Harry followed Tonks into a dive to the largest collection of lights he'd seen on their journey yet. Up as high as they were, they looked like nothing more than a grid of lights against a patchwork of darkness. Lower and lower they flew, and Harry could see headlights, and street lamps, chimneys, and the odd tv antenna. Soon, they came to a large collection of buildings. Blocky. Imposing.
"Here we go." Tonks called.
Shivering, Harry looked around. Lupin landed closeby, and fiddled with something at his neck. He hissed and jerked his hand away quickly. Tonks looked over, and raised and eyebrow.
"Metal hand...So cold it's hot." Lupin muttered, and squatted carefully to the ground. Harry was about to take a step, but one of the other wizards rushed over to assist. Harry wasn't sure what he could do. The wizard squatted, and felt around the textured thing that was Ed. He held his hand still for several moments, fingers just gone, covered in the chameleon-like effect.
"Faint, but there." The wizard announced. His old professor sighed in relief.
"Moody..." Lupin said.
As he stood there, looking on, Moody limped over and shoved a piece of parchment into Harry's hand. "Read quickly. And memorize." Moody said and walked over to Lupin.
Harry looked at the parchment. It read:
The headquarters of the the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number 12 Grimmauld Place, London.
"What's the Order of .." Harry asked.
"Not here boy." Moody growled.
Harry looked up and only saw numbers 11 and 13 upon the blocky buildings before them. Then, before his eyes, a building seemed it inflate itself up from the ground, pushing aside the other two buildings in the process. After all that Harry had experienced thus far in regards to magic, all that he could say at that moment was a breathless...
"Wow."
Lupin leaned over and threw the lump of texture that was Ed over his shoulder, the texture adjusting against it and blending in chameleon-like. Lupin stood up and without hesitation, went straight away to the shabby, scratched up, black door. He tapped his wand once, and Harry heard the clinking of metal behind it, as well as something that sounded suspiciously like a chain. The door swung open, and Lupin turned to him.
"Get in quick. Go only a little ways in. Don't touch anything." Lupin said.
He then turned and walked, almost ran, down the dark hall before them. Harry listened to his footsteps as they faded into the distance.
Harry stepped inside. The others rushed by him talking in hushed, quiet tones.
'Like this place's a library. Or the home of someone dying.' Harry thought.
The door swung closed behind him, and Harry blinked. He felt the tap of a wand at the top of his head, and the sensation of warm water being poured down his spine. He looked quickly to his side. There, stood Moody.
"There...Now..for some light. Lumos."
Harry looked around, thinking he preferred the place in shadows. Everywhere he looked was covered with thick dust and cobwebs. Darkened picure frames held mysteries, because he couldn't tell what was within. Wall paper an paint both peeling on all the walls. This place had seen better days. It was, in his mind, a shabby place to call a safehouse.
He heard hurried footsteps and turned, thinking it was Lupin. Instead, Harry found himself wrapped in a tight, nearly bonebreaking hug from his best friend's mom: Mrs. Weasley. She was thinner than the last time he'd seen her, and her flaming red hair was frazzed and down.
"Oh, Harry! It's lovely to see you again." She whispered. Then she held him at arms length. "You look peaky, but dinner's going to be delayed a bit, I'm afraid. The Order's having a meeting first."
"Where's Ed? Is he.."
Mrs. Weasley looked at him with a confused expression.
"The other boy..under the Disillusionment charm. Didn't Lupin...? Blast him...!" Moody said.
Fuming, Moody limped off down the hall, and Harry moved to follow. Mrs Weasley held him fast before he could get much farther than a few steps.
"No Harry. Meeting's only for members. Hermione and Ron's upstairs. You can wait with them until the meeting's over. Then we'll have dinner. Keep your voice down in the hall." she added in an urgent whisper.
"Order? But. Ed's a... And he's sick 'cause of..."
Harry blinked at this a bit, not wanting to have her worry about the Dementor attack on him.
".... And..um..why keep quiet in the hall?" Harry said.
"Because I don't want you to wake anything up." She whispered and escorted him to the stairs. She showed him the room where he was staying, and then, nearly immediately, rushed back downstairs. She apologised for this, of course, saying she too had to be in on the meeting, as she herself was a member of the order.
The place reminded him of the Dark Arts the more he looked at it. He was half afraid of what he'd see past the door. With great reluctance, Harry placed his hand on the serpent that passed as a doorknob and entered the room beyond the hallway.
He floated along in the ocean of white. No up down left or right. Waiting.
He was surrounded by voices.
"Quick! Get that fire going."
Thump. Tap tap.
Gasps.
"Good lord! The boy's lips are blue! He's human?"
"Yes of course he is. Now help or move out of the way alright?"
"His eyes're open, you know."
"Yes. That. We..I need your help with that. Check his neck and you'll see what I mean."
Gasps.
"...."
"....Is that what I think it is?"
"That looks like..Noooo. You didn't."
"A muggle....here?"
"Heh..keep him from that portrait..or she'll..!"
"Oh...damn..."
"..too funny...!"
"... there. Help me..."
"..Mom'll hate this...I love it. Haha!"
Clap!
"Bring him over...now"
"I've only heard about this...in stories. Muggles getting burned by their...touch?"
Crackling noises.
"So...light. Except for...amazing. Mugglemade are they...?" Thump. Clank.
"Leave 'em alone Arthur."
"Every time..!"
"Blankets. He needs blankets. Hurry Molly...!"
"How many?"
"All of 'em!"
"Just HAD to fly over Greenland, didn't you, Mad-Eye?"
Snort.
"I don't know what you're talking about...Kid's half way dead before we even.."
"Dumbledore would be the better choice."
"Dumbledore isn't here, now is he? We'll loose him if this goes on much longer."
"..We'll need the poultice too..."
"What?!!? "
Crash!
"He's just a muggle. Why should...Take him to St. Mungo's."
"No. We need him intact. They'll take away everything...if.."
"What?"
"Shut it. He's a...a muggle!"
"Snape. Just do it. "
Sniff. Sniff.
"So...young..."
"Molly..."
Sniff.
"....very well."
:::
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Title: Of Harsh Treatments
He was floating in ocean of white. But found he wasn't alone.
He felt the ominous approach of the thing he didn't want to see. It was here, arriving with a boom that echoed through him as only it could. It was the sound of finality. Of judgement. He heard the nearly sing-song voice calling out behind him.
"Oh Al-chem-ist...."
A great black iciness gripped him and wouldn't let go. Familiar and full of weight. A rhythm thudded thunderously in his chest.
There was a man with dark, greasy, shoulder length hair.. he wore dark flowing robes, making him look much like a bat. He turned, walked forward from a wooden table and squatted. Soon enough, he saw just his face. And his cold black eyes.
He felt the aching pain in his port at his shoulder. Throbbing slowly. Then it was joined by the port in his left thigh. It was almost like a duet in agony. He pushed it to the background of his mind.. Where it belonged. Then came the frozen..burning pain...throughout the rest of him. He grit his teeth and pushed it back as well.
He was back on the array in the opera house, grand archanum equation done to perfection below him, and he had just activated the arrays he'd drew on his body. Hands across his chest as if he were hugging himself. The rush of energy flowing through him, and making a wind rise from the ground. He closed his eyes as the blue glow increased at his final...what he meant to be his final...thought...have to try....for you Al....
What...!?
He 15. It was a place called London. He ran..on two complete! legs. Novelity of it dying nearly as soon as it occured to him. ...The owner of the body on this side knocking pain against his just-arrived mind, demanding: Who are you..? In his own voice. It was the moment he realised what had happened. I STOLE...a LIFE?!? And..it was... me?!? How...? No time. The ground shook. Headlines on the paper he passed in his rush declaring there was a war....Written in a language he both did and didn't recognise. Then. He saw them. Great airships...floating in the air. Amazing. Silent. What WERE those?
He was 13. On the train headed south. His brother, soul trapped in armor, laughing hollowly at his attempt to cheat at poker. It was a lame try, he admitted to himself. He laughed with him, already planning the next attempt....
Thud thud. He saw the man's cold eyes again. Thud. His view jarred for just a moment. The man's hand withdrew from his face.
"Severus!"
"Don't hit..."
He blinked a slow blink.
"Mr. Weasley, I assure you that I know what I'm doing."
His chin was grabbed firmly by soft hands. Long fingers bit into frozen skin. He saw the dark cold eyes narrow.
Winry, striking his head with a wrench, yelling at him to take better care of both Alphonse and his automail... In the dark tunnels beneath Lior..leading refugees to safety...their way blocked by things only he could fight off. He turned and yelled for them to get the hell away....Huge red flash before his eyes against the bright desert sun, signaling the death of those in the city. No. All those people...but shadows disintegrating against the arc of destruction....Numerous boxy gravestones stacked and doubled up upon themselves..all the way up high..piled like a hill...He fell to his knees before them. Unable to cry because he knew he didn't have the right...
Stop it. STOP!!
The cold black eyes.
"MAKE ME."
He was 12 the day he received the silver watch and the name .
NO!NO!NO!NO! GET OUT!
"MAKE. ME." The voice almost a sneer.
He exhaled and squinted his eyes.
Wait.
Breath. He was breathing.
He could breathe!
He blinked a slow blink. Black eyes. Cold black eyes. A cruel upward curl on the thin lips on one side. The man with the greasy black hair.
He took a deep breath. Held it. Focusing inward. Searching. He felt the energy in the room as it flowed between the atoms...just out of his reach. Frustratingly out of reach. He blinked another slow blink. Right arm safety override...He hissed at the burning cold of that arm so near his ribs, felt it even through the many layers..Heard something tearing, and hoped it wasn't himself. It was stopped...hindered by something. He found couldn't move anything else, as the rest of him was busy shaking and shivering. Cold. So. Cold.
"He...moved!"
"Obviously."
Fuck it.
He scowled and glared at that face.
Get.
THESHITOUT!!!!!
The face before him jerked backwards, then gave the tiniest of slight nods, yet looked as though it was looking down at something particularly nasty while doing it.
No more images flashed before him. He exhaled a shaking breath. His chin was released.
:::
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Thank you for your amazing support!