The Colour of Death

We’re crazy, planning to kill the Demon King. It’s mad. But we’re mad.

And Reg is right. This should be fun.

Hogwarts is just as I remember it. It’s loud, here. So loud. So much talking, so many black robes, the colour of death. So many people, being people and dead eyes. And the screams. Demons screams. Human screams. People being people and dead eyes. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. So many scars. Daggers in my hands. A dead demon, on the floor. Shadows hissing. Demon-Slayer. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, bright understanding blue eyes. Staring at me. Talking to me.

“Come back, kid. Snap out of it.” Theo’s talking to me. I’m back, glancing around. We’re in an empty classroom, away from the students. Where’s Score? He’s not here. He’s somewhere else, miles away. Beauxbatons. “You good?” I nod absentmindedly, focus on why we’re here. To find Regulus Black. But how? Hogwarts is almost as large as Beauxbatons. Then an idea.
“Let’s find Lily.” Theo is confused, at my words. “She has a map that’ll help.”
A raised eyebrow. "A map.”
“You’ll see.” We leave the classroom. People, everywhere. Blood, everywhere. Keep it together. Up, to Gryffindor Tower, "Lily!” I call, “Lily Luna Potter!”
“Al?” she’s leaving the portrait hole, fear in her voice. Fear in her eyes. Fear in my eyes? I don’t feel it. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I borrow the map?” she’s taken aback.
“Why?” Suspicion.
“Please, I just need to find someone."
Lily sighs and hands me the folded parchment that is the Marauders Map. I mutter the password and start looking, even before the full map is revealed. “He’s in the… Clock Tower?” Lily took the map, and I notice a light tremble in her hand. She leaves and visibly relaxes.
“What was that?” confused blue eyes.
“Magic map.”
“Why am I not surprised.” Theo shakes his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

~|~

Theo knocks lightly on the door to the Clock Tower, and the door opens of its own accord. "Hey, Reg.”
“Theo?” observant misty eyes look up from an open book. Hurt eyes. Hidden pain. Shielded observant misty grey eyes. They’re embracing, as I watch from the doorway.

Regulus Black looks only eighteen. But he is older than that, far older. Black hair, pale skin, covered in scars. So many scars. Theo looks older, but next to Regulus he’s just a boy. It’s the eyes. Shielded mist and bright blue. They’ve seen so much, those eyes. Felt so much. Hurt so much.

“Hi, I’m Albus.” I hold out a hand, and Regulus shakes it, “Albus Serverus Potter.”
“You remind me of him.” Regulus tilts his head, talking almost to himself.
“I don’t look like my father.” I’m confused. What does he mean?
“No, not Harry Potter. You remind me of Evan. That look, in your eye.”
“Evan?”
“Rosier. A close friend of mine. You look like he did, at your age.”
“Broken.” I say. Regulus chuckles dryly.
“That implies it can be fixed.”
“You sound like Draco," points out Theo, and Regulus pulls a face. I smile slightly.
“An undesireable outcome.” He looks between us, a change in his voice. “Is he like us?” he asks, nodding towards me.
“Yes.”

~|~

Demon blood.

Regulus says that’s why. Why Purebloods have a tendency to go mad. The first wizards were demons, or angels. It’s why magic doesn’t work against them. Over a thousand years ago, demons came through a Tear between our worlds. Explorers. The first witches and wizards.

Then Morgana and Merlin found the Tear and sought to seal it. They did, for a while. Until demons began slipping through. They were running from something. That much was clear, to Regulus.

He said he’d drowned, in the Cave, after he got Voldemort’s horcrux. Dragged down by dead dead hands. And then he’d woken up, in the Demon Realm. So, so similar to our world, yet so different.

Regulus said he lost himself, there. Stopped caring. And then he found Evan Rosier, just as lost as he was. His constant. They got out of the Demon Realm, together. Only for Evan to be killed, by aurors on a Death-Eater hunt. Regulus didn’t elaborate on his reaction to it. I gathered his magic went a bit haywire, in the Demon Realm.

After that he went to Malfoy Manor, and was persuaded by Oscar Fiddle to help Theo. And he did. Help. A lot.

Demon blood. It explains so much.

And I have an answer, to a question. An answer I don’t really care for.

Do demons feel?

They do it just like Theo and I. Sometimes too much, and sometimes not enough.

~|~

“Why did you come here, to Hogwarts of all places?” Theo wonders.
“Peeves,” answers Regulus simply.
“Peeves," I repeat, disbelieving.
“He knew Merlin and Morgana,” Regulus shrugs, a twinkle in his shielded misty eyes, “and, more importantly, he knows where Morgana’s Shield is.”
“What’s Morgana’s Shield got to do with demons?” I’m still confused. Why can’t Regulus just make sense?
“It was made by demons, to protect demons, from other demons.”
“What are you suggesting, Reg?” That Slytherin glint, lingering in Theo’s eyes.
“It’s simple, really,” replies Reg, “we just need to kill the Demon King.” Theo and I stare at the Black. He’s crazy. We’re crazy. I grin.
“We’re mad,” I say.
“That we are, kid. That we are.” Bright understanding blue eyes, the ghost of a smile.
“Three madmen saving the world,” Regulus raises a brow, smirking, “this should be fun."

We’re crazy, planning to kill the Demon King. It’s mad. But we’re mad.

And Reg is right. This should be fun.

~|~

Peeves is rather easy to locate. Pranking some Gryffindor first years, of course. “Oi, Peeves!” Theo calls, attracting the poltergeist’s attention.
“Got yourself in a knot, Nott?” Peeves asks, tutting, “needing Peevsie’s help, are we?”
“I can’t believe I am actually saying this,” Regulus is speaking, now, “but yes, we need your help.”
“Back from the dead again, eh, Black?”
Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, again. We need your help.”
“What’s the magic word?” sings Peeves.
“Abracadabra,” Regulus replies dryly. Peeves laughs, his whole demeanour changing. “Help us, please?”
“What do you want?” Peeves is leaning against the wall, in… muggle clothes? When did that happen?
“Morgana’s Shield," responds Theo easily. Peeves blinks.
“Congratulations, Nott. That is a first. Why’d you want the Shield?” he’s suspicious, now.
“To help us kill the Demon King,” I say.
“Nobody survives the Demon Realm," points out Peeves.
“I did it twice,” Regulus is calm, somehow.
“You’re mad,” Peeves shakes his head.
“Yes, that would be an accurate description.”
Peeves stares at us. We stare back. Then he shrugs.
“Eh, why not. Not like it could all go terribly terribly wrong. The Shield’s hidden in plain sight, of course.”
“Of course it is," Theo mutters, sighing, rolling his bright understanding blue eyes.
“It’s in one of the candles, and impervious to spells.”
“You’re kidding me,” I groan, “how are we supposed to get it!”
“I can fly, you idiot,” Peeves says, flicking my forehead, “anything else?”
“Password to the head’s office?” Regulus asks, and Peeves nods.
“Finally, a normal request. Word’s ‘semper’, that’s latin for–”
“Yes, I know what it means," mutters Reg.
“Alright, alright. No need to get your knickers in a twist. Hold your hippogriffs, I’ll be back in a couple of ticks. Meet back here in…” Peeves checks a watch I didn’t even know he had, “say half an hour?”
“Sounds good,” Reg nods.
“Strange,” Theo murmers, once Peeves has left, “He normally asks for something in return.”
“It’s not strange at all, really,” Regulus disagrees, “Perce and I have a history, of sorts.” We’re walking to the head’s office.
“Semper," I say to the gargoyle. To its stony eyes. Dead eyes. Dead demon eyes. Dead human eyes. Dead angel eyes. The enterance spins open, and we step onto the moving stairs. What is it with Hogwarts and moving stairs?

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Theo asks Regulus, who’s surveying the room with shielded observant misty eyes.
“Something to fight a demon with, it’ll be at least partly silver. Probably demon made.”
“Yes, but what exactly are we looking for?”
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Yes, because that is so helpful.” Theo replies, rolling his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“A magical weapon to kill the King of Demons," I snort, “it’s like something out of a book.” Regulus looks to me with shielded observant misty grey eyes. Dead eyes. Dead human eyes, dead demon eyes. So, so similar. But that makes sense, now. Why they’re so so similar. And they’re dead eyes. Dead dead eyes. All dead eyes. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. Blood everywhere. Scars everywhere. So much blood.

Whispers, in the shadows. Hissing in my ears. Demon-Slayer, Angel-Killer, Human-Killer. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands. Daggers in my hands. Scars on my hands. So, so many scars. And so much blood.

Demon blood, spilling across the floor. Human blood. My blood. On my hands, on the daggers, everywhere. Blood, all over the floor. Blood. Wood. Stains.

Talking. Theo talking. Bright understanding blue eyes. But the screams. So much screaming. Demon screams, human screams. Make it stop.

Humming, in my ears. It’s so loud. Louder than it’s ever been before. I can’t think.
“So don’t.” A voice at the back of my mind. “Don’t think. Feel.”
But I can’t. I can’t feel, can’t snap out of it. Not the way they need me to.
“Or is it that you don’t want to?” That voice, at the back of my mind, hissing in my ear. Why won’t it just stop?

A ringing, in my ears. In my head. I’m spiralling, again. Theo’s hand on my shoulder. Bright understanding blue eyes. Shielded observant misty grey. Reg is saying something. I can’t hear him. Why can’t I hear him?

“Deep breaths, kid.” Theo talking. Bright understanding blue eyes. Shielded observant misty grey.
“Listen, Albus." Regulus, now, “Demon voices. Ringing, hissing, humming. Where are they coming from?”

Where are they coming from? Everywhere.

But… somewhere, as well. Somewhere else. Whispers, in the shadows. Hissing in my eats. Humming, at the back of my mind. Demon-Slayer. Daggers in my hands. Blood on my hands. Mine. Theirs. Demon blood, spilling across the floor. Human blood. It should stain, but it doesn’t. I cut, I bleed, but it doesn’t hurt.

I cut, I bleed, blood spills across the floor. Blood all over the floor. Mine, theirs. Hands, the colour of death. Demon blood, on my hands. Human blood. My blood.

And people and people and dead eyes.

Worried green, hiding tears. Hurt hazel, pity in those eyes. Sad sad sad grey, no fear but so much pain. Soft sad chocolate brown, bright understanding blue. Beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes. Curious careful amber. Shielded observant misty grey. So many eyes. So many dead dead eyes.

Dead demon eyes, dead angel eyes, dead human eyes.

Demon-Slayer, Angel-Killer, Human-Killer. Daggers in my hands. Blood on my hands. Demon blood, angel blood, human blood. My blood. So much blood. Wood. Stains, but it doesn’t. Because we’re wizards. Then an idea.

“There’s no weapon to kill the Demon King here, Regulus,” I say, and he sighs, “no weapon other than ourselves.” Theo looks at me, with bright understanding blue eyes. “We are both demon and human. We’re wizards. We don’t need a silver-coated weapon. We need magic. True magic. And from what I’ve gathered, we’re only going to find that in the Demon Realm. The ringing, the humming, the whispers in our ears, that’s magic we’re hearing. It’s demons. It’s humans. It’s us.” Theo nods.
“Wise words, kid,” he says, deep in thought, “wise words.”
“We’re still taking Morgana’s Shield, though.” Shielded observant misty grey eyes, and a shrug of the shoulders, “made by demons, to protect demons, from other demons. It’s designed to be used in the Demon Realm.”
“That it is, Reggie,” Peeves says from behind us.
“Don’t ever call me that again,” Reg replies, turning arounds, “got the Shield?” Peeves holds up a candle. “You are not serious.”
“That’d be your brother,” Peeves grins cheekily, and Regulus glares at him, the corner of his lips tugging upwards slightly.
“Yes, yes. The Shield?”
“Melt the candle, Reggie,” Peeves orders. Regulus sighs in frustration, but doesn’t comment. He clicks his fingers lazily, lighting the candle. I can’t help but stare at it for a moment.
“Show-off," Peeves mutters.
“You’re just annoyed because you can’t do magic anymore.” the pair seems to have forgotten Theo and me exist.
“I can fly!”
“I can too.”
“Yeah, but you need to use wings.”
“Sqal chose you, that’s not my fault.”
“Nor is Blarz choosing you mine. Fire wings aren’t very practical," Peeves shoots back. I’m lost, and from the looks of it, Theo is too. “Still can’t get why Cløtch chose your brother.”
“Or why Ocesa chose yours.”
“Yeah, they were right pricks. Didn’t deserve to be Champions.”
“Uh…” Theo starts, half-raising a hand, “what’s going on?” Peeves and Regulus seem to remember that they weren’t alone.
“Ah, that,” Reg says, “well… how to explain…”
“Okay. So demons exist,” Peeves starts, and Regulus rolls his eyes, “but what, or who, created demons? I dunno, but it took a lot of magic. That sort of magic requires a huge source. The death of an element.”
“Elements can die?” Theo asks. Regulus nods.
“Yes. They have Champions, you see, the elements. You can kill the Champion, but it’s bloody difficult to kill the element.
“And both of you are Champions?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around it can’t it just all make sense?
“Perce is Sqal, which is Air, and I'm Blarz, Fire," Reg explains.
“Which element died, for the demons?”
“Haet, the element of invulnerability.”
“That’s an element?”
“Feels rather cliché,” I mutter.
“We live in a world of magic. What did you expect?” Peeves replies. I sigh. This is ridiculous. I notice the candle is still burning.
“This is taking forever," Reg says, burning the candle down completely with a glance.
“You could’ve done that ages ago!” whines Peeves. Regulus shrugs in response, holding up a golden ring.
“That’s Morgana’s Shield?” Disbelief in Theo’s voice.
“It’s magic, idiot,” Peeves says playfully.
“Careful now, Perce. Only I get to insult Theo.” Regulus talking.
“But, Reggie—”
“Oh, for Morgana’s sake, tell us how to work the damn Shield," I cut in. 
“Well, you’ll need a Champion, for starters. For mains, they channel their element through the Shield. And for dessert, an awesome force-field thingy of said element is created. It will protect the wearer from magical attacks, but not defences. Rather clever, actually.” Something doesn’t sit right. Since when does a prankster poltergeist, not known for taking anything seriously, know so much about this stuff?

We leave the head’s office, and I am hit with the realisation that our entire demon-fighting system is absolutely stupid. Of course, this has been obvious for years, but I was too busy being wrapped up in my own head to notice. It’ll end, though. We’ll end it, Theo, Reg, and I. But will I see this world without demons? My mind flicks to Scorpius. I was so distracted I forgot. I forgot. How could I ever forget? Score, my Scorpius. Wearing converse shoes, the colour of death. Blood, on those shoes. Blood spilling across the floor, staining it, but not. People are everywhere. So many humans. So many demons. So so similar. All dead eyes. Dead dead eyes. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. Daggers in my hands.

A dead demon, on the floor. A dead angel, a dead human. Humming, in my ears. Shadows hissing. Whispers in the back of my mind. Whispers in my ear. And the shadows, with human voices, demon voices, angel voices. Angel screams, so similar, demon screams, human screams. Dead demon eyes, dead human eyes. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands.

People, so many people. People everywhere. Talking, screaming, hissing. People being people and dead eyes. So many dead eyes. Worried green, hurt hazel, soft sad chocolate brown, even sadder grey, bright blue, shielded mist, careful amber, and those beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes.

Scorpius. Where is he? Not here. Somewhere else, miles away. Beauxbatons. I think Theo’s talking. I can’t hear him. Why can’t I hear him? I don’t care. I need Scorpius. So I’m running, running.

~|~

Black robes. Orange robes. Purple robes. White robes. Four orders. Why split us up? Into colours and names based on our talents or personalities. Something for the best to be proud of. But there’s always somebody at the bottom, isn’t there? Drowning under pressure and disappointment.

They want to move me up to Blue Rank. I don’t understand. I’ve been absent so far this year. Where’s Theo, and Regulus? I don’t care. I’m with Score. I need to tell him what I’m going to do. I need him to stay behind.

Because I can’t let myself feel, in the Demon Realm. Let myself care. Let myself hurt. I cut, I bleed, but it doesn’t hurt. I rather like it, not feeling. But I can’t help but feel, with him. So he needs to stay here, where it’s safe. And I know I will come back. Because if I don’t Scorpius will hurt, and I’d do anything to stop him hurting.

~|~

I don’t want to fight demons. I don’t want to kill angels.

So why am I here, standing in the arena? Demons in cages. Dead demon eyes. I need to kill ten. All for a different coloured embroidery, a different rank, a title. Are ten lives worth a title? No.

So, why am I here? For Scorpius, my Scorpius. The shining fairy knight. So there’s something. Some reason for us to be near each other at all. They want to split us up. They have split us up. When was the last time I saw those beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes? When will I see them again?

Demons in cages, hissing. Demon voices, human voices. So, so similar. I need to kill ten. But I don’t want to fight angels. I don’t want to kill demons.

They open the cages. The demons spill out, shifting between forms. I wonder what they really look like, or even if they ‘really look like’ anything. I do know that they want to live, yet at least four of them are resigned to their fate. Fear, in their eyes. Fear in my eyes, maybe. I don’t feel it.

Ten demons. Ten angels. Ten lives lost for a stupid title I don’t even want. I don’t want to fight angels. I don’t want to kill demons.

So I don’t.

I shoot a spell at the wall of the arena, exploding it.

And the demons are free. Escaping.

“You’re mad!” Reitros Keai shouts, anger and fear and worry in his eyes.

“Yes, I am," I reply, grinning.