Harry, Draco and Ron 2: Crusade of the Rainbow

Prologue. Old friends, new quirks. New enemies, old threats.

Here they worship God or Satan as well,

They can't live without a Lord,

And each one built a jail for oneself,

With faith in truth of own lies,

But I never was a Slave of illusions!

- Aria, "Slave of illusions".

"Hey there, Harry! I'm writing to say that there have been a lot of new things around lately, even though we've been out of school just for a month. First of all, HERMIONE'S STAYING WITH US!!!

Oh, Ron, I know Harry has to know THAT particular piece of news, but could you yell a bit less loudly? Thanks in advance. So, Harry, the second piece of news is that Malfoy (since his father wasn't very popular with the Death Eaters), is now in hiding, because Dumbledore thinks it might be dangerous for him to stay out in the open and - and I say 'Let the git get what's rightfully his!' - Alright, Ron, stay calm!

So, he's staying with Padfoot and Moony, however strange that might sound. Neither were too happy about it, but Dumbledore's word is Dumbledore's word. So, they're staying at the Wolves' Den - Moony's old place.

By the way, there's this ancient book Hermione dug up and - Ron! It's not ancient! It's only three hundred and seventy two years old! - Whatever. Anyway, the book says those swords you and Malfoy found are two of the Seven Weapons of the Rainbow or something. - Not something, Ron! The legend says that - Alright, she will tell you that once you get to the Den. Dumbledore said he will arrange your arrival there quite soon, so...

So, we hope you've had a wonderful summer so far and - and that your Muggles keep their hands to themselves! - Ron! - What? Anyways,

Your friends,

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley!"

*****

"Hello, Harry. I suppose your friends, Miss Granger and Mister Weasley have already shared with you the news that Mister Malfoy is staying over at the house of Mister Moony. This is just a temporary measure, but I suppose that he could teach Mister Malfoy some things about being who he is now.

You shall be taken there on the 30^th of July. The man that will accompany you is a friend of mine by the name of Maximilian Bones. He is a Demon Hunter, but that should not tell you much. He will come in the morning, and will be asking for the bearer of the scimitar. Should he reply to your question of who's asking, that reply would be that he's the bearer of the claymore.

I know this might sound silly, but in case the letter is intercepted, he will also name the scimitar. The name of the claymore shall answer your questions. No other way of ensuring your safety could be found within such a short time. Once you get to the Wolves' Den, you will be staying there until the end of the summer, so make sure you are properly packed.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore.

P.S. Make sure the gryphon rides near."

*****

Draco stretched and went outside. The pale moonlight was painting everything a weak shade of greyish blue, the shadows of the furniture looking ominous in this room, the lights switched off, the window wide open.

While infested werewolves felt something like extra adrenaline surges that caused outbursts of hate before the full moon, turning into vicious beasts during the full moon and then reverting into weary humans again once the moon was gone, he personally felt some kind of melancholic feeling sweeping over him whenever the moon crawled near.

His eyes turned to the two canine outlines sitting on the hill he could see through the window. The one on the left, more shaggy and thin, was probably Remus, and the one on the right, a bit bulkier and dog-like was probably Sirius (well, he was a dog, after all) .

He got up slowly, trying not to make any noises, and went outside. They both turned their heads in his direction simultaneously, but did nothing else. They kept staring at him with questioning looks for during the previous full moon he encountered in this house he was inside the entire time.

"Do you expect me to howl at it or what?" Draco asked, nodding at the moon. Remus growled angrily and Sirius gave the boy a reproachful look. Draco shrugged, and, transforming into a wolf, sat between the two.

The inhabitants of the village below the hill slept badly this night, for three blood-chilling howling voices were interrupting their sleep...

*****

Harry was conflicted from his inner fight over telling his aunt and uncle of the visitor he was supposed to be having today or keeping this as a nasty surprise that would (hopefully) finish at least one of them off on the spot.

Having successfully reached the conclusion that either way was not very acceptable for telling them meant trouble for him as soon as he told them of the Demon Hunter's visit, and not telling them meant problems if there would be survivors from the heart attack caused by a Demon Hunter coming to pick Harry up. Somehow, he thought that a heart attack (or even two if he's in luck) was inevitable, just like a cat falling down on all fours, although Harry was unsure if, in case Hell freezes over, a cat might fall on its back anyway. He came down from his room right after he had heard his uncle yelled something.

"Excuse me, uncle Vernon, I did not quite hear you..." Harry said tactfully, telling the truth, the whole unrefined and ugly truth as it was, and nothing but the truth.

"I said: 'Open the damn door, boy!' and I'm still waiting for you to do so!" his uncle bellowed angrily in reply. Harry shrugged dismissively and went to get the door.

As he opened it, he saw the strangest wizard-aware person in the world. Max Bones (if it really was him) was wearing a pair of black jeans, a black Blind Guardian t-shirt, a pair of shades in the matching shade of black and looked downright out-of-this-world. Especially for the sixteen-and-not-a-day-older-year-old boy that opened the door.

"I seek the bearer of the scimitar Gryphon," the strange apparition (as Harry dubbed the man in his mind) said good-naturedly.

"And who is seeking him?" Harry asked inquisitively.

"The bearer of the claymore Lightbringer," the man replied, then took off his shades, "I am Max Bones, as... our mutual friend must've already informed you. At your service."

"Harry Potter at your service, Mr. Bones," Harry replied as he shook the man's hand. Without the shades he looked to be in his mid-thirties, and in them he looked as if he was forty at least.

"Just Max..." the man replied with a wave of his hand. "Alright, shall we get to it right away then? I can't wait all day, you know!" he added merrily, showing that the enthusiasm of doing something was not caused by his dislike of being late, but rather the love of doing physical exercise, as he heaved the trunk out of the house in no time, making Harry's aunt whisper something to her son. Harry sure hoped it went along the lines of "See how strong that man is, Duddykins? Do exercise and you will be as strong... And thinner too," although he knew that this was virtually impossible.

As he waved his last goodbye to the Dursleys (which they, of course, did not reply to aside from angry Hmpfs and shutting the door with an awful bang), Harry turned to the man.

"And how shall we traverse the distance of the road that lies ahead of us, oh brave warrior?" Harry asked in a mockery Old English accent.

"By feet, my brave companion, or name is not Sir Cough-a-lot!" Max replied in the same vein, but then broke off into laughter, "We'll take the car," he said in a serious tone of voice, pointing over at a dark blue VW parked not that far away from them.

"It's yours?" Harry asked enthusiastically.

"Nope, borrowed it off my brother. He was angry at first, but then he found out that I will be driving Harry Potter and agreed," Max replied cheerfully as he pulled the trunk towards the VW.

"Your brother is a wizard?"

"And when did you dismiss the question if I am one?" Max asked as he loaded Harry's trunk into the car, and, seeing that Harry had turned a precarious shade of red from realizing his own mistake, added quickly "Don't worry, neither of us is anything even remotely close to a wizard. My nephew - my brother's son that is - is though. You must've seen him."

"JD?" Harry asked, his eyes widening as he realised that having the same last name sometimes really means being related.

"Yes, the kid likes to be called that. Thinks if he's not called Johnny anymore then he can ignore the associations with him bearing his grandfather's name," Max replied as Hedwig's cage was also loaded into the VW, while the owl enjoyed the freedom of air and hurried off elsewhere pretty fast.

"Why would he want that?" Harry asked as the two had placed themselves into the car and Max started the engine.

"My father's name was John, although his friends always called him Johnny... He was killed by Death Eaters back in 1979."

"Oh. Sorry..." Harry said guiltily.

"No problem. Now there's an important question I have to ask you..."

"Yes?" Harry asked earnestly.

"Do you mind Blind Guardian?" Max asked as he powered up the CD player that had immediately started sending noises of Blind Guardian's "Wizard's Crown" into the air.

"Er..." Harry had started to say, but Max cut him off quickly.

"Good!" the man said as the car practically ripped itself from its place and sped off from Privet Drive...

*****

I'm alive my friend,

I can feel the shadows everywhere,

I'm alive,

I left the shadows far behind me,

Another one is waiting in the dark...

- Blind Guardian, "I'm Alive".

Returning to life from death was not the pleasantest feeling he had ever experienced. Actually, as far as he was concerned, it was as unpleasant as anything could get - waking up being buried in the ground, no coffin, no tombstone, no nothing. Luckily enough, he was buried in his clothes, which have not suffered much from the passage of time. At least they appeared so.

As he woke up, he had two simple thoughts: "Who turned out the lights?" and "I'm buried under the ground! I'm going to suffocate and die again!"

Neither of them was particularly smart, as he found out. Forcing his way up through the rain-weakened ground, he had noticed that he fared pretty well without breathing, actually, it felt somewhat unusually fun - being alive (or undead, which was almost the same as long as he kept his will to himself) and not breathing.

When he finally forced himself out of that damp wet ground, his face, his clothes (or what was left of them anyway), and his body were covered with the same wet dripping mud. He looked up into the clouds that covered the sky and the lightning bolts that struck through the air had been reflected in his teeth that formed a wide smile.

"I live... Again!" he growled and then proceeded to extract himself from the ground.