The Last Guardian
I am so sorry I haven't updated the story; I needed to get some of my grades up. Also, I couldn't figure out how I wanted this chapter to go and got MAJOR writer's block. Leave a comment if you liked my wrriting style, I havee been having problems unifying my stile with the story i want to crea te. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please leave comments and PM me regarding your thoughts and suggestions.
The Last Guardian
Pre·cog·ni·tion Knowledge of something in advance of its occurrence, especially by extrasensory perception; clairvoyance.
Blooming droplets of liquid garnet fell on soft silver meadows. Like snow tainted with a wounded wolf's blood. The snow in his hands, the blood already making it blush, fell gracefully on the dark earth. He heard voices, calling him, pulling him from the blooming winter meadow. His eyes focused and aligned, like stars and planets, on faces he recognized. There were no names for the faces, or words to describe them. They were like the sun and the moon. Both radiant, forever apart, until they eclipsed, bringing balance to the blinding light.
"Harry?" was all he heard. There was no rhyme or reason to the soothing voice, all he knew was that the moon was calling. He saw stars and constellations. Their names were anchoring him to the light. Capricornus, Betelgeuse, Gemini, Sirius… For the first time he knew where he was. There was no need to say or see, he just knew he was safe. "The sky will fall upon the Earth and no force in existence can raise it to the heavens again." The words fell like water from his lips, their sound leaving a pungent taste of copper on his mouth. Sirius leaned over and took Harry's hands into his, turning the palms upward so Remus could look at them. There were crescent lacerations on them, four on each hand, that were bleeding steadily. He raised his wand, and with a soundless flick, the skin stitched itself together, leaving no signs of what was on the just moments before.
"Harry, look at me." He didn't look up; his eyes were trained on the drying roses his blood left on the sheets. The world will certainly end in ice… "I'm sorry, you know, for freezing your entrance hall." They did not reply, instead choosing to lead him to the adjacent bathroom. "Take a bath, we'll be waiting downstairs" said Remus, while pushing Sirius out of the guestroom, leaving a tired and confused teenager to soak on the warm water that had been prepared for him.
He sat there, thinking, until his skin looked like the prunes that his aunt ate with her morning tea. That thought alone made him still with the realization that in the eyes of the wizarding law he was homeless. Sirius was not his legal guardian. He could never be, for he was blamed with murder. Harry quickly got out of the bath, dressing in the clothes that Remus had left on his bed, which had no blood. He dressed quickly, seeing that the sun had just risen while he was bathing. Walking out of the room, he was faced with the silver hallways of the old Black house. The air felt unnaturally cold, reminding him of what he had done. With a deep groan he joined his godfather at the dining table, where a plate of food was already laid out for him.
"So... aren't you mad that I left your floors soaking wet?" he asked sheepishly, a bright crimson coloring his cheeks. He was responded with a light laugh from Remus, while Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'll never be mad because of that. Those floors have had worse thing happen to them than water marks...", the dark glint in his eyes told him exaclty of what he was talking about. Remus choaked on his tea, his face reddening like Harry's own. "I believe that's enough innuendos for today, don't you think?" his question directed to Harrry, who nodded in embarrassment becaue of Sirius' shamelessness.
After their plates were empty of all food, Sirius turned to Harry, locking his eyes to the eyes of his friend's son. He sat there, observing, for a minute before opening his mouth and asking him if he knew what happened to him. Harry was speechless, there was no explenation for his change or his panicked outburst. There was no explenation for his dream.
"I-I dont know."
Remus knelt before him, grasing his hands firmly. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out. There must be some books here that will give us a guideline of what is happening to you." He hummed thoughtfuly, reaching for the long hair adorning Harry's head. "It seems curious that your appearance is different, but your scent has not changed. If you inherited creature magic your scent would have changed completely. It all seems odd." His voice trailed on that last word. He kept himself on his knees, looking at the green eyes that watched as his hair was stroked by the tanned hand. "You look just like your mother", said Sirius. "Really?" was the shaky response from Harry. "There is no doubt in my mind. I'll never forget her face. Merling forbid! James had dozens of pictures of her pinned around our dorm when they were dating." His eye crinkled while he spoke, a smile tugging on his lips. He looked young, younger than when he first met him.
"What are we going to do? I can't go outside looking like this, no one will know it's me when school starts."
"Is that a bad thing. Some people will know who you are even if you do not look like yourself." Sirius had a point. There were still professors that remember how Harry's mother looked like. "Well, can't we change my appearance for a little while?" asked Harry, his voice shook slightly. One ties their identity with their looks, they go hand in hand. In reality, Harry did not mind looking different. It meant having a new beginning, no more of that boy-who-lived nonsense that reigned his life. As he sat there , he could feel the difference in the air. He felt no hatred directed towards him at the moment. All that he could feel was peace.
The hot summer days were passing quickly, there was no answer to Harry's transformation in the Black library. Not a single reversal spell worked. It seemed that the change was not the result of a glamour. An appearance spell would have worn out soon after it has been casted and any spell done by an outsider would have it's flaws. In essensce, Harry still felt like himself. That did not worry him at all.
It was the ominous sleeptalking that concerned him.