Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

Vacation Blues	By : Shi_koi Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2202 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh! or Harry Potter. I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
::

Chapter Six

::

Arthur Weasley paced the
length of the dark wooden floor, his customary good-natured smile
absent, replaced by a dark, worried expression. He glanced up every
so often to watch the young man sitting in the deep chair beside the
open fireplace, his lean body almost engulfed by the soft upholstery
of the overlarge sofa.

This deep inside the
Ministry building meant that there were no windows, but the
flickering light from the flames threw the room into perpetual
twilight.

Arthur sighed once again,
his eyes avoiding the bed where the tiny twin to the youth beside the
fire lay, comatose.

“It's been three
days.” Arthur cleared his throat after speaking, his voice
slightly hoarse from keeping silent for almost the entire day.

The figure beside the
fire shifted slightly, stretching it's legs before curling back up on
the seat, like a snake coiling on a rock. “I am aware of this.”

“He's not going to
wake.”

The figure turned,
crimson eyes piercing in the grim light. Blood-tipped midnight spikes
of hair parted as the youth ran a hand through them impatiently. “You
think I do not know this? You think I do not realise the state my
aibou is in?”

Arthur ignored the
strange word. The youth had not offered the meaning, and he didn't
particularly want to break the strange truce that had sprung up
between them by asking what had not been offered. Frowning, Arthur
tried a different tack. “Have you given my suggestion any
thought?”

The darkness around the
fire parted, and the slim, regal figure stalked out, walking to the
bed to sit carefully beside the unconscious boy. “I have.”

“And?”

Yami let out a foreign
expletive, the harsh, guttural sound fading into the room. “...And
I would not trust one of these...medi-wizards any farther than I
could drag them, were I an inch high and made of papyrus!”

Arthur rubbed his eyes
tiredly. When he'd first been released from the two Specials keeping
him in his office he'd been almost frantic, trying to find out what
had happened while he 'd been detained. That had been almost half a
week ago.

Wizards' debts were not
something to be scoffed at, they were binding in a way that no-one
could predict, especially if the other magical being involved was not
a witch or a wizard. Arthur felt himself beholden to the two youths
for saving the lives of his teammates, as well as his own.

He was under no illusion
as to what the outcome of their bungled mission could have been.
Things were getting dangerous, information was becoming increasingly
twisted and false. Accurate sources for the activities of those who
followed He-who-must-not-be-named were virtually non-existent.

There was a good reason
for why he had been chosen to lead the mission, when he was not a
battle auror. There were too many uncertainties regarding the plots
and plans that went past those who worked for the light, and finding
someone you could trust to watch your back was even rarer.

When the information had
come through, it was simply too good an opportunity to miss, although
some would have said the reasons were a damn sight more personal.
With eight out of ten operatives already tied up, the choice of
personnel whom the Light trusted was narrowed down significantly.
With his experience in delaying, misleading, and a very carefully
cultivated aura of clumsy enthusiasm, Arthur Weasley was the only
person they could realistically send in after the rumor of missing
muggle children was dropped into the Order's lap.

But no-one could have
predicted this outcome.

The halls had been packed
with terrified and worried Ministry workers when Arthur found himself
released. Rumors had been flying thick and fast about the reason for
the buildings sudden shudders and shakes, as well as the sudden
shadows that had sprung up everywhere for an instant, before
disappearing.

People were saying
You-know-who had attacked and been thwarted, most possibly by the
Untouchables or the Specials, after all wasn't the distinguished
leader and Commander of the Specials here today himself? Mentions of
dark wizards running rampant through the halls were considered and
nervously brushed aside.

In all the rush, it had
taken the red-haired auror almost fifteen minutes to get back to the
infirmary where he'd last spoken to the boy he owed so much to.

He'd arrived to a scene
of utter devastation.

Glass was smashed and
glittering across the floor, red smears pooling in places, sending
crimson coloured shimmers across the stone where the sunlight touched
them. The beds were thrown about and in complete disarray, the
medi-cupboards at the far end of the room mangled and broken. A
handful of aurors were working, tight lipped and pinch-faced around
the room, their eyes flickering up to meet Arthur's face with a clear
sense of relief when he walked in.

The situation had been
briefly and quickly outlined to him, and his eyes had widened with
each progressive sentence. Arthur had been privy to the punishment
the youth, Yami, had dealt to those Death-Eaters when his small
friend had been mildly hurt. He did not want to know what he
did to Adrian.

Stomach churning, Arthur
had clenched his fists, straightened his back, and followed the woman
in charge to the room which had, quite suddenly, added itself to the
building in preparation for the two youths who needed it.

She had whispered one
last thing to him before knocking on the door, her hand gripping his
arm in a deathly tight hold, her eyes hard and afraid at the same
time.

This woman, who Arthur
knew from the files had once been a first-rate instructor and
fighter, usually undercover, spoke one sentence that sent shivers
down Arthur's' spine. They were words she had never uttered before,
not even when she had been captured once ten years previously and had
to face weeks of torture, followed by a long period of recuperation,
the results of which had ended her field career.

She spoke quietly, her
voice ever so slightly breathless and strangled. “Be careful
Arthur.” She said, swallowing nervously, her voice quivering
fractionally. “They scare me.”

They scare me.

By the time he had
gathered his wits, she was gone, leaving a stunned auror on the
doorstep of what could be an even greater threat than the Dark Lord
himself. Because this youth here had someone to protect, and none
fought as fiercely as those with something precious to lose.

Watching the youth tend
to his smaller twin, Arthur felt he could forgive Yami his rash
actions. Just thinking of the trauma his once friend had inflicted on
the child made his stomach churn. Rape. Whether it had been carried
through or not, the intention was there.

The humiliation,
debasement and loss of control could and most likely would have
serious repercussions in the smaller boy's future. That innocence,
that light and friendly concerned warmth that had been in the boy's
eyes possibly lost forever.

Yes, Arthur could find
himself hating his friend even more with each passing day.

It was even more
horrifying considering he had children himself. There is nothing
quite like the realisation of a parent when their child is in danger,
and the moment the boy had risked his life to save a few strangers
was the moment Arthur found himself feeling responsible for the small
pair of twins.

When he'd knocked the
door had opened by itself, the taller youth being on the other side
of the room, a small, naked bundle of limbs in his arms. His red eyes
had looked devoid of expression, but the taut line of his lips
alerted Arthur to Yami''s firm control of his emotions.

When Arthur didn't move,
Yami continued on his way, a side door opening and then closing
partway behind the boy of it's own accord. The sounds of splashing
water and softly whispered words in a deep, rolling tongue floated
out into the room, but there was no reply, no lilting voice in answer
to the almost desperate croons.

When Yami had carried his
smaller twin into the room, clean, dried and naked, Arthur wordlessly
helped dress him in the white shift he'd found on the bed, stepping
back to allow the youth to tuck the small boy in the large
blue-sheeted bed.

Then they had talked.
Warily, with evasions and long pauses as each male took stock of the
other, but eventually an unspoken truce was met.

Things were getting worse
though. Since Yami had related Yugi's last words to him, the boy had
simply not woken up. His eyes blank and lifeless when he'd checked
them, his body unresponsive to everything Yami tried. On the second
day Yami had suddenly collapsed whilst rocking his twin.

When he came to over
eleven hours later, his eyes drawn with fatigue, his arms shaking,
his legs too unsteady to walk on, he had gasped for breath and sobbed
out one sentence, before falling into a natural, albeit fitful sleep.

He is lost to me.

The horror, desperation
and sheer despair in Yami's eyes had tugged at Arthur's heart.
Thinking back now he had to stop himself from smiling wryly at the
thought of having adopted, if only in his feelings for them, two
extra sons.

Okay one son who seemed
to be a malignant, vicious, darkly terrifying and oddly regal, and
another who, with a single glance had brought out every
overprotective parental impulse he'd ever experienced in one go, both
wrapped up in the strangest twin-like package he'd ever seen.

When Yami had woken up
the next morning, he himself having left around two am and returned
around nine-ish, Arthur had broached the subject of the nurses and
doctors at a medical facility called St. Mungos. He'd suggested
allowing one or two of their medical staff come examine Yugi.

The cursing that had met
that suggestion had turned the air blue, figuratively speaking.

But now...

“There may be
another way...” Arthur said, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

Yami raised a brow,
waiting.

“I know someone. He
runs a school and has many, many contacts. There is a nurse who works
for him at the school whom I trust implicitly, and have trusted to
take care of my kids there. She might be able to help.”

Yami scowled, crossing
his arms. “...and you think she could help?” he asked
sceptically.

Arthur nodded slowly, his
eyes earnest. “I don't like this any more than you do. I feel
responsible. But by Merlin Yami! You can't sit here and do nothing!”

“I am not doing
nothing!” Yami roared, one arm sweeping out to encompass the
room. “I have stayed here even after out help was abused. Our
trust in your people taken advantage of...my aibou...my light
tortured!!”
His voice rose, “I am not doing nothing!”

“Then accept some
help!” Arthur shouted back. “He is going to die!”

Yami flinched. The air
around him chilling a few degrees as the magic responded to his
emotions.

“Please Yami.
Let me help.”

There was a long pregnant
pause as Yami thought things over. “As you will.” he said
thickly, his voice subdued. “Get me your help and I will
consider this allowing them to attempt to heal my aibou.”

Arthur sighed in relief.
“Thank you.”

Yami's lips quirked into
a self-deprecating half smile. “I should say that to you, if
this works.”

Arthur snorted.

::

The plane touched down
with barely a shudder, as smooth as silk over glass.

“We're here
Kaiba-san.”

Mokuba stretched in his
seat, quickly unfastening his seatbelt from the double-sized chair
he'd ridden in. It was pretty handy having your own plane to fly in,
especially since Mokuba doubted he'd have been able to do this
otherwise.

His first landing two and
a half days previous had been to Heathrow Airport. His base of
operations one of the most private and luxurious hotels in Britain.

From there he'd started
his search, using magical and mundane means.

While he didn't have the
same sort of magical talent as his brother or Yugi and his friends,
he did seem to have an inborn ability to control the natural world.
Not really consciously, but he felt and sometimes saw
things that others didn't. He never got lost as long as he could
touch the earth, and there was an almost invisible connection between
himself and those he counted as friends.

But it wasn't magic.

He'd first noticed it as
far back as when he was a little boy, when Gozaburo Kaiba had adopted
him and his brother. Seto had started to change after the first six
months, his eyes losing their soft kindness, and gradually hardening
into the perpetual ice that froze those he looked at with disdain.

Seto had done what he
could to keep his little brother safe, but Mokuba witnessed a lot
more than Seto thought.

He had started avoiding
Gozaburo after eighth months, while Seto was still being trained.
That was when he noticed his 'gift'. When he wanted to disappear the
grounds seemed to hide him, the plants and grasses, branches, trees
and bushes always managing to obscure him from view.

When he was chased once,
the guard dogs turned on their trainers and allowed Mokuba to hide
before Gozaburo realised that he had even left his room.

When he was upset, or
when his brother seemed tense, he could always tell, even if he
wasn't even in the same house, and when he was around his brother his
touch would calm Seto down.

Not to mention he always
managed to understand what it was people actually meant, rather than
what it was they were trying to say.

When he'd been kidnapped
by Pegasus, he had managed to stay hidden on the grounds since the
plant-life seemed to see him as one of their own. It was because he
left the safety of the natural environment that he was re-captured.

He knew that it wasn't
normal, but he'd never said anything to anyone, for fear of seeming
like a freak, then when the truths about the yamis and hikaris as
well as his brother were shared, Mokuba didn't tell anyone because he
knew that somehow it would hurt his brother.

As long as Seto thought
Mokuba was normal, he would do anything to make sure that Mokuba led
a normal life. But if he found out about Mokuba's 'gifts' he would
worry endlessly about something he had no control over.

Mokuba sighed, rubbing
his eyes as he discarded that train of thought. Somehow he didn't
think that these were normal musings for thirteen year olds, no
matter how advanced or mature. Then again, he could hardly be
considered normal.

The short walk out to the
waiting limo and the fifteen minute drive to the small, private
estate that he would be staying at for the next few days drew
Mokuba's attention. He knew it was just a matter of time before Seto
followed him, and his brother was showing remarkable restraint in not
jumping in the other company jet and flying straight over here.

Seto's one stipulation
had been that as long as Mokuba rang every evening, and stayed in one
of Seto's many properties, guarded by at least four bodyguards, then
he would have a week's leeway before Seto involved himself.

For Mokuba, who had never
been away from his brother if he could possibly help it, and vice
versa, this was a massive test, both on his own behaviour, and Seto's
patience and trust.

Although Mokuba doubted
that he would have been allowed to be alone if it wasn't for the fact
that Seto felt safer being alone on his property to use his magic.
With Mokuba safely esconsed in one of his houses on the other side of
the world, Seto wouldn't have to worry so much about shielding his
magic and castings.

The car rounded a densely
forested road and stopped, leaving Mokuba blinking. The huge metal
gates seemed to blend in with the massive leafy trees on either side.
True monoliths of nature blended seamlessly with man-made and curved
metal.

Once through the gates,
the grounds continued for a minute or two of forest, opening up to a
beautifully green expanse of grass before a long, low-slung two
storied house. There were smaller, multi-coloured trees peeking out
from behind the walls, and a delicate rose garden to the right. The
entire area was enclosed in on all sides by the forest.

The house was brick and
glass on the bottom half, a long sheltered black-wood floored porch
that was somehow oriental and western at the same time. The front
doors were thick, dark wood, and the lower windows had equally thick
frames.

Deep flower boxes stood
on the floor, a colourful arrangement of flowers and herbs giving of
a delightful, woodsy, earthy scent.

The top half of the
building was more in line from what Mokuba expected from Seto.
Shimmering white material, not unlike fine marble or covered, sanded
glass fronted the building, a dark reddish brown, almost black trim
of tiny mosaic tiles reaching around the sides in an intricate
pattern that Mokuba recognised from one of Seto's wards as being a
protection spell, woven into the actual frame of the building.

No wonder Seto insisted
that he stayed here.

The windows on the top
half were long and wide, over four feet across in some cases.

“Sir?”

Mokuba turned to the
waiting man. “Yes?”

“The bags are
inside sir, and your rooms have been prepared. May I show you?”

With a polite nod, Mokuba
followed the man inside.

The interior of the
building was softer than Mokuba expected. A dark wooden floor gleamed
under the hidden lighting in the roof. The hall he'd stepped into was
open, leading directly into a long, wide, open-planned seating and
living area that was sub-set into the floor. Four steps led down to
the area, and a wide fireplace stood against the far wall, a rounded
leather sofa and three custom-made rounded wooden and leather chairs
sat around the leather sofa.

To the far left was a
three-four-foot wide set of windows, or maybe doors, that opened up
to a stone flagged garden/barbecue deck.

Immediately to Mokuba's
right lay an indoor pond. It was six feet round, not too big, and it
had a long eight foot by three foot trench leading to the right, put
past the other wall to the rest of the pond, over twenty feet worth
of it.

Beside that was a curved
staircase to the upper floor. Behind the staircase, leading off from
the lounge was the dining area and kitchen as a quick peek confirmed.

The upstairs was just as
stunning. Soft, honey-coloured floorboards, and cream, emerald and
silver-toned decor made the place seem airy and bright. His own room
a contrast of dark green walls in three layered imaging, smaller
details, almost invisible unless you looked closely had been painted
in shades barely darker and lighter than the main tone.

A wide, low futon-style
bed lay in the centre of the bedroom, cream sheets pooling on the
sides, giving the place the appearance of an altar.

Mokuba grinned, sometimes
Seto's humor showed up in the oddest places.

To the right was his
private bathroom, complete in Japanese style, with a shower built
into the wall and floor beside the bath. The entire room being
waterproofed. The bath itself was over eight feet wide, and four feet
deep, perfect for long, relaxing soaks. Mokuba knew if he checked the
cupboards they would already be filled with all his favourite brands.

Mokuba turned to the man
who was waiting patiently. “Thank you.” he said, giving
the man a nod.

The man nodded back
before leaving.

Unclipping his
mini-player from his hip, Mokuba dropped it on the bed, kicking off
his shoes and socks, before turning on the bath and shower. He spent
a blissful half hour in the water, before padding out of the bathroom
in his bathrobe, trying to dry his hair which now reached his waist.

Dressing quickly in red
jeans and a black top with an anime character plastered across it,
and his hair braided, Mokuba sat cross-legged on his bed, booting up
his customised laptop and booster. Within moments he was linked to
every satellite around the earth, most of which his brother had
already hacked and put in back doors to.

They were the type that
would never be found, after all, who could plan for a magical hacker?

“Right...”
Mokuba muttered, setting off his trackers, “...let's see.
Search for areas of concentrated energy, both magical and mundane,
oddities in localised weather patterns, animal behaviour, and overlap
each graph...”

The search continued for
another hour, the data sectioned and plotted into his specifications.

The results were
unbelievable.

More than two-thirds of
Britain was covered by a mystical interference spell of some sort, in
fact, it was so powerful it could even be natural. What was odd was
that these disturbances didn't follow the natural ley-lines of the
Earth.

There were three main
disturbances that outshadowed the rest. On the surface, the magic in
them seemed normal, but combined with the weather reports, the
electrical disturbances, police reports...or lack thereof, land
value, geological and demographic surveys, all pointed to some
extremely dangerous and erratic magic.

The closest was in
London, in the outskirts of the city. That in itself was strange,
especially since no-one ever seemed to notice it. But then again,
most people didn't really tend to see what was under their very
noses. The second was in the Yorkshire Dales, around about the centre
of the island that was the United Kingdom, the third lay in Scotland.

Each of these three
centres of magic were old, older than most of the towns that had
sprung up around them if the state of the magic in them spoke
truly...but they were mere babes compared to his brother and the
yamis. There was something not quite right about his results. His
computer measured the magical data as easily as it did the electrical
data...but something just didn't add up.

And he was no closer to
finding Yugi and Yami than he was before.

::

“Through
Ancients' eye, and sandy tomb, By gift of Air, and Life renewed...”

The sounds of steady
chanting rumbled in the air of the darkened room.

“...for
time unbound, and might suppressed.”

The male in the centre of
the room stood proud, his arms upstretched, his body clad in heavily
embroidered dark blue robes, a long curved headdress covering his
features down to his eyes.

“Knowledge
sought, and wisdom found, by creed and sign, and words command...”

A light wind whipped up
the long robes around the figure, two glowing spheres suddenly
forming in the dual points of his palms.

“Return and
release!”

With an earth-shattering
cry, the figure threw both hands face down to the ground, the impact
shattering the globes and sending an immense magical ripple thorough
the fabric of both the natural and magical worlds.

In the aftermath, harsh
panting filled the now black room, the magic-heavy air thick with the
smell of sweat and the lightly bitter scent of blood.

In the centre of the
room, Seto fell to his knees, one hand wiping the blood from his lips
and nose. A moment later he curled up on the stone floor of his
basement room, asleep.

There was no-one near to
find him.

::

In life there is a
delicate balance. A little trite, but true nonetheless. It can be
seen in a million of tiny ways. The blooms of flowers in spring
changing thought the seasons into the brown of autumn. Seemingly dead
trees sleeping, only to flourish once winter's icy grip passes.

From the minuscule
bacteria that keep our bodies functioning, the ever continuous
workings of our bodies to keep themselves healthy, healed, happy.

Then there's the other
side. The faint electrical traces that have been found, bio-electric
chemistry and faint aura discolorations that can even be
photographed, but which cannot be completely explained...these both
helped to make up who we are, and how we see things.

But say there was a third
issue. A component that was only present on a fraction of people. Not
a gene, or a mutagen, not a reactive disorder...but a whole new type
of energy that infused the body.

Then...lets call these
people magical.

This automatically
destroys the balance of the natural world. Nature had things pretty
much sorted, then these magical beings came about.

So they need to be
balanced.

Imagine then that for
centuries of being unbalanced, all the chaos that should have erupted
in the natural world was being absorbed by another plane, another
'unseen' level of existence, one which had all the same composition
and elements of the world they had originated in.

Then lets say that the
constant influx of bio-information forced this 'other' level, this
separate realm to manifest an almost duplicate copy of the DNA and
Magical codes of the worlds that was sending the excess unbalanced
magic through. These factors combined to birth creatures that were a
warped version of the first, normal, creations. But since they were
trapped in this other place, no-one could find out.

Then one day someone did
find out. Someone over six and a half thousand years ago searched for
a way of boosting his magic, and stumbled onto this warped,
blackened, dark, twisted plane, filled with magic for the taking.

Only it was unnatural
magic.

Shadow magic.

Chaos Magic.

This wizard changed, his
own natural magic becoming unstable. He couldn't control it and he
died, leaving the gates to this dark realm wide opened.

Creatures emerged and
were set free. Vampires, a dark reflection of Elves fled, taking all
traces of themselves and disappearing, thestrals, the dark versions
of unicorns did the same. Ogres, the dark reflections of the giants
were unable to comprehend what was happening, so they stayed in their
realm, only a scarce handful managing to make their way into the
outside world. Soon, hundreds upon thousands of creatures had
escaped.

Most stayed in the area
they were freed in, wanting to either stay close to their only source
of Chaos magic, or too weak to flee.

The wizards in the area
tried their best to subdue the creatures, new spells and enchantments
being created continuously to stop the threat of the Shadows. Soon,
the best wizards from around the globe managed to congregate and seal
the gate.

Or so they thought.

What they actually
managed to do was set a temporary seal on the passage between the
worlds, but with the chaos inside running unchecked, they knew it
wouldn't last. Their own magic was also changing, they were not
wizards any longer, their magic warping into something new, something
completely unseen before.

Thus the race of mages
and sorcerers, priests and clerics was born.

Soon they found ways of
harnessing the power they'd trapped, and they became ever cockier
with each generation being born. The newer generations forgetting the
huge number of their kind which had perished trying to seal away the
magic. They had been warned that there were none strong enough to
seal the Shadows again, should they be released.

People forgot this and
carried on, the wizards eventually hiding themselves away when it
became apparent that they were no longer working on the same
wavelengths, their basic philosophies and beliefs slowly changing,
their entire way of magic evolving into a never before seen darkness.

With the only way into
the Chaos realm blocked, the wizards were forced to change too. Their
magic beginning to balance itself. Darker magics, curses, blood rites
and even death curses started to be created, the chaos having no
other outlet.

The Great Red War began,
and lasted for seven hundred years. When it ended, only a tiny number
of wizards were left, those of the non-magical persuasion now
outnumbering them a thousand to one.

The wizards fled, and hid
themselves, magically wiping all traces of their existence as they
licked their wounds and recovered.

Eventually, they became
mere myths.

During the wizarding war,
the mages and sorcerers were also fighting. They forced the creatures
they caught and tamed from the Shadow Realm, as it was now being
called, to do their bidding. But even they were changing.

The chaos magic was
trying to find a balance. Dark creatures bred and half their
offspring were of other types of magic. Light, Wind, Earth etc, were
all being born. The Darkness was finding it's strength, and becoming
balanced within itself, it's creatures and inhabitants increasing in
strength as time progressed.

It wasn't until a battle,
nearly a thousand years later that the Realm of the Shadows was
finally sealed for good. But, with it gone, the mages and sorcerers,
priests and clerics disappeared, searching for other conduits of
power.

They became forgotten as
the years passed and they were never seen again.

And time, as it usually
does, moved forward. The passages of her books losing all
remembrances, the actions of the wizards and mages, sorcerers,
priests, clerics and magical beings were lost forever.

::

The room was hot,
musty. The air stale and heavy. It's single occupant slept fitfully,
sun-touched limbs slowly turning white from their lack of exposure to
the outside world.

Dreams, nightmares
forced their way into his mind, dragging images of torture and death
to the forefront.

“You're a liar
Harry.”

“There is no
Voldemort.”

A single figure
coalesced from the sudden mist that had sprung up, green eyes
glinting from the darkness.

“Nothing. That's
what you are. Just a waste of space.”

“You're a
murderer Harry.”

The figure stepped
closer, the mist parting to show Harry his own face. The other Harry
grinning madly, holding out a single blood-caked hand. His other hand
held up the a severed head, it's long white beard matted and red, its
eyes blank and empty.

Albus Dumbledore.

“C'mon Harry.
You might as well accept it. You're a filthy wizard. Not a decent
person at all. You're the one behind the attacks. Just you Harry.
Just Harry. You killed him, your precious Headmaster. Didn't you
always resent him in secret, wishing he'd never placed you with those
horrible muggles? Well, you can be happy now Harry, just Harry. You
killed him.”

Harry stumbled
backwards, holding his head in both hands. “NO! You're a dream!
This isn't real! He's not dead! I don't...I don't resent him. I
don't...”

The other Harry tilted
his head. “Oh?” he said, blinking once as if he was
hearing something incredibly silly. He looked down at the head in his
hands and it was engulfed by a bright green flame, leaving not even a
trace of ash behind. “Better Harry, just Harry? Don't feel so
guilty now that you can't see him, right?”

Harry gasped in horror
and took a step back, stumbling over nothing and falling in an
ungainly mess of limbs on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his
chest.

The doppleganger
crouched beside him, his unnaturally green eyes glowing malevolently.
“Face it Harry, just Harry. You've always wondered if you
deserved being inside that dark horrid cupboard under the stairs. You
felt worthless, discarded...an unwanted embarrassment.”

“No...”
Harry moaned, trying to cover his ears. The sounds carried through
anyway.

“Don't lie
Harry, you can't remember. I'm you. You can't lie to yourself. You
always thought you would be better off dead, didn't you? Then you
found out you were a wizard. A wizard Harry, just Harry! You thought
things would be better...only they weren't were they? No-one noticed
or cared that you were always bruised and starved, battered and
half-broken when you came back every year.

“No-one cared or
noticed that you threw yourself against every obstacle and every
battle with a fervent, suicidal hope that that day would be the last.

“Nobody cared,
did they, Harry, just Harry?”

“NO! Ron..Ron
and Hermione, and Mrs Weasley, and Fred and George and Ginny and Mr
Weasley...they all cared!” Harry screamed out in defiance. He
shook slightly as he forced himself to stand level with his dark
reflection. “...and Professor Dumbledore worried about me. But
it wasn't safe for me to leave the Dursleys!

“I was never
suicidal!
I was hopeful. I wanted to help people. Not die!”

“Really Harry?”
The other Harry cocked his head to the side, a glimmer of a smile
touching his shadowy features.

Harry squared his the
delicate line of his jaw, and jutted his chin out, his own dark green
eyes sharp with anger. “You don't know me at all.”

Delighted laughter
filled the air as the other figure faded back into the mists. “I
know you Harry, Just Harry...”

“You're not
real.” Harry muttered, clenching his fists. “Not re...”

“...al. Not real.”
Harry mumbled in his sleep. He kicked the covers of his dorm bed off,
rolling over with a frown marring his forehead.

Sitting up with a gasp,
Harry hugged his arms around himself protectively, biting his lip to
prevent himself from making a sound.

Slipping silently from
his warm, cosy bed in the Gryffindor boys dormitory, Harry wrapped
his robe around himself and tugged on a pair of thick socks, padding
soundlessly down the stairs to the Common Room below. The fire
started up with a wave of his wand, and Harry curled up in a large
chair before the flames.

By the time dawn broke,
Harry was asleep.

::

“Why do I
have to go?”

Dumbledore sighed,
sending a disapproving look to the long-haired professor before him
over his small, half-moon spectacles. “Really Severus. Did you
not read Arthur's report?”

A snort answered him.
“You expect me to drop everything on the off chance that the
report Arthur sent us about two muggle children may be accurate?”

“From what he said,
I got the feeling that if we do not manage to mend the bridges that
have been burnt, something terrible could happen. These two boys are
not muggles, Severus. And I feel they may be of some help to us.”

“...if they don't
kill us first.” Snape grumbled. “Poppy should be
sufficient if they need healing.”

“And if she is
unsuccessful?”

Snape rubbed his forehead
tiredly. “Fine. I'll go and assess the situation. But I
will not stay for more than a day. Any longer and you can move
them here or count me out. I am not going to allow some ragtag
substitute destroy my classroom while I'm off doing your dirty
work.”

Dumbledore smiled
pleasantly. “As you say Severus. Can you be ready in an hour?”

“Fine.” Snape
uttered darkly, leaving in a swirl of black robes.

::

Arthur paced up and down
the hallway outside the door to the room in which Yami waited
impatiently. A worried expression was planted firmly on his face.

While he'd managed to
persuade Yami to accept help from his friends, he knew that with the
three-day delay, chances that Yugi could he saved were still slim.

Then there were also the
rumors going around.

Adrian Waring had been
admitted to St Mungos, although the reasons for his admittance were
not widely spread. Most people seemed to think Adrian Waring could do
no wrong, since he'd been fighting for the Light for over fifty
years. He was legendary among the young recruits, and people were
starting to get upset at the person they felt was responsible for
hurting one of their own.

With Yugi unconscious,
and Adrian no better, there was no concrete proof of Adrian's
wrong-doings, since only six people had actually seen Adrian harm the
boy. Yet the room, when it had been destroyed by Yami in anger was
filled with Adrian's blood, from his skin being shredded as if by a
hundred, thousand blades.

Compared to the
eight-hundred strong staff of the MoM, (the Ministry of Magic), there
was a good chance that the charges that were going to be brought up
against Adrian would be dropped, or that he would be excused, some
were already saying the Dark creature (Yami) had cast the spell to
make it look like Adrian had been doing something wrong, then not
allowed his younger 'brother' to wake up. Just to cause trouble.

Ridiculous. But then most
people didn't like to change their world views, they clung to what
was familiar and closed themselves off to th real possibilities,.

It was only a matter of
time before Adrian was healed and awake, and Arthur worried that he
may decide to take his revenge on the boy he taken under his wing.
Yugi.

“Arthur.” A
kindly voice greeted, and it took the man a moment to re-gain his
bearings.

“Madam Pomfrey.”
Arthur greeted. He blinked and frowned when he saw the person who had
accompanied the medi-witch. He held back a glare, turning instead to
the elder witch before him. “What's he
doing here?”

Madam Pomfrey shook her
head in warning. “Really Arthur,” she said, as if
chastising a child, “I though you were above such pettiness.”

Arthur turned to her.
“Maybe normally, yes. But I fail to see what good can come from
his being here. Didn't you get my report?!”

“I can assure you
that this was not
my decision.” Came the blunt interjection from Professor Snape.

“Fine. But I take
no responsibility for you if anything happens!” Arthur snapped.

“Arthur!”

Arthur winced. “My
apologies Madam. I guess I'm just a bit on edge. It was a nightmare
getting Yami to agree to you coming...I don't know how he's going to
react to him.”

“But they're only
children
Arthur.”

“One of which
annihilated over a dozen Death Eaters. The Ministry had to tell the
bone shards apart by magic.”

Pomfrey paled.

“Look, as long as
you're no threat to the younger one you'll probably be safe. Okay?”

Two nods.

Arthur sighed. “Right.”
he knocked on the door.

A deep voice, laced with
impatience answered. “Come.”

::
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Vacation Blues