Child Of The Lion

The blond Death Eater snorted, "I can assure you, Potter, that the only pleasure you could possibly give me is the knowledge of your death."

Harry raised an eyebrow, and assumed the expected front of bravado that all Gryffindors seemed born knowing how to do, even as a treacherous shiver ran down his spine. "Gee, and I thought you just dropped by to congratulate me on totally humiliating your master. I'm crushed."

Harry sensed rather than heard the flurry of movement from behind him as the Death Eater that had ruined his escape plan rushed forward. Lucius snarled and shook his head, his gaze locked on something just over Harry's right shoulder. When the attacker behind Harry slowly backed off, he transferred his gaze to the teenager and his lips curled into a feral smirk.

"Oh, you will be, Potter. You will be."

Harry snorted, his hand instinctively reaching into his pocket for his wand. He cursed mentally when he remembered that it was still in his trunk. Upstairs. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that when even your half-breed master failed?"

Lucius merely glared at him for one long moment. When he finally did speak his voice was deceptively smooth and laced with false nonchalance. "If the Dark Lord had not already laid claim to your head, Potter, I would kill you where you stood."

"I'd like to see you try," Harry said coolly, hazarding a quick glance over his shoulder. He saw five Death Eaters behind him, and could hear more coming.

The blonde's eyes flashed dangerously, but that was the only sign of his anger; the rest of his

features had been carefully moulded into the patented expression of smug nonchalance that seemed to be hereditary among Malfoy men. He stared at Harry for one long, telling moment, his gaze piercing as his upper lip gained that distinctive curl. He said nothing for at least a minute, simply looking at the boy who stood staring back at him defiantly. Finally he opened his mouth to speak and it was then that Harry finally reacted.

The raven-haired teenager lunged forward, slamming his elbow into the Death Eater's gut even as he drove his shoulder into Lucius' chest, knocking him backwards. Harry let his weight send the man to the ground, and it was only his reflexes honed from years playing as the Gryffindor Seeker that allowed him to duck Malfoy's wind milling limbs and the various shoots of coloured light that streaked towards him. He hopped over Malfoy's downed form and it was only instinct and a strong survival streak that sent him sprinting down the hall, ignoring the shouts of anger and urgency from behind him.

As he sprinted down the corridor, Harry's mind whirred. How had they gotten in here ... how did they know he was here in the first place ... was Maia lying ... where was Maia ... were they even looking for him? And if they weren't ... "Remus!"

To the Death Eaters' great surprise and delight, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and perpetual thorn in Voldemort's side, skidded to a halt and whipped around, breathing heavily. His eyes narrowed and slowly his right arm rose, his expression one of fierce determination as he muttered quick words under his breath. Confused, they merely waited even as Lucius rose gracefully behind them.

Harry frowned, his eyes narrowing as he took in the chaos that he had caused only moments ago. The Death Eaters, clad in their trademark black robes turned to each other and, though he couldn't be sure - thanks to the ominous hood each wore - he would later swear that they shared looks of smug victory before turning to regard him with disdain. He watched for a moment as Malfoy - apparently recovered - rose to his feet and then he drew in a deep breath: it was now or never.

Harry pushed all doubts to the back of his mind, and lifted his right arm tentatively, muttering the relatively simple curse of 'Expelliarmus' under his breath. Nothing happened. Harry blinked, unsure. This curse was roughly at the same level of magical ability needed as your average shrinking charm, something that he could usually complete with ease. He frowned but tried again, speaking with more conviction as Lucius pushed through the gathering of Death Eaters and reached for his wand with a flourish.

Nothing.

Damn.

Lucius tutted, eyes shining with contempt. "Do you still hold such hopes that you, a pathetic, snivelling little brat could ever defeat the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the greatest wizard who ever lived?"

Harry, giving up on his seemingly impossible task of successfully casting the curse without a wand, straightened, noting with a resigned sigh that he was in the same position as he was five minutes ago, although, at least this time he wasn't trapped between Lucius and the group of smirking dimwits. "He is not the greatest wizard who ever lived!" Harry hissed, taking particular offence to that comment.

"And who is? That coward Muggle-lover?" Lucius asked, one elegant eyebrow rose to his hairline, "Or perhaps, in your egotistical little mind, it is you who holds the most power, hmm?"

Harry didn't speak for a long moment. Though he was not debating who held the most power: Merlin, or Morgan Le Fay. Instead he scanned the corridor, searching with an almost cool detachment for any possible escape routes. Finally he answered deciding to simply use the stereotypical Gryffindor response, "Godric Gryffindor. He stood against his best friend and remained loyal and true to his responsibilities. And he kicked Slytherin's ass ... what's not to love?"

Lucius snarled, his eyes flashing as he roared, "Crucio!"

Harry's eyes widened and he moved to dodge, but he didn't move anywhere. He couldn't. It felt as though some powerful force was holding his feet to the ground, and pinning his arms to his side.

The curse zoomed closer. Harry flinched in anticipation of the pain; he could smell the fetid scent of promised agony as the jet of red light streaked through the air towards him. And still he couldn't move.

Only a foot away from his face, the jet of light exploded in a shower of crimson sparks, sending a ripple through the air around him. Harry frowned in confusion, but didn't pause to consider his good luck. Instead, he turned to the arrows - for he could move again - and hastily asked them for an alternative way to get to Remus. They quickly rearranged themselves, with a scribbled note of good luck hovering over the red graphic. He nodded once in thanks and bolted in the general direction indicated.

He heard shouting behind him, and risked a glance over his shoulder, chuckling at what he saw. The cottage had erected a large, clear wall between him and the Death Eaters and red and gold text was currently dancing across it to that chant of 'nyah nyah nyah'. Harry squinted at the writing and grinned when he saw that it said 'Who's afraid of the big bad Voldie? The big bad Voldie ... the big bad Voldie?'

Harry smothered his laughter and continued to run, skidding around a tight corner. He slammed into a small wall of flesh and groaned as an elbow impacted against his skull. He could feel muscles coiling underneath him and, through his dizziness, realised that he'd fell upon his attacker. He had little time to consider this, however, as suddenly the afore mentioned muscles tensed and Harry found himself flat on his back, staring up into narrowed green eyes. The green orbs blinked and, as he looked on - the room was still spinning - the face withdrew in a cascade of brown hair.

"Harry?" Came an incredulous hiss. He felt hands drag him to his feet and he swayed slightly, blinking rapidly as the world swam back into focus. He glanced at his attacker, fearing the worst, and was relieved to find Maia's concerned gaze watching him. Her frown deepened and she held up one hand, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three ... " He mumbled, shaking his head to clear his vision.

Maia glanced down at her two erect fingers and opened her mouth to reply when she was cut off by a loud bang. The Death Eaters ... "Close enough. Now, come on. We've got to get out of here."

Harry shook his head, pulling his arm out of her grasp as the effects of the blow to his head finally disappeared. "No. Remus is still ..."

Maia's eyes glinted oddly for a moment as she turned to regard the raven-haired boy, "He's still here?" She received a tight nod in reply. "Shit!"

"My thoughts exactly," he replied quietly, eyeing the nearest arrow, "Come on, he should be this way ..."

Maia followed his gaze, and raised a single brow incredulously; "Don't tell me we're relying on a bright red blob to get out of here in one piece?" She didn't wait for a verbal answer: Harry rolled his eyes and that was all the acknowledgment she needed, "Oh, Hell, no."

Harry sighed, "They're magic. You remember magic, don't you? Swish and flick ... wands ... Gringotts ... Dumbledore ... Hogwarts ... Voldemort ... Death Eaters ... arrows that change?"

"Magic can be tampered with," she replied shortly, peering at the arrow in suspicion, "And, if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer not dying just yet," she glanced at him over her shoulder and, after a moment's hesitation, flashed him a cheeky grin, "Give me a couple of years to sort my head out, and then you can all shove me six feet under, okay?"

Harry stilled his agitated gestures for one long moment, his features softening as he stared at the brunette girl who couldn't be much older than him. He had long ago resigned himself to the highly likely possibility that he wouldn't get out of the war alive. But he was Harry Potter, and he was expected to kill Voldemort, a job that came with a very limited shelf life. But this girl had no such destiny - no prophecies about her that told of pain and suffering. Just what did she do that was so dangerous that she willingly accepted the fact that within a few years, though the war might have ended, she would not be alive to celebrate that fact?

Then it hit him, the knowledge an almost tangible force that knocked the air out of his lungs, and sent him stumbling backwards until he crashed into the wall. He slid down the wallpapered surface, ignorant to the frantic hands that grasped at him, the panicked green eyes that bore into his own, and the voice that called his name over and over, growing increasingly desperate.

What was the dangerous job that this teenage girl could die doing? The answer was simple: protecting him.

He drew in a shuddering breath, and shut his eyes tightly against the outside world. This girl, almost a complete stranger, had pledged to protect him - to give her life so that he could live and fulfil whatever destiny he'd been sent on this Earth to complete. He sighed, and wearily ran his fingers over his face, massaging his eyelids with long, tired strokes. He didn't deserve this - enough people had died because of who he was, and he didn't want another name added to that list.

"Harry?" He winced as the dull buzzing in his ears receded, and the sounds around him became clear again with an audible 'pop', only for him to suddenly fear for his hearing. Apparently Maia noticed when he flinched, because the next time she spoke her voice was softer and practically dripping in cautious relief. "Harry, what the hell is going on?"

"I - I don't know," he said quietly, opening his eyes as he looked up into Maia's worried face, "I realised something and then ... it was like a tidal wave," he added, his voice faltering in his descriptions. Having never been to the beach in his life, Harry had no idea just what a regular, pint-sized wave felt like, never mind one of that magnitude. The only thing he had to compare to was the shots he had sneaked a peek at from one of Dudley's 'movie-of-the-months', Deep Impact. "So mindless, so angry," he muttered, his eyes darting to the barrier that still separated them from the Death Eater's.

Maia's eyes widened, "You're an empath."

"I'm a what?" Harry asked, stumbling to his feet. Strong hands were hastily placed under his arms, and suddenly Harry found his right arm slung over Maia's shoulders as she supported some of his weight.

"An empath," Maia repeated before noticing Harry's clueless expression, "you can sense other people's emotions ... yada yada yada. I never did listen to the whole shebang when Grey was explaining about it - " She stopped abruptly, perhaps realising that she was delving too deep into her past, or perhaps noticing Harry's overwhelmed expression as he struggled to make sense of her mood swings. "You're an empath."

"No. No - I can't be - I," Harry blinked, falling back from Maia's support as he struggled to deny the claim, "This has never happened to me before ... how do you explain that?"

Maia shrugged, wincing as another 'boom' emitted from the Death Eater's direction. "I can't. I don't think anyone can ... but I'm sure Dumbledore has some idea," she added quickly, seeing Harry's incredulous stare. "Look," she practically hissed, fed up with his unwavering disbelief, "The things that are happening to you are unprecedented. No one knows what the hell is going on. And I shouldn't have told you that."

Yet another 'boom' sounded out, and Maia shifted warily from one foot to the other, glancing up and down the hallway as the raven-haired boy blinked and shook his head slowly, "What things? Just what do you think is supposed to be happening to me?"

Maia's head snapped around fast enough to warrant whiplash. Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean: what things? You aren't telling me that they're not happening ... or that you haven't noticed? Noticed the power building in your veins - and don't try to tell me that it's not there because I can sense it. I can smell it. Hell, I can practically taste it!"

Harry's eyes narrowed to match Maia's as he met her agitated glare, "Yes, I am saying that. I'm saying the nothing out of the ordinary has happened at all."

Maia glared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his. Finally, she deflated, her expression one of worried disbelief. "You're telling me that there's been nothing unusual at all. Nothing apart from the wandless magic?" She received a nod in response, "Shit."

A loud bang shook the house, sending them both to their knees. Harry gritted his teeth as pieces of rubble flew past him, and he heard a startled 'oomph' and then a dull thud as Maia was knocked backwards a good couple of feet by a jet of red light.

"Maia!" He cried. But he received no answer.

Harry opened his mouth to call again, when the rumbling ceased and the shaking stopped. He coughed, a loud hacking sound, and fanned the dust clouds away from him, hoping to gain better vision. What he saw made his heart stop beating for one terrifying second. For lying there, battered, bruised and covered in what could only be blood, was Maia's still form. He scrambled over to her, instinctively reaching for her wrist. Harry didn't make it to her side as a bellow of 'stupefy' dragged him, kicking and screaming, into the foreboding darkness.

He groaned, and opened his eyes to find himself swimming in a sea of darkness, with wisps of cloud and mist wrapping around his body until he spluttered and choked. Harry stared blindly into the darkness, his breathing becoming haggard and difficult. But he didn't have time to hyperventilate, because he was suddenly flying through the air - though the only indication of this was the air whipping against his face, causing his cheeks to turn numb and his eyes to water.

Suddenly the sensation stopped and Harry opened his eyes once more. He was standing in front of two people. Or rather, one man and a large lion with golden wings covered in downy feathers. He peered into the mists surrounding them, but they too were cloaked in darkness. Harry sighed.

"Hello? Excuse me?" Nothing. "Hello?" Still no response. Harry continued calling for their attention, his voice becoming louder and louder until he was screaming at the two figures. And still they merely stood, seemingly talking to each other.

Harry frowned and stepped - or rather floated - forward until he was close enough that he could count the old man's nostril hairs, had he been so inclined. Fortunately he wasn't and he merely waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing.

"They can't see me ..." he realised, eyes wide as he tried the same trick with the overgrown lion.

And, let me guess, this was all part of your 'Master Plan', too, was it? Came an incredulous voice.

Harry jumped and glanced wildly around the room until, finally, he turned back to the two people and noticed, with some shock, that the old man and the lion had been joined by a young woman, with bright azure eyes and long, blazing tresses. The woman wore a long, floating gown made of some impossibly shiny material and, when she spoke, it felt like silk rubbing across his skin. Harry blinked.

Of course it was, dear Ryftt. For nothing happens that was not foretold and nothing foretold occurs without meaning to. The woman smiled benignly down at the lion, even going as far as to run graceful fingers through its thick fur. For have you not seen evidence of this during your time in my service, my dear Guides?

Without question, my lady, said a voice which was undoubtedly the old man, a speculation which was confirmed when the man nudged the lion to its knees none too gently, and shot the huge beast an annoyed glare.

Still the lion pressed on, its voice gravelly and rough Surely your sister had something to say about this -

Harry realised with a start that the three people in front of him were not speaking in the traditional sense. Instead, they seemed to be relying on some form of telepathy - a connection that he could hear perfectly. He frowned.

The woman's kindly air disappeared in an instant; She is still attached to the child. It's true, and unfortunate. But she knew what the consequences would be when she agreed to the mission ... and, let's face it; she has a remarkable vantage point from up here, does she not? The woman's voice had an odd lilt to it, almost as if she was holding back tears. The lion seemed unaware of this as he charged onwards.

Indeed she does, but surely the man - the descendant. Surely losing him still causes her pain?

Nothing that can't be rectified in a century or two. The woman mused. I have to admit, even though I'd Seen it, I really didn't think she'd fall in love with that fool. I owe you a fair dime, Godric.

Yes. But -

This time the lion was interrupted by the man, who eyed the lion with distaste and then addressed the woman. Please, my lady. Excuse Ryftt. He grows agitated when a descendant is threatened. Tore the apartment to shreds when the father died and now, well -

The woman suddenly seemed to notice that both the man and the lion were bowing to her, their heads low to the ground and their eyes downcast. She hurried forward, and helped the man to his feet with a smile. Now, now, Godric. We're practically related now -

Through marriage only, thank God. The lion interrupted sarcastically, sure in the fact that he didn't want her as a mistress, no matter how far down the family tree the connection was made.

The woman raised an eyebrow, amused, but carried on. And you have no need to bow to me. Goodness, I need a vacation - I didn't even notice that you'd done so. Maybe I should spend a couple of lifetimes on Earth?

At present times, I'd advise against it. The man - Godric? - answered dryly. The child still has to complete the first task ... and then things get really nasty.

Great. More paperwork for you. The lion replied succinctly, bending down to lick it's front paw.

Harry could have sworn that the woman rolled her eyes, before turning to Godric. Oh, but I could meet my nephew! Her eyes softened, and she sighed longingly. I used to watch her while she was on the surface. Watched her grow, fall in love, marry, give birth. Everything. And I watched him. Watched him laugh, live, suffer ... and then he received his letter ... She turned to the man with gratitude shining in her eyes. Such a great deed you did, building that school, Godric. And so you see, you've already given me such a great gift. For you made one of my kin happy and -

She's still missing isn't she? Godric interrupted, correctly interpreting the woman's unusually open manner.

The woman seemed to deflate. Her eyes dulled, and her body slumped as she drew in a long, shuddering breath. No one can find her. She knows this world better than me and - and she always was the best one at Hide-and-seek. She's down there somewhere ... and, unfortunately, I think I know why.

The lion tilted its head. But, surely that's a good thing?

The woman shook her head mournfully, and Godric seemed to realise just what she was implying. The final prophecy ...

The woman nodded once, and the man cursed. There always was a reason that the third was longer than it's predecessors. Now we know why ... Lady Fate is going to be - how do the humans put this? - there in person.

But this could work to our advantage! The lion - who Harry was starting to suspect was, in all actuality, a Griffin - proclaimed. Imagine what she could change - she's Lady Fate, for Merlin's sake. A little nudge in the right direction could make all the difference.

The woman shook her head sadly. No, you've read the third. You know what happens to all who play a part in that tale. They all lose something ... humanity, life, senses ... the list is endless, and I fear that Fate's 'special circumstances' will not make her exempt.

Then surely we could stop it! Godric practically cried, his eyes wide and his voice quavering. It is not yet done and we could still remove her from the situation.

The woman shook her head and for a long minute said nothing. Her companions were silent, and even the lion sensed the seriousness of the situation, and the sadness that seemed to permeate the air. I fear that it is already too late. The woman said finally, her voice tired and old. For as it is written ... so shall it be.

It was only then that Harry noticed that he was flickering in and out, like a candle caught in a draught. He fought against the pull at his naval as some unseen force tried to drag him backwards, but it was no use. He was ripped from his feet, and hurled backwards, hitting his head against something that felt suspiciously like a rock. He once again fell into consciousness, unaware that this time he would awaken not to dreams, but to the nightmare that was currently his reality.

When Harry finally awoke, it was to a thumping headache and bound wrists secured by the familiar bite of cold metal. He groaned, and heard the sound of footsteps wandering ever closer.

"Well, well, well," drawled a familiar hissing voice, and Harry froze, but forced himself to open his eyes. "Looks like our resident arrogant brat finally decided to wake up."

A chorus of forced laughter met this announcement, and Harry raised his head, taking in the dozens of Death Eaters with growing dread. His emotions must have shown on his face, because the creature laughed in glee, a high-pitched scratching sound with bared a remarkable resemblance to nails on a chalkboard. Harry grimaced, but forced himself to look into those blood red eyes.

"Voldemort."

Harry winced as he felt his scar practically burst from the pain, as though acknowledging his company made it all the more real. "Isn't it a little too early in the year for this?" He asked finally, trying to inject some cheer into his voice. He failed, his voice flat.

"What can I say?" Voldemort asked with a smirk, a deep chuckle escaping his lips as he continued to pace in front of his prisoner, "Patience never was my strong point."

"No shit," Harry murmured, distantly aware that he'd cussed - something that was as rare as Hermione on a broomstick. Shrugging it off as stress - something which he had been experiencing in abundance recently - he merely glared hatefully at his parent's murderer.

"Such a mouth," Voldemort tutted and Harry was surprised to see that the Dark Lord seemed to be in a relatively good mood. Figuring that the twinkle in his eye was down to the fact that he was about to get rid of the boy who had plagued him for fifteen years, Harry merely glared harder. "Hmm, but you must be wondering why you're here -"

"What? It's something other than another attempt to kill me?" Harry quipped bitterly, ignoring his scar's painful twinges. He thought he heard the sound of a lone chuckle come from the crowd of robed figures, but didn't dare look in that direction.

"Well. No," the creature admitted, an unusual touch of mirth present in his tone, "You will not live through this encounter, Harry Potter, that I can assure you." Suddenly his expression became sour, and he stared hard at the teenager, "For once you shall not win by blind luck and convenient stumbles! There is no way out of this situation, Potter, and with your blood on my lips and your flesh in my teeth, then I shall achieve what has continued to allude me!"

Harry blinked and, though he didn't particularly like the sound of that, felt obliged to toss in a comment or two, "What's that? Good looks, intelligence and the ability to beat a scrawny teenager?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed and, before he could even blink, Harry found himself looking down the shaft of an old, but immaculately cared for, wand made out of some sort of dark wood. He gulped and could practically feel his blanket of bravado slipping off of him, leaving him feeling vulnerable and young.

"Imperio," Voldemort announced, his voice tight with controlled rage.

Harry felt his muscles slacken, and metaphysical cotton wool wrapped around his mind, lulling him into deceptive calm. Call me your Master, Potter ... pledge your allegiance to me ... just accept my mark, Harry ... just say yes!

Harry opened his mouth and let out a strangled, "Ye - no!" His eyes flashed with anger as his head snapped up and he glared at his enemy. "Don't you remember, Tom, or are you going senile in your old age? It doesn't effect me, you conceited -"

Harry never got to finish his rant, for at that second Voldemort snarled, all pretence of affability long gone as he glared at the boy who 'just wouldn't bloody well die!' and hissed one word that would surely break the boy eventually. "Crucio!"

Once more time slowed as the curse approached, and Harry felt the recognisable twinge of déjà vu. However, this time no shield erected itself and no one was there to throw themselves in front of him. He grimaced, and braced himself for the pain, but not before catching sight of Voldemort's shocked features.

He heard the bellow of "Stop him, you fools!" and frowned in confusion, before following Voldemort's line of sight and looking down at his body. What he saw made him gasp: his body s flickering in and out, just as it had before ... in his dream.

The last thing he saw was Voldemort's enraged face as he flickered out of sight completely, his last words echoing around the huge cavern.

"What the Hell --?"