Bearing the Light

“Ah, there you are my Hades!” the man called out as the boy slipped through the door. Elder’s voice was slyly playful. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t grace us with your presence.”

The black haired boy walked down the spiraling stairs into the work room that Elder had prepared for them. Niamh was already there, sitting in a chair, reading a book, her feet kicking idly. She glanced up as he reached the bottom step, and smiled a brilliant smile at him. She was happy, so much happier than he had ever seen her before. They had both been so lucky to get Elder as their Sponsor.
“Move, Vengeance,” this last was directed at the snake who occupied Hades’ favorite chair.

“Elder?” Niamh stared between him and the snake. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

“You surprise me. Not many people would willingly learn such a skill. But the answer to your question is to a certain extent, yes. But it will only be to a certain extent, and it is only because of what you are that I will be able to teach you even that.”
“Because of what I am,” she repeated slowly. Her feet had stopped moving, the emotions wiped from her face. Elder moved over to hug her, and Hades joined in, sensing that his girl needed reassurance.

“My Keeper. Did you think I would trust anyone else with the task?” he questioned fondly. “Speaking of tasks, I have to run to London today, so your Training will be shorter than usual.”

“So we still don’t know what that three headed dog was guarding, or why Snape tried to get past it,” Hermione murmured as they made their way to the Great Hall. They had taken the time to fill her in on the break in at Gringott’s, and Harry had told both Hermione and Ron when he saw Snape being bandaged by Filch.

Harry shook his head to clear it, like a dog shaking off water. Well used to these flashbacks, for lack of a better term, it was easy enough to shake off the memories.

“And we’re probably not going to until we find someone willing to tell us,” Ron pointed out in exasperation.

Halloween had drawn the three of them closer together, but Ron was being kept very carefully unaware of just what they were capable of. Hermione still didn’t trust him to stand with them, and keep their secrets. Privately Harry agreed. The fact that the boy had hesitated at all to help Hermione meant that he could prove to be a liability to them. You either helped another Student out, or you sided with the Instructors to gain their favor for your own security. The fact that this school did not operate on quite the same scale didn’t change the fact that the red haired boy would most likely see to his own comfort before risking himself for someone else.

That was not to say that Harry didn’t like him. Simply that he wouldn’t trust him to help out in a more extreme situation of danger. Besides, he wasn’t a Student of the Institute, so Harry wasn’t sure they’d even be able to tell him about what they were.
“Oh, I’ll find out,” Hermione countered with a confident toss of her head.

Harry had tried to get Quidditch through the Ages back after Snape had confiscated it, and had managed to overhear him complaining to the old caretaker, Argus Filch, that there was no way to watch all three heads at once. Hermione’s eyes had lit like candles at his words.

Every since Halloween Hermione had been borderline obsessing over the puzzle she’d been presented. For some reason, the fact that Snape was so interested in what the dog was hiding captured her attention and held it, like waving a feather in front of a cat. Harry understood where her obsession came from. No one aside from their Elder had ever managed to ward off her entry into their mind, even if they were natural Readers. Since the ‘Troll Incident’ she’d been much more cautious and unfortunately, as far as Harry was concerned, fascinated by their dark professor.

The man was simply too dangerous for her to start one of her little games with.
“Eat, Harry. You’ve got your match soon,” she muttered distractedly. They were sitting at the Gryffindor table. It was the day of his first Quidditch match, but Harry was more concerned with figuring out what was stolen the day that he had been in Diagon Alley than worried about his flying technique.

“I’m not hungry,” he muttered back. Ron was wolfing down his own breakfast, but he nodded agreement to her advice.

“Harry, you need your strength,” One of his dorm mates piped up. “Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team.”

“Thanks Seamus,” he responded dryly, watching the other boy drizzle ketchup over his sausages.

Hermione caught his eye with a quick smirk. He couldn’t keep himself from grinning back at her.

It was nearing eleven when Harry found himself in the changing rooms donning the scarlet robes of Gryffindor. Almost wistful he rubbed the bright red cloth, wondering what it would be like to wear an emerald green, but he quickly shook off the thought. No matter how much more flattering the color scheme would have been for him, being a Gryffindor was much more convenient in the long run.

He was able to sneak into the library and learn all sorts of useful things that were never going to be covered in class. He was also able to find abandoned classrooms to practice the things he had learned. The fact was he was able to shrug off most questions about his disappearances by saying he was out flying, or sneaking into the kitchens, was terribly convenient. No one, with the possible exception of Snape, ever considered that he could be up to anything sinister. After all, everyone knows that Gryffindors ‘stand for things’.

What things he was supposed to stand for Harry wasn’t quite sure of, but as long as he didn’t overtly cause trouble, break any bones, or threaten to kill anyone he figured he would never need to, and that was the true beauty of having been sorted into Gryffindor.
Soon enough Harry was kicking off with the other Gryffindors, flying out to the open sky with the expanse of the pitch flowing like an emerald carpet beneath him. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face as the wind whipped at him. Up here there weren’t factions or ideals to define him, up here he was free…

A bludger whizzed past his face, inches in front of his nose.

Ok, so maybe not as free as he would like to pretend. The rather abrupt reminder had him focusing on the game, spiraling up out of the way of immediate danger so he could search for snitch, just as Wood had instructed him to; Wood being the burly fifth year who was slightly fanatical about his Quidditch games, and the captain of his team.

“Catch that snitch Harry! I don’t care what it takes, but catch it!” Harry repeated under his breath. It was the only order he had been given for the game, his mission. So that was precisely what he planned to do.

Harry kept an eye trained on the flow of the game, watching the beaters lob bludgers at other players and chasers try to toss the quaffle through the large hoops at either end of the pitch. Gryffindor was in the lead, which made Harry grin a bit. Professor Snape wouldn’t be too happy about that. Thinking of the man, Harry chanced a quick glance in his direction. The man in question had a stony look on his pale face, his dark hair whipping over his scowling eyes in the winter wind. It was not Snape’s obvious displeasure in the game’s progression that caught Harry’s attention.

He noticed the other professor sitting in the stands behind him; Quirrell was staring at him with an alarming intensity. Harry felt his scar prickle with power as the man’s eyes locked onto him.

That was when he felt it, the first tremor in his broom.

A flash of gold caught his eye; his broom gave a shuddering jerk. The Nimbus 2000 was no longer under his control, floating up higher and higher. It would give a shudder and then suddenly jerk trying to buck him off. Harry kept a part of his attention on the gold flitting about the goal post on the Slytherin end. No one else seemed to notice the snitch had appeared yet. He grabbed the handle of his broom, gritting his teeth as he was nearly dislodged from his perch.

The crowd seemed to notice that something was wrong because more people were turning their attention to him. He gave his own scowl at the thought. He didn’t want their attention. Wasn’t it bad enough that they stared at him even now in the halls, trying to glimpse his forehead.

“Harry! You alright?!” one of the twins, George he thought, called when he was in hearing distance. Fred was close behind and the two were circling around beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell from his broom.

The little gold ball was flitting closer to them. Harry’s mind raced over possibilities.
‘Catch the snitch Harry! I don’t care what it takes, but catch it!’

“Listen,” he called out “I need you two to start flying in a spiraling formation below me, with one of you staying higher than the other, do you understand?”

“What?” Fred called back, confused.

“Just do it!” Harry screamed. Then he let go, tumbling through the air in a twisting free fall. He tucked his arms close to his side, turning the movement into a dive. A streak of gold passed below him and he stretched out his arm, snagging the streak which he clamped in between his teeth to free his hands. He used the momentum to twist in midair and grabbed onto the front end of Weasley number one’s broom. The jarring impact of his body pulling on his straining shoulders nearly caused him to let go, but he managed to swing his legs toward the other Weasley so that when he let go he managed to fall the other boy was able maneuver his broom closer. Harry barely managed to latch onto that broom as well, but wasn’t able to keep a good grip and he fell once more.

This time the other twin had figured out what he was trying to do, and managed to move his broom so he landed across the broom handle. The air was knocked out of Harry when he hit the handle, but he managed to swing his leg over the side and sit up on the broom. Harry leaned back against the other boy, trying to level out the wobbling on the broom. Clean Sweeps weren’t meant for multiple riders. He gestured imperiously at the ground, indicating that he wanted to get to safety as quickly as possible with his hands since his mouth was still holding the little golden ball.

As soon as the Weasley’s feet touched down, Harry toppled to ground. He winced as the world swam in and out of focus. He breathed deeply around the ball, his hands latched onto his shoulders. Radiating sparks of pain shot through his arms. Dislocated shoulders, both of them, he thought dimly before he sank into the welcoming blackness.

Hermione ‘tsked’ lightly as she watched him fall to the ground. Stupid. How could he be so stupid? Acting like that was just begging to reveal what he was. She looked across the stands to see the way Instructor Snape was watching him. The look on his face now was a mixture of shock, and speculation. A dangerous man to have the attention of, Hermione mused as she watched a number of people swarm the field to haul Hades’ sorry ass to the hospital wing.

Oh, he was so going to hear about this later.

“Oh my god, did you see that catch?! That fall! Come on Hermione! We need to go check on Harry!”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Ron was racing down the steps to hurry out to help bring Harry inside. She closed her mouth with a huff. Was there a point to telling Ron not to bother? The adults were going to crowd around Harry and shoo him away. Then he was going to be unconscious in the hospital wing. What was the point in rushing down to be the first one at his side if you weren’t going to get to stay there? She rolled her shoulders in irritation, but dutifully followed the excitable red head.

Even as she hopped down the stairs of the stand she felt her eyes drawing back to the dark Potions Instructor, and beyond him to the purple turban of the Defense Professor.
She would definitely get to the bottom of things. She owed it to Hades to find out as much as she could so that he could secure the situation to their best advantage.