Shadows like Fire

Raphael sighed when Harry and Ron sat next to him at breakfast the following Monday.

“Did you hear?” Ron asked, and Raph leveled him with a stare.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“About flying lessons,” Harry clarified. 

“With the Slytherins,” Ron groaned.

Raph shrugged. “I didn’t even know this school had flying lessons.”

“I’d been looking forward to them,” Harry said miserably. “But the last thing I want to do is make a fool of myself in front of Malfoy.”

Before Raph could respond, Donatello stalked up to the table. “We need to talk,” he said, arms crossed.

“Yeah, good morning to you, too,” Raph grumbled, but he stood up nonetheless. Before he left, he turned to Harry and Ron. “Don’t sweat the flying lessons,” he told them. “Malfoy talks a big game, but put him in his place and he’ll be just as helpless as a fish out of water.”

“So long as the fish doesn’t have mechanical legs,” Donnie chimed in. “Or a venomous bite.”

Ron looked at him curiously.

“You’re, um, D—”

“Hamato Donatello. Raph, please, we really need to talk.”

Raph followed Donnie out of the Great Hall over to where Leo and Mikey stood, waiting. “What’s this about, Donnie?” Leo demanded. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep since they arrived at Hogwarts, if the bags under his eyes were any indication. Still, Raph turned his attention to his tallest brother, looking at him expectantly.

Donnie held up a finger and looked around, then took out his wand and murmured, “Muffliato.” At their curious glances, he explained, “Muffling charm. It lets us have a private conversation.”

“Should we have the conversation, then?” Raph said. 

“Of course,” Donnie said, oblivious to the impatience in his brother’s voice. “Well, I was in the library the other day—”

“Shocking,” Raph and Mikey said at the same time, earning glares from both Donnie and Leo.

“I was in the library,” Donnie continued pointedly, “and decided to do some research—and I also found out that my laptop doesn’t work in this school, but that’s irrelevant—and anyway, I thought I would find out more about the whole Harry Potter thing that happened, and—”

“You’re rambling,” Mikey pointed out softly, grinning.

Donnie paused and took a breath. “Well, it started years ago. Thanks to the extensive records in the Hogwarts library, I learned that Voldemort’s real name is—was, I don’t know—Terry Richardson, or something like that. I don’t know, I was kind of skimming when I read it, but that's not important right now. He was in Slytherin House—”

“Of course he was,” Leo muttered bitterly.

“—and was an overall good student. The next part is a bit blurry, though, and I couldn’t really get a read on it, but a few years later he killed Lily and James Potter and tried to kill Harry.”

“But he failed.” Leo frowned, brows furrowed. “How?”

“No one knows,” Donnie answered. “But when Voldemort tried to kill Harry eleven years ago, something stopped him. He hasn’t been seen since.”

Mikey nodded when Donnie finished. “Uh-huh, uh-huh, okay—but what does this have to do with anything?”

“We woke up here about a year ago,” Donnie said quietly. “After all of us died. But we weren’t the only ones who died that night.”

They were silent for a tense moment before Mikey voiced the question they had all been trying desperately to avoid for a year.

“If we’re here, does that mean he’s here, too?”

“How would that even work?” Raph asked. “How—how does any of this even work?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Donnie said quietly, looking at the ground. “And as much as I hate to admit it, it sort of makes sense. Ever since that night—October 31, 1981—Voldemort’s gone quiet. Some think he’s dead, some think he’s gone into hiding, biding his time.” Finally he looked up, meeting his brothers’ haunted stares. “What if it’s both? What if Voldemort did die that night, but Shredder came and took his place? What if our souls were floating in stasis for ten years for some reason while Shredder was here, regaining his strength and building up another army? What if—”

Donnie’s voice broke when Leo put a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t know if any of that is true yet, Donnie,” he said gently. “And until we can confirm it, we’re not going to panic.” He looked at each of his brothers in turn and came to a decision. “Until we can confirm it, we’re going to train. I doubt they’ll have our regular weapons in this school, but we can still brush up on our hand-to-hand combat. We don’t have to stress out about everything anymore. And besides,” he added, a slight glint in his eye despite the dread each of them felt, “we’re wizards now. We have magic. We’re going to excel in our classes and master the art of magic—and that means Donnie, Mikey, no more blowing stuff up in Potions. And Raph, no more arguing with Snape. We need our teachers to like us, not want us expelled. But that way, even if he is back, we can fight him without getting within five feet of him.”

“How are we supposed to be sure the Shredder’s back?” Raph said, feeling only slightly better.

Leo shrugged. “We’ll be on the lookout. If he is here—and I’m not saying he is—he’ll probably look for us in New York first. I doubt he’ll know to look here. And in the meantime, we’ll investigate all that we can about Voldemort and his disappearance. Guys,” he said, knowing his brothers would start to slip away from him soon, “cheer up. There have been no threats, no hints of danger—”

“I don’t know man,” Mikey chimed in. “Some of those pastries have caused my stomach to explode. They’re pretty dangerous.”

“Speaking of food,” Donnie chimed in, grateful for the change of subject, “I’m starving, and breakfast is going to end in about five minutes.”

“Let’s finish eating, then,” Raph said. “We’ll meet up after classes and start brushing up on fighting again. As for magic, well—Donnie can tutor us if we’re struggling with something.”

“Alright, gang,” Leo said. “We’ve got a plan. Now, let’s go eat some breakfast.”

As Donnie retracted the muffling spell, Raph wrapped his arm around Leo’s shoulders. “You know,” he said quietly, so only his older brother could hear, “that speech sounded suspiciously like the one I gave you a few days ago.”

Leo only scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

At three-thirty on Thursday afternoon, it was clear, breezy, and warm. Raph and Leo made their way across the grounds. They got there first, glancing at the broomsticks arranged in two lines on the ground.

The Slytherins got there soon, followed closely by the Gryffindors. Harry and Ron waved to Raph and Leo when they arrived. 

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” Madam Hooch, their professor, barked. She had short, gray hair and yellow eyes that watched each student like a hawk, and each word was clipped with impatience. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

The students all seemed to get into a line with their House, so Raph took one across from his older brother. He looked down at the broom on the ground. That thing looks like it couldn’t pick up dirt from the floor, much less fly, he thought. 

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” Madam Hooch said from where she stood at the front, “and say ‘Up!’”

“UP!” the students shouted at once. 

Raph’s broom seemed to hesitate for a second before it jumped into his hand. He looked up at Leo, smirking when he saw the broom go into his brother’s hand on the second try. Leo only rolled his eyes.

After a few more moments, Madam Hooch showed them how to mount their brooms in a way that would let them sit on the stick without flying off, then walked up and down the row, correcting each student’s grip as needed.

When she reached Malfoy, she shook her head. “Your hand shouldn’t be there,” she said, pointing at where Malfoy’s right hand gripped the broom. She showed him how to properly do it, and only moved on once he’d reluctantly changed his form, muttering angrily to himself.

Raph and Leo exchanged a grin. 

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” Madam Hooch said. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—”

Raph’s gaze shot to where Neville hovered a few feet above the air. Nervous and jumpy, the boy had pushed off at two.

“Come back, boy!” Madam Hooch shouted. Raph grimaced—he didn’t think Neville could, with the way that he shot straight up like a cannon. He watched as the boy’s face turned white as he rose higher and higher, until he was nearly twenty feet off the ground, then thirty—

Raph watched in slow-motion as Neville leaned sideways off of the broom and fell, down and down and—

“Leo, go,” he said, knowing Leo was closer, but his brother was already moving, even as panicked shouts came from some of the other Gryffindors.

Fast as a bullet Leo jumped, slamming into Neville and easing his fall. They both hit the ground rolling, but Leo was quickly back on his feet while Neville stayed motionless on the ground. He grabbed his shoulder and winced, and Raph’s eyes widened.

Madam Hooch rushed over to Neville, her face pale. “Just dazed,” Raph heard her murmur. “Come on, Longbottom—it’s all right, up you get.”

She turned to Leo, who was looking at Neville in concern, even despite the pain in his arm. “Ten points to Slytherin,” she said breathlessly before looking at the rest of the class, her face hardening. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing. You leave these brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.”

Neville looked blankly ahead while he walked with Madam Hooch.

Raph rushed over to Leo. “How’s your arm?” he asked quietly. Leo rolled his shoulder back and winced again.

“It’s—fine,” he said. 

Raph was silent for a moment. “You know,” he said, “my chest still burns sometimes. Especially when I walk or put my arms above my head. I can—I can feel it being torn open again.”

Leo sighed. “My knee, too, and my heart still burns. We—we’re here now, though,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “So why do they still hurt?”

Raph didn’t have an answer, but he tried to give his brother one. “Maybe… maybe it’s just the universe’s way of reminding us where we came from,” he said. “And who we left behind.” They were both silent for a moment before Raph straightened. “Come on,” he said. “We should get back to the others.”

The two turned to where Malfoy and the rest of the class were gathered. Malfoy was laughing, along with some other Slytherins.

“Did you see his face, the great lump?”

“Shove it, Malfoy,” Leo said suddenly, his voice deathly quiet.

The other students went silent as Malfoy sneered at him. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Hero,” he spat. Raph tensed, but Leo subtly shook his head. He could handle it.

“You couldn’t have done that, Malfoy,” Ron said from where he stood next to Harry. He seemed to regret saying it, but Raph had to give the kid some credit for his burst of bravery.

Malfoy only rolled his eyes before darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. “Look! It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him!”

Malfoy held up a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke—a Remembrall. Raph vaguely remembered overhearing their conversation at breakfast that morning. He quietly informed Leo, whose eyes hardened. 

“Give that here, Malfoy,” Harry said. Raph and Leo watched on silently, as did the rest of the class.

Malfoy smirked. “I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find—how about—up a tree?”

“Give it here!” Harry demanded, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. 

“Come and get it, Potter!” he shouted from the air. 

Raph made to move, but Leo held him back.

“We’ve drawn enough attention to ourselves today,” he said quietly. “Besides, Harry can handle this.”

They looked over to where Harry was steadily floating upward toward Malfoy, turning sharply in midair to face the boy. They watched as Harry said something to the Slytherin, but they were too high up to make out what he said.

Suddenly Harry shot forward, and Malfoy was only just barely able to get out of the way of Harry’s broom in time. Some people clapped, but Leo and Raph watched the two intensely, ready to move should either boy lose their balance. 

Raph’s eyes widened as Malfoy threw the Remembrall high into the air and quickly landed. Come on, kid, Raph thought desperately, watching Harry. Don’t do anything stupid.

But of course, Harry chased after the ball. Raph didn’t breathe as Harry got closer and closer to the ground, arm outstretched. Raph braced himself for the boy to splat on the ground, knowing there was nothing he or Leo could do to stop it, but at the last moment Harry pulled the broom up and toppled safely to the ground, Remembrall in hand. 

Raph made to rush toward Harry, but someone else beat him to it. 

“HARRY POTTER!”

Even Leo and Raph flinched at McGonagall’s loud shriek.

“Never—in all my time at Hogwarts—”

Professor McGonagall paused, seeming to be speechless with shock. “How dare you—might have broken your neck—”

Some of the other students tried to defend Harry, but McGonagall shushed them.

“Potter, follow me, now.”

As soon as McGonagall turned her back, Malfoy lunged forward and snatched the Remembrall from his hand. Harry whirled to take it back from him, but McGonagall looked over her shoulder and glared at him, and he hesitantly followed after her. 

The class watched until they turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

“Well, that’s the end of that, then,” Malfoy said nastily. He tossed the Remembrall up in the air before catching it in his hand. “And now, for the end of this. Shame, really, that it had to be broken in that whole little scuffle.”

He threw it as hard as he could behind him.

Raph, having anticipated the boy’s move, shot his hand out like lightning, catching the Remembrall.

“Huh,” he said sarcastically, pretending to look over the orb. “Nope. Looks like it’s fine. But don’t worry—I’ll hold on to it for ya, just so you don’t accidentally scratch it later,” he said, pocketing the Remembrall. He’d give it to Neville when he got back from the hospital wing.

Malfoy’s face turned red as a cherry, and Raph took a mental picture so he could cherish that moment forever.

As it turned out, Harry Potter was not expelled, and instead was offered a spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, something that apparently hadn’t been offered to a first year in over a century.

“Nice work,” Raph told Harry as he handed Neville’s Remembrall back to the boy. Neville had been dismissed from the hospital wing—Madam Pomfrey had given him the afternoon off and sent him on his way with a hot cup of tea.

“Thanks,” Harry said while Ron turned to Raph.

“How did you catch that?” he asked as Raph made to leave for the library.

“Luck,” he said with a grin. He waved his hand once. “See ya,” he said.

Donnie looked up from a pile of books as Raph walked into the library. There weren’t many students, but the Hamatos were unbothered—they weren’t planning to be there long, anyway.

“Oh good,” Leo said. “You’re here.”

“Dude, Leo was just telling me and Donnie about flying,” Mikey said, leg bouncing in anticipation. “I wish I could be in your class. It sounds so fun.”

Raph patted Mikey’s head comfortingly while Donnie stood. “Is everyone caught up on their homework?” Before anyone could answer, he held up a hand. “Is everyone but Mikey caught up on their homework?” Leo and Raph nodded. “Good.”

“Let’s go, team,” Leo said.

Harry and Ron didn’t think anyone could be more infuriating than Malfoy, but here Hermione was, proving them wrong at every turn. Already she’d threatened to go to Percy, muttering about how they didn’t care if Gryffindor won the House Cup or not.

Granted, they were sneaking out of the common room in the middle of the night to duel Malfoy, but that was hardly the point. If she kept talking, she would get them all caught before they even reached the trophy room. At one particular snarky comment that Harry knew Ron would have to respond to, he looked over his shoulder and hissed at them to shut up.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

They heard voices from the trophy room, and at first Harry thought Malfoy and Crabbe were already there. But as they neared the room, they heard three voices.

“Again,” the first one said, sounding familiar. “Hajime! ”

There was the sound of a short scuffle, and then a thud. 

“Yame!”  

“Dude, no fair,” another familiar voice said.

“Uh, guys, not to point out the obvious, but we have company.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione whirled to find Donatello standing behind them, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

From where they stood in the trophy room, Leo, Mikey, and Raph all glared at them. 

“What are you four doing here?” Leo asked.

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. Four? But then he heard a surprised little squeak from behind Donnie, and Neville stepped out sheepishly.

Ron looked at Neville and then back at Leo. “Well—I—you—” he stammered.

Hermione cut him off. “I could ask you the same question,” she said to Leo, chin raised haughtily. 

Before the others could respond, a noise in the next room made Harry jump. He raised his wand, oblivious to the defensive stances the four Hamotos had taken up, and heard someone speak—someone who still wasn’t Malfoy.

“Sniff around, my sweet, they could be lurking in a corner.”

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. The eight hurried as quietly as they could out of the trophy room, just barely making it around the corner when Filch entered it.

“This way,” Harry mouthed, and the others hurried along after him as they crept down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run. He tripped, grabbing Ron around the waist, and the pair toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were loud enough to wake the whole castle.

“Run!” Harry yelled, and the eight of them sprinted down the gallery. The Hamato brothers were quick to overtake the other four, who followed after them as quickly as they could.

Harry didn’t look back for fear that Filch was right behind them. Though Leo, Raph, Donnie, and Mikey were somehow running silently, he, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were running loudly enough that he was sure Dumbledore could hear them from within his tower.

Mikey suddenly veered, and everyone else followed suit while he led them toward a locked door. He waved his hand around in the air—or at least, that’s what it looked like to Harry—and Donnie nodded, unsheathing his wand.

“Alohomora!” he whispered harshly, and the lock opened with a click. Mikey opened the door, and they all rushed in, Leo closing the door silently behind him.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione pressed their ears to the door, hearing Filch’s thudding footsteps as he ran by.

“Filch thinks this door is locked,” Harry whispered. “I think we’ll be okay—get off, Neville! What are you even doing here?”

He hadn’t meant for it to sound so harsh, but Neville had been tugging insistently on Harry’s robes. When Harry turned, he knew why.

Staring at them was a monstrous dog, one that stood as tall as the ceiling. It had three heads—three pairs of eyes that were staring at the students, three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction, and three sets of very long, very sharp fangs.

Harry gripped the door handle. The only reason they weren’t dead yet was because the dog had been surprised to see them, but it was quickly getting over its shock.

“Harry, open the door,” Donnie said from where he and his brothers stood. “Slowly.”

Harry eased open the door. The dog tensed at the movement, its body taut. 

Harry practically fell out of the room first, followed by Ron, Hermione, and Neville. They didn’t take their eyes off of the beast, who was now staring hungrily at Leo and his brothers.

Mikey moved back first, stepping gracefully until he was out of the room. They waited with bated breath as Donnie did the same. There was a tense moment as neither Leo nor Raph seemed to want to move, but then Leo took one step back, then another, until he joined the others in the safety of the corridor. 

Then only Raph was left.

The dog, meanwhile, had bared its teeth, mouth twisted in a snarl, and was now growling fiercely. Raph remained frozen in place, his back turned away from the door—from freedom.

The world turned to slow motion as the beast lunged.

In one sudden jump, Raph leapt up, launching himself in the air, and back-flipped out of the room, landing next to Leo out in the corridor. 

Harry and Ron slammed the door shut, just barely closing it in time. They ran, almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn’t see him anywhere, but Harry hardly cared—all he wanted to do was put as much space as possible between him and that monster. They didn’t stop running, hardly noticing as Leo, Donnie, and Mikey broke off in different directions. Finally, they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

“Where on earth have you all been?” she asked, startled.

“Pig Snout,” was all Raph said. They scrambled into the common room and let out a sigh of relief when the portrait closed. They closed their eyes and rested for a second, trying to catch their breath. Harry opened his eyes and turned to talk to Raph—

But he was already gone.

So instead Harry rounded on Neville. “What were you doing up?” he asked him. 

Neville seemed to shrink into himself. “Well, I’d forgotten the password to the common room and was waiting for someone to let me in when you three came out, and all I wanted to do was ask you for the password, honest, but then you three started walking away, and I followed, and… yeah,” he finished lamely.

Hermione rounded on Harry and Ron. “Malfoy tricked you,” she said. “You realize that, don’t you? He was never going to meet you—Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off.”

Harry thought she was probably right, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He pursed his lips and looked away.

There was a moment of silence before Ron spoke. “What do you think they’re doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?” he said. “If any dog needs exercise, it’s that one.”

“You don’t use your eyes, do you?” Hermione snapped. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“The floor?” Harry guessed. “I wasn’t looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads.”

Hermione sighed, exasperated. “I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We all could have been killed—or worse, expelled. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”

Hermione began to walk away, then paused. After a short moment, she said, “And for your information, it was standing on a trapdoor.”