0. A Hatchet That Exists
Previously
The sturdy oak of their table still had the indent in it from one of their adventures with the Wiccans in California. They texted occasionally but they had agreed it was better to keep their distance. Everywhere he looked had a memory or two, it was what made it home.
It was what made Ryan his brother, Rodin his uncle, and Bayonetta and Jeanne his crazy aunts.
Standing, Harry realized, he didn’t want to throw any of those bonds away. No matter what.
Now: HARRY
The barrier was a complex work of art and magic that no one would believe a pair of fifteen-year-olds did but they had been driven and dedicated.
Ryan had been passionate about it and his dedication had been infectious in a way that motivated Harry. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Witch Time and Rodin, they would’ve died. Instead, they pushed forward, worked in iterations building on successes and failures until they found something that worked. Now standing before the blazing orange barrier, Harry’s heart hurt. For him to be on the other side. For it to be summoned because of him.
Unlike if it had been a stranger to approach the ward, Harry’s magic that was so strongly infused into the barrier dissipated leaving behind only glowing text of violet glyphs that shifted, hissed, and crackled with malcontent. Ignoring the sparks of cursed energy, Harry reached for the nearly invisible brand of peace before feeding his magic through it. It was an obvious decoy but also the actual key of entry to neutralize the ward. The sparks would hiss violently and release an Umbran curse of pain if it wasn’t defused quickly enough. For someone like Harry who was taught the Umbral Arts in unison with the Lumen Scriptures, all it took was a thought to disrupt. It was also a good thing.
It meant that Ryan hadn’t activated the nastier things. The ones that would force Harry to put effort into the disarming process. The sparks gave one last hiss before the barrier turned a pale white and receded into the walls surrounding his room as the door swung open of its own accord revealing the blood-red skies and ever-present mega flora of Inferno.
It could be disorienting at best for a person and it showed the raw amount of talent that Ryan had for magic. Harry was a combat mage through and through but Ryan was something else. What he did made the Umbral Arts an actual art form. And Jeanne didn’t exaggerate when it came to magic. For those who had never been to Inferno or more often visited it, it would have seemed real. It would have felt real.
From the potent scent of iron in the air to siren songs from the rivers of blood where Hydra and her sisters hid. Walking amongst the branching paths, Harry let his instincts guide him even as he seemingly walked on air and into the rivers that flooded Inferno. When he finally reached the end of the paths all that remained was a pool of water that seemed to be actual blood.
In front of it was a wooden plaque that simply read, 'Abandon all hope, all ye who enter here'. It was morbid and macabre and nothing like Ryan. Without another thought Harry placed his hand against the barrier and said his part of the password, "Though hope may be abandoned, my blade is sharpened and well wielded for it is known by the name Love."
The pond turned from blood red to a calm blue as it began to swirl until it pulled into illusion into it. All that was left was an open sky with a violet moon hovering over an endless field of green that seemed to vanished into the distance but none of that mattered. All that truly did was Ryan's bed and the odd pale colouring of his skin. Gone was the rich mocha that seemed into glitter in sunlight, in its place was sickly brown as that had veins of black running all across his skin. Without another thought Harry raced forward already baraging Ryan with a myriad of questions including what happened, how could this happen and a soft apology.
Ryan fanned him off in what looked like slow motion as he took long, deep breaths.
"No...worries. Magic... deprivation. Will... probably... be... like... this... until minimum stores recover. Purple lollipop... right drawer."
Again, being able to passively part illusions by just mentioning the existence of an item. An artist.
Harry moved to opened the drawer finding a large stash of the magic purple lollipops that were known to regenerate magic at an increased rate. The fact that Ryan had such a large stash meant that he was used to burning out. He was used to not having any magic. Taking out three of the purple butterflies before closing the drawer Harry brought it over, unwrapped it before shoving it into his mouth with a not too small amount of agression. Ryan's grey eyes held a small amount of annoyance but otherwise he just huffed in annoyance as the concontion of herbs did their work.
"Why do you have so many of the purple lollipops?"
Ryan's eyes now covered in a violet sheen simply rolled as he pulled the bare stick out of his mouth and ignited it with deep red flames. He then winced before taking another lollipop and jammed it into his mouth.
"I do tons of experimental shit and sometimes it drains my magic quicker than I expected. So, you wanted to talk?"
Harry frowned all his thoughts stopping before resuming "I want the truth, Ryan. Can you give me that?"
Ryan was quiet for a moment before he spoke, "Antares." His voice was soft and carried whispers of a memory long forgotten.
Harry blinked and made a questioning sound to which Ryan softly, "It's my name. If were going to talk about this, then you should at least know my first name. Ryan is a family alias and Lark is my middle name. I was born the heir of two noble families, and they both had expectations, an idea of who I was supposed to be. My uncles helped me get away, one knowingly and the other was an accomplice but I got out."
"I think I would prefer to call you Ryan during this. When did you know I was Harry Potter?"
Ryan raised his brow and Harry huffed in annoyance before saying, "When did you know I was related to James Potter?"
Ryan hummed softly as he pull the second stick from his mouth and when it ignited into flames without him wincing he nodded before pulling out two circular pieces of paper stuffed with something that left a purple coloring running through the body. The end sparked to life with a mild glow that grew as the older boy took a long pulled before exhaling. Lavenders and wisteria filled the air as Harry's magic gave the softest jump in power and made him shudder.
"That's really potent." Harry murmured and Ryan nodded, "Made as last resort sort of thing such as a overly draining spell or magical exhaustion and healing twice over. Now, there's a Wizarding skill called Occlumency. It grants a person the ability to actually shield their minds from telepaths and the like but it also has a secondary effect. It allows a practioner to go over memories and have an easier time making connections between each memory. I met James Potter when I was five, our families have a decent amount of connections and he showed up to a family ceremony. He was distant for the most part and bitter, but he had accepted the role of my godfather and never once refused the duties. But unless his attendance is mandatory, he just sends gifts on his behalf. That day when Jerry pushed Carmen into the water fountains and nothing was done. You looked just like he did that day, angry but unable to do anything."
Two years, he'd known for two years.
"Two years is a long time to know something, Ry."
Ryan nodded and agreed, "Two years is a long time for anything, Harry. It was never my intention to hurt you but I can't lie and pretend to know that it would."
Harry nodded climbing on to the bed and pulling Ryan into a deep and tight hug. He never let go even as he spoke, "I don't think I can ever let go of this. It's bad to resent you like this but I think I need it. I think I'll need it for now at least."
Ryan had stilled and his body tensed before his own grasp got tight around Harry's back and Ryan hummed in a way that Harry immediately understood.
It was all just different echoes of 'I'm sorry' and 'Let me fix this.'
"I guess you can start by having his talk with Rodin."