Kindred Dyad

A raven-haired girl was slowly making her way towards a golden goblet lit with eerie blue fire. Empty green eyes stared out into the darkness as she approached the ancient artefact. 

Conjuring a knife, the witch sliced her skin open with a resolute slash. Holding her bleeding palm over the goblet, she clenched her pale hand into fist, letting the blood drip into the fire. She focused on the link. She could feel it, tying her to the magical artefact. She had not wanted to enter this death trap, so maybe the goblet of fire would let her go. The professors had talked about the goblet as if it was sentient, the judge, jury and executioner of the Triwizard Tournament. 

Ancient magic whispered against her senses, it burned along her hand, as if tasting her intentions through her blood. For a moment she worried that the goblet would take her magic because she wanted to break the contract. Then she remembered seeing angry blue eyes glaring at her, Hermione’s back as she chased after the angry silhouette of their best friend. She really didn’t care. Magic wasn’t nearly as vital as wixen seemed to believe. 

The fiery magic of the goblet flared around her and then, slowly and achingly painful, the hooks on her core, the magical contract, started loosening. After an eternity had passed, the hooks faded into wisps of blue fire. A swarm of blue pinpricks of light drifting away from her. 

Hariel stared at the goblet, it had let her go. She could feel that the ancient magic had judged her claim of being unwillingly entered into the tournament to be true. The heated ancient magic had even smoothed away the damage the hooks had left on her core, burning away the scars in a flicker of heat and old wild power. She sighed out in heady relief. 

She hid beneath her invisibility cloak again, the silky cloth flowing over her small frame. She hurried back to the Gryffindor Tower. She was almost dizzy from the sheer relief that she wasn’t trapped any longer. 

Hariel’s vision blurred as Hermione walked away from her. The brunette claimed that she was trying not to take a side, but it hurt to be left behind like this. It felt like there was nobody left in the Great Hall who didn’t shun or despise her. She knew the brilliant witch was trying to mend the broken bridges of their little trio, but that didn’t stop the pain. 

Trying the hide her tears from the hundreds of hostile eyes fixed on her, she roughly rubbed her eyes. She had never felt more alone. She left without another backwards glance, hunger long since snuffed out by the horrible feelings bubbling in the pit of her stomach. 

Slowly tracking up to the owlery, she curled up on the last step. Softly petting the snowy owl who had flown down to keep her company the raven-haired girl stared blankly at the snowy peaks that surrounded Hogwarts. Idly she scribbled runes into the snow, for perseverance and fire. The raven warmed her hands against the heat radiating arcane symbols. 

Sighing softly, she pulled out a piece of parchment and a notebook. Balancing the yellowed sheet on the notebook, she started writing a letter to her best friend. Slowly she sketched the goblet of fire, the image of the ghostly blue flames hovering over gleaming gold fixed in her mind as she remembered the contract breaking.  

Picking up the story of what she wanted to tell him again, she scribbled the rest of the letter around the elegant drawing. Her ink characters were spilling down the parchment in neat lines. Her kanji were pretty even when written with a quill. 

She petted Hedwig, gently stroking the black-speckled feathers, the owl was settled on her drawn up knees and she was softly preening her hair. Eventually she sent off the letter, watching as her familiar faded into a tiny white dot and then into nothing at all on the distant horizon.  

She prayed that Ryoma believed her. Her oldest friend, her best friend, had never let her down before. With all these people calling her a liar and harassing her left and right, she was no longer quite as sure though. What if he also thought she entered herself into that death-trap of a tournament? Her magic surged, as if reprimanding her for even entertaining the thought that the golden-eyed boy might betray her.  

It was so, so hard to believe in people when so many of them disappointed her though. Suddenly, out of the mists, a small silhouette appeared. A blonde girl was climbing the steps. Before she could back away, misty grey-silver eyes met hers. “Oh, hello Hariel Potter.” Her voice was light, a tinkling cadence of shifting singsong tones. She sounded rather mad, but kind. 

Hariel could really appreciate the company of someone kind right now. “Uhm hi, who are you?” “Oh yes, I suppose you haven’t met me yet. My name is Luna Lovegood. Most people call me Loony though.” Came the airy answer. Hariel was surprised that she didn’t seem to resent the cruel nickname at all.  

“That sounds... mean. I think I will just call you Luna.” She answered carefully. The blonde smiled at her, wide and sincere. “That is very kind.” She tilted her head to the side. “Hariel Potter... don’t trust the old bumblebee. He has gone rather astray in his old age." With that whimsical statement, the girl stepped into the owlery. 

Hariel blinked at her, confused, then she shrugged her shoulders and turned around.     

Smearing out the runes to disrupt the magic, the green-eyed witch began the long descend back to ground level. Idly wondering about the strange girl. Kind though... she’d probably make a better friend then all those ‘normal’ cruel students. 

Friendship reminded her of Ryoma, warm golden eyes and a quiet laugh. Tennis as well... She missed tennis immensely. The sport was the perfect balance of physical strength and speed, mixed with a mental challenge. It was exhilarating, at least against skilled opponents. 

Quidditch had been fun in the beginning as well, but with all the pressure and danger... When her captain had told her to get the snitch or die trying she had lost her love for the sport.  

She still liked to fly, loving the freedom of the open sky, but the sport was mired in betrayal, pressure and the fame which she despised. It had always been flying which had driven her to Quidditch and eventually she figured out that it was only the freedom of the sky which she loved.  

That her so-called captain had pressured her so immensely had just turned her even further away from the sport. Until her hatred outgrew any possible love she might have once had for the famed Wixen sport.  

Hariel watched, her expression detached, as Hermione shot her an apologetic look as she went after Ron again. Something soft, something young, curled up inside of her and keened highly. 

The petite girl wandered off towards the room of requirement. Focusing on a tennis court she summoned the room with her own racket inside. She stepped onto a familiar court, an exact replica of the tennis court she had first met Ryoma in. 

Picking up her emerald green racket she turned towards the training machine and starting hitting the tennis balls coming towards her. 

The familiar burn of moving beyond her limits was heating up her blood, grounding her in her body and the present. Swinging her racket and hitting the familiar yellow spheres back to the wall over and over again helped her pull herself back together. It calmed her immensely. 

Eventually she sank down onto the ground. Breathing heavily, she gripped her racket, watching and finally really feeling her own hands gripping the black tape. She was finally at peace with herself. Tennis was always a way back to herself.  

Spotting her beloved owl flying towards the window of the dorms, she opened the metal and glass construct and flung out an arm for Hedwig to land on. The intelligent owl gently settled onto Hariel’s arm, careful of her own razor-sharp talons. 

Petting the owl softly, she untied the letter. “Thanks Hedwig." She murmured softly to her friend. Sharp golden eyes looked back at her, as the white bird ‘walked’ up her arm, claws curving around her shoulder to softly preen her hair. She spent some time petting the fierce white avian, praising her for being an amazing friend.  

Hedwig preened her hair until it was as neat as it was going to get. Then she hooted softly and launched herself out of the still open window. She watched the elegant white shape gliding away through the air, then she shut the window. 

Hariel flopped onto her bed, drawing the curtains. She was scared of opening the letters. She bit her lip, afraid to read it. What if Ryoma didn’t believe her either. Her magic whirled again, as if in protest. It was attached to Ryoma and always had been, since the day they met.  

Distantly she also hoped that Sirius wouldn’t be mad. He was the only parent she had ever had. His warm dark magic had always been tied to her core, but she hadn’t known. It had flickered back to life when she met him, strengthening the godparent bond. Like always, the bond hummed comfortingly. Mindlessly she stared at the canopy of her bed. 

Runes were scrawled all over it. One of the first projects they ever did for Ancient Runes was to create a nightlight. Just runes for light and energy which could easily be charged. Fascinated by the symbols and loving the idea of magic the trace could never pick up on, Hariel had dived in with fervour. 

This was one type of magic which the Dursley’s couldn’t ever take away from her. Instead of the simple white glowing runes most students had ended up with, her rune set glowed a soft violet. Runes just made sense to her, you needed a fairly black sense of humour because the runes contained both their meaning and their inverse all at once. 

Their meaning clicked for her, shaping the chains was a careful balancing act, but with her magic pulling at some runes and skittering away from others whenever she was creating arrays, it was fairly easy for her. She had never heard anybody else mention their magic getting involved in the process though... 

Sighing she curled up on her side, clutching the torn open envelopes and letters in her hands. Deciding to face her fears, she read the letter. A finger trailing beside the sentences as her eyes devoured the characters on the pages. 

She sighed in relief, smiling softly. Ryoma believed in her. Her stoic friend even admitted that he missed her. In the post script his parents had written that she was always welcome with them and asked her if she needed help. 

Tears splashed onto the parchment, she probably needed more help than anybody could give. She was happy they offered, even if she would probably never take them up on it. 

When the tears stopped, she put the letter to the side, opening the one her godfather had sent. She almost snorted out loud, the silly man had apparently almost broken into Hogwarts again just to hug her. He believed her, and encouraged her to hex any idiots who questioned her. 

“Sirius..." The name was whispered lowly, and Hariel smiled in the dark, emerald green devouring the stories trapped in the pages. Names like Lily-flower and toerag, pranks and fights and friendship. Her mom and dad... 

Hazy green eyes stared blankly without seeing. The tiny witch was trying to come to terms with the utterly fucked up situation she had just fled from. 

Finally letting go of the soft white fabric, the green-eyed girl sank back against the mattress. She had told the professors that she had broken the contract. Told them about the hooks on her core fading, the way the ancient magic had judged her. They had informed her sternly that it was impossible and that she had to compete.  

“Don’t try to back out now Miss Potter. Even if I am against a minor competing in this tournament, you entered yourself and are magically bound to compete. You’ll have to see it through." Professor McGonagall had said sternly, as she frowned down at her. 

Hariel hid her face, arms curled around her knees, trying to disappear as she curled into a small ball. Nobody believed in her. Everybody looked at her like she just wanted attention. It felt like the entire school despised her for one reason or another. Students were cursing and jinxing her in the corridors and no professor ever spoke up, all of them turning a blind eye. 

Hermione was spending all of her time with Ron, trying to mend the bridge between them. Hariel had just stared at her blankly when she’d tried to explain herself, she was in no way willing to ever consider him a friend again. In her eyes, he wasn’t trustworthy. That Hermione stayed friends with him felt a lot like a knife was being plunged into her back. She missed the brunette, for all that she was only six-feet away, slumbering in her own bed. 

Alone and tired, she blankly stared at nothing at all, not taking in anything as her mind whirled and spun, trying to find a way to get out of this situation. It was hard, being surrounded by people who didn’t see her as a person. She hated being the Girl-Who-Lived, nobody else was judged by these towering standards. 

Hariel wondered if learning about magic was really worth all this...  

The petite green-eyed witch was running. The burn in her muscles was steadying in a very real way. Grounding perhaps. She was jogging on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Nobody came here, so it was perfect. She blinked in confusion when she spotted the strange blonde girl from the owlery. Well, almost nobody came here apparently. 

“Luna." She greeted softly. Then she glanced at the pale toes gripping into the earth. “Where are your shoes?”  

The Ravenclaw, the bronze-blue scarf gave it away, looked at her happily. “Hi Hariel Potter.” Hariel interrupted her with a raised eyebrow. “Just Hariel is fine.” She stated kindly. “Hariel...” Luna whispered the name with something strangely like reverence. “Sometimes my things go mysteriously missing.”  

She tossed another bloody chunk of meat at the black death horses gathered around her. Hariel stared at the wings, wondering what they were. The quirky blonde, dressed in several clashing layers noticed her wandering gaze. “They are called thestrals. Nobody likes them much, they are linked with death you see. But they are really very kind.” 

The Gryffindor hummed. “I believe in you.” Her green gaze flitted to the other witch. In a thick voice she mumbled back awkwardly. “Thanks.” The blonde Ravenclaw hummed. “You must tell me all about Japan one day. I rather suspect the country is more welcoming than England. They don’t have an infestation of Nargles after all...” 

Hariel stared at her vaguely. “Don’t stay here too long Hariel. While I rather like seeing you, I don’t think Hogwarts is being very nice to you." Whispering at the very edge of her own magic, she could feel the whirling tides of Luna’s core. The blonde’s magic was... wild, far less controlled than most people and with an eerie flickering, as if her magic phased in and out of existence. 

Something told her that she was important, to pay attention. That it wasn’t just strange rambling but a warning... 

Blinking up at a white ceiling Hariel took stock of her surroundings. She was in the hospital wing. Trying to remember what happened she attempted to sit up. Her right arm was held in a stasis field though, preventing her from moving. Bloody red spirals were carved into the pale flesh. She was drawing a blank, something in her mind shying away from the memories, as if she might not want to remember... 

“Did Luna know?" She muttered to herself. The blonde didn’t seem like the type to organise an ambush and she had actually warned her. Slowly, like bubbles floating to the surface, another idea bubbled up. Seer... 

Madam Pomphrey bustled towards her. Pulling her thoughts away from the mysterious sweet Ravenclaw. “You were attacked Miss Potter. Some of the students were... disgruntled with you. They broke your ribs and your arm, they knocked you unconscious." 

Unlike before, the matron of the hospital wing didn’t seem to regard her warmly anymore. Hariel guessed bitterly that the medi-witch probably thought she was a liar as well. 

“I gave you a dose of skelegrow for your ribs, but the break in your arm was caused by a curse and will take a while longer to heal, since magic won’t affect the cursed bone. The spiral cuts which were also caused by the curse will scar. You will have to stay in bed for several days, I need to monitor you."  

The raven watched dispassionately as the grey-haired woman walked away. 

Flat green eyes peered out from behind long black hair. Mechanically she ate her breakfast. Staring blankly at the white walls of the hospital wing as the hours passed. 

Hermione flew into the room hours later, heart in her throat. When they’d heard that Hariel had been attacked, Ron had only scoffed saying that she deserved it. 

The brunette had slapped him. “We are not friends anymore, I don’t ever want to talk to you again." She had spit out in her anger. Blue eyes had widened in regret but it had been too late. Hermione had stormed off. 

The amber-eyed witch stared at her best friend. She looked so pale and tiny in the immense hospital bed. Breakable. She sank into the chair at her side, gently holding her tiny hand. For all the force of her personality, the witch was very small, the smallest student in their year, and wasn’t that suspicious... “I’m so sorry, Hariel.” She whispered. 

Blank green eyes fluttered open. “Mione?” The raven whispered softly. The Gryffindor witch nodded. “Hariel... I’m so sorry. I should have been there for you. I slapped Ron, I can’t believe I wasted so much time trying to get him to see reason.”  

Something inside her cracked, at the words she had wanted to hear so badly. She curled around Hermione’s hold, crying in great heaving sobs. “I missed you.” She muttered through her tears. 

The wavy-haired brunette swallowed thickly. “I missed you too. You are my best friend and I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”  

The raven only cried harder. Hermione sighed, patting the dark messy curls of the powerful witch. “Shh, you’ll be okay Hariel...” 

The broken girl cried herself to sleep, huddled against her friend. 

“Hello Hariel." The singsong voice of her visitor was a welcome reprieve from the mind-numbing white walls. For a hospital wing, if felt far too much like a prison. 

“Hey Luna.” There was a pause, before Hariel couldn’t hold back her curiosity anymore and decided to just ask. “Are you a seer?” It was an outlandish idea. Nobody would have ever thought about it, certainly not as the first option for explaining Luna’s strange message. It just felt so right though... 

Silvery-grey eyes met hers. Then she nodded slowly. “You aren’t as blind as most wixen. You’ll need sharp eyes soon. The bumblebee wants to keep you, but you aren’t supposed to be here.” Hariel blinked, trying to make sense of the strange warning. The confirmation was nice though, it certainly explained the blonde’s strange magic, as if it wasn’t quite anchored in the time-stream. 

“What do you mean?” The raven asked curiously. Luna’s pale hand gently patted hers, then she set a crown of bluebells encased in glass on her head. A strange but lovely gift, the weight of the crown a reassuring sensation. “You look pretty Hariel.”  

Luna set down a dairy on her dresser. “Write to me alright?” For a second there was a vulnerable expression on the blonde’s face. “I... I would like to be your friend.” 

Then, in a whirl of blue-pink-purple fabric she was gone. 

It took her several days before she felt remotely ready to look at her arm again. The sight of the bloody wounds, the deep red of fresh beads of blood welling up was just too jarring. 

Ice spread through her veins as if shielding her from the pain as she looked at the cuts spiralling from the top of her hand to halfway up her upper arm. Slowly she traced one of the bloody red lines from the back of her hand all the way past her elbow. A drop of blood gathering on the tip of her finger. Watching it fall on the pristine white sheet felt a little like watching a train wreck. 

She couldn’t stop it and she couldn’t wrench her gaze away either. Hermione swallowed, horrified when she saw the full extent of the injury. She clasped Hariel’s other hand tightly.  

“You can’t stay here.” Emerald eyes found hers, widening in shock. Hermione bravely forged on. “Hariel... you can’t stay at Hogwarts. You... you are not safe here. I don’t want anything to happen to you...” 

The petite witch swallowed. Hermione was right, why should she stay. “I... I want to see Ryoma.” She finally whispered, voice coming out thin and soft. Hermione’s eyes softened, Hariel had told her about her best friend. She was happy that her best friend had family. Despite the way the green-eyed witch had described him, she had realised soon enough that Ryoma wasn’t just Hariel’s best friend... He was her family. 

“Then go. I don’t want you to get hurt, and even though I will miss you... you need to leave.” Hariel hugged her friend tightly. “Japan, Echizen Ryoma.” She whispered in Hermione’s ear, knowing that the brilliant girl wouldn’t need anything more to be able to find her eventually. 

Without waiting for permission, she fled the hospital wing. The door swinging shut behind her with a decisive click. 

In a daze she walked to the tower, feeling like a ghost haunting the corridors as she simply drifted past paintings and suits of armour and other students, none of it making an impact on her. She gathered her belongings and destroyed the runes on her bed. Those sequences were hers, and nobody would get a trace of her magic if she could help it.  

Climbing out of the portrait hole, she started walking again. Nobody stopped her, some students were even ‘subtly’ jinxing her but the stinging pain didn’t even register to her. The only thing spinning through her mind was the indecision. Was she doing the right thing? Would Hermione be alright here, by herself? Would Luna? The petite younger witch was bullied severely... 

She climbed up to the owlery, Hedwig was her familiar, her beautiful girl. There was no way she was leaving her behind.  

She ascended the stairs to the high tower in a daze, something niggling in the back of her mind. Wrong, wrong, wrong... something is wrong. The feeling was like a sharp staccato beat pulsing like a warning. Her magic flaring hot and hard out of her control, her gift always had been exceptionally independent. 

Wide green eyes stared at the broken form of the white avian. Her Hedwig... her familiar. Her friend... dead. Devastated she fell to her knees besides the bloody corpse. She’d been murdered, knives pinning her wings to the ground, wide spread in a mockery of flight. 

She pulled the knives out of the broken wings achingly slow, discarding the metal to the side to cradle the small body. Her tears splashed onto the white feathers gently, as she stared ahead without seeing, just like Hedwig’s glassy golden orbs.  

I can’t take her along, but... I don’t want to bury her here... she was murdered here. Hariel pulled out her wand, taking only a single feather, she set the beautiful bird ablaze. Watching as the magical fire slowly released her into the air, not even ashes remaining. The grief and the rage were bubbling in her heart, but the ice was comfortingly cool and shielded her.  

She couldn’t afford to break down here. 

She struggled to put one foot in front of the other, Hedwig’s sole remaining feather almost burning clenched in her hand. She walked towards the Forbidden Forest. Students jeering at her and one of them even mockingly asking where her owl was. In a flare of rage she had cursed him, the seventh year Gryffindor, a well-known bully. She broke both of his legs and nearly burned his arm off. 

Before anybody could think to call the professors, she had left, rage already fading back into numb grief. 

Empty green eyes stared up at the castle which had once been her home. Stoically she broke her wand, letting the wood fall to the ground. She could simply no longer be bothered to hold on to the pieces. Along with her wand, the small magical tie binding her to Hogwarts as a student, was burned away from her core with prejudice. If she had any say in it, she was never coming back. 

Gently petting a thestral, the petite witch climbed onto the back of the black leathery creature. “Diagon Alley please." She stated softly. As the thestral gained height, she leaned her forehead against the cold neck of the winged death horse. She never looked down. She never looked back.  

Cautiously approaching a teller at the Gringotts Bank, she stared up at the tiny being behind the high counter. “Name?" The goblin demanded impatiently. “Hariel Potter." She stated quietly. “Key?" The goblin demanded irritably. “I don’t have my key." The goblin stared at her with a raised eyebrow, incredulous. “Then go the security office." She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans, trying to find the afore mentioned office. 

She entered the room quietly. The goblin behind the desk looked up as she approached. “I don’t have my key." The goblin merely nodded and offered some parchment. “Three drops of blood."  

Pricking her finger with the offered dagger, she watched the ruby liquid drip onto the parchment. For a moment nothing happened, and then the red blood started flowing over the parchment, turning into words. With a small light flash three keys appeared.  

“These will invalidate all previous keys." She merely nodded. Good. 

Fifteen minutes later, she stood outside again on the white marble steps. A correspondence box safely tucked into her miniaturized trunk. Halfway in shock about the size of her fortune.  

Why had nobody ever told her? Why had Dumbledore never given her the keys? 

Credit card and some cash money in hand, she hurried of towards the airport. 

A tiny brunette child ran towards a small boy with green highlights in his black hair. “Ryoma!!" She shrieked, excited. Her own hair was a black so deep that it shone blue under the sun. Her emerald green eyes were focused on the sleeping boy besides the tennis court.  

Golden cat eyes blinked up at the tiny figure, a smile slowly appearing as the little girl ran towards him. She threw herself right on top of him. He exhaled softly as the breath was knocked out of him. “Hariel." He stated quietly, gently embracing the excited girl. “What’s going on?" 

“I can finally get my own racket." She answered, green eyes shining with happiness. “I worked really hard and earned lots of money, I did chores for lots of people." Ryoma frowned minutely, not happy that his friend, his best friend, had to work to earn her own racket. Her stupid aunt and uncle had refused to pay for her tennis racket. 

His own parents had immediately offered to pay for her, but she was stubborn and refused to be a burden. He worried about her sometimes, stuck with those people who clearly didn’t take care of his best friend. 

He smiled at her, getting up and taking her hand in a steady grip. “Let’s go. I’m sure oyaji will take us to the store." 

The two kids ran off towards a house further down the road. 

A young man happily picked up both kids, carrying them to the car to go to the shop. “Let’s go, seishonen, bishoujo." The Samurai exclaimed happily, excited to help the little girl whom they’d all grown to love. 

Blinking disoriented, Hariel woke up from her all too brief catnap as the flight attendant made an announcement. Her dream already fading from her conscious mind. “We are now landing at the International Tokyo Airport. Thank you for flying with us."    

Stumbling down the steps in a daze, she left the plane. As she didn’t have any other luggage besides her back pack she could bypass the conveyor belts. She slipped through the crowds onto the street. The warm air of Tokyo hit her like a wall of sticky syrupy heat as she left the cool airport. 

She took the bus towards a different part of Tokyo, then wandered down roads and alleys slowly. Past unfamiliar buildings and parks. Eventually she ended up in front of the temple her best friend called home. 

Briefly clenching her hands, little red halfmoon indents appearing on her palms, she tried to gather her courage. She rang the bell. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape the cage of her ribs as she anxiously waited for the door to open. 

Ryoma’s eyes widened as he recognized the petite figure standing in front of his house. “Hariel..." Not even hesitating for a second, he stepped forward and hugged his best friend tightly, winding strong arms around her too skinny frame. “You didn’t tell me you were coming." 

Hariel clung to the raven-haired boy. She had missed him so much. Refusing to lift her head, she took in the calming scent of the tennis player. He still smelt like sun and ponta, exactly the same as in her memories. Feeling the heat from his arms around her waist sinking into her cold, too cold body she shuddered. Her magic reached out, densely weaving and twining over the golden-eyed boy in greeting. 

The ice in her veins, which had been building layer by layer shattered like so much fragile glass. She started crying, relieved and overwhelmed and so soothed by finding somebody she trusted implicitly. She pressed her cheek harder against his warm skin. 

Ryoma’s eyes widened when he felt the tears dripping onto his skin. He panicked for a moment, not at all sure what he was supposed to be doing right now. Slowly he lifted a hand and started patting her soft hair. “There, there..." 

Hariel hickuped, laughter pulled out of her almost against her will. “You are really bad at comforting people, Ryoma." She stated softly. Green shimmered over his black hair as he turned his head away with a faint blush. “Hnn." He grunted, trying to appear indifferent. 

Emerald eyes closed briefly. “S-Sorry for showing up unannounced." She apologized, embarrassed by her own reaction, and afraid that she wasn’t welcome here. Anxiety was already bubbling up in the pit of her stomach, making her swallow uneasily.  

Ryoma merely grasped her hand, tugging her into the house before closing the door behind them. “Don’t be stupid, Hariel, you are always welcome with us, you should know that by now." Hariel grinned at the blunt answer, Ryoma hadn’t changed a bit. At his immediate reassurance that she was welcome, the anxiety subsided a little. 

“Oi, seishonen who was that?" Nanjirou asked distractedly, still reading his magazine. When Ryoma didn’t answer he rolled over to look at his son. Spotting the small teenager following in his wake he jumped up excitedly. “Ah bishoujo, I haven’t seen you in forever." Without so much as a by your leave, he gathered the girl up into his arms and spun her around. Grinning widely as he looked down at her tiny frame. 

“Ryoma didn’t mention you were coming." He stated questioningly, after he gently set her on her feet again. Hariel blinked up at him, a little bit dazed. “He didn’t know, Nanjirou-san, sorry for showing up unannounced." 

The Samurai raised a bemused eyebrow. “It’s no problem, you can stay with us of course for as long as you are in Japan. It’s unlike you though, Hariel-chan, to show up all of a sudden." For a moment, his carefree grin dropped. “Did something happen?" He asked softly, the entire Echizen family had a soft spot a mile wide for this girl and they all worried about her, being left behind with those godawful relatives of hers. 

Ever since she had started Hogwarts that worry had multiplied exponentially. The letters she had sent, mentioning giant snakes, escaped convicts (even if he turned out to be innocent) and possessed professors really weren’t helping. Her last few letters, telling them about how the school was turning against her made their worry skyrocket, since Hariel was far more prone to understatement than dramatics. 

“Thank you for allowing me to stay." She bowed deeply to show her sincere thanks. She elected to ignore the question for now, as she wasn’t sure how to even begin to explain what had happened. She couldn’t bring herself to talk about Hedwig yet. The only thing she really wanted was to forget everything that had happened, for all the glares and the curses and the hate and most of all the sudden maddening grief to simply fade from her memory. To stop hurting. 

Golden cat-eyes stared at her thoughtfully, Ryoma was worried. His best friend was far from okay. Those green eyes should be nearly glowing and instead they were dim and unfocussed. Flat. 

Distantly she registered a door opening and then sliding shut, footsteps softly coming towards them. 

“Ah, Hariel-chan..." Rinko said, surprised, as she appeared in the doorway. The woman had clearly just come home. “How have you been sweetheart?" She asked gently, tugging the petite teenager into a hug. 

Before she knew it, Hariel was crying again. Rinko only shushed her softly, rubbing her back as she cried out her fear and her pain. It was just so overwhelming, they hadn’t even seen her in person for several years but their first reaction was still concern, for her.  

In five minutes they had shown more consideration, more kindness towards her, than almost anybody else had in months. Save for Hedwig... who was gone gone gone, and Hermione who had been the one to push her into running away in the first place. It was always affection which broke down all of her walls, being so rare in her life. 

Ryoma came over and awkwardly patted her head again, somehow this only made her cry harder. He was so kind and she was being such a burden. Rinko looked worried as she felt the tears soaking her shoulder. What had happened to the positive, vivacious girl they’d left in England years ago?  

Her letters had shown a worrying trend of dangerous events happening around the raven but she had seemed upbeat and even happy in spite of all of the dangerous situations she tended to end up in. She had written about several wixen, incredibly pleased that she had made more friends. Had she been hiding how bad her situation had gotten because she didn’t want to upset them?  

Eventually Hariel cried herself to sleep. Shivering and curling in on herself subconsciously. Her tears still silently continuing to track down her too pale face. 

“Nanjirou, make up a bed in Ryoma’s room." Rinko said softly, trying not to wake the exhausted girl in her arms. She glanced at her worried son, who was still sitting beside her. “Do you know what is going on, Ryoma?" The golden-eyed teenager shook his head. He had no clue, but obviously something did. Hariel would never cry for stupid, silly reasons... 

Hariel blinked up at a sun-spotted ceiling. She watched the shadows play, merging and weaving over the white expanse for a long moment. Turning around, she spotted Ryoma peacefully slumbering in a bed. Ah... this is his room then, I think. Glancing around she saw Karupin curled up on Ryoma’s stomach, several rackets and tennis magazines strewn around. 

“Ryoma, Hariel, breakfast is ready." A cheerful voice called upstairs. Yawning, she ventured out of her comfortable warm futon patting Karupin softly, the too smart feline glancing up at her before rubbing his head against her hand.  

Hariel wandered downstairs still clad in a too large red t-shirt and black shorts. Ryoma followed her grumpily, sleepily rubbing his eyes. He didn’t appear to truly be awake, seeming to function solely on muscle memory, Karupin cradled in his arms. She smiled softly as she stirred Ryoma away from the door he had been about the bump into. 

“Ah, Hariel-chan, I put you in some of Ryoma’s clothes, we thought it better to let you sleep off the jetlag." Rinko stated gently, ushering the young girl towards a seat at the breakfast table. 

“Thank you." She muttered shyly, green eyes still too flat and cold for comfort. Despite the soft look in her eyes when she looked at Ryoma, in general her gaze had become colder and harder compared to the warm green it had been, was supposed to be. 

“Itadakimasu." Five people at the table stated in unison. Ryoma tucked into his delicious Japanese style breakfast, slowly waking up. Eventually he blinked and registered Nanako’s curious glances at their guest. The blue-haired young woman was glancing at the unexpected edition to the household subtly. 

“Ah, that’s Nanako, she’s my cousin." He explained to Hariel. “Nanako, this is Hariel, she’s my best friend." Nanako almost wanted to coo at him, it was so cute to see him admit that she was his best friend, even if he flushed at the admittance. He was such a stoic boy, but he obviously cared a lot for this tiny teenager. 

“Nice to meet you." The older girl stated gently. “Nice to meet you too." Hariel returned, bowing her head politely. Breakfast passed with a comforting chatter as Hariel simply looked on, soaking in the warm atmosphere. No hidden hostilities, no hateful glances, just a family, having breakfast. It meant the world to her that she was so easily included in their warm dynamic. 

Hariel laid her hand on a rune to enlarge her trunk back to its original size. Magic was supposed to be hard without a wand, but with some extra focus the raven didn’t find it that hard at all. Runes were usually charged with the aid of a wand, but Hariel had trained herself out of that from the beginning.  

She considered that to be a weakness she couldn’t afford at the Dursley’s and it had ended up being a boon, since directly charging the runes granted her more control. It taught her to wield her wandless magic with precision more befitting people thrice her age.  

Her magic was... suspiciously easy to wield. She was incredibly sensitive to its currents and moods. She could feel other people’s magic as well, but nobody had ever mentioned anything like that... 

“Ah, where is your wand?" The boy questioned bluntly in the doorway. He knew all about the Wizarding World, just like his parents and older brother. Even Nanako knew. The Echizen’s were squib descended, but their line had never forgotten where they came from. They sometimes ventured into magical districts and possessed enough magic for simple runes and potions, but in general they rarely bothered. 

Ryoma had made his own choice a long time ago, when it became clear that Karupin was likely compatible as his familiar he had bonded with his beloved cat. The bond between them was strong and the Himalayan cat would likely live to be exactly as old as Ryoma.  

He didn’t have enough magic for anything else anymore now, what little he had been born with completely tied up in the bond with Karupin. He had never regretted trading his lacklustre ability with potions and runes for his bond with the Himalayan cat though. 

The whole family had been shocked when she admitted to being famous, and it had relieved her immensely to realise that they hadn’t known about her fame at all. 

“I broke it." Hariel admitted tonelessly, green eyes dispassionately continuing to look over her the clothes in her trunk, trying to decide what to wear. 

Ryoma’s golden eyes widened. That was a very serious thing in the wizarding world, if he remembered correctly. 

“Hariel..." He trailed off, trying to word his question right, for once opting not to be too blunt. He might not care for social niceties, but he did care for the petite girl. “What caused the cuts on your arm? Why did you show up here all of a sudden, what happened with the Triwizard Tournament?" 

He tried, but Ryoma, being Ryoma, really didn’t have a subtle bone in his body. 

Hariel swallowed uneasily, feeling ashamed of her weakness. Her scars were on display and she had barely even noticed until he reminded her because she felt so safe around the tennis prodigy. 

“I... they attacked me." She eventually admitted softly, attempting to appear stoic. “Almost everybody at Hogwarts hated me for being a cheater or something, because the goblet picked my name. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t even entered myself, because nobody believed me. They didn’t believe me when I told them I had managed to undo the contract either. They.. Hurt... They hurt..." 

Roughly rubbing her eyes to try and stop the tears she bit her lips harshly. She couldn’t manage to tell him what had happened to Hedwig.  

She blinked in confusion when Ryoma took her hands in his. Serious golden eyes bored into empty green. “I don’t want to watch you hurt yourself Hariel, I know you didn’t enter yourself into that tournament. You did nothing wrong. Whatever happened, you can tell me when you feel ready, don’t force yourself." 

Tears splashed on their joint hands. “What was so wrong with me that they hated me? Ryoma, why me?" Tenderly the boy brushed her tears away. He pressed a loving kiss to her forehead. “There is nothing wrong with you Hariel. If they couldn’t see how wonderful you are that is their problem. You didn’t deserve this." 

She threw herself forwards, curling up into his lap as she cried, vague memories of pain lancing through her arm in white hot arcs rising to the surface. Ryoma gently stroked her back, curling a supportive arm around her waist. “It’s okay Ri-chan, you’ll be okay. We’ll take care of you." Normally she’d never show that she was upset, but Ryoma was the person she trusted the most in the entire world. 

Tears were streaming down her face, flowing over her cheeks and her lips, dripping down her shirt in tiny rivulets. When her sobs slowly died down, she leaned her tired head against her best friend’s warm shoulder, eyes stinging and red from her crying jag. “Sorry for crying on you." She finally murmured. Her hands clenched anxiously in his t-shirt. “I don’t mind." He stated indifferently, softly stroking her hair. Hariel smiled, Ryoma had never lied to her so the quiet statement soothed her fears.  

She had been choking down her emotions for weeks, suppressing everything and keeping a blank face in front of the hateful crowds. Now that she felt safe, everything came pouring out. 

Changing the subject, because he was well aware that Hariel didn’t like being vulnerable anymore than he did, he spoke up again. “I signed up for the under sixteen division of a tournament that is being held tomorrow." The girl blinked, content with the change in subject, but not yet willing to leave her safe warm perch.  

“That is allowed?" She asked curiously. He nodded, perfectly fine with the petite girl remaining on his lap. He had missed her and still worried for her. There was nothing left of the vivacious girl he had first met so many years ago. In comparison this new version of Hariel was disturbingly fragile and strangely hardened all at once. 

“Most tennis players never try it. I wanted the challenge though." He smirked, looking very cocky and sure of himself. The corner of Hariel’s mouth curled up, she had missed this. His confidence was a balm to her ragged nerves. 

“Can I come and watch?" He nodded. “I don’t mind." They sat in silence for a while.  Then Ryoma spoke up again. “Hariel, do you want to play a match today?" He asked eagerly. The last time they played a match they’d been ten, with Ryoma narrowly snatching the victory. He had been incredibly hard pressed to win. Hariel was a very fierce opponent. The tiebreak had been difficult and it had come down mostly to luck, to score that last point he needed to win. 

She nodded. “I... I don’t know if my arm will hold up though, but I guess we could play with our off hands?" She asked, not sure if she was allowed to ask for a handicap from him. They were both ambidextrous tennis players, but just because she couldn’t use her dominant hand didn’t mean he had to give up using his as well.  

“Of course, I want to play against you at your best. There is nothing worthwhile in playing full out to win against somebody who is playing with a handicap." 

Then he paused for a moment. “What is wrong with your arm?" He asked, concerned. The scars seemed incredibly fresh but they would heal well right? Did she need more treatment? Could she not use that arm without opening up the bloody tracks rend into her skin? 

“Ah, my wrist is... uhm, broken." She mumbled under her breath. “What?!" Ryoma pulled her up, ignoring her protests that she had to get dressed. “Kaa-san, oyaji, Hariel’s wrist is broken!" He shouted, as he descended the stairs, dragging the emerald eyed girl behind him.  

“But it will heal, I have a spell on it to act as a cast. Why are you worried?" She blurted out. Nanjirou and Rinko blinked at her. “We’ll take you to the hospital, Ryoma help her get dressed." Then she turned to Hariel, who was looking at them with a tiny confused frown.  

“I’d like it if a medical specialist looked you over, Britain’s healers are known to be fairly backwards." Rinko explained gently, trying to ignore the ache in her heart at the confusion Hariel showed at the idea that somebody would care that her wrist was broken.  

“O-Okay." She stuttered. Ryoma led her back up the stairs, following along to get dressed himself as well as to help her out. 

Hariel was dressed in a long-sleeved blue t-shirt and white shorts, while Ryoma pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. “I need to use my hand because I want to braid my hair." She stated softly when she saw him frown. “Che." Ryoma pushed down the hand she had been raising towards her long black hair.  

“Brush." He demanded shortly. Hariel easily gave it to him. He started brushing out his friend’s waist long hair, which had a blue sheen in the sunlight. Hariel’s brush was engraved with runes to prevent knots. The slender girl was nearly purring as he ever so gently brushed out her hair, then he started braiding. How hard could it be right? “Tie." She handed the black scrunchy over to him. 

Ryoma had managed a messy braid, Hariel only smiled and thanked him. She was proud to wear that braid, since it was so rare for anybody to do her hair for her. It was rare for anybody to do anything for her at all... 

“Hariel-chan, I need to deliver the paperwork for a court case, so Nanjirou will take you and Ryoma to the hospital, okay?" The raven girl nodded mutely as Rinko patted her head softly. The woman left in a hurry, taking along a small mountain of paperwork. 

“Let’s go, bishoujo, seishonen." Nanjirou said, for once somewhat subdued. A broken limb was no laughing matter and it worried him that Hariel was confused by their concern. How far had the abuse of her relatives gone? 

He ushered the two teens into the car. Ryoma was telling her about some of his recent matches as Hariel watched him with a soft smile on her face, listening intently. 

Hariel had very politely encouraged Nanjirou and Ryoma to go and get lunch in the city, since she was just waiting until somebody was available to check on her wrist. It wasn’t like she couldn’t handle herself since she spoke fluent Japanese. There was no need to make them wait with her, that would be a waste of their time. She already felt guilty enough that they felt like they needed to take her to a hospital.  

Sighing softly, she got up and walked towards the vending machine. Still pondering over the, in her eyes, disproportionate amount of concern she didn’t notice that there was somebody in front of her. “S-Sorry." She stammered softly, as she finally noticed that she had nearly walked into somebody, managing to spin away at the last possible second.  

“It’s fine." The tall boy stated kindly. With his wavy navy-blue hair and gentle violet eyes, he was incredibly pretty. 

“Still, sorry again." Hariel apologized softly, bowing politely. Then she simply went on her way, unaware of the violet eyes looking at her thoughtfully. It had been a long, long time since a girl simply ignored him. He was surprised by how refreshing it was to be treated as just another person.  

Hariel cocked her head to the side, confused by the pull on her magic. 

Selecting a ponta in honour of Ryoma, Hariel returned to the waiting room again. “Ah." She said, surprised, as she noticed that the boy she had nearly walked into was now seated in the empty waiting room as well. 

“Are you visiting somebody?" The boy questioned gently. She didn’t seem to be hurt. Hariel blinked, a little surprised that the pretty boy was talking to her. “Ah no, my wrist is, ah, broken." She admitted quietly. His eyes widened, she must have an incredible pain tolerance to still be walking around like this, with no trace of tears. 

“What about you? How did you end up in the hospital?" The raven-haired girl asked, genuine interested. The boy seemed nice and despite being a stranger her magic was singing in her heart that he was good. Spirals of her dense magical power were whirling around him as if her magic was attaching itself to him. It was beyond rare for her magic to react to somebody, but she trusted her instincts. 

Seeing her kind genuine face and feeling like he knew her for some reason, he simply blurted out the truth for once. “I’m being treated for Guillain-Barré Syndrome." Hariel simply eyed him with a curious glint, not intimidated by the name. “I don’t know what that is." She admitted candidly. 

“It’s a neurological disease that paralyses muscles. My legs are affected. The operation to cure it only has a fifty percent survival rate." He said softly. Hariel looked at him with sympathy, no pity to be found. “That is horrible." She said quietly. He merely hummed quietly, not really sure why he had even admitted this to a total stranger when he was still struggling to even tell his team.  

She didn’t look away... Everybody always looks away from me, but she... did not. 

“You must be very brave." Hariel looked at him with green eyes which showed a sort of kinship. As if she knew how hard and terrible the world could be. How unfair and casually cruel. But just like him this girl was still unwilling to simply lie down and die. 

“Why do you think so?" He asked, a little bit confused. “Because you are going to take that surgery." Hariel stated, as if this was a known fact. The boy’s eyes widened in surprise. “What makes you say that?" She hummed, staring out of the window for a long moment, grief and anger shimmering in her suddenly too bright, poison green gaze. 

Her hand strayed to a white feather encased in a very thin layer of glass which hung on a simple silver chain. 

“Because you are too angry to simply accept what this disease would take away from you." She eventually stated. The boy was shocked, how could she see through him so easily? Not even his best friend knew just how much he hated the disease that had taken tennis from him and just how determined he was to get better. He had held his frustration, his anger and his fear inside. Pretending, pretending, pretending to be okay, always. 

“What is your name?" He asked, hands trembling a tiny bit as he stared at the girl who had seen him so clearly despite his careful attempts to mask his pain. 

“Potter Hariel... What is yours?" “Yukimura Seiichi." Green eyes met violet. A bond formed between two teens who were both far too familiar with cruel circumstances for their young age.