late to class, talking back, but they never did anything because I had passing grades. Occasionally, there was a teacher who would threaten to fail me in a module, though it never happened. I was bad to the point where I was being sent out of the room daily. The headmaster knew my full name, and I found myself in her office more often than I was actually in class. This aside, I wasn’t popular. Not among students, at least. My classmates would talk to me and I would talk back. Often they knew who I was, and I was left feeling a bit awkward about it. I didn’t know them back, but I never worried it was supposed to be a mutual thing. Mostly because they knew my name, but they never used it. It’s like an unspoken curse. They never said my name. Instead, they said Shitface. A loving nickname that’s stuck with me since primary school. Of course, this name wasn’t given just because young children can be impossibly cruel, but because of my resting face, always a frown or scowl. I don’t mind the name. It has long since stopped hurting.

Such a sensitive child. I had to learn to toughen myself up, because no one was going to help me. They say it’s good to be emotional, but I don’t think so. Not in my case. I only speak for myself when I say these things. Being emotional was never the right thing for me.

Breathing is now manual and thinking is optional. My brain hurts and my tongue is numb.

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. What will I do? Talking is my only pass time.

Even if I am alone I talk to the invisible bodies trapped under my bed and inside my closet. They are never there and never were but the countless stretch of nightmares baring tragic events and retched stenches seem so real, I start to think maybe they really are there. It’s paranoia. It’s sick fascination. It’s wrong and disgusting, and experiments I think of that could evolve us as an entire species are wildly unethical. It makes me feel sick to think about but it’s always where my mind wanders. I feel so old now. I used to have so much patience. So much worth.

I have no one to blame but myself now.

I am a victim of circumstance.

Shaped by my upbringing.

I am the harbinger of death. A nihilistic arsehole, shitface, a horrible person who wants so desperately to do good. So desperately wants to be good.

I’m young enough to dream but old enough to know I don’t have a lot of time. I’ve wasted a good 3 years being a pathetic, sorry excuse of a person, wasting away in my own mistakes. In my own misfortune. My own tragic, crybaby childhood, where nothing mattered and nothing does matter. There’s constricting memories in my slowly decaying mind of my mother, who seemed to give up on everything right in front of me, and growing up thinking my father was some wonderful, perfect, role model man, only to find out he was just as horrible as my mother. Memories I don’t want to remember and those I’ve yet to even process, it’s like a vice on my brain, so painful and inescapable, tightening with every breath. There was not enough time.

I can’t feel and I’m not sure I want to. It’s impossible to be vulnerable for me and it’s painful to think about crying or screaming when something nicks the wrong spot. What am I supposed to do. Where am I supposed to put all these emotions I’ve sworn to myself I’d never release?

Being vulnerable only exposes my weaknesses and it’s unnecessary for me. For me specifically and in this moment, only me.

Always on the brink of death. Forever haunted by invisible evil.

So close to the edge but I don’t fear falling. I don’t fear death, I don’t fear life. I fear what people can do. I fear having to rely on others.

I want control and it’s awful and toxic and impossible to avoid. I know it’s bad and I know I can’t have it in every situation but it’s keeping me from doing so many things.

Where will I go when I run out if room for these thoughts?

Storing them here is the only way to keep from cracking. It’s holding me together by strings and cheap bandaids. What will I do when it runs out? When it breaks? I have no where else.

Breathing is now automatic and it’s taking all my strength. I’ve run out of the necessary energy to repair my body. It’s taxing, and draining. There’s no place to stop and rest. I have no where to go.

You have all these dreams as a child and you believe in them for so long you start to actually think they’re possible.

When you grow up, thinking you can be anything you want, you find there are limits to what your body can take.

My body has been through a lot. I’ve put it through so much, and the people I thought could patch me up only made things worse. They take my broken pieces and use them for themselves. Now I am incomplete. No one has the right pieces to fix me. You can’t buy these parts at a shop. No one has any spare. No one is compatible. I am on my own, and I know, now that I’m older, I should stop waiting around miserably for someone to come.

There’s no use holding on and waiting to see if someone will take pity. I hate pity. It makes me feel awful. Don’t talk to me if your a good person doing good things for the sake of others, please. You’ll waste your time.

It’s easy to hide behind a screen so I can say good people make me feel insignificant. With my toxicity I hurt people, and there’s no need. I will help you without any second thought, But please don’t help me. Please don’t touch me and please don’t pity me.

I’m a horrible person. It’s not an accomplishment, it’s not something to be proud of. My feelings hurt people. My thoughts scare people.

It’s because of this that I find it hard to let people see me.

Shitface shitface shitface.

I’m a living insecurity but I have so much pride in drowning in it.

It’s easier to hide behind a screen and vomit your thoughts out onto a digital script than it is actually talking about them.

Shitface, shitface.

It’s easier to hide behind that name. It’s what people are used to. Less to suspect.

Less to expect.

Please see there is nothing more to me than this. I’m awful, but I want to be better. I want to be as good as them.

Do not pity me.

Do not comfort me.

I’m fine, and it’s easy to take this as a cliché, but I’m fine.

I’m going to drop these thoughts and feeling here so others can scroll past. I’m going to realise, there might be a chance others will see this. Maybe they will read this.

It’s easier to quit talking when you realise you’ve said too much. Easier to stop abruptly than to finish a sentence.

#diary #journal #writing #poetry #thoughts #musings #venting #diary entry #journal entry #journal entry 7

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geniusgub · 3 years

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north//chapter fourteen

genre: angst

pairing: season twelve spencer reid x female oc

warnings: description of physical assault, prison, just all of the bad prison arc stuff

word count: 4.7k

summary: spencer and amelia feel the effects of being forcibly separated and it impacts them in similar ways.

honestly, spencer’s pov in this chapter is one of my favorite things i’ve ever written so i hope everyone enjoys it <3

AMELIA

"Come on! You don't even have to do anything! Just go and clean up. We'll go with you and help!" Yaz pokes my shoulder incessantly, trying to get a reaction out of me. But I just keep my eyes on the tv in front of me, bundled up under a blanket.

"Lia," Michael sighs and slings his arm over my shoulder. I want nothing more than to shove it off. “It's been like, three months since-"

I'm quick to speak up to correct him. "Two and a half."

Michael and Quinn exchange a tense look. "Okay," Quinn nods, "two and a half months. It's been two and a half months since you've drawn, or painted, or sketched, or done anything even related to art. We know you're upset about Spencer but you can't let yourself be so upset. You need to find something that's gonna bring you happiness, and art has always done that."

"I don't wanna," I answer like a stubborn child, an answer that any of my siblings would have given me about things like going to bed early or eating vegetables. I pull the blanket up to my chin and stroke my thumb across my newest tattoo, tucked away and out of the sights of my nosy, annoying friends.

Frankie turns and shushes Quinn. "Like I said, Lia, why don't we go and just clean up your studio? We can drive over and just clean up? That's it. You don't have to do a photoshoot or create anything new. Just clean. Sound good? An hour tops."

I look around the faces of my expecting friends and tighten my jaw. I try to steal Spencer's skills and profile what their ulterior motives could be. They all hated Spencer before meeting him, and even after they met him, they weren't completely fond of him. So why are they trying so hard to get me to feel better? Why does it feel like they’re trying to get me to forget about my boyfriend in prison? I should be worrying about him every second of my day instead of prancing around town, cleaning up my studio, and going about my life as if Spencer isn’t suffering. But I’m sure they mean well. And I’m absolutely positive that my legs are sore from sleeping on the couch and from being in that same position all day.

"Fine," I concede, and they all silently cheer. "But I'm driving myself."

The drive to my studio is nearly insufferable. It’s silent and overwhelmed with a tension that I created but can’t seem to let go. The sights around me are familiar but blurry, like I can’t even tell which stores are which without someone in my passenger seat spitting out fact after fact after fact as I drive. I can’t drive down the street and try to recall all the good times and all the dates and all the drunken stumbles back home with the love of my life on my arm. It’s far too painful to constantly remember that I can’t go home and see Spencer and I can’t spend hours on the phone with him like I do when he is away on a case. I can’t see him.

When I arrive at my studio, I realize why they were so insistent that I come out to clean up. I can't remember the last time I was actually in here to work but it's an absolute mess. There are canvases everywhere, bottles and tubes of paint on the floor, splashes and splatters of paint on the walls, brushes everywhere, crumbled up sketches in the trash, and way more. The studio needs much love and I guess now is the time to give it.

Michael immediately turns on music and everyone gets to work, but I don't. I pick up an empty tube of yellow paint and squeeze it in my palm. My head is starting to pound and I can't even stop it as tears start to fall down my cheeks. Who knew that one person could produce so many tears?

Spencer loved when I wore yellow. I have this one short, backless dress that he loved. He especially loved that he had easy access to my skin, always tracing shapes on my back and murmuring about how soft my skin is. He always said that he loved the way the yellow complimented my blonde hair and how it contrasted against my colorful tattoos. He even went as far as to buy me another yellow dress for my birthday last year.

And he loved when I used yellow in my paintings too. One time, I sent him a picture of a piece I was working on and he emailed back a book about how the use of yellow paint expressed the happiness of the piece or something like that. He raved about a painting I did of the sun and how my use of yellow wasn’t scientifically accurate, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

"Amelia?" Quinn speaks but I don't look at her. My cheeks are wet with tears that I barely noticed and my hands are clutching the tube of paint so tightly that it would burst if it were full. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to upset you. If we-"

"I'm gonna go," I say hastily, clutching the empty tube in my hand as I breeze out of the studio, leaving my bewildered friends to either clean or leave. They know the way out and they know where the keys are. They don’t need me.

I'm wandering into the bullpen like it's second nature because, at this point, it basically is. Nobody on the team bothers to say anything to me. They never do. They're too worried I'll blow up at them or start crying. I don't blame them.

I rap my knuckles against Dave's door and wait for him to shout for me to come in, and when he does, I enter slowly. He gives me a small, pitiful smile as I move in front of his desk. I set the empty yellow paint tube in front of him and then sit down, bringing my knees to my chest.

Dave looks down at the tube, his eyebrows furrowing. "Paint? What's this?"

I blink and it forces tears out of my eyes. "I don't know how to live without Spencer."

Dave leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over my chest. He studies me, profiles me. I hate when Spencer did that. He always got this look on his face when he profiled me, but Dave has a better poker face. "And paint has something to do with that?"

"I just went to my studio with my friends and I finished off all this paint and there were brushes all over the floor and-" tears start pouring down my cheeks again, wetting my neck and the neckline of my sweater. "I came home the other day and I'd left the balcony door open. How stupid. I'm forgetting to lock my doors just because my boyfriend is in p-" I gulp, having to force out the disgusting word, "prison. How fucking stupid. How stupid am I that I can't function without him?"

"You're not stupid," Dave shakes his head. Nothing about his tone or his body language is helpful in the slightest. Nothing and nobody will help. "You two are reliant on each other and that's not a bad thing. I'm sure Boy Genius is always on you about locking your doors and I'm sure he's always giving you statistics on break ins and-"

"He doesn't," I cut him off sharply. "If Spencer's telling me statistics then it's about stars in the sky and how to properly care for my plants so they stay alive longer or just- it's never about things you guys talk about here. It always about things that I'd like. He does it to protect me. He doesn't tell me about serial killers unless I ask, and I only ask when I can see that he had a really hard day at work. It's just me, Dave," I put my forehead to my knees, shoulder shaking as sobs take over my whole body. "I just don't know how to live without him. I don't know how to function without him holding my hand and him calling me to promise he's okay and-- I just can't. I can't do it."

"You did it before you met him," Dave stands from his desk and moves in front of me. He puts his cold hand on my shoulder and it sends a chill down my spine. "You lived a long life before you met him, and you're living now while he's temporarily gone. It's hard, I know, but it's only for a short time."

"I just want him to be okay. That's all I really care about."

///

SPENCER

///

My whole job is about helping people and I've spent my whole life caring for others, mostly my mother. In my professional life, I'm always keeping an eye on my teammates to make sure they aren't in danger. I consider it to be part of my responsibility to look after every single one of my teammates. They're my family and I rely on them to help me too.

I never thought my helpful nature would come back to hurt me. I never thought that trying to help out a friend would come back to hurt me so badly. All I wanted to do was help Delgado. That's it. Calvin is protecting me and the other men in here wouldn't dare to cross him. They know how miserable he could make their experience here and they'd rather beat up someone else than get on Calvin's bad side.

All I did was speak to a correctional officer at chow. That's literally all I did. Yes, I did rat out the gang to the officer for beating up Delgado, but they don't know that. They aren't going to be disciplined for it. I ask the guard for water first as a cover, but clearly, it wasn't enough.

And I've been through a lot in the field. I've been tackled, and punched, and shot, but getting beaten up in a prison is completely different. The guards couldn't care less about the inmates. No matter how much I screamed and pleaded for help, no one came. And even still, there was another inmate outside my cell keeping watch so my attackers could run and not get caught.

I’ve gotten beaten up a lot in my line of work and I can confidently say that this one, in a dirty prison cell, is the worst I’ve received. They held me down against my bed and used a rag to muffle me, but it covered my mouth and nose and it almost suffocated me. They beat me to a pulp, drawing blood on my forehead and almost cracking a rib or two.

It was an unrelenting beating and I eventually succumbed to the pain because I convinced myself that they were going to kill me. I snitched and death would be the consequence. I stopped fighting and just let them take their turns at swiping my face and my chest and my stomach because what could I do? Nothing. As Calvin loves to remind me, the rules are different in here. I don't have a badge and a gun to make the torture stop. I have to endure it or find my own ways to make it stop, and this is a moment to endure it. I'm rendered useless.

The beating only ended when the inmate outside whistled, probably a preplanned signal, because the two others immediately jumped off of me and ran out of my cell. As soon as the towel was pulled away from my face, I gasped in a breath and clutched my aching chest, wincing in pain.

Wilkins came strolling over, peering into my cell. I knew he knew exactly what had just happened by the smirk on his face, but he chose to do nothing. He chose to stroll over instead of running and he didn't yell at the other inmates. He just stared at me and smirked, shaking his head.

"That'll teach you to keep your mouth shut, Snitch."

And those are the words that echoed in my nightmare that night.

I'd rolled over and coughed up a generous amount of blood, grimacing at the taste in my mouth. My body trembled and shook when Wilkins left, even more than when he was silently mocking and watching me. Wilkins doesn’t care to do his job but at least with him standing at my cell door, I had the tiniest bit of protection. But with him gone, the other inmates could come back and finish the job. I shook and stayed rolled over on my side for twenty minutes, staring at the floor and waiting for my cell to close.

When it finally did close, I didn't even let myself sigh of relief. I just fell onto my back again with a groan. I could barely move. It hurt too bad. Everything always hurts nowadays. Things didn't hurt on the outside. Living didn't hurt before I got arrested.

Getting visitors the next morning is not what the ideal situation is. Rising from bed is more of a challenge than it normally is. My body is sore and aching and all I want to do is curl up in my obnoxiously uncomfortable bed, if this slab of metal and a blanket could be considered a bed, and go back to sleep. But I know I'll get in trouble if I don't get up for role call, so I ignore the pain.

I don't dare to look around at anyone on my block as the officer shouts our names, checking to see that we're all here. I just keep my head held high and my hands at my sides and try to show that I couldn't care less about the beating that is causing me so much unrelenting pain.

But then they call our names for a visitor’s session and, of course, my name gets called. I'm usually grateful to get to see anyone from my team, but now? Today? After last night? I'd prefer if they didn't come back until after these bruises were gone. But there's nothing I can do so I allow the guards to put cuffs on me and lead me to the visitor’s room.

As soon as Penelope sees me, she gasps and drops her jaw. She starts to rise to her feet, but I sharpen my glare at her and when she sees my expression, she stays in her seat. When I sit down at the little table and put my cuffed hands in view, like I'm required to, I watch her eyes fill with tears.

"You-" she whispers, "you're hurt. What happened?"

"It's not a big deal," I answer nonchalantly. "It could've been worse." She's not convinced, her jaw dropped as a few tears drip down her cheeks. I keep my jaw tight and as much as I want to comfort her and hug her and promise that as badly as this hurts and as horrible as I'm sure I look, I'll be fine. But there are a million eyes on me right now, including my assailants, and if I show any kind of weakness, a beating like last nights will surely be in store for me again.

Penelope not-so-subtly glances around at the other prisoners around us. "Reid," she leans towards me and tries to lower her voice, "I am going to march right down to the warden’s office and I'm going to-"

"No, you're not," I snap, and my sharp tone of voice makes her jump back, her eyes widening. But for some reason, the look on her face doesn't even make me regret the way I've spoken to her. The look on her face just bothers me more. Why doesn't she get it? Clearly, I have to spell it out for her. "It'll just make worse things. I've got it handled, Garcia."

"Are you sure?" She practically whimpers. "I could-"

"How's everyone else? How's the team? How's my mom?" I deflect from the obvious issue at hand and instead turn the focus to my loved ones. All but the one I wanna hear about.

Penelope starts to nod slowly and she moves her glasses to wipe her cheeks free of tears. "We really miss you. And in our free time, we're working really hard on your-"

"Shh," I try to hold my hands out but the handcuffs rattle, and my eyes dart over to a guard who is alerted by my movement. He gives me a pointed look as if telling me not to do anything stupid. I put my hands back down and look over at a stunned Penelope, leaning in closer. "Don't talk about my case, Garcia. People don’t do that in here. It’s not right and it’s not safe. Just don't talk about it."

She gulps harshly, another single tear dripping down her cheek. "Okay," she nods again, and it's obvious that she's confused. But I don't have the time or the energy to explain why I'm acting like this and I don't even have it in me to care. I didn't even want to be at this visitor’s meeting. I'm only here because I have to be. "Um," she taps her fingers against the table, "we just really miss you, Spencer. Your mom is doing really well with Cassie."

"Good, I'm glad everyone is okay," I nod and I sit back, glancing around for a clock. When is this thing over? I'd rather be in my cell than here. I never thought I'd think that.

Penelope raises her eyebrows and her eyes soften. "A-Amelia? Do you wanna hear about her?"

As soon as I hear her name, my heart starts beating faster. My mind flashes with all the most beautiful images of Amelia that I can recall. I can practically see her in front of me. I can almost feel her under my fingertips. I swear I can taste her chapstick on my lips as she kisses me. I rub my fingers together as if I can feel the fabric of her denim skirt. As if I could unbuckle her belt and take her right on my bed right now. I shake the thought from my head. Don't go there, Spencer. Nothing good ever comes of when your mind goes there.

But I can't get her out of my head. I can stop seeing her lying on my lap, peering up at me as she mulls over which record to put on. Etta James or Taylor Swift? That's always the question of the day, isn't it? It always seems to take her hours to decide on an answer, and she usually doesn't. She'll usually work up an appetite with her thoughts, and when she's gone to get a snack or a glass of wine, I decide for her. Always the same. Always Taylor Swift.

But her smile is always so beautiful when she comes back into the room. When the music finally flows through her ears, the smile that comes to her face is one that could end wars, cure cancer, solve world hunger. I didn't think I could ever understand how bubblegum pop music could make a person so happy. I didn’t think I could ever understand how bubblegum pop music could make Amelia want to drag me off the couch or out of bed and force me to dance with her, whether it be in the middle of the night or just as the sun is peeking through the always-open blinds of her apartment.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to bring myself back to reality. I try to forget about the girl that's waiting for me in the free world. I try to ignore that she's probably shed tear after tear and I haven't been there to wipe them away. My brain produces images of her gasping for air with her head between her knees and I ball my hands into fists.

I'm angry. I'm fucking furious. I want to be there to hold her and whisper in her ear and tell her that her panic attacks are short-lived, that I'm right there. I need to be there to hold her and kiss her and love her. I need her because I can't do this without her. I don't know what to do if I'm not spending my time protecting her. Everything I do is to protect her. I don't know how to function if I'm not holding her hand, or if I'm not pushing myself through every day just so I can call her at midnight to promise that I'm okay. I've become so reliant on Amelia, and maybe that's wrong, but I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. I just want my life back. I want my life, I want my job, and I want my girlfriend.

I want my girlfriend. I want to move in with her like we planned to and I want to propose to her and I want to marry her. I want to have a whole house full of kids who are loud and messy and loving and adorable and a crusty dog who slobbers all over the couch and chews my shoes. It's not fair. None of this is fair. Amelia doesn't deserve this. She deserves someone better than me.

But I can still see her. I can still see her fucking smile, and I can still hear her goddamn laugh, and I can still feel the fabric of her dumb hair scarves. She's engulfing me in her. She's not even here and yet I feel like I could reach out and she would be in my arms, kissing my neck and telling me that I'm safe and that we can just sit on the balcony and talk. We don't have to go to bed if you don't want to, we can just talk.

What I would give to hear her voice again. I'd give everything I have, and right now, it's not much. I'd give everything plus the clothes on my back to just hear her tell me I'm safe, or to tell me about a new painting she's thinking about starting, or to ask me to tell her a random fact about a food item she is about to buy at the store.

The last thing I want right now is to hear about Amelia. I want it all, or I want nothing. I don't want to hear that Amelia misses me, or that she's crying and having panic attacks in the middle of the BAU, or that she's sleeping in my clothes (or worse, not sleeping at all), or that she's lashing out at everyone. No, if I'm not having her in front of me, kissing me, hugging me, I don't want to hear about her.

"No."

For what seems like the millionth time, Penelope's eyes widen. "No? You don't wanna hear about-"

"No, I don't," there's a pit in my stomach that I try to hold down. I try to not let it take control of me. "I don't wanna hear about how horrible she's doing, okay? So just tell her that I lo-"

I can feel a million eyes burning into every bone in my body and so I stop myself. My lips freeze mid-sentence and I release the steel grip my hands hold around my cuffs. Penelope's are just another pair of eyes that bore into my frame, and I usually love her concerned and mothering nature, but now, it irks me to no end.

"Whatever," it pains me to cut off the sentence I crave so intensely to say, but I can't let my guard down. I can't be vulnerable and I can't show weakness.

"Whatever," Penelope repeats, almost mockingly, her voice cracking. "So you-"

"Could you not say anything to, um," I gulp, "her about this?" I gesture to my face where I can feel the pulsing and throbbing bruises tormenting me. I drop my shoulders and start to fiddle with the way-too-tight handcuffs around my wrists, but then I decide that that's a horrible idea, and probably a good way to get harassed by the correctional officers. "I just don't want her to worry about this. I'm sure she's worried enough. I don't want to give her another reason to, you know, panic."

"Times up! Inmates, get back to your cells."

Without so much as another glance at Penelope, I stand and turn my back to her. I lift my chin as I'm pushed and shoved into the lineup and then pushed and shoved back to my lonely, isolated cell. I'd rather have it this way, behind bars where the other inmates can't get me.

I drop down to the floor, pressing my forehead against the rusty bars, staring out at the drab, bland, boring beige walls. The paint is peeling and the bars, honestly, look like they could be broken with a hard enough kick. And, of course, the colors of the walls do nothing to brighten up the dead environment. The colors aren't anything like those that adorn Amelia's body on the regular.

A frustrated groan escapes my lips as I bang my hand against the bars. Why did I have to think about her again? Why did I have to let her infiltrate my thoughts?

But the colors of her. The colors swirl around in my head but as hard as I try, I can't get her colors to fill this horrible cell I'm confined to. I try to imagine her denim skirts, knit sweaters, and pea coats strewn out on the bed as she chooses what to wear in the morning. I try to remember the feeling of accidentally stepping on one of Amelia's millions of piercings when they fall on the floor after she takes them out before bed. I try to see her laying down on my bed, her sketchbook in her lap, and her colored pencils beside her as she rambles on and on and on, talking more than me, about what she's drawing and how she's planning on achieving her vision.

But no matter how hard I try, I can't get her into the cell with me. She doesn't belong here. Her art doesn't belong on these chipped walls, and her clothes don't belong on this poor excuse for a bed, and her absurdly positive attitude doesn't deserve to be squashed in here.

I rub my eyes and try to forget. I try to forget all about her and I try to erase her from my mind completely. I push myself away from the bars and stand, but standing does the opposite of what I want to do. Standing gives me a perfect view of the tiny window across from my cell, but more specifically, the sky.

I stare up at the clouds, my hands gripping the bars as tight as I possibly can. My eyes well up with tears and my knees start to buckle under my weight, and as my tears start to drip, they sting the cuts that I didn't even realize I had on my face. It’s not like I have a mirror to examine my injuries.

They are just blobs. There are no dragons, or hands, or tables, or staircases, or cars, or Christmas trees. They're just clouds. There's nothing fancy about them. I'll never be able to see it. I couldn't see shapes when I was with Amelia. What makes me think I would be able to see shapes without her?

I push myself away from the bars and throw myself onto the bed, covering my face with my hands. This is useless. I'm useless. There are echoes of chatter from men on my cell block and it makes my head hurt. If Amelia were here, she would cradle my head in her lap and brush her fingers through my hair, and she would trail her fingertips over my forehead and over the bridge of my nose, all while whispering sweet nothings to me. I groan with frustration, rolling onto my stomach and burying my face under my flat pillow.

"Hey, Reid," Calvin's voice joins the echoes from the cells around mine. "How's it going over there?"

TAGLIST

@babybloodstonebones @bxnnywriting @blameitonthenight21 @feralreid @anepiphany @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrrywildflower @penemily @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @yasminwashere @shrimpyblog @anamelessfacelessnerd @wonderlandhatter @whxt-to-write @inkandexchange @just-call-me-non

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mazzy-moon · 3 years

Text

A Lone Butterfly - Chapter 7

Title of Chapter: Be Good

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings/Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Age Difference, Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst and Feels, Mutual Pining, References to Depression, Brief mention of rape/kidnapping

Pairing: Javier Peña (Narcos) x Isabel Cotrille (OFC)

Summary: Tension grows between Javier and Isabel just as her time in Columbia is running out. Trapped between her desire to stay with Javier and her need for healing, she contemplates her next step.

Notes: Thank you to those of you invested in this story, I appreciate you so much. Keep in my mind this is not the end of Javier and Isabel’s journey. The *best* is just beginning.

If anyone is interested, comment or message me and I will add you to a tag list each time I update.

Here’s a link to read it on ao3.

The next day, Javier and I head down to his work building. He wants me to tell them what I told him about the man from the cartel. There isn't much to tell, but I will do what I can to help them.

I am sitting in a chair in the office of the man I just met, Officer Santiago. He's in charge of the case, Javier being second in command.

"So, Peña says you have some information that could help us?"

The man has a domineering presence, which probably comes in handy in some situations, but makes me slightly nervous.

"Just tell him what you told me, Isabel," Javier says, his voice soft and reassuring.

I swallow. "Okay. Well... when I escaped the room the cartel had me in, I saw one of the men there. He tried to stop me from escaping. He looked like he may have been in charge, I don't know. I stabbed him in the eye. Anyway, last night I remembered what his name was."

I tell him the name and he immediately asks for more details. Was anyone with him? What did he look like?

"He had dark, curly hair. He was tall, and had a scar on his right cheek." I struggle to remember any other tiny detail but nothing comes to me. "That-that's all. I didn't get a good look at him. I was too panicked."

Santiago digests what I've said and seems satisfied.

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Cotrille. We've been trying to get a name on this guy for months."

Javier guides me out of the man's office and into the open area just outside it. At least a dozen desks fill the room, all close together. My eyes catch on one of them. It's filled with heartfelt notes, flowers, and photographs. I see a face I recognize on one of them and a rush of guilt sweeps over me. Eric.

I had forgotten about the man who died trying to save me. A few stares are directed at me as I stop in my tracks. Javier realizes I'm no longer following him and looks back. He doesn't say anything, just places a hand on my back and quickly ushers me outside. I'm thankful. I don't really want to break down in front of everyone at the office.

We walk a little off the main entrance, hidden from view.

"Did you know him?" I ask Javier.

"Yes," he replies solemnly. "He had just been transferred here a few months ago. He was a good guy."

I see his Eric's face again in my head, picturing him as he was that night.

"He was so young," I remark, talking to myself.

"Twenty four, I think."

That's barely a life. Why did I decide to drive off that day? If I hadn't, I would've never been taken, there would've been no rescue operation, and Eric would still be alive.

"He tried to save me." I can't conceal the regret that's evident in my voice.

"It wasn't your fault, Isabel. He was inexperienced. I shouldn't have let him on the mission in the first place. The only reason I did was because he insisted and wouldn't let it go. If anyone is to blame it's me."

I'm not looking at Javier. I hear his words, but only half of me believes them. Javier forces my attention, grabbing my shoulders.

"Are you listening to me, Isabel? Don't do this to yourself. You couldn't have prevented what happened." It's the sternest he's ever gotten with me.

He lowers his voice slightly. "Okay?" he says.

I nod. He convinces me with a look.

The next few days pass slowly. I'm brought back to the headquarters to give the sketch artist a description of Matías's face. Later, when my mother's funeral took place, only a handful of people were there. My mother was mostly a recluse, and we kept to ourselves after my father passed away. Javier stood next to me for the entire thing. After we got back to the hotel I drowned myself in unrelenting tears and slept for what seemed like a hundred years. I woke up to a massive headache, still in my black dress and with swollen cheeks.

Today was the day. The flight back to Oregon was booked, and as I stood underneath the shower I contemplated what going back to my life there would look like. A worry crosses my mind that I hadn't contemplated before.

What if things can't go back to normal? How will my friends react to the situation I was now in? Will they still treat me the same? I think of Melody, my closest childhood friend. I try to imagine what her reaction would be to knowing I had been kidnapped and...raped. I can't.

I hated thinking of myself as a victim. I'm still the same person I was before all of this happened, but as much as I try to deny it, I've lost something of myself. I'm not quite the shell of a person I was right after, though. No, Javier helped to ease that darkness. But I'm... emptier somehow. The thought brings me a melancholy I didn't know existed. Is it possible to miss yourself?

I stay in the hot shower until my skin is pink. I tie my damp hair back in a bun at the base of my neck and tug an oversized sweater over my jeans.

Javier waits for me in the hall. He takes my luggage- some personal items retrieved from my mother's house- and we walk in silence until we're outside. I expect him to say something, but he doesn't. The car ride to the airport is painfully silent. From the corner of my eye, I watch the way his forearm flexes as he steers the car. Without being overtly obvious, I take a deep breath in. His smoky, pine scent fills me and I savor it. I will miss his presence. The safeness I feel when I'm around him. Suddenly, I don't want to leave.

When we're at the gates, he finally speaks.

"Take care of your self for me, Isabel."

"I'll do my best."

I frown at the awkward tension between us. Despite our nearness, I feel too far away from him already.

"Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will."

"I mean it. I'm big deal here, I can book a flight at a moment's notice," he jokes.

"So I hear."

I smile for a moment up at him. The space between us grows colder as the intercom informs me it's time for me to go. I panic. I expected more time. Without thinking I close the distance and throw my arms around Javier. He's surprised at first, but quickly reciprocates. I bask in the feeling of his arms wrapped around me. He holds my head under his chin with one hand as I cling to him.

"Thank you, Javi." I whisper into his chest. Tears fall from my eyes as I look up at him. His mouth meets my cheek, just next to my mouth. I realize what I want then and act without thinking. I turn my head and lock my lips on his. As his mouth moves against mine for a brief moment, my heart breaks a little at how good it feels. He pulls back, his thumb wiping away the tears from my face. We speak without words. Somehow, I know he doesn't want me to leave either.

I summon strength from someplace within me and pull myself from him.

"Goodbye, Javier. I'll miss you," my honesty surprises me.

"Me, too."

He goes in for another quick embrace right before I finally leave.

"Be good," he says in that husky voice of his I already miss.

I don't look back as I board the plane, but I feel Javier watching me the whole way.

This is going to be a long flight.

#javier pena #javier pena fic #javier #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfiction #a lone butterfly series #javier peña

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Weird “Drugged”

You will all have to forgive me for not posting the last few days. I went on vacation with family then had a couple tests and then ended up in the ER, so busy week, but i cooked something up for you all. Forgive me if it has issues, see above paragraph or my excuse :)

It is not specifically a human phenomenon, the use of chemicals, to help and support the body. It is, however, a much more complicated field of study for humans. Most species react the same exact way to a drug that any other member of their species would. Many of our species have found specific drugs that cause only minor physiological side effects despite their potency. The system of the non-human body has multiple unrelated systems that are unaffected by one specific drug or another

Humanity on the other hand, is a different story.

The cocktail of chemicals in the human brain integrate into a system that provides the body with a perfect storm of reactions. While most aliens only experience the physiological side effects related to the action of the drug upon an injury , say a numbing sensation or the reduced motility of digestion, humans are some of the only known species to experience extreme psychological effects due to drugs.

In many cases humans will present with wildly different reactions to the same drug as presented in this paper. Though, I find that the most interesting drug reaction, in humans to be those that take place in the brain, specifically the ones causing, or related to sedation, weather that sedation b mild or complete.

…. Let's be honest though, I mostly just find it entertaining.

***

The board of surgical experts was getting ready to convene their conference about human anatomy when it happened. The Summit was taking place on the rundi homeworld courtesy of the GA council. Humanity had proven to be the most difficult species to treat, not simply for their staggering ability to stay alive, but for the numerous drug actions and reactions that could take place in the body.. Rill had been planning to do a lecture during the session, but as per usual, he was cut off by the humans.

The council doors thundered open and one of the marines ran into the room causing quite a stir. Those clinicians who had never before seen a human gasped in shock and awe at the creature’s powerful speed and grace. He came skidding to a stop at the center of the room, barely winded head turning, dark eyes frantically searching the room and zeroing in on Krill, who stood at the front of the auditorium.

“Kill, Krill, something happened. We need your help like, right now..”

If krill had had the capability to roll his eyes, he would have. Taking care of humans was a disaster sometimes. The rest of the auditorium took to their feet in curiosity and, fear, in some cases.

“What happened now?” he wondered

The marine rubbed the back of his head a little sheepishly, “Well uh, we were just messing around.”

“Save me the story and get to the point.”

The marine’s shoulder;s slumped, “The commander dislocated his shoulder.”

The room muttered in some confusion.

Krill sighed, “Of course he did because who else would it be.” He turned back to look at the other assembled medical professionals, “Well come now, class. It seems that today has favored us with a perfect teaching opportunity.”

Hesitantly the rest of the medical professionals followed watching the human prowl along before them with some trepidation.

They found the human sitting outside on the steps of the GA headquarters cradling his arm in one hand as two others attempted to help him support the it, “Shit, shit shit, this hurts.” The man moaned piteously. One of the assistants shifted as he saw the group of doctors coming, but quickly returned to position as the human yelped in pain, “Shit, not like that…... “ Many of the medical professionals had never heard a human distress call before. It was a surprising amalgamation of moaning, hissing and the occasional yip, not to mention the strangely random words, that later had to be explained as profanities.

Krill took charge immediately moving up around the side of the human and dropping down to examine the injured limb.

“Morning doc.” The human said voice unusually slow.

Krill thumped him lightly over the back of the head, “always, always you. Every single time I am busy your body decides to malfunction.” The human mewed pitifully.

A hand raised, “is hitting them in the head part of the treatment.”

Krill sighed, “Only for this one.” He moved over to the side of the human pulling up the strange fibrous covering to reveal the horrible disfigurement below. The medical professionals gasped and muttered in surprise. The skin about the upper limb was bowed upwards unnaturally the arm held awkwardly out before him. What horrible accident could have caused an injury like that…. Well they couldn’t have said. It would be a horrible issue to have for the rest of his life.

Krill prodded around the skin, “Can you feel this.”

The human nodded. Despite what must have been excruciating pain the human had now become very quiet. Its single, wide green eye, the other one was covered by some sort of strange patch, was glassy and distant. When he was asked a question, his answers were clear and concise but very slow.

“alright , the group of you pick him up and bring him inside, try to keep that arm still.” They watched in surprise as a team of humans coordinated themselves to pick up their fellow, grabbing him about the uninjured arm and legs. Awkwardly they shuffled him inside to where Krill ushered them, slowly placing him onto the demonstrative medical equipment that had turned into an impromptu hospital. The other aliens gathered about.

The human refused to lay back hissing in pain when the arm was jostled into the wrong direction.

Krill turned to look at his audience. “What I will demonstrate next is a simple procedure.” At his words the crowd looked rather skeptical muttering and chatting to themselves, “The bone has been pulled from the socket and needs to be reset as soon as possible. It will be a simple push inwards to correct the damage. However, The muscles about the injury may tighten making it difficult and painful for the patient while awake, so we will induce unconsciousness and give analgesic medications for the pain.” He ordered a few of his people around as the human cradled his arm staring off into space with a blank expression. He continued to be responsive and answer questions though he was even slower than normal.

With some instruction from the doctor, the other professionals brought forward the correct medication.

Krill huffed when he saw the label on the bottle.

“Something wrong doctor?”

“No,” Sigh, “He’s just a handful coming out of this one…. Is this all we have.”

“I am afraid so.”

“Well I suppose we are all in for a treat then.” he responded. Adjusting a clear tube about the human’s face running under the protruding sensory organ. Another was being instructed on the placement of an IV into the vein of the hand seeing as the human would not unfurl himself to allow access to the inner arm.

Once that was done, the drug was administered. The human’s eye closed, and he went limp falling backward, lowered slowly by a few other humans, seemingly unaware of the pain that he must have been in, “Now it is important to keep a human speaking after the initial trauma even if you may have to ask the same questions multiple times. Now intense pain and shock can sometimes have similar symptoms, but as long as the human is responsive everything is alright and you don’t have to worry about shock. I wouldn't consider a dislocation something that will cause shock in most cases.”

He moved forward, “Now we are going to do what is called a closed reduction, and simply pop the tip of the bone back into place. I will position my hands here and here, and-” Those with especially good ears heard he grinding pop as the bone slid back into place, the convex surface of skin that had been displaced before falling back into its original position.

They grimaced. It looked horrific.

Krill demonstrated the administration of pain medication and gave a time estimate of when the human would likely to wake up.

“Be warned, these medications tend to have a very severe effect on the cognitive function of a human, you can expect to see mood changes, confusion, slurred or slowed speech, inattentiveness, difficulty focusing, and in this one’s case the need for hand restraints.”

The room muttered.

“You will see why.”

***

Krill had not been lying. The human woke slowly foggy green eye out of focus on glassy. His hands pawed at the blankets below him wandering over the bed until he found the tue to the IV. Krill was forced to pul it away.

“Commander… Commander, how are you feeling.”

The human’s head lolled to the side flopping limply to one side, “Where am I” His speech was slurred just as predicted.’ He grabbed at the Iv tube again, and Krill was forced to pull it away, “No, keep still ok.”

“Okayyyyy.” The human responded groggily.

He seemed pretty happy for someone who should have been in tons of pain.

“How are you feeling?” Krill repeated.

The human didn’t answer head turning this way and that eye wide with curiosity. He looked at his arm, “Oh….. my arm is ok…. That’s gooooood.”

“Commander, try to focus.”

The human did not focus.

Instead he reached a hand out to prod at the little nodes attached to his chest. He began peeling one away. They were forced to take his hand.

“Commander.”

“Yeeee?”

“Can you answer my questions?”

The human nodded widely grinning,, but then seemed to completely forget what he had been asked reaching a hand out to touch one of the machines before being intercepted, “Hey, hey, hey.”

“Yes commander.”

“Wait…. I i forgot… I’m not making any sense…. Am I making any sense.” He glanced towards his arm, “oh my arm is back in place…. That’s good.”

“Yes .” Krill said reassuringly

In the next moment a Drev stepped into the room. She was small for her species, but with a striking electric blue carapace. She walked over, “Why do you insist on getting hurt when I’m not here.”

The human didn’t answer staring at her with a wide green eye. She paused by the bed, and he continued his scrutiny reaching out a hand to stroke the armor of her forearm, “Pretty…. Blue is my favorite color. My best friend is blue too.”

“Adam, I’m right here.”

The human looked up, “Oh ... hi, I didn’t see you there. I saw someone who was just the same color as you, “Pretty…..”

“That was me, Adam.”

“Ohhhhh….. Wait…. That was you.”

“Yes, Adam, that was me.” She didn’t seem perturbed by answering his questions instead taking his hands gently in two of her four and immobilizing them as Krill attempted to slip a sling over one arm.

The human whimpered.

“You’re ok.” the Drev said, “I just need you to hold still.

The human mad a few more distressed noises before becoming distracted by something else, “Sunny, Sunny.”

“Yes Adam.”

“My shoulder is back in…. That’s good.”

The Drev seemed amused, “Yes, that’s very good.”

And then the human started to cry. It was very strange, they had neer seen that before. In fact they didn't think it was physically possible to move so quickly between emotional states. Apparently humans leak from the face when they are upset. A few of the physicians postulated that this may have been an evolved way to gain social attention from other humans. It seemed to work even on nonhumans and the Drev let him hug her arm.

“What’s wrong, Adam.”

The human shook his head, “I-dont know.” That seemed to upset him even more until something else caught his attention and he was back to being as pleased as he had been originally. The drug was everything and more than Krill had said it would be. The large Drev had to keep the human’s hands immobilized, and even then he still managed to cause trouble. It was a wonder that humans managed to do anything in their daily lives if the inside of their heads were like this. Their attentional ability normally must have been herculean to focus this dumpster fire.

It was extremely interesting to watch the human slowly recover himself. At some point he finally began to understand that he wasn’t acting normal despite still acting abnormal. After that came the ability to pay attention and converse normally. Even then he was still doing things that only made sense in a roundabout way.

His voice was no longer slurred, but slow. He seemed almost groggy, but not quite. His previous emotional state had evened out.

“Feel like I got hit by a train.” he groaned. One eye flicked about the audience, “Shit, I didn’t interrupt anything did I?”

Krill let of a deep sigh, “sometimes I wonder if it is your mission in life to interrupt everything I do,” He raised a hand to cut off the human’s apology, “And AS USUAL you somehow still managed to be helpful.”

And that is why the new transuniversal internet currency is not videos of cats, but humans waking up from surgery because, let's be honest, humans on drugs are kind of funny

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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pulaasul · 3 years

Text

Harry Potter and the Dying Will Flames

Harry discovered things about himself, about his aunt’s family, and about the world. Harry Potter discovered the Dying Will Flames and this has changed everything within the Wizarding World.

FFN I Ao3

---------

It all started when Harry was on his second encounter with his parents' killer, Lord Voldemort. He was dying from the basilisk poison in his body, by the time he finished stabbing the basilisk's fang on the dark enchanted diary and say his instructions to Ginny. He was about to collapse, lethargic from the poison's effects.

When he thought about it as he rested at the school's hospital wing, after the fact, something strange had happened within his body. From what he had read on the page that Hermione ripped from the book about basilisks, he should've already died by the time Fawkes the Phoenix cried on his wound.

The pain was still there, the excruciating pain of having his entire body doused with boiling water, was indeed present but he was still alive, barely conscious, but still alive, enough for Fawkes to cry on his wound and destroy the poison from inside of him.

The next weird thing happened when he was at the Dursleys, his maternal aunt's home. He was doing the dishes, when he accidentally dropped one of the plates that he was washing, but the plate didn't break, he still got an earful and was imprisoned in his room after the incident but the plate was never broken.

Both his uncle and aunt had been livid about that.

Then someone representing his uncle's extended family came. Harry didn't know where the glee came from, but he was extremely glad to know that the freakishness, as the Dursleys had dubbed it, also existed in his uncle's family.

---------

"Great grandfather left Italy for a reason Alberto!" Vernon growled at the visitor. "With your nonsense about different colored fire having other properties other than burn things to cinders," He sneered. "I cannot understand why you returned to the family in the first place."

"You know why we're here Vernon." Alberto fired back. "We're here because of the Omerta." He sighed. "It's also the same reason why my family decided to fold back in to the family."

"Omerta?" Dudley curiously asked.

Vernon's face turned pale at the word his son repeated.

"Someone in your family became flame active, it is in our best interests to at least train the recent flame active person to help them control the flames."

Vernon gulped at his uncle's insinuation, he was sure he wasn't flame active and neither was his wife. He just hoped it wasn't his son, he didn't want his son to be involved in the mafia.

"Who?"

"Your nephew."

Vernon's face became red with rage.

"Don't tell me you're angry that someone unrelated to you became flame active when you don't want to have anything to do with the famiglia?" Alberto raised an eyebrow.

"That boy is already a freak and this would make him even more of a freak." Vernon growled.

"I have a theory, why don't you call your nephew?" Alberto ignored Vernon's outburst. "I want to ask him some questions."

-----------

Harry was confused when his uncle called for him, normally his uncle would do anything to lock him up in the room whenever visitors would arrive at the house.

"Hello boy, I am Alberto Dursley, might I inquire what your name is?" The man, Alberto, formally asked for his name.

Harry gulped as soon as the man revealed his full name.

As soon as Harry knew how this man was related to him was, he started dreading how this man would treat him, considering how his aunt Marge interacted with him.

In an attempt to at least prevent the confrontation that was soon to come, he responded to the man with a polite tone.

"I am Harry Potter sir."

"Tell me, Harry, have you been in a life-or-death situation?" Alberto was oblivious to Harry's internal struggle.

Harry blinked a few times, he was caught off guard with the man's attitude towards him, totally different from how his uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge was to him.

Soon after, his narrowed at the question. He knew he can't just say 'I was almost killed by a basilisk in my school' to this man for various reasons. Muggles don't even know about basilisks are in the first place.

Secondly, there was the statute of secrecy, which Professor Snape hammered into his head at the beginning of term.

"Answer the man, boy." Vernon growled.

"There's no need to rush Vernon, I'm sure it's all traumatic for the boy." Alberto admonished his nephew. "I can understand the boy's reservations with sharing such critical, likely traumatic, information to a virtual stranger."

"I was poisoned?" Harry offered after much self-deliberation.

"Was it fatal to you?" Alberto followed up.

"The doctor said that it was a miracle that I even survived in the first place."

"Lightning or Sun flames." Alberto whispered with narrowed eyes.

Alberto shook his head and restrained himself from forming plausible theories about the boy.

"Was there anything weird that happened after you were poisoned? Like being able to punch through a wall or healing a wound?"

Harry was confused, extremely confused. The man, Alberto's, questions sound awfully a lot of the questions the Hogwarts teachers asked muggleborn students when explaining magic to them and their parents.

He was already attending Hogwarts.

"I accidentally dropped a plate once but it didn't break." Harry decided to humor the man's question.

"I take it your family and your nephew are largely ignorant of the family business you left?" Alberto faced Vernon.

"I swore that I would stamp out any freakishness in this house!" Vernon growled. "We failed at my wife's nephew because they were insistent I won't have another instance of that freakishness in my house!"

"You know Vernon, if you hate the child so much, why keep him?" Alberto sighed. "Why subject yourself to such stress, why subject the child to such torture?"

"No!" Petunia exclaimed. "That boy cannot leave this house!"

"Petunia!" Vernon growled.

"Why is that Petunia?" Alberto questioned his nephew's wife. "Is there a reason why you are sheltering the boy despite your clear hatred for him?"

Petunia clamped her mouth shut, she refused to give any more information to her husband's uncle.

"Our family has the Omerta, her family has the Statute of Secrecy," Vernon explained. "As the name suggests, they aren't allowed to say what she meant by that." He glared at the boy.

"Statute of Secrecy," Alberto hummed. "That's familiar," His eyes narrowed in concentration before it opened in realization, "By any chance is this the statute that prevents the magical world from intermingling with the non-magic populace?"

"H-how?" Vernon and Harry questioned.

"Did you really think that there were no magic people involved in the family business Vernon?" Alberto raised an eyebrow once more. "If you have forgotten Vernon, the business has ways to gain such information."

"If he knows…" Petunia trailed off.

"Go ahead." Vernon gave the approval, still glaring at Harry.

"Potter's here because I'm what's left of his mother's family, I'm his mother's sister." Petunia snarled. "The blasted headmaster of his school erected blood wards around the house to keep him protected, or so the letter that came with him said."

"I see, blood wards." Alberto hummed. "Let me see what I can do, but worst comes to worst Potter'll have his training nearby."

----------

Alberto had decided that Harry's training would take place near his place of residence, this will serve to preserve the blood wards placed on his place of residence that kept him and his maternal aunt's family protected from the magical terrorist's cult and the terrorist himself.

Harry and Alberto were currently in a nearby park where no one would visit so that they could train in secrecy.

"What we call them, Harry, are Deathperation flames, some call them Dying Will Flames." Alberto informed Harry. "These flames are what made you survive the poison that should've killed you." He explained."

"Why?"

"There are seven different types of flames, all named after a certain weather," Alberto continued his spiel. "We don't have any means to know what your flames are but from what you described, you mostly have lightning flames, flames with the property of hardening anything you wish, like the plate that you dropped but didn't break."

"What does that have to do with my being poisoned?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"There are different types of poison, ones that solidifies your blood, and another is one that would disintegrate your internal organs like how acid does with everything it touches," Alberto answered. "The poison you've been induced with was something that would disintegrate your organs had you not applied lightning-flames on them to keep them from being destroyed."

"So basically I'm being trained to control this power?" Harry asked.

"In a sense, yes." Alberto nodded. "This is a power that can prove fatal to yourself or others if activated accidentally. You've been lucky so far that every accidental activation has been to save your life, or a thing, so far."

Harry gulped at the man's implications.

"Can Dudley have this power too?"

"Despite popular belief, everyone is able to have this power, it's all on the will of the person, their will to live, and that's why it's called dying will flames."

"So how do I do this?"

Alberto smiled at the query.

"Now I want you to close your eyes and imagine a ball of flame," Alberto instructed. "Try not to call for your magic."

-----------

With Alberto's presence, Harry didn't have much of a hard time living with the Dursleys. His teacher didn't stay in the house but the knowledge that his uncle's uncle was training him was enough to keep them docile towards him.

However the week before Marge visited the Dursleys, Alberto had to leave him, which turned their docile attitude towards him into a hostile one.

However, he doesn't miss a beat every time he pointed out Vernon's relation with Alberto and the green-colored flames he apparently had.

Everything changed once Marge arrived and was subsequently blown up.

Luckily there were only a few days left of summer break when he left the Dursleys and got himself checked into the Leaky Cauldron.

-----------

Harry had so many reasons to be happy at the end of his third year at Hogwarts. First, he knew that he was loved and he has a godfather in the form of one Sirius Black, a werewolf for an uncle in the form of one Sirius Lupin, he was discovering family members he never knew he had.

Harry has decidedly ignored one Peter Pettigrew's presence in his life.

While it was unfortunate, that Sirius wouldn't be able to take him away from the Dursleys, at least the Dursleys that were connected to Harry's mother, the knowledge that he'd be learning more about the Dying Will Flames, especially his lightning flames, was another reason for his happy demeanor.

Of course, none at Hogwarts were in the know of this secret, not even his best friends Hermione and Ron. He may not have been connected to the so-called family business that his uncle Vernon has left, he knew enough that the business has its equivalent of the Statute of Secrecy that Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall has hammered into his head during the start of his second year.

"What exactly do you do Alberto?" Harry inquired as he sat on the pavement, tired from his training.

"Why don't you apply your lightning flames on that twig and I'll answer if you're successful this time." Alberto smiled.

Harry nodded and picked up the twig he had dropped earlier. He closed his eyes in concentration as green electrical arcs formed from his hand and coated the twig he was holding with both of his hands.

He opened his eyes and saw that the twig he was holding was coated in green electrical arcs before the arcs promptly faded from sight.

"Good." Alberto smiled as he took the twig from Harry's hands.

Alberto produced a scotch tape from his person taped it onto a nearby lamppost. He then stood straight before striking the twig with the palm of his hand.

The twig in question snapped in half which made Harry groan in displeasure.

"Why're you groaning?" Alberto asked.

"The twig snapped." Harry pointed out.

"It may have snapped but I felt that the twig was a lot sturdier than normal," Alberto showed the twig's indention on his hand. "Last year we've only covered the activation and now you're imbuing something with your flames," He continued. "I count this as a success in my book."

"Really?"

Alberto smiled.

That was it, Harry has decided that Alberto was the best teacher ever.

"Now to answer your question." Alberto's shift in tone made Harry nervous. "What do you know of the underground Harry?"

"Underground?"

Alberto sighed once more, unsure how to break to the boy the news. He knew that the kid was emotionally abused by his nephew but for his training to proceed he needed to know the truth.

"The mafia." Alberto amended his words.

"The mafia?" Harry questioned once more. "What's that?"

Alberto gulped at the boy's innocence that he was about to destroy.

"It's an organization that does crime is the most basic summary I can give you," Alberto sighed. "A crime organization so to speak."

"Like the Death Eaters?" Harry muttered to himself.

"Death Eaters?"

"Sorry, I can't answer that." Harry apologized. "I was just thinking of something similar in that world." He admitted.

"You do know that the Statute does not apply to me right?" Alberto smiled. "But this is good, it means I can trust you not to divulge what I'm about to tell you to anyone, not unless divulging would save your life."

Harry nodded.

Alberto came clean to Harry as soon as he confirmed that Harry wouldn't blab to just about anyone what he was doing.

Alberto told Harry about the flames of the sky and how the Vongola and their allies in the mafia were the sole users of said power.

Harry was also told about the Vindice prison and the instances of how one would be sent there. He was also told about how no one messed with the Vindice and its enforcers.

Lastly, Harry was told about the Omerta. Normally Harry and the Dursleys, barring his uncle, would remain ignorant of the mafia world, but the moment he became a flame active person he was unofficially inducted into the underground, specifically the Famiglia that his uncle was supposedly trying not to get involved with.

"No one really escapes the mafia, Harry," Alberto explained. "One must die in order to escape the underground."

"How come uncle Vernon believes that your great grandfather has actually escaped them?"

"You'll understand when you get older, I'd imagine that there's no escape from your world as well." Alberto offered. "Your aunt certainly hasn't escaped it, despite not involved in it."

That was when it clicked to Harry about the meaning of Alberto's statement.

"You can never unlearn what you knew," Harry stated thoughtfully. "We can pretend but there's really no escaping it."

"That and we protect our own." Alberto nodded. "Did you ever question how we were able to visit you as soon as you showed signs as a flame-active person in the house?"

"The Famiglia has been watching the Dursleys." Harry realized.

"The number of unbelievable things some of the Famiglia members reported when you were brought to them were downright absurd," Alberto chuckled. "But in hindsight, it does make a lot of sense, a cat turning into a woman, it was like an episode of Bewitched."

Alberto noticed the questioning look Harry sent his way.

"A telly series in the Americas." Alberto supplied. "In any case, starting tomorrow a few of my colleagues will help me in training you, something basic like honing your reaction time."

"Why would I need that?"

"Believe it or not kid, people will seek you out because you're flame-active," Alberto explained. "Some of them might not take the talking approach, this way you can defend yourself, or at the very least escape, without resorting to using your other talents."

----------

"Remember Alberto, I'm only doing this because you paid me to." A small person clicked their tongue. "Why do you want this child to be trained in something that should be exclusive to the Vongola and her allies?"

"Apart from the fact that he became flame-active since last year?" Alberto raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were all for preserving the secrets of the mafia and honoring the Omerta Mammon?"

"There are ways to honor the Omerta Alberto, you know that." The small person identified as Mammon scoffed. "Like for instance, take him back to Italy and train him there."

"Statute of Secrecy."

"A member of the magical society then." Mammon clicked their tongue. "I will be asking for more as soon as this child's training is concluded, if you must know, I detested that society."

"Oh? This is new information."

"And you'll be getting nothing else from me."

------------

"Harry, I want you to meet Mammon." Alberto gestured to a small cloaked figure. "They will be helping me to train you."

Harry did a double-take as soon as he saw who was with Alberto when they arrived at the usual training spot. The small figure looked like a baby, a baby that was cloaked and was walking on two legs.

What in Merlin's name was happening?

"A baby?" Harry couldn't help but voice out. "How's a baby going to help me?"

Suddenly a man in black clothes appeared behind Harry and shot the gun he was holding, grazing the Potter's arm.

"Gah!" Harry screamed.

The Potter looked behind him just in time for the gunman to fade away like smoke as he held his arm to stop the bleeding.

"I can see why you needed my help, Alberto." The cloaked baby nonchalantly commented. "He has poor reaction time."

"What is going on?!" Harry yelled. "Someone just shot me and you aren't doing anything."

"Come off it." Mammon scoffed. "You were lucky the bullet merely grazed your arm."

Alberto shook his head at the person's nonchalance, it's what you'd expect from an assassin of their caliber. He approached Harry and bandaged the graze wound on the boy's arm with his handkerchief.

"Full transparency, there was actually no gunman, what you experienced was an illusion," Mammon explained. "The beauty about illusions is that I can kill just about anyone I please without ever lifting a finger."

"No need to regale the kid with your assassination exploits Mammon." Alberto admonished.

"Shut your mouth Alberto, I'm training the kid now," Mammon fired back. "The only reason why you're still breathing is because of the Vindice and no money in the world would satisfy me for the trouble killing you would entail."

"Glad to know your priorities Mammon, even you wouldn't dare invoke the Vindice's rage."

"How come I was still wounded when you've only shown me an illusion?"

"The brain is very weak that way," Mammon explained. "We simply manipulate all your senses and the brain does the rest of the work, like say tearing your skin to simulate that you've actually been grazed by a bullet."

"If one can identify that what they're seeing is an illusion, none of its effects will take root." Alberto continued. "However knowing that one thing is an illusion and believing that it's an illusion are two different things."

"With that explanation out of the way, let us continue the training." Mammon clicked their tongue.

Four men in black suits appeared in front of Harry, each carrying a pistol. They took aim at the boy.

"Why don't we start small first Mammon?" Alberto suggested.

"I suppose children will do for the moment."

The four men morphed into four kids, two boys and two girls, each carrying a handful of pebbles in one of their hands.

"Be prepared to dodge kid."

Harry gulped as he eyed one of the boys taking aim at him. As soon as the boy threw his stone, he immediately ducked.

----------

"Gah!" Harry gasped as he was hit by a plate on the arm.

"You're slowing down boy," Mammon yelled. "You may have dodged rocks, small balls, and sporting balls but you have yet to dodge a plate."

Harry merely panted, unable to form any coherent response from the cloaked baby.

"I say he has improved greatly under your tutelage Mammon." Alberto offered as he gave Harry bottled water. "He came from barely dodging pebbles to dodging sporting balls entirely."

"That's because sporting balls are big and slow." Mammon fired back. "If he can't dodge a plate thrown by an angry housewife, what hope has he have of dodging projectiles faster than a plate, like an arrow or even a bullet? I say it's far from passable. I'd give it a Troll grade."

"Y-you're a wizard?"

"A squib," Mammon scoffed. "Just so you know I truly detest your society, I'm training you because I was paid."

"B-but how…"

"Like I told when we first met, I am merely using illusions, I'm tricking your brain into thinking that anything thrown at you is real."

"There were actually times where you would actually believe that what you're seeing isn't real, but those were rare instances." Alberto pointed out.

Before Harry could even form a reply, he was suddenly clutching his head trying to alleviate the sudden headache he was having.

"I guess we'll call this a day." Mammon sighed. "Illusionary poisoning has taken hold." The cloaked baby clicked their tongue. "I must admit that each day your limit to being subjected to illusions is increasing by the day, I guess in that regard you are improving."

----------

Harry's training with that weird person, who definitely looked like a baby, started in the middle of July just after Alberto had reviewed him on the basics of activating his flames whenever he needed it. He had originally wanted to test his lightning flames on his wand, remembering how easily Ron's wand was broken at the start of his second year.

He was, however, cautioned against doing so because no one knew what could be the repercussions of attempting such a feat.

When Harry's training with Mammon began, he had suspected that his very small teacher was actually a wizard or witch but disguised it as illusions so as not to trip the Statute of Secrecy, it was kind of a shock to him knowing that he was technically on the mark but instead of being magical, Mammon turned out to be a squib.

Harry could admit to himself that he doesn't understand how Mammon's abilities worked, especially after the reveal that they were a squib. It didn't make sense to him, he had witnessed Mammon perform feats of conjuration and transfigurations, conjuring fully grown men and transfiguring them into children.

Days before the Quidditch World Cup, Mammon ended their training with him, at least for the year, stating that they were being sent on a mission by their boss.

He can still remember the words of caution the baby told him.

"Be careful when you use that power Potter. Vindice doesn't care whether you used it in self-defense or not, for them, it counts as divulging the mafia's secrets to unrelated people. You'd end up in a prison far worse than Azkaban."

What could be worse than Azkaban?!

------------

Harry wouldn't admit it to anyone, especially to Mammon considering how much of an ego the baby has, but his training with the cloaked baby was definitely helpful during the Triwizard Tournament especially with his third encounter with his parents' killer.

"Kill the spare."

Harry ignored the searing headache he had and faced his fellow Triwizard Champion.

"Locomotor Wibbly!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry's Jelly-legs curse hit Cedric's shocked form causing the older boy to collapse on the ground and make the light of the killing curse sail above the Diggory's head.

"Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Incendio! Confringo! "

Harry decided to cast multiple stunners, a jet of fire, and a blasting curse right at the traitorous Marauder, distracting the death eater enough for him to grab his fellow champion out of harm's way.

Despite Harry's small nature, he was able to carry the much older and bigger boy than him over to the other side of the graveyard.

Harry grabbed a few pebbles that were scattered on the ground and positioned it surrounding Cedric then cast an engorging spell on them.

"H-harry, what's going on?" Cedric managed to ask.

"You were about to be killed so I cast the jelly-legs curse on you," Harry admitted. "I want you to cast the counter-curse once I leave you, you need to get back to the cup."

"And leave you here?! No way!" Cedric protested.

"This is not up for debate," Harry growled. "Wormtail wants me, you heard what that voice said, you were the spare they'll immediately kill you."

"Harry, I'm of age, it is my responsibility to protect you." Cedric tried to reason.

"No." Harry shook his head. "We're not at Hogwarts anymore Cedric, your authority as a prefect won't work here."

"Not like you followed the prefects in the past." Cedric muttered to himself.

"Cedric, you're a good bloke and I don't want you to die here." Harry tried to reason out. "You've got so much in store for you."

"How will you get back then?"

"I'll think of something."

"Where is Potter, Wormtail?!" The same hoarse voice from earlier demanded. "This is one failure too many." The cloaked bundle expressed its displeasure.

"The cup is still here milord." Peter expressed. "Potter is still here."

"Yet you failed to kill the spare."

"Potter was quick milord." The Pettigrew reasoned. "It seemed like he was prepared for this to happen."

"Silence! I want you to find Potter right this instant Wormtail or else Nagini'll be feasting on your flesh."

"Yes sir!"

"You heard them." Harry pointed out.

"But what about you?"

"I'll figure it out myself."

As Harry conversed with Cedric, he was imbuing the stones he had enlarged with his lightning flames, ensuring that none of them would be destroyed by at least three killing curses, or so he hoped. He wasn't taking any chances and he wasn't going to let Cedric die here.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry fired a disarming spell at the traitorous rat, which had been blocked, and ran far away from where he had deposited his fellow Triwizard champion.

"Stupefy, Expelliarmus."

Harry continued firing off spells at the traitorous rat and continued to run away from where he had last seen Cedric.

Harry's luck ran out as he tripped on a tree's root.

"Hurry Wormtail." The same voice groaned out.

"Yes milord!"

Peter tied Harry on an angelic statue as fire lit up under the cauldron and its contents began boiling. The rat animagus then started chanting the potions' instructions as he followed it to the letter from pilfering Voldemort's paternal bone to dismembering himself to procuring some of Harry's blood.

Harry was not about to give up, his utter defiance caused him to unconsciously wrap lightning flames all around his body and hardened his skin to the point where a simple slice of the knife Pettigrew was using wouldn't be able to penetrate the Potter's skin, let alone get some of his blood.

It didn't mean it wasn't painless for Harry, but he persevered nonetheless, despite his screaming.

Frustration clawed into Pettigrew's very being as he forcefully attempted to embed the knife into Harry's arm but to no avail.

The sudden impenetrable nature of Harry's skin only served to infuriate the rat animagus even more that he gave in to his frustrations and forcefully stabbed the knife into the Potter's arm, but that only resulted in the knife he had to snap in half.

Growling in frustration, Pettigrew frisked himself for something sharp to continue his tasks when he noticed the tear on Harry's pants that showed off the gash that the Potter got when the boy tripped earlier.

Smiling to himself, Pettigrew used the snapped knife to scoop up some of Harry's blood that came from the boy's gashed knee.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe." Pettigrew chanted as he added a few drops of Harry's blood into the cauldron.

Not a moment soon, everyone in the graveyard witnessed the return of one Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord wasted no time in summoning his Death Eaters and tormented Harry some more. The confrontation evolved into one one-sided duel between the two of them, which ended with a dome of light and few gray people – ghosts? – helping Harry with his duel.

----------

"Flippendo! Depulso!"

As soon as Harry broke the connection between the wands, Cedric chose this time to reveal himself and cast a few knockback and banishing charms at the Death Eaters present in an effort to aid Harry to escape the one-sided duel the Dark Lord forced the Potter in.

"After him!" Voldemort growled.

The Death Eaters were quick to oblige and chased after the Potter while others turned their attention towards Cedric and wordlessly cast a few spells at the Diggory.

"Focus on running towards me Harry! I've got your back!" Cedric ordered.

Harry responded by running towards his companion.

Cedric, satisfied with Harry's response, turned his attention to the Death Eaters. He cast a few spells wordlessly and caused a few of them to get blown away.

"Aqua Eructo! Glacius"

Cedric cast a water eruption charm on the ground behind Harry and created a spout of water. He then promptly froze it causing it to fall over the Death Eaters chasing after the Potter, creating a physical barrier between his fellow Triwizard champion and the Death Eaters.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

Cedric used the exploding charm to further deter the Death Eaters who managed to get past the icy barrier that he had set up, blowing them away to the house that Wormtail came from.

"Reducto! Flipendo! Depulso! Experlliarmus! "

Cedric noticed that the Dark Lord had joined with the chase, fearing for both his and Harry's safety, he cast a number of jinxes, curses, and charms at the resurrected Dark Wizard from the reductor curse to the knockback jinx to the banishing and disarming charms.

The Dark Lord expertly blocked the spells all the spells coming at him and cast a few of his own.

Cedric managed to evade a few of the spells that Voldemort has used and some had managed to hit him, tearing off a few pieces of his clothes.

Some Death Eaters joined their master in firing spells at Cedric, who made the decision of hiding himself behind the pebbles that Harry had enlarged earlier.

To the surprise of every Death Eater, the stones held strong and wasn't blown to dust despite the many spells that hit it, even from the ones that the Dark Lord has cast.

"Lacarnum Inflamari!"

Cedric, at this point, was desperate, Harry was still a few paces away from him from all the zigzagging the Potter was doing just to evade some of the obstacles and the spells coming his way, he stood up from behind the enlarged pebble, and conjured a fireball at the tip of his wand and threw at the Dark Lord.

In what could be called an incident of pure luck, the cloak that Voldemort was wearing caught fire and managed to distract the Dark Lord from his pursuit of Potter.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry cast the disarming spell that went right by Cedric's face, who was rightfully distracted from attempting to block the Dark Lord from approaching both Triwizard champions.

The Diggory looked behind him and found a Death Eater, one disarmed Lucius Malfoy.

"Depulso"

The Malfoy was thrown towards a tree far away from both Triwizard champions with the banishing charm that Cedric cast on the Death Eater.

"Accio!"

As soon as Harry bumped himself unto the Diggory he immediately pointed his wand at the idle Triwizard Cup and summoned it to his person and both champions were transported back to Hogwarts, tired, afraid, and vigilant but alive.

-----------

Harry found himself waking up in the school's hospital wing a week after the third task of the tournament.

The last thing Harry remembered was Cedric escorting him to the hospital wing after the Professor Moody-impostor tried to get him after returning from the graveyard.

From what Harry had heard, it was all thanks to Cedric's quick thinking that the impostor wasn't able to do anything to him other than gloat at him for seemingly fooling everyone else, especially the school's headmaster.

Harry looked around, he saw Cedric was asleep, wrapped with bandages, on the bed to his right while Ron and Hermione sat beside each other, with the Granger sleeping on the Weasley's shoulder.

When Harry saw an issue of the Daily Prophet by Cedric's bedside, he carefully retrieved it, making sure he wasn't making any sounds and not disturb his sleeping companions. He read the front-page headlines and sure enough, his words of warnings were used against him.

What else was new?

"You really shouldn't read that paper when you just woke up." Hermione advised.

"I got curious." Harry offered.

"Curiosity killed the cat." Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you knew that."

"Wha-? Who killed Crookshanks?"

"Oh Wake up Ronald." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Hey Harry." Ron waived at his best friend. "You gave us quite the scare, you and Diggory did."

Harry was extremely glad that his friends never changed, they still continued to act like nothing happened, arguing like they always did like his name wasn't destroyed by the local newspaper, he didn't experience intense torture under Voldemort and his followers.

"Are you really certain you saw him Harry?" Ron couldn't help but question everything Harry revealed earlier..

"Ronald!" Hermione admonished.

"So you don't believe me, Ron?" Harry questioned bitterly.

"I believe you, I truly do!" Ron tried to assure his best friend. "It's him, you know, it's you-know-who, a part of me wants to deny it all," He admitted. "The Dark Lord who everyone fears to even speak his name."

"He has returned alright," Cedric inserted himself into the conversation. "I was there, I saw it all."

"Which reminds me, why didn't you grab the cup when I gave you the chance?" Harry turned his attention to his fellow champion. "You could've died in there Cedric."

"Was I supposed to leave you there to die yourself Potter?" Cedric responded. "I am already of age and it's my responsibility to protect the students younger than me."

"Bloody Hufflepuffs." Harry swore.

"Harry!"

"You knew they wanted me for something." Harry pointed out. "You on the other hand were just a spare in their eyes, Wormtail cast the bloody killing curse as soon as they saw you."

"You know what would've happened next Potter." Cedric rebutted. "You-know-who would've killed you as soon as he was done toying with you, without the portkey back here, you would've died."

"Out!" Madam Pomfrey interrupted. "My patients need to rest!"

"But-"

"Out!"

Hermione and Ron reluctantly acquiesced to the hospital wing's matron's orders. They waved goodbye to both Harry and Cedric.

"Look Cedric, you're a good bloke." Harry sat on his bed, his back on the bed's railing. "I owe you my life but you really didn't have to risk your life for me."

"Are you really that desperate to die Harry?" Cedric questioned. "I just don't understand why you're so quick to sacrifice yourself to save everyone else," He added. "I remember the fat friar telling some of the Hufflepuff prefects about what happened at the Chamber of Secrets. You were bit by the basilisk and was saved by the headmaster's phoenix."

"H-how."

"The ghosts are knowledgeable about whatever happens inside the castle," Cedric explained. "The bloody baron probably told the fat friar what happened."

Harry swallowed whatever was in his throat as he tried to organize his thoughts and answer Diggory's question.

"It's not that I want to die, I just want to save Ginny from the Basilisk at the time, I didn't think of the consequences." He admitted. "As for what happened at the graveyard, I was responsible for bringing you there, I suggested that we take the cup at the same time, therefore had you died there, it'd be on me."

"In the end, it was my decision." Cedric sighed at the Gryffindor. "I chose to grab the cup with you, so no my death wouldn't be on your hands."

"But-"

"But you sure are one powerful wizard Harry." Cedric grinned at the young boy, completely derailing their topic. "A simple finite wasn't enough to undo the jelly-legs curse you cast on me, quick thinking by the way."

Harry simply blushed at the compliment, thankful for the change in topic.

----------

The end of the year was a huge feast.

Cedric was declared the winner of the Triwizard Tournament with Harry in second place. The headmaster used their performance in the previous tasks to break the tie that the Potter and Diggory held in the tournament, Headmaster Dumbledore and Headmistress Maxime both deemed the Diggory's performance outweighs that of Potter's.

With Diggory's win in the tournament, he also secured the house cup victory for his house as well. It was the first time in forever that Hufflepuff had actually won the house cup. In celebration, Madam Pomfrey added more food on the table for every house to celebrate their win.

It did help that the house-elves knew beforehand to cook more food than the usual.

While the Triwizard tournament winner had a prize of galleons, the other participants didn't come empty-handed. Harry, Fleur, and Viktor all received money bags for their participation in the tournament, to which the Potter promptly gave his winnings to the Weasley twins.

-----------

"Of course, you have latent sky flame," Mammon growled. "That would explain why I was drawn to you on a certain level despite already having a sky of my own."

"Sky?"

"Alberto, have you really explained to the child the different flames of the sky?"

"I simply gave him the basic idea of the other flames and went extensively on his lightning flames," Alberto admitted. "I didn't think he'd have sky flames at all, they're a rarity."

"Sky flames are rare." Mammon began as they landed in front of the Potter.

"If your Lightning flames are good for defense as it can harden anything you imbue with it, Sky flames on the other hand are the flames that accept just about anyone." Alberto supplied.

"You're muddying the concept Alberto." Mammon pointed out. "I will be asking for another fee later for explaining to Potter about the Sky flames."

"Greedy little bastard." Alberto muttered to himself.

"Money makes the world turn Alberto, surely you know that."

Mammon turned their attention back to Harry and continued explaining about the Sky flames and began explaining the characteristics of Sky flames with Alberto chiming in once in a while.

Both Mafiosi moved on to explain how the Sky's harmonizing factor affects just about everyone around Harry.

"It's a bit hard to explain, especially as someone who doesn't possess Sky flames," Alberto admitted. "But that's the gist of it."

"Enough talk." Mammon declared. "Let us continue the training."

Five teens appeared in front of Harry, all equipped with BB guns and open fired.

------------

It came as a surprise to Harry when Mammon appeared in the Ministry of Magic to represent him.

He wasn't aware that one of his mentors was present when he was attacked by dementors while on a rare break from training with his flames.

Speaking of training, it was prematurely stopped as neither Alberto nor Mammon had any way of entering the Grimmauld place where he currently resided alongside the Order of the Phoenix, the Weasleys, and even the Diggorys.

"Wizards and witches really have low attention spans." Mammon scoffed as they floated beside Harry, passing by an equally bewildered Dumbledore. "I've been here the whole time and none of you ever noticed."

Harry almost wanted to roll his eyes at Mammon's display. He knew for a fact that the cloaked baby was using their Mist flames to hide themselves from everyone, but he also knew how Mammon despised the Magical society hence the rather condescending attitude towards the wizards and witches present.

"Who are you?!" A woman wearing pink under her Wizengamot robes demanded. "How dare you enter Ministry premises without permission?!"

Mammon ignored the woman in pink. "I am here to represent Harry Potter against the case filed against him."

The woman in pink clothes cleared her throat, garnering everyone's attention.

"I'm sorry but you seem to be under the impression that we will allow such a thing from happening? Not only has Potter arrived late, but you also have the gall to interrupt the proceedings."

"I see how it is," Mammon hummed. "Since Potter is receiving a full court trial, with the entirety of the Wizengamot present, I suggest that we call the attention of the ICW to hear the proceedings."

Minister Fudge paled considerably at the suggestion.

"It is the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy that Mr. Potter has allegedly violated after all."

"Surely the honorable council members of the International Confederation of Wizards need not concern themselves in Britain's proceedings." Minister Fudge offered.

"You seem to be under the impression that I'm a British Magician," Mammon stated. "I am from Italia, since I have been involved, calling for the attention of the ICW seems prudent, isn't that so Mr. Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "As the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was violated and a citizen of another magical nation was involved, it is the Standard Operating Procedure to call forth the attention of the ICW, not unless the witch or wizard involved agrees not to call them."

"Surely we can compromise Mr…" Minister Fudge trailed off.

"Call me Mammon without the gender-specific honorifics." Mammon replied.

"Surely you agree, Mammon, that the honorable council members of the ICW need not be bothered for something as minor as this?"

"I disagree," Mammon bluntly replied. "Mr. Potter faces the entire British Wizengamot for violating the Statute, he is, therefore, tried as if he was an of-age wizard. However, I can be convinced otherwise, if you let me represent Potter for this case."

From Minister Fudge's pale complexion, Harry was sure that the Minister didn't see this coming. He was sure that with him sent to Azkaban for violating the statute, no one would ever believe him and in turn, no one would believe that you-know-who has returned.

From what Harry had heard from Hermione and the Weasleys, he was sure that sending him to Azkaban was the Minister's aim.

"Yes, you may represent Mr. Potter." One witch identified as Amelia Bones spoke.

Minister Fudge and the pink toad, whatever her name was, sent a glare in Amelia's way.

With everything settled, Harry was read of all his charges, and in every turn, he was denied to explain his reasons for doing so.

"Objection." Mammon floated towards the Minister's face.

"O-objection?!" Minister Fudge sputtered. "We are in the middle of interrogating the accused."

"Without giving him ample time to give his reasons." Mammon scoffed. "Normal court proceedings should start with the Yes-No questions then ask for the accused's reasons." The cloaked baby descended towards Harry. "From what I have observed, you fail to ask the boy for his reasons, even Muggle courts have followed such courtesy to the accused."

Somehow Harry doubted that. He knew of Mammon's actual occupation, they have little to no contact to normal court proceedings let alone doing things legally. With the Wizarding Britain so removed from muggle society, they won't know that his mentor was bluffing. He even doubted that the witches and wizards of Britain were subjects of the Queen no matter how removed from muggle society they were.

"How dare you interrupt court proceedings?" The pink toad exclaimed. "We may have allowed you to represent Mr. Potter but you are still an outsider."

"Mr. Potter, explain your reasons on why you decided to perform the Patronus charm, in front of your cousin, who is already aware of the magical society."

"I did it because of the Dementors!" Harry exclaimed, as loud as he could.

Harry's reason was met with silence, the people that comprised the Wizengamot were in turmoil as to the recent turn of events.

Dementors in Little Whinging?

"You think that Mr. Potter is lying, don't you Minister?" Mammon garnered everyone's attention. "You think that all of this was a well-rehearsed story in an attempt to justify the boy's use of magic in front of his muggle cousin."

"What else could it be?" Minister Fudge smirked.

"Madam Bones, are we allowed for the extraction of the accused's memories?" Mammon faced the witch in question.

"Under normal circumstances no." Madam Bones answered. "The use of Veritaserum is the normal procedure to determine whether the accused is guilty or innocent and the use of the Veritaserum on children is illegal."

"As Mr. Potter is tried as an adult, shouldn't he be given the privilege of testifying to the court under the Veritaserum's effects?"

"No matter the circumstances, using one on Mr. Potter is illegal." Madam Bones insisted.

"As this is a special case, would it be amenable for the entire Wizengamot to extract Mr. Potter's memories to prove whether he's lying or not?"

Harry wanted to smile that at the fact that Mammon was defending him despite the person's utter hatred towards the magical society, but a cynical part of him reasoned that the baby was probably paid to defend him.

"Get the Pensieve." Madam Bones announced.

"No need for the Pensieve Madam Bones, I know of a spell to let everyone see the memory at the same time." Mammon declared before facing the boy. "Mr. Potter, I warn you that my method of memory extraction is painful, it is to ensure that any and all modifications to your memory wouldn't appear in the memory I extracted."

Harry only had time to narrow his eyes in confusion before he was suddenly screaming in pain as he felt that something was constricting his right arm and bit him, he looked at the arm in question, and sure enough, a yellow snake was coiled on his arm with their fangs embedded to his skin.

The next thing Harry knew was that Mammon was holding a wand and the small indigo orb that was attached at the tip of the wand began to expand and covered the entire Wizengamot in an indigo-colored haze.

As soon as the haze cleared, everyone saw the moment where Harry and his cousin were chased by Dementors, even to the fact that his cousin was kissed by the said creature before it was chased away by Harry's Patronus.

It did not escape everyone's attention that Harry cast the Patronus charm away from muggle eyes, under a street tunnel, where no muggle or cars ever passed through.

"I believe that that memory alone proves Potter's innocence." Mammon voiced out as the scene cleared and revealed the Wizengamot chamber.

Harry was flabbergasted at the display of magical prowess, he had been so confused about what was happening, not until Mammon told him after the trial that his mentors were present during the Dementor's attack.

The woman in pink cleared her throat, garnering everyone's attention.

"I'm sorry Mr. Mammon, but you seem to be insinuating that the Ministry would attack a boy such as Potter."

"I believe I did not insinuate that Madam Umbridge," Mammon responded. "Neither Mr. Potter nor I have accused the Ministry of doing such thing, did we Madam Bones."

"I believe not Mammon." Madam Bones shook her head.

"Wherever did you get that idea Madam Umbridge?"

"Only the Ministry has ever implemented the use of Dementors as Azkaban's wardens," Madam Umbridge reasoned. "By saying that a Dementor has attacked Potter and that alone presents an accusation that the Ministry would attack the boy."

"Is that so Madam Umbridge?" Mammon clicked their tongue. "I seem to recall an incident where a wanted criminal has escaped your famed prison and when the Dementor found this particular criminal, these wardens of yours was close to performing a demented kiss on both the criminal and Potter."

"I also recall an incident that Potter was almost kissed at the start of his third year in Hogwarts on the Hogwarts express," Dumbledore offered. "Among a few other students, thankfully the DADA teacher at the time was with the students on his way to the school and was able to ward off the Dementors by performing the Patronus charm."

Harry nodded in agreement, he didn't know when, where and from whom did Mammon get his information but considering where the cloaked baby's loyalties lie, he knew not to question it.

"There is also the incident last year wherein the clearly alive Bartemius Crouch Jr. was unceremoniously kissed by a Dementor as soon the Minister responded to his summons at Hogwarts." Professor Dumbledore added.

"Doesn't that prove that these wardens of yours could go rogue at any time?" Mammon offered.

Madam Umbridge's face was red both in humiliation and rage.

------------

With Mammon's intervention, Harry was acquitted of all charges and the Ministry was even forced to compensate Harry for being tried under the entire Wizengamot, much to the Minister's disdain.

As soon as the trial was done, Mammon informed Harry that his training for the year has ended citing the Vindice as the reason. He was also tasked with giving Alberto a message of paying the baby as soon as he made contact with his other mentor for defending him from the Wizengamot earlier.

Soon enough his fifth year at Hogwarts started and he was displeased to know that a certain Dolores Umbridge would be teaching, in the loosest sense, his favorite subject, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Harry instantly knew that Umbridge, as soon as she handed him detention for speaking about the Dark Lord's return, was singling him out due to the actions of his mentor early in the year, and the fact that she was drunk on power that she justifies everything she does was legal as she was in the school on the behest of the Minister of Magic.

In a stroke of rebellion, as soon as Umbridge announced that casting of magic in a magic school in this particular subject was prohibited, he formed the Defense Association alongside his best friends Ron and Hermione.

One of the very first to join them was his fellow Triwizard Champion, Cedric Diggory, who was also facing attacks against his character for corroborating Harry's story of the Dark Lord's return.

Harry was forever thankful for the Hufflepuff because he never felt like he was left to flounder in the air.

As a result, Harry had some seventh year, especially seventh-year Hufflepuffs, to help him teach the younger students, and himself, the spells that should have been covered during the year but with the ministry's influence, they were never going to learn them ever.

---------

"Apart from the disarming charm, another spell that would help us tremendously is the disillusionment charm." Cedric stood beside Harry. "I'm sure Professor Flitwick will teach the fifth years this spell as the year progresses but it's never wrong to prepare." He supplied.

As Cedric showed everyone the basic wand movement of the disillusionment charm, Harry made sure to follow through with the older boy's instructions.

"There are two wand movements for this spell, one for targeting others and the other is targeting oneself." Cedric continued his spiel. "What we were just practicing just now was the wand movement for targeting other objects and people."

Everyone from Dumbledore's army mirrored Cedric's actions trying to accustom themselves to the wand movement for the spell.

"Alright, let's learn the incantation for this spell." Cedric clapped and garnered everyone's attention. "It's occulta talpa."

"Occulta Talpa." The people inside the room repeated.

"Good, try saying the incantation a few more times, without your wands."

"Occulta Talpa."

As Harry continued to practice the incantation, with his wand safely kept inside one of his pockets, he couldn't help but notice one Dennis Creevey, unconsciously waving around his wand, practicing the incantation.

Harry was about to approach the younger Creevey when he saw Hermione approach Dennis, likely to reprimand the boy about his wand.

"Dennis, it's not Ta-pa but Talpa."

Harry would admit that he had a hard time hearing what Hermione was saying considering almost everyone was practicing the incantation at the same time and the noise everyone made muffled any and all sounds made in the room, but knowing his best friend, he knew that the Granger was correcting the boy's incantation.

"Occulta Tunica?" Dennis asked, unsure if he had heard the older girl right.

Suddenly, as soon as Dennis finished asking his question while unconsciously drawing a circle with his wand, a blue orb shot out from his wand and hit Cedric, who was busy tending to his older brother, making Cedric's shirt vanish, exposing his torso.

"Wha-"

"Okay, that happened." Cedric chuckled.

Everyone fell silent, attempting to process what just happened.

As the students tried to process the recent turn of events, some of them tried to hide their blush from suddenly seeing Cedric's bare torso.

"I guess I should have insisted for everyone to keep their wands, sorry about that."

"Hey, Pretty Boy Diggory!" Fred called out.

"Do you feel cold?" George questioned.

"Come to think of it, no." Cedric shook his head. "I think I can still feel my robes on me, it's just that they've turned invisible." He assessed.

"Neat don't you reckon Forge?"

"I'd say so Gred."

"It's not every day,"

"That a second year invents a spell."

The Weasley twins chuckled as Dennis himself blushed as he was finally able to process what happened.

"Don't you dare use that spell as a prank!" Hermione warned the twins.

The Weasley twins merely raised their hands in mock surrender.

The younger Creevey on the other hand immediately approached Cedric and apologized profusely to the older Hufflepuff.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's alright Dennis." Cedric ruffled the young boy's hair. "Everyone makes mistakes from time to time. I'm just happy it was not as drastic as having a buffalo's horn on my chest, or yours for that matter."

"I thought Professor Flitwick told us that to caution us into saying our spells properly." Hermione gasped. "A fictional story of caution."

"Yes, that was to caution us into saying our spells properly." Cedric nodded. "Why does that mean that it wasn't true?"

"I guess we'd call it a night, don't we mate?" Ron suggested. "We don't want Perfect Boy Diggory to be caught outside the dorms without clothes, don't we?"

"Right you are ickle Ronniekins." George grinned

"Didn't know you had a working brain in that head of yours." Fred followed up.

"Why don't you give Perfect Boy Diggory-"

"-Your robes ickle Ronniekins."

"We promise to get you to the Gryffindor Dorms."

"In one piece."

The Weasley twins grinned at each other as Ron paled at the implications.

Harry knew that Ron's siblings were up to something when they suggested for Cedric to wear his best friend's clothes. He already knew that the twins were already in the process of mass-producing and inventing new products for their soon-to-open joke shop.

Harry was sure that the twins were looking forward to testing some of them on their sibling.

"No need." Cedric smiled at everyone. "This is a perfect situation to demonstrate the disillusionment charm's uses.

"Occulta Talpa"

Cedric drew a circle above himself with his wand before ending it with the wand's tip pointing at his person.

The desired effect of the spell happened, Cedric Diggory faded from their very eyes, invisible to everyone.

"Finite"

As soon as Cedric uttered another incantation, he was immediately visible to everyone in the room with his torso completely covered by his shirt.

"As you can see, you're very much undetectable when you're under the effects of disillusionment charm." Cedric lectured. "Placing the charm on cloaks and you get an invisibility cloak."

"In time, the charm loses the effects." Ron voiced out.

"Weasley's right, the disillusionment charm has a certain time limit, if you want to continue its effects, you need to cast the charm constantly."

The lectures continued as Cedric's shirt was now visible to everyone while Hermione was making sure that Dennis, and the others, kept their wands inside their robes. A few moments later the students practiced the charm on the cloaks that the room they were in provided, and eventually on each other and themselves.

"I think it's imperative that we all cast the disillusionment charm when we come here." Ron voiced out. "That way, Umbridge and her cronies wouldn't be able to catch us."

"That's brilliant Ronald!" Hermione praised. "You are brilliant!"

------------

Over the course of the month, the Defense Association has continued learning different spells, charms, curses, and counter curses during their time in the Room of Requirement.

Things they should be learning in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

As with any other group rebelling against a person of power, their luck ran out. Someone ratted out the group which brought this situation.

As with Ron's suggestion, as soon as everyone had at least a small grasp about the disillusionment charms, everyone went to the Room of Requirement under the effects of the said charm.

For the students who have yet to successfully cast the spell, they went with the people who knew how to cast them, fortunately, every year level from each house had at least nine students who were quite adept with the spell, as such they were able to continue Defense of the Dark Arts lessons undiscovered.

When Dobby the house-elf appeared in front of Harry, with a fearful look on his face.

"Umbridge?" Harry questioned the house-elf he had been acquainted with. "Is she coming?"

Although from what Harry could see from the house-elf's facial expression, he already knew the answer.

"Yes! Harry Potter yes!" Dobby exclaimed as he beat his bare feet on the floor.

Harry immediately faced his schoolmates, who were motionless and terrified at the revelation.

"What are you waiting for?!" Harry bellowed out. "Run!"

"No!" Cedric was quick to compose himself. "No one panic!"

"D-Diggory! Umbridge is coming!" Ron argued.

"Panicking could escalate the situation to uncontrollable levels." Cedric reasoned. "We would all be caught as we run for safety."

"What do you propose we do?" Hermione challenged.

"First off, Dobby, stop punishing yourself and go back to the kitchens with the other elves," Harry ordered, "If someone asks if you warned me, lie and say no and I forbid you to hurt yourself."

The house-elf complied and disapparated from the room.

"Everyone, use the disillusionment charms," Cedric stated his own instructions. "You all need to find a corner before using the charm on yourselves." He continued as he gestured towards the four corners of the room. "As for Harry and I…" He trailed off.

"What will you do?" Cho asked, worried for her ex-boyfriend.

"I want you to follow my lead, Harry."

"Well?" Harry, Cedric, and everyone else heard Umbridge's shrill voice from outside the room. "Where were you supposed to meet?"

Harry and Cedric stared at the wall where the voices came from with narrowed eyes.

"I-in there." A stuttering voice answered.

Harry closed his eyes and placed his hand at the wall, from where he was hearing the voices of both Umbridge and the traitor student, and concentrated. He utilized his lightning flames on the wall and hardened them.

"Bombarda."

Umbridge can be heard casting a blasting spell on something, which shook the castle.

"Augh?!"

"That should buy us a few minutes at best." Harry shared. "I think everyone should leave the room."

"Okay," Cedric nodded. "Everyone, don't dispel the disillusionment charms, only dispel them once all of you are at the stairway." He instructed.

"What about you two?"

"As much as it pains me to say this, Harry and I need to stay so that the traitor won't be sent to Azkaban for relaying false information, you know how despicable our current minister is."

"What?!" Hermione and Ron growled. "Why would you want to save the traitor?!" Ron sneered. "You're supposed to be angry at them!"

"Oh I am," Cedric growled with his eyes narrowed. "If there's one thing I hate the most and those are traitors."

"Then why?"

"Bombarda Maxima."

Everyone was silent, staring at the wall as if it were to break any time.

"To answer your question, the three of you know how the prisoners of Azkaban are treated," Cedric reasoned. "Would you really, knowingly, sentence one of your fellow students to Azkaban despite their actions today?"

"But."

"The three of you know what he was like when he met you."

"H-how." Harry stared at Cedric.

"Padfoot and I talked," Cedric admitted. "There were times that the both of us were alone in a room."

"I…" Hermione trailed off. "I suppose you're right." She sighed. "I hope the charm I cast on the list would be enough punishment for them." She muttered.

"Bombarda Maxima."

Another blast shook the room as the wall that Harry had placed his hand on earlier began to show signs of cracks, it wouldn't hold out much longer.

"All of you should really head back." Harry urged.

"Be careful all of you."

"Incarcerous."

A piece of rope appeared at the tip of Cedric's wand and bound Harry's torso.

"Follow my lead and struggle a little." Cedric whispered.

As soon as the Diggory was able to relay his instruction, he exhaled loudly and put on a show.

"Potter what were you thinking! Why would you still insist of visiting this place?!"

"Bombarda Maxima."

An explosion shattered the wall that Harry had hardened earlier and some chunks of the wall were flung in every direction.

"Well, well, well what do we have here?" Umbridge's sweet voice exclaimed.

"Potter, Diggory I expect that you both know what we're here?"

"Yes," Cedric replied. "I followed Potter here knowing what he came for here."

"I just wanted to see them." Harry exclaimed.

"Who might you want to see Mr. Potter?" Umbridge questioned with the same shrill in her voice.

"I wanted to see my parents." Harry replied glared at both Ministry workers.

"Wha- Boy your parents are dead!" Minister Fudge face went red at the exclamation. "I see where this is going, since people were smart enough not to believe about you-know-who returning, you resorted to lying about your parents."

"Actually he's not lying Minister," Cedric interjected. "There's a magical object in the school that allows for such a feat to happen."

"Galloping gargoyles! A dark artifact in the school!" Minister Fudge exclaimed. "And you said Potter's been using said artifact daily?"

"What's it to you?!" Potter growled.

Uncomfortable at the boy's answer and glare, Fudge opted to move the discussion to the headmaster's office.

As soon as they arrived, Umbridge and Fudge questioned both Harry and Cedric on what they were in the office for.

"I believe I answered the question earlier Professor Umbridge." Cedric offered with a smile. "I was there to stop Potter from using a magical object to see his parents."

"Ah the Mirror of Erised, an artifact of this school since before I attended Hogwarts." Dumbledore hummed. "I believe I had warned Mr. Potter from using the artifact during his first year, many witches and wizards had gone crazy over the artifact." He nodded.

"So it is a dark artifact." Minister Fudge exclaimed.

"Hardly Minister." Dumbledore shook his head. "The mirror of Erised simply shows the user what they desire the most, for example, what I see in the mirror are a pair of wooly warm socks."

"I've seen the mirror myself and what appeared was the Hufflepuffs getting the respect we deserve." Cedric offered.

"Diggory my boy, you embody the loyalty and acceptance that Helga Hufflepuff expects on the members of her house." Dumbledore praised.

Umbridge cleared her throat in that annoying fashion and immediately garnered everyone's attention.

"Regardless of the Dark Artifact, We are here to question Potter whether he was in direct violation of existing Ministry Decrees, do you know Mr. Potter?" Professor Umbridge smiled at him.

Harry's eyes went to Dumbledore before he answered.

"Ye-No."

"I beg your pardon?" Minister Fudge sputtered.

"No." Harry firmly stated.

"You do not know why you are here?"

"Apart from the mirror, No I don't."

Minister Fudge glanced at Potter, Diggory, and Umbridge a few times. He questioned the Potter a few more times before visibly sagging.

"If I may Minister," Umbridge silkily voiced out. "We might get better results if our informant is here."

"Yes, yes!" Minister Fudge straightened his body. "Please do, there's nothing like a good witness is there, Dumbledore?"

"Nothing at all Cornelius." Dumbledore nodded as Umbridge beckoned for a person hidden in robes to step forward.

"Don't mind the marks dear." Umbridge urged the robed person.

The robed person nodded and removed the hood from her head before gasping in shock and immediately reapplied the hood on her person, but not before everyone saw the marks on her face that spelled 'Sneak', and identified as Cho's friend: Marietta Edgecombe.

Despite the Minister's and Umbridge's urgings, Marietta remained tight-lipped which forced Umbridge to relay what the Edgecombe girl told her.

"I admit to attending such gathering Professor Umbridge." Cedric voiced out, earning a wide-eyed glance from Harry. "However, I believe there were no ministry decrees that prohibited such meeting in the first place, at least at that time."

"You are right, Diggory, my boy," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You can't very well consider Mr. Potter's actions as illegal."

"However the decree has existed for weeks wouldn't you agree that continuing the meeting would be considered illegal, Dumbledore." Umbridge sweetly challenged.

"Do you have evidence that such meetings continued even after the decree was established?" Dumbledore politely questioned. "Even Mr. Diggory's testimony belie you're your assumptions, Dolores."

"Evidence? Why do you think Ms. Edgecombe is here Dumbledore?"

"Can she tell us weeks' worth of meetings then?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight."

Umbridge began to coax an answer out of Edgecombe but the girl denied everything, apart from the first meeting.

In frustration to the recent turn of events, Umbridge began to manhandle Edgecombe but Dumbledore's glint and the present aurors' level-headedness stopped the recent DADA Professor from hurting the girl more.

Umbridge proved to be more thorough as she retrieved a piece of evidence from her person, a list of students who were present at the meeting at Hog's Head. Imagine the horror and surprise of the minister as soon as it was revealed that the list of names was titled 'Dumbledore's Army.

Due to that revelation, Hogwarts's Headmaster was forced out of the school and escape capture on the grounds of rebellion.

-----------

While in the middle of Umbridge's detention, just before Umbridge was able to complete the incantation for the Cruciatus curse on Harry after catching them red-handed snooping around her office, Hermione was able to convince the newly-minted Headmistress from uttering the last syllable of the curse, on the pretense that Dumbledore prepared a weapon against the Ministry.

Or so what the others had told Cedric after catching them casting a few stunners on the members of the inquisitorial squad.

"You know Harry." Cedric offered. "He has this hero-complex and just has to save everyone and won't be told otherwise."

"That's what Hermione thought too." Ron agreed.

"In any case, I'm guessing you'd be accompanying Harry at the Department of Mysteries then?" Cedric questioned.

"He can't stop us!" Ginny responded haughtily.

"Good because I'm coming as well." Cedric smiled

The Diggory conjured a few pieces of ropes from his wand and immediately restrained the stunned members of the inquisitorial squad.

Moments later, the group of five intercepted both Hermione and Harry as they ran back to the castle. They then relayed what happened between Umbridge, the Centaurs, and Grawp.

"I didn't know Hagrid had a younger sibling." Cedric voiced out.

Harry didn't really want to bring anyone else to the Ministry of Magic to save his godfather however Neville, Ginny, Luna, and Cedric were insistent on coming up until Harry pointed out that he had no way of bringing a large number to the ministry all by himself.

"We could ride on top of the thestrals." Luna suggested.

"I'll do you one better, let's use Floo in Umbridge's office," Cedric grinned. "We'll be there instantly."

-----------

Harry's fifth year ended with him grieving the loss of his godfather and revelations of the prophecy that was apparently about him.

-----------

The summer into his sixth year, Harry had a curious dream that felt all too real. It showed some things that happened right after Sirius's death. Everything right after Voldemort's defeat.

Apparently, he was involved in a mafia war sometime in the future when he was inducted into the Vongola Famiglia and assisted the assassination squad his mentor was a part of during this war.

This also gave him some insights into the upcoming war. He remembered the supposed fictional stories his future self told two kids he somehow knew as Lambo and Ipin soon after meeting the kids in question.

More importantly, he remembered the bits of information he told another baby, Reborn, on how he was affiliated with the Vongola, how Mammon mentored him and taught him to use flames.

Harry also doesn't know how to feel with the knowledge that his aunt, uncle, and cousin, not to mention Aunt Marge were among the very first casualties in the war against someone named Byakuran. It was probably Alberto's connection to them that caused their deaths.

Speaking of his favorite mentor, he felt very sad upon learning of Alberto's demise. He did feel a lot better once he realized that it happened in the future, in the years to come.

He still has a chance to change that considering that Reborn and his students didn't use time turners to travel through time, unlike what he and Hermione did.

It was time for training with his mentors when Harry found himself face to face with both of his mentors adopting a very somber expression.

Two days had just passed since he received those weird memories or dreams.

"I see you're addled with a prophecy." Mammon broke the silence.

"I take it that the dream was real?" Harry asked.

"As real as it can get." Alberto nodded.

"We need to up your training considerably."

------------

And the training was upgraded significantly, not only was Harry trying to dodge bullet fire from illusory assailants, he was also dodging spellfire from illusory wizards and witches, but instead of firing green beams of death, it just fired off indigo beams.

On top of upping his reaction time, Mammon also added environmental awareness to the mix.

Alberto told Harry everything he knew, from utilizing rocks as a means of distraction to using sand to blind one's enemies.

The brief lesson with Alberto was immediately put to the test with Mammon, who was relentless in training Harry up to at least the lowest Varia grunt standards.

Alberto on the other hand, apart from teaching Harry environmental awareness and environmental utilization, taught the boy about information gathering and stealth.

By the end of the training for the month, Harry was able to blend himself into his surroundings and able to gather some information but he still has trouble identifying what information was relevant to his tasks.

"We need to finish the training early," Mammon floated towards their student. "The arcobalenos need to get in touch with each other and gather any useful information we may need. Unfortunately, the whole time the boss candidate was in the future, most of us were busy reforming ourselves from within our pacifiers."

"At the cost of Uni's life." Harry muttered under his breath.

"Think nothing of it," Alberto squeezed Harry's shoulders.

------------

Harry discovered for himself, while he was training for information gathering, that he fancied riding the trains of muggle London and that was what he did after Alberto and Mammon departed from England to complete their respective goals from within the mafia.

While it was a bit reckless, considering how Voldemort wanted to kill him badly, he still went on trips using the train and ate at a diner at the train station.

One might be curious why Harry eats at a diner but when you know Harry Potter, you'll know why he likes to eat outside.

Dumbledore commissioned his presence and they recruited a former teacher to teach at Hogwarts. The Headmaster was not shy in explaining to Harry why his presence was needed, and frankly, he can understand the reason.

Once the recruitment process was done, he was unceremonious apparated near the Weasley's burrow where he remained for the rest of the summer.

-----------

During his sixth year in Hogwarts, Harry was preoccupied. He was preoccupied with the memories he received as a dream that detailed the war that happened after Voldemort. The war that will happen years after Hogwarts.

While he was thankful for the information his future-self's memories gave him regarding the second Wizarding war, it was incomplete. He has a very vague idea on what kinds of things he would be searching but what specifically those were, he had no clue.

"Something the matter mate?" Ron questioned his best friend.

"No, nothing," Harry shook his head. "Just thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"Voldemort and this whole war."

"We can think about Voldemort later, we're going to be late in Professor Slughorn's class." Hermione gasped as she dragged both boys with her.

Professor Slughorn, the Professor, Harry, and Dumbledore visited one summer evening to convince that he go teach back at Hogwarts.

As soon as the academic year started, Headmaster Dumbledore began giving Harry private lessons and during one of those lessons, the headmaster explained to him the reason why Professor Slughorn had to come back to the school, and how he was tasked in acquiring very vital information.

It took Harry a few more tries before he resorted to using the Felix Felices, liquid luck, to finally gain the information he and Dumbledore needed to confirm how many Horcruxes the Dark Lord made which, if Harry was being honest, he already knew beforehand.

One of the things he remembered in the set of memories that were given to him in a dream were the things that Voldemort placed his soul fragment unto A notebook, a ring, a locket, a cup, a diadem, and a snake.

"If I tell you to leave me and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?" Dumbledore questioned, testing the boy's resolve.

"I…"

"Harry?"

"Very good," Dumbledore nodded. "Go fetch your cloak and meet me at the entrance hall in five minutes' time."

The next thing Harry knew was that he was in a cave with the Headmaster, trying to locate one of the six Horcruxes that Voldemort made.

He quietly cursed his future self for not saying anything specific about this Horcruxes in the conversation with Reborn, the baby questioning him of how he came to be related to the Vongola in the future.

As soon as every obstacle was passed, every trap neutralized, Harry and Dumbledore made their way on the island inside the very dark cave using a wooden boat that was conveniently placed right at the edge of the lake.

"You remember, the condition on which I brought you here with me?"

Harry was very reluctant to follow Dumbledore now, even if he did give his word to the wizened wizard to follow every order.

"B-but sir-"

"You swore did you not, to follow any command I gave you?"

Harry gulped.

"Yes, but-"

"I warned you, did I not? That there might be danger?"

"Yes… but-"

"Well then," Dumbledore raised an empty goblet from his sleeves. "You have my orders."

"Why can't I drink the potion instead?" Harry decided to question the headmaster.

"Because I am much older, much cleverer, and much less valuable," Dumbledore answered. "Once and for all, do I have your word, Harry? Do I have your word that you will do all in your power to make me keep drinking?"

Harry wanted to protest but Dumbledore wasn't listening and kept cutting him off from his reservations towards the actions the old man was making him do. In the end, he relented and gave his word.

Harry first watched the wizened wizard dip the crystal goblet Dumbledore produced into the potion and drank it. He watched this process repeated two more times before he was forced to force-feed the potion unto the old wizard.

Harry repeated empty words of assurance, in an attempt to make the old wizard, and by proxy himself, feel better.

Once the pedestal was emptied of the potion, Harry tried to relieve Dumbledore of the negative effects the potion put the old headmaster in but to no avail, the goblet simply drained all the water from the water making spell before it reached his companion.

Harry tried more times to relieve the old professor of the ailments when a slimy white hand grabbed his arms and dragged him towards the lake.

"Sectumsempura! Petrificus Totalus! Impedimenta! Incarcerous!"

Harry defended himself against these slimy white creatures by liberally casting charm after charm, curse after curse on the slimy creatures, the inferi he realized. He even tried to climb back up where Dumbledore laid, hopelessly trying to relieve the ailments from the potion had on the professor.

Soon after, Harry was overwhelmed and was carried to the lake's waters were more of the slimy creatures submerged him and dragged him towards the bottom of the lake.

Why can't his lightning flames electrocute these creatures? He can always turn the inferi to stone, but he was still having a hard time summoning his sky flames, despite its latent nature.

When Harry was ready to succumb to the hopelessness of the situation, wisps of flames began attacking the inferi, burning them to cinders despite being underwater. He immediately swam back to the surface and there he saw Dumbledore, now on his feet, controlling the flames with ease, even in his weakened state.

The pair were able to escape the inferi-infested cave as the inferi had a sense of self-preservation to escape the fire.

-----------

Under his invisibility cloak, Harry unwillingly watched as Malfoy try and attempt to kill the weakened headmaster, as per Voldemort's orders.

As Harry watched the student and headmaster talk about Malfoy's orders, about how he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, he struggled quietly to undo the effects of the freezing charm someone apparently placed upon him.

As soon as he was able to move, Harry retrieved his wand but he was immediately stopped by the timely appearance of Professor Snape, who simply gestured for him to be silent.

"You're going to kill him aren't you?" Harry questioned. "There has to be another way to save him."

Harry remembered the supposed fictional story he told Lambo and Ipin about how a lion urged the snake to kill him. With Dumbledore's pleas to Malfoy not to go through with Voldemort's orders, there could only one person associated with the snake, and that was Professor Snape.

Apart from actions and conversations, the memory of his future self also told him his future self's thoughts and mindset during those times, including why he told Lambo and Ipin his story at Hogwarts.

Professor Snape's face was stoic, there was no outward reaction to Potter's question.

"The Dark Lord is ruthless." Professor Snape shook his head.

As soon as Professor Snape left Harry, few more Death Eaters appeared and walked towards Draco, egging the young Malfoy to cast the killing curse on the weakened headmaster.

"No."

"Severus Please."

"Avada Kedavra"

Harry gulped as he watched the light of the killing curse erupt from Professor Snape's wand and hit Albus Dumbledore's chest, throwing him off of the Astronomy tower, dead.

The Death Eaters, alongside Draco and Snape, were quick to make their escape, with Professor Snape dragging a very shell-shocked Draco along by the cuff of his dress robe.

Harry gave chase to the fleeing Death Eaters, casting curse after curse at the fleeing group but in the end, Professor Snape proved to be a powerful wizard on his own, able to flawlessly block every spell he cast.

"Using the spells I invented against me, Potter?" Professor Snape sneered. "Yes, I am the half-blood prince."

------------

Harry's sixth year ended with him losing another person he cared about a lot, Headmaster Dumbledore. Even with the benefit of knowing the events to come, he wasn't able to save Dumbledore's life.

Harry failed to stop Professor Snape from fulfilling the late headmaster's wishes.

Harry simply shook his head as he exited the 9 3/4 platform to enter King's Cross station and waited for his uncle to pick him up from the station.

Imagine Harry's surprise when he saw Alberto and Mammon arrive at the station.

"Get in the car, we're planning for the war." Mammon ordered.

Harry complied.

---------

Alberto dropped Mammon and Harry off at Privet Drive before he went somewhere else.

Harry was surprised that a lot of people were already inside. He can immediately identify the other arcobaleno present, from his mentor to being reintroduced to Reborn.

"Potter." Reborn greeted.

"Reborn."

"A war."

"Yes, Volde-"

"I'm going to stop you there," Reborn cut Harry off. "Your future-self told me that mentioning the Dark Lord gives away our position." The baby with the yellow pacifier then turned to his mentor. "I thought you trained your student well Mammon?"

"Shut up Reborn, unlike you I'm not a Spartan trainer," Mammon scoffed.

"Reborn." A kid with brown hair groaned.

"Apparently you still need training Dame-Tsuna." Reborn clicked his tongue as he admonished his student in Japanese.

"Where are my uncle and his family?"

"They're at a hotel somewhere and will return here once we're done laying the plans for the evacuation of the Dursleys." Mammon answered.

"If I told you about Riddle, that's his real name, then I also told you of the policies enacted during his reign in Wizarding Britain."

"We will accept." The kid with brown hair declared in English.

"Dame-Tsuna don't go making decisions without hearing them out." Reborn admonished his student as he hit him…

With a green paper fan?

Suddenly the green paper fan transformed into a green lizard…

That happened…

Transfiguration?

Harry decided to pin what he just witnessed at a later date.

"We have a lot of contacts in Wizarding Britain that we can confirm where their loyalties lie," Mammon intoned. "It does help that a majority of them are muggleborns, as this country likes to call the magical born to the magicless, they will be protected by Varia grunts under my command."

"The tenth family will ensure the smooth sailing of the mission as well as grab the muggleborns that are to be arrested." Reborn supplied.

"We have already checked the muggleborn and their families you have provided us in the future," Mammon stated. "They are merely waiting for their children to return from the school before they will be evacuated somewhere where Riddle couldn't reach."

"Oi Dame-Tsuna." Reborn switched to Japanese once more. "Call your guardians and plan the mission with them."

"Hieee!" Tsuna screamed before fishing out his phone and called.

"To help you understand the language, a few wizards in the Famiglia gave me a translating spell that you can use." Mammon gave Harry a piece of parchment.

"Apparently it works both ways, for you to understand what we're saying, and for us to understand what you're saying." Reborn sipped on his espresso.

-----------

The members of the Order of the Phoenix came, they were telling the Dursleys that they were to be evacuated from their home. That was when Mammon appeared out of thin air and told the wizards off.

"I'm sorry gentlemen but the Dursleys go with me," Mammon floated in front of Vernon Dursley. "They will be protected in Italia where your so-called Dark Lord can't reach them."

The two wizards looked at each other.

"It's okay." Harry diffused the tension. "They're with me." He gestured towards his mentor.

"Are you sure this is wise Potter?"

"They're Family."

"Very well, Mammon."

The wizards Disapparated out of the Dursleys' house.

"Do not dilly dally Vernon," Alberto barked as soon as he got inside. "We have a plane to catch."

-----------

With Harry's future knowledge, he was able to locate all of the six Horcruxes without so much trouble. He, Ron, and Hermione got in a bit of a disagreement because he won't tell them how he came across such information.

It'd be hard to tell them, especially Hermione, who wouldn't believe about another way to time travel.

In the end, they were still able to collect Voldemort's Horcruxes and destroyed them on Hogwarts grounds.

As soon as they arrived on Hogwarts grounds, before they destroyed all of the Horcruxes Harry, Hermione and Ron had on hand, he channeled his lightning flames and infused the castle's structure with it.

Imbuing the whole castle took a lot out of Harry, he was winded by the time he was done.

"You alright mate?"

"What did you do Harry?"

"I'm fine, don't worry about it." Harry dismissed Ron's and Hermione's concerns.

"But…"

"Go!"

Imagine the Death Eaters' reaction when they realized the castle's walls weren't crumbling at all even when they were hit by their most powerful spells, even the killing curse proved to be useless against the walls.

"Fred!" Percy managed to yell as soon as he noticed that the wall beside his brother was hit by a spell.

"Wha-" Fred was cutoff mid praise by his brother's scream.

"Reducto!" Ron immediately yelled and hit the death eater responsible right at the chest.

----------

When Harry learned of his status as one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, the way Professor Snape worded the events that should happen, he was reminded of Uni's fate.

Harry audibly gulped before he headed to the forest where Voldemort was to meet him. He did wonder why his future self didn't mention the fact that he had to die to win the war.

Something must have happened to his future-self that prevented his death but still win the war against the Dark Lord.

Still, it wasn't a difficult decision to make.

Without everyone's notice, Harry went to the forbidden forest where he would meet his end, to give everyone a fighting chance against Voldemort.

"Like falling asleep." Sirius answered his question.

"Will you be there with me?" Harry asked the souls of his loved ones.

"Always." Harry's mother answered.

With one last breath, Harry resolved himself to confront Voldemort and let the Dark Lord cast the killing curse on him, maybe he could even emulate his mother's example and use his sacrifice to protect everyone he cared about.

To protect Hogwarts.

To protect Vongola.

----------

Harry was surprised that he took to surviving the killing curse for the umpteenth time this fast, from his conversation with Dumbledore, it turned out that the blood that Pettigrew took from him actually tethered him to life.

In some twisted way, Voldemort became his Horcrux, minus the killings.

Harry shook his head as he faced Voldemort one final time.

----------

Harry and Voldemort were right in the middle of the Great Hall when they faced off against each other.

Utilizing the training he got with Mammon and Alberto, Harry didn't engage Voldemort directly. He retrieved one pebble he had already infused with his lightning flames beforehand and threw it in the air.

"Engorgio"

The pebble grew in size that it managed to hide Harry's form from the Dark Lord. The pebble shielded Harry from the killing curse Voldemort cast.

Voldemort tried using the killing curse multiple times but the pebble wasn't even scratched and this annoyed the Dark Lord to no end.

"Coward Potter?" Voldemort taunted.

"Coward? Never." Harry retorted as he got out of hiding and pointed his wand at the enemy.

"Aqua Eructo."

High levels of water pressure pushed the Dark Lord back a few paces, the Dark Lord was able to regain his footing and defend himself from the water expelling charm Potter cast. He was, however, soaked from head to foot and was now standing on a puddle as a result.

"Glacius."

Cold wind began to be expelled from Harry's wand. It froze the water puddle and Voldemort in his place while frost began to form on the Dark Lord's cloak and skin.

"Clever Potter," Voldemort praised. "Clearly Dumbledore managed to teach you before he passed, but not clever enough."

Voldemort drew a circle above his head with his wand and conjured flames that encircled him, melting frost and ice off of him.

"Saggita"

Harry flicked his wand in Voldemort's direction a number of times and sent an equal amount of arrows flying towards the Dark Lord.

With a simple flick of the wand, Voldemort was able to defend himself from the conjured arrows, none of them made were even able to graze him.

"Arrows, Potter? I suppose you were raised by those detestable muggles."

Voldemort soon went on the offensive as soon as the last of Harry's conjured arrows were destroyed. He sent a number of curses in the Potter's direction.

As soon as Harry realized that his opponent was on the offensive, he immediately cast a shield charm before hiding behind the enlarged pebble he set up earlier.

"Where's that Gryffindor courage Potter?" Voldemort questioned as a bluish beam was expelled from his wand. "Are you just going to hide like the Hufflepuff with you back at the graveyard?"

"Excuse you!" Harry flared. "Cedric wasn't a coward, I chose to hide him so that Wormtail won't kill him."

"Reducto"

Harry sent a reductor curse towards his opponent as soon as he finished defending his friend.

"If Hufflepuffs were cowards, we wouldn't be fighting today!" Cedric called out as slabs of stones rained down on the Dark Lord.

Voldemort drew an arc facing the falling stones, disintegrating them into dust particles.

"You insult Hufflepuffs," Harry called out.

"Saggita"

Harry summoned arrows once more and sent them flying towards his opponent.

"But they're the one thing you aren't!" Harry continued his spiel once he finished incantation for his attack. "They're humble and loyal."

Voldemort ignored Harry's words as he opted to cast more spells towards his enemy, to which Harry was able to defend against or evade altogether.

The exchange of spells between the Dark Lord and the boy who lived continued for a few moments until Voldemort declared.

"I tire of this Potter."

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Two beams of light were expelled from both combatants' wands: one green and one red. They met at the center and tried to overpower the other. It didn't take long for the fighting around Harry and Voldemort to cease as they watch history unfold their very eyes.

Cedric's eyes were on Voldemort and Harry all the while casting levitation charms on small glasses, to which he positioned it around both battling wizards. As soon as he was finished, he enlarged them, preparing himself if things would go wrong.

If there was one thing Cedric was able to take away from his time as a Triwizard Champion and battling at the Department of Mysteries, both events were him and Harry up against Voldemort and his band of Death Eaters, it was to be prepared for every outcome.

The killing curse might nullify shield charms, but it can't pass through tangible objects.

If for one moment Harry's disarming charm would be overpowered, he can immediately dispel the levitation charm and let the glasses and intercept the killing curse.

It didn't long for the beam of the disarming charm to overpower the killing curse. As soon as the dark lord was disarmed, through the charm, for a brief moment Voldemort's body was coated with the light of the killing curse before he fell to the ground, lifeless.

Everyone can agree that the way the Dark Lord fell was anticlimactic. Voldemort was someone who instilled fear into the hearts of many and his anticlimactic death was evidence enough that he was merely human.

----------

As with the nature of war, there were many casualties during the Battle of Hogwarts. However, the casualties would have been greater had Harry not used his flames on the castle itself to harden its properties.

Harry knew that if that had not been the case, Fred would have died when he praised his older brother.

Everyone was recuperating from the war, mourning for their losses when black mist appeared suddenly, and with the mist came three men covered in bandages under cloaks.

"Harry Potter, for violating the mafia laws, you are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment."

"What?!" Hermione exclaimed. "What do you mean violating mafia laws, we're wizards and mafiosos!"

"Hermione, calm down," Harry tried to appease his friend. "I knew it was a matter of time."

"But Harry, yo-you're not part of the mafia, are you?" Hermione questioned.

Harry looked away, unable to answer his friend's question.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Molly growled. "Who are you?!"

"We are the wardens of the Vendicare Penitentiary, we are here for Harry Potter for his violations of the mafia law, one of which is revealing to the populace the powers held secret within the world.

"Harry Potter won't be coming with you." Someone spoke in Japanese as a number of people arrived from the bridge.

"Vongola Famiglia." One of the Vindice wardens acknowledged.

"Are you going to negotiate for Harry Potter's release Vongola Tenth Boss candidate?" The Vindice wardens questioned, speaking in the same language as the speaker from before.

"Harry Potter cannot be incriminated from the crimes in which you have committed."

From the mist, a brunette with orange eyes looked at the wardens directly.

"What crimes did we commit that we are supposed to pass unto Harry Potter."

"The reveal of the mafia society and the world's secretive abilities to the people around us was your doing," The brunette stepped forward until he was beside Harry. "The castle walls are indeed coated with lightning flames, however, it isn't noticeable by the non-mafia people who dwell in this place."

"Very well, you've made your case quite clear Vongola Tenth Boss candidate, Tsunayoshi Sawada." Black mist began to surround the three wardens. "However, let this be your warning Harry Potter, revealing the mafia world's secrets will only be met with one punishment.” The wardens switched to English.

"I understand." Harry nodded.

"They were surprisingly lenient," Mammon commented. "I suppose we won't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Good work Dame-Tsuna, I guess I'll make a good boss out of you yet." Reborn smirked.

"Hiiieee! What was I thinking?!” The brunette named Tsuna screamed in terror. "I willfully crossed paths with the Vindice!

"As expected of the tenth!" A silver-haired boy looked starry-eyed at Tsuna.

"Thank you for that Tsuna," Harry smiled at Tsuna. "I owe you one."

"Remember the Vindice's warning Harry."

"I will Reborn."

"Dame-Tsuna stop screaming we're leaving." Reborn kicked his student's back.

"Hiiieee!"

"We'll reconvene at Privet Drive." Mammon gave the final world before all four of them disappeared from view.

Everyone looked at Harry with wide eyes and mouth, taking too long to process what just happened.

"Mafia?!" One muggleborn screamed.

"Harry tell us, what did those wardens mean?" Hermione looked concerned for her friend. "Tell us what you are allowed to tell us."

"To make a very long story short, I acquired some abilities that are apparently unique to their world, after the events of the Chamber of Secrets," Harry slumped to the wall behind him. "Frankly, I don't know why they took this long to come to get me, I actually expected them to get me after the Triwizard Tournament."

"You used your abilities when we first faced Voldemort in that cemetery." Cedric pointed out. "Why?"

"I can't let you die Ced."

"You risked a lot when you saved me." Cedric concluded.

"And I was ready for the consequences, it could also mean that Voldemort won't be able to touch me there." Harry admitted.

"Although, knowing what I know now, it wouldn't kill Voldemort for good." Harry whispered to himself

"You're good bloke Potter." Cedric ruffled Harry's hair.

Percy, unexpectedly, rushed towards Harry and hugged the boy as tight as he could.

"Percy's gone loony." Ron commented.

"Ronald!" Hermione admonished

"Thank you, thank you," Percy expressed his gratitude. "If it hadn't been for you, Fred would've died."

"Oi! What are you talking about?" George called out.

"If Harry didn't use his ability on the castle, the spell that hit the wall near Fred…" Charlie Weasley hummed.

"It would've collapsed on Fred." Bill shared his realization.

George's immediate response was to hold onto his twin tight as Molly immediately engulfed her twin sons in a tight hug.

"Oi mum."

"Let your mother have this boys." Arthur shook his head.

"So you're really keeping the Elder Wand?" Ron questioned.

"I'm storing it someplace that no one knows, no one from the Wizarding World would know."

"Wouldn't putting it back inside Professor Dumbledore's grave work?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione's right," Arthur nodded. "It was one of his prized possessions after all."

"We can't risk the elder wand falling into the wrong hands," Harry shook his head. "It was already stolen when it was inside Dumbledore's grave once.

"Wouldn't that be called hiding in plain sight?" Bill offered.

"While that would work for a few short time but some people would be willing to risk robbing Dumbledore's grave once more on the off chance that we were indeed loony to store it back to the place where it was once stolen," Ron offered his advice. "Harry's plan to store it somewhere where no one from the wizarding world knows is good."

"I see your point." Bill nodded.

"You've grown Ron." Percy praised.

"It's Brilliant." Hermione grinned. "He's brilliant."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shared a knowing smile.

----------

The days preceding the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry was busy.

Harry's first order of business, before even taking the time to recuperate was to ask Reborn or Mammon of a secure place to hide the Elder Wand. Muggles have no use for the wand but waving it around could cause irreparable damage or casualties.

After resting for a few days, Harry attended all the funerals for the people that lost their lives in the war, he felt like it was his obligation. He can't stop feeling like the whole second wizarding war was in his name.

The teachers found themselves thanking Merlin at the fact that the casualties were only from the ministry workers and aurors and no one from Hogwarts's student body perished, even the students who were forced to stop attending.

The muggleborn students that the Vongola has taken under their care, with their families included, were back on British soil attending the academic year following Voldemort's defeat.

The Dursleys were also back on British soil but they did not return to Privet Drive, opting to find another place of residence. Vernon was still vehement that he was out of the Family business, to which Alberto and the higher-ups of the Famiglia respected.

Harry never met the Dursleys once more after their evacuation from Privet Drive.

Time passed and Harry found himself affiliated with both the Wizarding World and the Mafia World. He saw no reason in using his flames outside the Mafia World's jurisdiction but he found every reason to continue using magic even outside the Wizarding World.

It does help that one of the people holding a seat at the ICW was a member of the Vongola.

Speaking of the Vongola, Harry found himself leading a wizarding squad to protect the Vongola boss from attacks that were magical in nature. All the while holding a position as an Auror for Wizarding Britain.

One would normally think it'd be impossible holding two posts from two different organizations but he has someone he can trust within the Vongola and his best friend within the auror corps.

The next thing that happened was Tsuna succeeding the Vongola throne after the younger boy graduated from high school as he himself found himself siring children with Ginny.

------------

Harry's marriage to Ginny forced him to tell his best friends, the entire Weasley family, and the Lupins about his mafia connections.

Surprisingly, they took it well.

"We had Hermione explain it to us mate," Ron smirked. "And we all agreed that there could have far worse things that could've happened to you as soon as you got those flame-like abilities."

"Honestly Harry." Hermione groaned. "How do you get yourself into this situations?"

"The three of us have asked the same question ever since Hermione, you know that."

"He's got you there, Hermione." Ron chuckled.

"Fair point."

-----------

After the war, Kingsley Shacklebolt was appointed by the ICW as Minister. He soon stepped down and appointed Percy Weasley as replacement three years into his reign.

Percy, who was a workaholic, felt like he has had neglected his family, and stepped down as Minister three years into his first child and took up his father's old position in the ministry under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects.

Most of what his office has confiscated were counterfeit of his twin brothers' products.

Cedric Diggory was elected as Minister of Magic right after Percy stepped down. Shacklebolt's and Percy's reigns as Minister of Magic were transition periods for Wizarding Britain from Voldemort's take over.

Cedric's reign as Minister came right after he retired as a professional Quidditch player. Diggory's reign was rehabilitation of the magical places that were destroyed from the wizarding war. He also changed the maximum interval of when the elections were to be held: from seven years to five years.

Coincidentally that was how many years Percy reigned as Minister of Magic.

He was largely successful in his reign as minister but he realized soon after his second term that the tensions between the pureblood and muggleborn wizards will still be there as long as he remained in office.

For the greater good, Cedric stepped down as Minister halfway into his third term and appointed Hermione Granger as his replacement, to quell the resentment of the muggleborn wizards born from the wizarding war.

As soon as Hermione took office, she immediately opened up two advisory slots, one of which was occupied by Cedric, under her request and the other by a fellow Gryffindor and photojournalist turned politician: Colin Creevey.

Another change Hermione has established into wizarding Britain was the abolishment of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

With her muggle knowledge, she was able to make wizarding Britain fear the very notion of in-breeding, citing examples of what happened to the Gaunt and Black families and their demise because of it.

Due to her intimidation tactic, it ensured that less and less witches and wizards would suffer the same affliction that plagued the pureblood families of old.

The transition periods that Ministers Shacklebolt and Weasley reigned on top of Minister Diggory's successful reparation of the different places affected by the war and his charisma helped Minister Granger foster an era of coexistence between the witches and wizards of wizarding Britain regardless of blood status.

#katekyo hitman reborn #reborn #tsunayoshi sawada #harry potter #mammon #tsuna #hpdwf #story

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