Harry Potter and the Guardians of the Origin

Chapter 2- Happenings

"Missing, you say? Interesting. But predictable. Lucius, call together a meeting of the dark creatures, and send them to look for Potter. The rest of you, focus on the girl. I want to know everything. How she's progressing, who she's talking to, where she goes, how long it bloody takes her to eat a meal! Everything. We have to wait until the right moment to seize her. I want her putty in my hands; this time there will be none of this trying to escape business." Voldemort leaned back in his chair and surveyed his silent followers.

"Wormtail!"

Wormtail's plump, round face shot up and looked towards Voldemort. "Ye-yes, my L-lord?" he stuttered.

"Crucio!" Voldemort answered. Wormtail screamed and fell out of his chair, convulsing. When Voldemort lifted the curse, he stayed on the floor, whimpering.

"M-m-mm-my Lord, wha-what did I d-do?"

"Nothing. I was just bored."

Wormtail shakily got up and sat back down.

"Well, actually, I have a new task for you. Research. Hopefully you won't find a way to horribly mismanage this task. Gather some other peons together, and meet Bellatrix in the library tonight after dinner. She will give you instructions."

"Yes, my L-lord."

All fell silent. Every face at the table was anxiously focused on the staring, red eyes of their Master. They knew what was coming. They wanted to be ready. Voldemort smiled back at them --or whatever could be counted as a smile for a person who was pure evil and had no lips--enjoying their tense fear.

A fly landed on the table. Someone shifted in his chair. More silence and waiting.

"Dismissed!" Voldemort bellowed, at the same time waving his hand to make all the chairs disappear. Only Lucius and Bellatrix shot up fast enough. The rest of the death eaters were too slow, and fell to the ground sloppily and painfully. Voldemort laughed uproariously.

"Ah, I never get tired of that."

* * *

"Here dishboy, got another tubful for you," Buffy hauled a rather large tub of dishes into Harry's outstretched arms. He took it resignedly and stumbled under the weight.

"Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

"I have no pity for you. This is payback, mister. The wheel of karma has now spun around and it's spiting you for your unfair and evil actions yesterday."

Buffy was talking, of course, of the water fight the two had on the previous day. It had started by accident, but ended in full out war, Harry eventually taking water sprayer from the sink and hosing Buffy completely. They were being silly and childish. It was nice to forget.

"Well, I did get you pretty good. Bet you won't be starting anything like that up again," Harry smirked and dumped the dishes into the sink.

"For starters, it was your messy washing that started it. And second, you cheated. Next time when I start something like that, I will make sure that I'm the one near the water supply."

"Empty threats!" Harry called as Buffy walked out of the kitchen.

* * *

"His name is Chronos. Some sort of interdimensional time god. Our Master wants to know exactly what this entity can do."

"Why? What does he want to do?"

"What he wants to do, Wormtail, is chop you up into little bits and feed you to his snake, you little sniveling rodent," Bellatrix Lestrange stated acidly. "Alas, he's waiting until he actually gets some use out of you before he disposes of you entirely. Now do your job and don't ask questions." She turned around and walked out of the library, slamming the door behind her.

Wormtail had gathered about ten unmarked followers of Voldemort together for this task, and they all sniggered at him as he turned around, red-faced and glaring. Draco Malfoy was one of them.

"You heard her! Pick a stack and start looking for any reference on Chronos. If you find anything bring it to me." The junior death eaters stood there. "NOW!" bellowed Pettigrew. That got them moving. Draco made to leave, but Wormtail grabbed his arm.

"Where in the bloody hell do you think you're going?"

"I'm leaving, Wormy. I was only sticking around to see if this little project turned out to be exciting. As it turns out, it's completely boring. Also, Malfoys don't do research."

"Try to walk out that door, boy, and you'll find out what happens when Malfoys don't listen to orders." Wormtail shoved Draco onto the ground and walked away. Draco stared at the door, but then felt the bruises on his arm where he had been cursed yesterday. He shook with anger and walked over to a book stack.

* * *

Hermione lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, mind racing. She hadn't slept the night through in fifteen--no--sixteen days, from the moment Remus had come looking for him. There was this constant tension in her chest since then, waiting for something, for anything. It made her tired. It seemed like she always needed to sit down. Sometimes she would get blinding headaches and forget where she was or what she was doing. Her parents took her to the muggle doctor yesterday, but of course he couldn't find anything wrong. Stress, he said. She needed more rest. What did that mean? Did rest mean sleep? Or did it mean resting--sitting down and not doing anything. How vague. Ron was here today. It was nice to see him. He understood.

"He's Harry. He'll be ok. We're not even sure if he was kidnapped," said Ron. He and Hermione were on the couch, and she had her head on his chest. It should have been weird. They hardly ever hugged, or even touched. Harry and Hermione had always been very physical. They would hug whenever they hadn't seen each other for a long time or play with each other's hair or sit close to one another doing homework. But it was different with Ron and Hermione. They just didn't do that. Except for now of course. Maybe it wasn't weird because they both felt exactly the same way right now. Rules didn't really apply anymore.

"True. But that's the only thing we're sure of, isn't it? That we're not sure of anything," Hermione pointed out.

"It's alright. We just have to wait a little longer. Dumbledore will find him."

I should paint my ceiling. At least I'd have something to stare at. Hermione rolled over in bed. Her head throbbed suddenly and the pain was there again. She yelped a little, then curled up into a ball and waited for the pain to stop. A shadow moved outside her window.

* * *

"Oomph!" Harry's eyes flew open as he shot up off the couch. He caught the orange that had been thrown at him as it fell to the floor. He gave Anne a look.

"You're welcome."

Harry stretched grumpily and scowled. "For what, exactly?"

"Helping you adjust to the customs of this country."

"Huh?"

"See, in this country, we shower daily. And change clothes. I was just waking you up to give you the time to do that before you have to be at the café. And you should thank me doubly for providing you with breakfast as well," Buffy said as she pointed to the orange.

Harry's head cleared a bit and he got embarrassed. "I fell asleep here again. I'm really sorry Anne." Harry had taken to sleeping on the couch at Anne's; he'd walk her home, she'd invite him in for some coffee--well, instant tea for him--he'd start watching some TV, and then he would wake up with light streaming in the windows, and it would be the next morning.

"Yeah, I'm starting to think you're developing fluffy feelings for that couch. I don't understand how you can sleep there. It's lumpy." She stayed light-hearted. She didn't want drama or emotions. Truthfully, it wasn't so bad having James around. He didn't say anything. He was being silent and embarrassed. She got an idea.

"You know, it's a shame you pay for that hotel room and don't use it. I know you're iffy with the money right now." What was she doing? This is a bad idea. You don't even know this guy. What are you doing? But she kept on. "If you really can get along with sleeping on that couch, why don't you just stay here? We could split the rent. It would be easier on both of us that way." Well, that was true. Maybe it wasn't such a stupid idea.

Harry was a little shocked. "Well, uh..." His mind raced. He wanted to do that. But how could he keep his identity from her? All his stuff would have to be hidden... he wouldn't be able to practice spells very often if at all, but then again he was working so much that he didn't have much time anyway...He looked at the orange in his hand, then at Anne. She looked at him expectantly. He could see she was nervous.

"You know, I think that's a terrific idea."

* * *

Buffy woke up to the scent of bacon. Her stomach growled. She was tired but her hunger and curiosity got her up. She stumbled out of her room to find James in his pajamas hovering over the stove, tending three skillets of delicious looking eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

"And he cooks." She mumbled sleepily.

Harry turned around to see a disheveled Anne staring at him, impressed. He smiled. "It's the least I can do for you inviting me here. Plus, breakfast is my specialty." He had learned to cook, of course, at the Dursley's, when he was tall enough to reach the stove. Having had plenty of practice, he had perfected his recipes.

"Actually, I'm starting to think this whole roommate thing was the best idea I ever had," Buffy said as she sat down at the kitchen counter.

"Yeah, you're just saying that because you're hungry," Harry scoffed.

"Mmm. Maybe." Buffy looked at his bright eyes. They were unnaturally green. So unlike the brown ones that she saw every night in her dreams. Those brown eyes loved her, hated her, haunted her. James turned back around to the stove. She shook her head clear.

"Well, I was thinking maybe we could celebrate this little arrangement. We both get off work at eight. How about a movie?" Buffy asked.

James turned around. "You mean like in a theatre? That would be brilliant. I've never been to one before."

"What!?"

"Well, I've seen videos on the telly, but I never got to go to the cinema before." Silence. "What?" James questioned her stare.

"You're telling me that you've never been to a movie theatre before? Where did you grow up? In a cave?" Immediately she wished she hadn't said it. James' face darkened and they both realized that she had broken the cardinal Rule of their friendship: no asking about--or even mentioning--the past. That way led to darkness and they both knew it.

He was silent. She spoke first, attempting a light tone. "Well, that settles it. We are going to the movies tonight and I will introduce you to the extremely overpriced world of the movie theatre."

He gave a smile that didn't reach to his sad, dark eyes. "Sounds good."

* * *

The night had been fun, and they were both able to forget again. They had taken the subway to a local theatre and picked out a movie to see. Harry insisted on paying for the tickets, but Buffy made him promise to let her pay next time. It was a nice change from the café.

During the movie, Harry looked over at Anne as she laughed. Her blonde hair fell over her face softly as her skin changed from one glowing color to another in the light of the movie screen. She turned to him and met his stare with curiosity, then with an equal intensity. They both looked back towards the screen. Harry wondered what they were, other than each other's only friend.

Now he lay on the couch later that night and stared at the ceiling. It was always at night when his past crept up on him, when he couldn't pretend he didn't have another life, another life with pain and grief and death. At night he wondered how Hermione was, what Ron was doing, and how angry they both were at him. He wondered if they would ever be friends with him again. But what did it matter? Better to see them hate him than to see them dead.

Dead like Sirius. But he never actually did see Sirius dead, did he? He was there and then he was gone. Just gone. Gone like the life from Cedric's eyes, gone like his parents. He stared at the ceiling. If someone had looked into his eyes then, they would have been frightened by what they saw. A certain hollowness pervaded them then, an emptiness created by death. His entire life was about death. Voldemort's or his own.

A movement startled him, drawing his eyes away from the blankness of the ceiling. Anne was up, apparently getting something to drink in the kitchen.

"Can't sleep?" Harry said quietly from the couch.

"Not really. You?"

"Nope," replied Harry as he got up from the couch and over to the kitchen counter.

They were quite a picture at that moment. Each in their pajamas, each on opposite sides of the counter, each standing there for their own reasons that were so much the same and yet so different. The moonlight filtered in through the windows and gave their skin a soft glow as they stared at each other in silence, wondering what the other was thinking and how much exactly they had in common.

Buffy looked away first. She had turned around. His eyes were too searching; she didn't want them to find what they were looking for. She closed her own damp eyes and saw Angel staring back at her, mouth open in disbelief, his face a mix of confusion and hurt. She opened them and there was James, blurry through her tears that she still tried to hold back.

At that moment the emptiness that had so lately been in Harry's eyes was gone. Now they were filled with concern, with an intensity silently pleading for her to cry, to stop fighting. He had seen her in the past two weeks fight constantly to stay together, to hold whatever it was back. He saw it eat away at her feigned lightheartedness; he saw it creep into her eyes at odd times; and he saw it crushing her.

He was very close to her now as she stood there trying to be strong, to push it back. He lifted his hand and ran it along her cheek, gently brushing her hair behind her ear. She lifted her eyes to his uncertainly. "It's ok," he whispered.

And so she collapsed. He caught her, and she clung to him, letting out long sobs with abandon. Her grief poured out of her, a Niobe that found someone to hold her. She did not stop crying for a long time.

Eventually, he carried her into her bedroom and try to lay her down to sleep but she would not let go of him. So he sat next to her in the small bed and he did not leave her.

Come to me now
And lay your hands over me
Even if it's a lie
Say it will be alright
And I shall believe

I'm broken in two
And I know you're on to me
That I only come home
When I'm so all alone
But I do believe

That not everything is gonna be the way
You think it ought to be
It seems like every time I try to make it right
It all comes down on me
Please say honestly you won't give up on me
And I shall believe

Open the door
And show me your face tonight
I know it's true
No one heals me like you
And you hold the key

Never again
would I turn away from you
I'm so heavy tonight
But your love is alright
And I do believe

That not everything is gonna be the way
You think it ought to be
It seems like every time I try to make it right
It all comes down on me
Please say honestly
You won't give up on me
And I shall believe
I shall believe

* * *

In the morning, Buffy woke up as from a dream, sensing vaguely that something significant had happened the previous night. She opened her eyes to find James staring down at her, smiling, his head propped up on his elbow.

"Morning," he said.

"W-what happened?" Buffy tried to remember.

Harry didn't really know how to go about these matters. But it was day and the night was over so he decided he'd try some levity. "Isn't it obvious?" He said gravely. "Last night you made me a man."

It was a delayed reaction. After about three seconds, Buffy shot up in bed, knocking Harry off in the process, and yelped, "WHAT?!?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head, which he had fallen on. "Ok, ow."

"James, what the hell are you...oh. Oh," Buffy quieted down as the clarity of memory washed over her. "Oh."

"Harry," he said simply, looking up at her from the floor.

"What? What's hairy?" Buffy was confused.

"Harry is my name. My real name. Harry James Potter." He knew it was the right time; he had no qualms.

"Oh. Well, as long as we're at it, Buffy Anne Summers." She didn't need to hide it from him; it actually felt weird that he didn't know it before. "And yes, I said Buffy."

"I think it's a lovely name." Harry grinned. He stood up. "I'm gonna go start breakfast. And good morning again Buffy."

"Morning, Harry."

* * *

Harry stood in the café kitchen later that day going over the events of last night in his head as he mechanically washed dishes. He wondered what made her so sad. Then again, he knew the kind of things that did that to a person. But she was strong too...

"Hell-looo!" Harry looked up and Buffy was standing with a new tub of dishes. He smiled.

"I thought I'd just see how long you would stand there," Harry lied.

"Not much longer! Here." Buffy gave them to him. He put them down and she remained, wanting to say something. He stared at her.

"James, I mean, Harry. I just...I just wanted to say sorry about, you know, last night," she said awkwardly.

Harry paused, then spoke quietly. "Don't be ridiculous. You did the same thing for me." Harry turned back around, a little shocked that those were the words that came out of his mouth, and quickly grabbed the next dish.

Buffy walked out of the kitchen impressed and confused.

* * *

Lord Voldemort sat in his study, staring out into a room full of dead and gutted animals. For the past hour he had meditated and concentrated, trying to perform Legillimency on Harry Potter. Many times in the past months he had attempted the same thing, and every time he had failed. He consequently cursed and tortured any living things that came near him (most often Wormtail), but this time he had been so furious that he transfigured every piece of furniture in the room into different harmless animals and unleashed his fury by killing them in many different ways.

Now that he had let loose his rage, he was left only with the depressing weight of yet another failure and the metallic smell of blood, and he sat, head rested on his hand, staring gloomily out at the carnage. There was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?"

"It is me, my lord," came Lucius Malfoy's greasy voice from outside the door.

"Come." Lucius walked in and kneeled in front of Voldermort's large oak desk.

"Lucius, I hope, for your sake, that you have good news. Get up."

There was a quick flash of fear in Lucius' eyes before he steeled himself and said, "My lord, I have met with clans of vampires, dementors, banshees, and werewolves. None can sense him anywhere in England. However, there was a werewolf that picked up his scent at Heathrow. I've begun the extension of our search to outside England."

"So, what you are telling me, Lucius, is that instead of finding Potter you have managed to discover that he could be anywhere," Voldemort paused as he took a shaking, furious breath, "in the entire world?"

Lucius stood silent for as long as he thought he could get away with before answering, "Yes, my Lord."

An hour later, Voldemort walked out of his study, still gloomy but much more energized from having tortured Lucius so completely that he was left in a barely breathing heap on the floor next to a half of a ferret.

* * *

Chronos, god of time. In ancient times he was worshipped by muggles and wizards alike as the titan Saturn. The same mythology names him the father of Zeus and, in Roman times, Jupiter. As Christianity spread throughout the world, fewer and fewer muggles acknowledged his existence, in much the same way as they began to ignore the entire magical world. Now Chronos is known only to wizards, though few have ever gained an audience with him. The Dark Lord Grindewald was able to summon him in 1941...

Draco Malfoy had read the same paragraph five times in the last ten minutes, because his eyes kept shutting themselves uncooperatively. Finally, he sat up, closed The Complete Wizards Almanac to Gods, Goddesses, and Other Powerful Spirits, and looked around. There seemed to be no one in the vicinity of the door, which he could get to, if only he was just able to cross the lounge area. Peeking his head around the bookshelf, he saw Wormtail sitting in a chair, his back to the door, a book in his lap. Draco smiled. Piece. Of. Cake.

After furtively creeping to the door and exiting silently, Draco congratulated himself on his successful escape. Routine evasion of boring Death Eater tasks had taught him stealth and craftiness. He walked quickly along the dim corridor, his hood hiding his pale face and conspicuous blonde hair. He reached the end of the corridor, turned right, and took the steps up the turret to the top of the tower. He climbed out of the trap door, walked to the wall overlooking the dense surrounding forest, and stood there silently. He was alone.

* * *

Days later, Harry and Buffy had resumed their normal routine of working, eating, and sleeping, with Harry sleeping on the couch and Buffy in her room. That night they both had off work and were sitting on the couch eating macaroni and cheese.

"So. Yeah. We both aren't working tonight," said Harry cautiously.

Buffy gave him the "duh" look.

"Well, I just figured, I mean if you were up to it, I don't know if you want to, but maybe we could go see another movie?" Harry said breathlessly, feeling like he was asking Buffy on a date.

Buffy raised an eyebrow at Harry's obvious nervousness, smirked, and then replied, "Sure. We could both use some time out of this place. Gimme your dish then we'll jet outta here." As she stood up and took his dish she saw Harry's obviously mocking face and said, "Yeah, pretend I didn't just say 'jet outta here'."

"Gladly."

Forty minutes later they were sitting in the old movie theatre a block from their apartment waiting for The Unknown Hunt to start. It was some fifties adventure movie, and it was the only one showing at the theatre. The theatre was empty save the two of them and a man whom Buffy found somewhat familiar sitting in the back row. She thought she had served him in the café. Just as she was about to ask Harry about the guy, the movie started and she let it go.

It turned out The Unknown Hunt was about an archaeologist and a spy who team up to acquire an artifact from a Russian museum. The spy, Elissa Prichet, tells the archaeologist, Sam Eastly, that she has orders to obtain a certain ancient text from a newly found buried city in southeastern Russia, and she has offered Sam a job in the CIA studying the text if he helps her. However, little do they know that the government plans on killing them both once they return from Russia with the text to ensure the secrecy of the text's existence.

"Ten bucks says they kiss by the end of the movie," whispered Buffy leaning towards Harry.

"That's our rent your gambling away you know," replied Harry with mock seriousness.

Buffy smacked him on the shoulder. "Shut up you." In that moment, in that second after the exchange, the pain was gone. For a second, both just sat content with their existence at that moment alone, and for half a breath did not feel the world on their shoulders.

And then they passed out.