Carry On

“That’s eerie...” Harry murmured as he watched the miniscule scrunching lights inch up the side of the pensive and toward the harsh blue flame in a jar. “Is there a reason they’re going to the fire, and not just staying where they were?” Harry rolled his shoulders and minutely shifted around while still lying on the bed. He had had to get up a while ago and do a quick rinse while the sheets were changed.

He felt… oddly drained.

Lily hummed, watching the maggots as they burned in the magic flame. “Compared to the pensive, this flame is a beacon of stronger magic. The stronger the magic, the more ambient magic available for them to focus on procreating. When a wizard does magic, a mark of it is left throughout the body… a playground for these guys to colonize.” Lily murmured. Harry was glad she was so focused on coaxing the maggots out of the tiny pool of memories still in the pensive.

“So… the more magic I did, the more I fed them…?” Harry tried not to gag, but his voice gave a strange wobble mid-way through.

“Naturally, your body will burn out poison and infestations. It’s your status quo…” Lily trailed off and glanced to Harry. She paused before she looked to the maggots again, “well, that is, your body has a conflicting source of phoenix tears and basilisk venom. The venom tears through your body, killing everything it reaches. And the tears heal the damage. The effects of venom on the human body have never been studied at length—because no one has ever been recorded as surviving. You’ve been your own case study.” Lily fed a few more black leaves in to the blue fire when the flame started to shrink. The maggots hesitated for a moment, but once the fire was back to attractive size, they continued their frantic crawl.

“The effects were initially dissipating with age, but with the changes in magic they started to become… infinitely more potent. I would say your blood could honestly be considered a weapon of epic proportions should anyone touch or consume it,” Lily tapped the side of the pensive with a short metal rod, dislodging a few stubborn maggots and jump starting their crawl to the flame. They number of tiny lights was lessening. “A weapon… or a miracle beyond measure. But is it worth the risk to find out?” She hummed.

“So… the fevers…?” Harry trailed off, more than ready to change the subject from something he didn’t want to think too hard on. It was serendipitous

Lily quirked a smile, pleased that Harry was catching on so quickly. “Right on the dot, dad. It was a sign that your body was burning your infestation out. You probably would have gone back to rights… if you hadn’t kept putting more in to your system. Their lifespans inside you was short, which is why you didn’t become a vegetable in a few hours.” Lily stirred the memories with the rod, prompting another swarm out and toward the blue flame.

Harry closed his eyes with a sigh—of course he had made things worse.

“Its okay, these maggots are tricky. They’re Exspiravit maggots—they transcend physical boundaries. They need magic to live, so they often gather in swarms on a host. They’re also a pest in plant roots if they invade the soil of magical plants…” Lily trailed off.

Albus approached, his short grey hair hidden under a surgical cap and face mostly hidden by a mask and wide safety glasses. His gloved hands held a tray with a soaked cloth on it.

Harry groaned before he tiredly squirmed out of his hospital shirt. Harry dropped it to the side and gave Albus access to the still viciously angry looking orange smear over his stomach. “So, what’ll this do?”

“It’ll remove the residue. It’ll stop any more from permeating your system. The removal of the potion influence over you will take a few days to completely flush out of you. Do-able, but complicated.” Albus reminded Harry as he set the tray down on the bed side, and carefully picked up the cloth. Harry hissed when the cloth was draped over Harry’s stomach. It was cold.

Albus hummed his sympathy. But that didn’t change the fact that Albus soon wrapped up Harry’s arms in a similarly soaked cloth and then stuck Harry’s arms in plastic bags.

“This is disgusting,” Harry hissed, wiggling his fingers.

“This last one is for your face. I advise that you keep your mouth closed for the duration of this,” Albus held up a cloth that was vaguely facial in shape. “Before I apply this, is there anything you want us to talk about for you?” Albus offered, if only because Harry was obviously not going to fall asleep.

“… you keep mentioning magic—it’s different? Your, uh, granddaughter mentioned that the wizards and witches last night ‘wasted’ magic on me. What did she mean?” Harry haltingly pulled his thoughts together, doing his best to express himself.

Albus let out a breath and nodded. Harry motioned for Albus to apply the cloth, and shivered again when the chill was placed over his lower jaw. It spanned over his nose, his cheeks, down his face, and most of his neck. There was a slit for his nose—it all smelled overwhelmingly of… sage and pomegranates. And probably a few other things. Harry waved a wrapped hand and motioned to the facial mask.

Lily grinned, and Albus pinched off his gloves and had them dropped in a foot bin before he pulled off his protective gear. “It’s a binding potion—to soak up the potion remnants. The strongest smells from it are the sage and Pomegranate peels, but you’ll also be smelling the bayberry bark. They’re the most pungent ingredients.” Harry mentally sighed to himself, and closed his eyes and waited for someone to speak about their chosen topic.

“Magic… isn’t what it was.” Lily started off the conversation. “Do you remember that I mentioned… the fevers?” She asked, and Harry lifted a hand and gave an ‘up’ motion. Lily obviously took that as a yes, because she continued.

“The fevers were only the beginning, really. We had a large squib population forming. Since then, stretching on for about twenty five years, half of the magic potentials suffered the fever and became squibs. Most of them being muggleborns, just from sheer population size.” Lily chattered, and Harry opened his eyes to watch Lily stir the pensive once more.

“When you fell under the Arcobaleno curse—well, that’s when… when the magic started declining more and more. Eventually, not even squibs were born. There was just… nothing. It caused a lot of desperation. The purebloods called that generation ‘muds’—and they became research fodder. None have survived so far. The breeding program of squibs, all their muds are donated to the program.” Harry watched Lily for a moment longer before he closed his eyes.

Harry wanted to know this. He asked for this.

He couldn’t even put to words how he felt.

His stomach twisted and he clenched his hands in to fists.

Lily had specifically mentioned the Arcobaleno curse… that coincided with the lack of any kind of magical birth.

“Of course, by then we had already founded the Carcassa. Mum pulled us out of Hogwarts after James was kidnapped. Lost him for a good three days. He wasn’t really the same after that. He told mum what happened, but we never caught wind of the details. They took… a lot of blood.” Lily trailed off.

“I still say they used the blood to locate you. The times coincide… but we’re getting off topic.” Albus gently guided their conversation back to their chosen topic.

“Right, right… Well, I can’t find any more maggots. So this has been decontaminated.” Harry opened his eyes, just to watch Lily place the blue flames to the side. The pensive was moved from Lily’s lap and shakily transferred to a workstation. Lily let out a tired groan as she slowly lowered herself back in to Harry’s bedside chair. A thin, wrinkled hand moved to rub at her hip as she relaxed.

“But yes… magic. We’ve noticed that the more magic used by castors, the shorter a witch or wizard’s lifespan. They age prematurely, and often die of one natural cause or other. Squibs don’t seem to be as afflicted with this problem. But full grown witches and wizards…” Lily trailed.

Albus pulled another thin chair close to the foot of Harry’s bed, and Harry watched his son slowly sink down. “Mum trained us in passive magics. Auntie Hermione and Auntie Fleur pulled together to find as many alternatives as possible. Mum constructed alliances with as many races as she could—it was noticed that over time, the power of creatures was, and still is, increasing. Centaurs are living longer. Pests are multiplying at astronomical rates...”

“In general, they’re becoming more powerful, their birthrates are increasing—and they’ve been rapidly developing magics of their own, when there was none before. Or the strength of already affirmed magic has shown various levels of increased strength…” Lily hummed, threading her fingers over her stomach.

“Of course… there was that spike, about five years ago?” Lily checked with Albus, who gave a tired nod. “I think we had a sudden spike of squibs. Mum staged a kidnapping of them—we’re raising them here. All twenty-six of them.”

“There was record that there should have been forty-nine of them.” Albus closed his eyes and tiredly tilted his head back. Harry eyed the thinness of his son’s skin, and the slump of his shoulders, the bulging of neck veins pressed to thin skin. It was easy to see through the rosy tint of his memories, but looking at his children now reminded him that they were old in ways that he couldn’t understand. His son looked like he was ready for a nap, what with the way that his head was starting to nod.

Lily looked to Albus and sighed to herself. “Right. There should have been more. They were all born within ten minutes. That was just in Britain, though… I’m sure there is more of them, elsewhere.”

Lily turned and locked eyes with Harry. She leaned forward and slowly ran her fingers through Harry’s hair. Soothing it back and out of his eyes. “The world has been changing pretty rapidly. I’ve watched it do radical changes throughout my whole life. Even the birth of a squib has become a precious thing. I remember a time when it was still considered an embarrassment.” Lily sighed and let her head drop down to rest next to Harry’s own on the pillow.

“It’s a crazy world, dad… your Arcobaleno are kind of crazy, too. But I feel like they’re not as crazy as what the wizarding world has become.” Lily murmured, and Harry twisted his head to look to her. Their eyes locked and she smiled.

“You’ve complained about them a lot. It was rather tense in the beginning, hearing about what was happening to you. Mum despised the whole lot of them. But they pulled through, in the end. When it mattered the most.” Lily closed her eyes when she spoke, reaching out with her hands to wrap around Harry’s closest bicep.

“… it was painful, watching you. What they did to you…” Her fragile hands tightened on Harry’s arm. “We did the best that we could. But… but sometimes our best wasn’t good enough. And I… I am so, so sorry.” Lily pressed her cheek against Harry’s shoulder.

Harry wanted to ask, but the cloth…

Lily sighed again, “… James is getting a visual time line prepared for you. Mum kept a ‘just in case’ record box. In the event that you were ever… you.”

Smoothly, they descended in to silence. And Harry closed his eyes.

Lily had always preferred to sleep with him. As a babe, she had fussed terribly with Ginny and refused to go down for naps unless Harry was the one settling her. She eventually settled to accept both of their parenting. But she had been fussy in ways that Albus and James hadn’t. (James had always been a mama’s boy, Harry believed the term was. They had all been so different, endearing in their own ways.)

And they just quietly eased in to a doze. Familiar but strange at the same time.

A timer rang off to the side, and Albus jumped out of his nap with a startled snort. He blinked for a moment before he scrambled up. Albus slipped on his gear, with new gloves, and promptly removed all of the soaked cloth from Harry’s skin, starting with the one over Harry’s mouth. “Don’t talk yet. Please give me a moment dad.”

They clothes were dropped in a hazard bin, and Albus used what Harry could tell was rubbing alcohol just by the smell of it—used it to rub off the remaining residue. A cool water moistened cloth was rubbed over that to clear up the last of it.

“Alright. That should take care of that. I’ll go ahead and start the brewing process for the potion you have to ingest. The effects are still there, but your body will no longer absorb the residue. Once we have the potion made, it’ll take you about three days to slowly sweat it out. You’ll need a dose every five hours…” Albus trailed off before he moved to pitter-patter around his work station.

“This potion takes several hours to brew, doesn’t it?” Lily asked, getting a confirming hum for her question. “Dad is cleared to leave, yeah?”

“Yes. Can’t do much more for him at the moment. This takes time.” Albus waved a hand, and Harry tiredly sat up. He pulled on his shirt and buttoned up. Once that task was done, he hopped to his feet. He was very much glad that he was getting the chance to leave. As much as this room was more like a cozy workshop, it still smelled like a hospital wing and Harry was not going to get much rest there. Lily took up his hand and moved to make for the door.

Harry paused, and Lily came to a stop once he did as well.

“Albus… what about… the scars?” Harry asked, holding up his free arm to show off the lightly oranged scars running up his arm. Over the hours the color had shrank to small circles directly over the scars. Albus turned to look, as did Lily. They shared a glance.

“… Talk to James, first. After that, we can sort them out. If you’d like.” Albus demurred and turned away.

Lily tugged on his hand, and Harry silently let her lead him away.

They moved through the halls—and outside.

Harry took a deep breath and shaded his eyes as Lily lead the way toward a house a small distance away. “This is the Potter family home, now. Mum had the cottage moved from Scotland to here. Wizarding magic doesn’t maintain it, but Goblin wards now.” Lily supplied as they walked through the soft grass and to the front door. Harry glanced down to his bare feet before mentally shrugging to himself. He raised his eyes, now used to the bright outside sun—and enjoyed the rolling hills of Italian countryside. Lily led the way inside.

It was almost like a manor. Beautiful polished floors. Open floor plan. Lots of seating. A nice fireplace tucked in to a corner. They didn’t linger long, and moved through the home toward a hall that branched left and right. Lily led him as far left as they could go before she pushed open a bedroom door.

Oodako lazily waved a tentacle from the large fish tank he was lounging in.

Harry smiled, slipping away from Lily to go up to the glass. Harry pressed a hand to the glass, and Oodako pressed a tentacle back. The moment lasted shortly before Oodako drifted off to lazily hunt for a fish. The tank was rather huge and finely decorated, and Harry stepped back from it and finally evaluated the room.

A fairly large bed, Gryffindor red sheets, matching curtains and rugs—and wide double doors that led to a small private patio. There was a small privacy fence, and the patio itself wasn’t large enough for more than a metal table and chair set.

“Mum made this one. As a reminder for you,” Lily closed the door and drifted in. Harry spied all of his things that he left behind on a desk tucked in to a corner of the room. And in the corner… his firebolt. Harry blinked and drifted toward the object. But before Harry could reach out to touch, Lily spoke. “Brooms don’t work, not anymore. They’re just… brooms.” Lily moved toward the double doors that led to the patio and opened them up.

A sudden warm breeze pushed the vaguely stale air out of the room.

Harry dropped his hand, and turned away from the broom to watch his daughter step out on to the patio and sit in one of the chairs. Harry followed a moment later and sat down as well.

They shared a silence for a moment before Harry broke it. “It was said… that the more magic a wizard or witch uses, the shorter their lifespan?”

Lily hummed, eyes up to the sky. “Yes. Our bodies are fully capable of magic. Tests were inconclusive, but it was supposed that instead of an outside source of our power, we use our lifespans, now.” Lily drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair.

“I thought… wasn’t it theorized that we used the natural power of the earth? Something about ley lines?” Harry through out there. His theory had never been the best. That had been more of Hermione’s thing.

Lily dropped her eyes and looked to Harry. “They disappeared… when the Arcobaleno curse was broken.”

There it was again, comparing time lines to his curse. “What are you implying?”

Lily rubbed at her face, “we don’t have all of the pertinent information. You never explained why the Arcobaleno were chosen or cursed. A curse has to have a function—you were baby sized for half a century, dad.” Lily dropped her hand, stared at it, before she folded her hands in her lap.

“The creature in the checker mask—must have gained something from it all. Whatever it was… James always suspected that it directly interfered with the magic we used.” Lily took a shuddering breath, eyes on the ground.

Harry reached out and placed a hand on top of her folded hands.

“It’s why we decided to go ahead and use the resources needed to clear out the maggots. If those are your memories as Skull, perhaps we can get some information about why…” Lily trailed off, shifting her hands so she could thread their fingers together.

“I… I have always wanted to know why…” She trailed off in to silence.

“Please get some rest, daddy. I will as well. It’s been a trying couple of months, hasn’t it?” Lily spoke faintly after a time. She patted Harry on the hand and stood up. Harry nodded in agreement, and silently watched her go. The door to his room quietly shut. It was once again him and his thoughts. Well, him, Oodako, and his thoughts. Harry took a moment to bask in the sun before he stood and walked back in to his bedroom.

The tall bureau in the corner had an abundance of male styled clothes. Harry pulled out a simple shirt and jeans set and changed after locating appropriate undergarments. The bottommost drawer held clothes that tickled at his memory—and the punk style of the clothes reminded Harry a lot of what he supposed himself as Skull would have preferred.

In fact, Harry inspected the room a bit more closely. Under the bed was a series of plastic boxes filled with his things. Well, Skull’s things. “We must have had a room in the barracks here…” Harry murmured, “right Oodako?” Harry peered up and to the tank where Oodako was. Harry didn’t think Oodako was listening, because he was still lazily swimming around. Harry supposed there was a barracks—where else would the Carcassa host everyone?

Well, considering that most of the Carcassa were apparently magicals, it made sense that Harry had never stuck around. Was never given a house and a room. Wanted, but at the same time set aside. A cot—a place to sleep. Safety, but at the same time… Harry rubbed the back of his neck, and buried the hope that all of this trust was not being misplaced deep in to the depths of his bleeding heart.

Harry pulled out the boxes and pawed through everything.

He had a lot of sets of punk styled boots.

… and a big box of earrings. And related paraphernalia. Harry stood up from the floor with a finely crafted jewelry box and moved to grab his wand—

Harry paused.

His wand… ? Not here.

“They kept their word, then. It’s still there, in that room…” Harry trailed off. On the topic of magic, now that he was thinking about it, did he even want to use magic? Harry shivered at the memory of fire, the self-induced pain as he had kept flooding his system with magic that fed the maggots. Not even just that, but the fact that he was using his life force to fuel his magic? Harry watched his free hand flex. He didn’t feel any different, but maybe that was how it started? He had been using his magic as freely over the last few months as he always had been.

Harry quietly left his room. It didn’t take much for him to find a shared bathroom in the hall. With himself in front of a mirror, Harry really took stock of himself. His hair was still sticking up at odd angles, and terribly purple. His eyes still electric green with fading bruises. He was a bit pale still, but with a healthier tinge than he remembered seeing last time he looked in a mirror.

It was the orange dots that marked the stones that disconcerted him. Harry trailed his fingers over the massive swell of scar flesh, and the eight circles that marked how many stones were there. Harry took a steadying breath, slotted his teeth together, and used his fingers to press firmly on the scar.

Chills ran down his spine as the twinging almost-pain sensation ran through him. Harry took a sharp breath through his nose and pressed firmer. And there. A stone. That was not flesh. Harry closed his eyes and dropped his hand, gripping the sink as he focused on breathing. Blindly, he reached for his phone—

He stopped.

He didn’t have his phone anymore. But even then, who was he going to call?

Harry’s eyes landed on the jewelry box. Quietly he opened it up. Nothing too ostentatious inside the dark red velvet. The box itself was expensive dark patina of holly wood. Silky smooth to the touch. “Must have been a gift…” Harry murmured to himself. His fingers brushed through the studs and silver chains. In fact, it appeared that Harry’s color scheme had very much been purple and silver. “Red would have clashed,” Harry sighed.

Still, Harry eyed the holes he had put in to his body.

Harry found three silver studs, and inserted each one in to the open holes of his left ear. The weight of it was slight, but soothing. Harry trailed his fingers over it. It was only three flat circles, but it was nice. He paused and looked through the box and found one that actually had an octopus engraved on a flat circle of a stud. Harry chuckled to himself, and exchanged the middle stud in his ear with that one.

Perhaps Skull as himself was adorable in his own way. Like a punk child trying to be tough, but tenaciously holding on to the childish things that made him happy. Like Oodako. Harry pawed through the rest and found a few more octopus themed pieces. A necklace with a tiny stylized tentacle, even.

Harry found a simple silver bar and inserted it in to the eyebrow piercing. Harry even tried a small stud for his nostril—but the sensation churned his stomach so he took that back out. The lip piercing was sealed, so Harry let that be. Harry paused at the large ball studs with the really long bars. He held one up and then stuck out his tongue.

Not a hole there, but still. It looked like the kind of thing that would fit. Harry shook his head and placed it down and back in to the box. Harry tilted his head side to side, and then jiggled his head around to see how he felt about the additions.

It wasn’t… a bad feeling.

Harry gently tugged at the jewelry before he closed the box.

“The only me, is me… but I’m not what I was. Not anymore.” Harry watched his face in the mirror. The movement of his lips as he spoke to himself. “I’m me, and a bit more—that sounds better.” Harry smiled to himself. It wasn’t bad, to see himself smile. It was familiar in shape, and Harry appreciated the familiarity.

What was it that Reborn said to him? “… Our choices make us, don’t they…?” Harry took a deep breath and let it out.

He returned to his room and set the jewelry box back in to the plastic box that he found it in. He resealed the box. Harry found the plainest set of boots with the fewest metal spikes and stuck his feet in.

He felt more at ease, now. Like the boots and the jewelry were a strange form of armor. He felt safer.

Harry kicked the boxes back under the bed before he laid down. Sprawled out on his back, Harry stared at the ceiling before he closed his eyes. Perhaps a bit of meditation would do him good? He focused on his breathing and relaxed.

A simple knock woke him up. The sun was setting outside, and a chill was creeping in from the open patio doors. Harry sat up as the door opened. The hall light burst in to the room and Harry squinted. There was Liliana.

She took a deep breath and let it out, “… a word, please.” Liliana left, leaving the door wide open. Her voice carried, “meet me in the kitchen.”

The kitchen?

Well, alright. Harry rubbed at his eye as he rolled out of bed and plodded after her. Due to the open floor plan, he spotted the kitchen well enough and found Liliana sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. There were also wide doors here, open and letting in the slight chill of the approaching night.

“Grab yourself a drink,” the young woman motioned to the fridge, before taking a drink of what looked like cola. Harry nodded and looked through the fridge. Eventually he decided on a simple water bottle. He took a seat next to Liliana and sipped his drink. Harry watched her face, and how she studiously didn’t look at him.

“… you don’t like me, do you?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. First she had treated him was a callous disdain with the handcuffs. And the failed kidnapping. The intense staring at the café. The cautious hostility the night before.

“No. I do not.” Liliana replied flatly.

Harry steeled his heart, “any particular reason why?”

“You killed my mother in one of your rages,” Liliana’s electric green eyes turned to the right, for a moment flashing orange as her hand came up to tangle in a golden necklace that she wore.

Wait…

Liliana’s mother…

“… Albus’ daughter?” Harry felt numb when he said it.

Liliana nodded grimly.

“I…?”

He felt sick.

Liliana looked away. “All I knew you as, was Skull. And one day you just flipped your shit. Great grandmamma—she never figured out what caused it. You snapped out of it, after a show of force. Didn’t remember a thing.”

“… were you there?” Harry heard the water bottle in his hands crinkle.

Liliana took a deep breath, “… no. I was not.”

“I…” Harry trailed off.

“… I forgave you for it. Everyone knows that you’re not able to really stop these things. But… But I can’t…” Liliana took a long sip of her cola.

“You resent me,” Harry filled in the silence.

“Yes,” Liliana agreed, and looked over to him. She paused, eyes drawn to the jewelry that decorated his face. She reached out and tugged gently at the one in his eyebrow. “You’ve always been like a strange uncle to me. A bouncing, energetic—and slightly crazy uncle. Never here long, but always fun when you came back. And then…”

“And then I… killed your mum.” Harry filled in the silence.

Disbelief was the first emotion. Disbelief and denial.

And then… grudging acceptance.

In the end, it was just another sin.

A name he couldn’t put a face to.

It didn’t even feel real.

“Garth, Giacomo, and Giglio—they’re dying. We’ve estimated that they don’t have much time left… Skull.” Liliana drained her can of cola and pushed it away from herself. She didn’t look at Harry, and Harry didn’t correct her on the name she used.

If Liliana had better memories of Skull, than of ‘Harry’, he would allow her whatever comfort she could get. “When you say not much time left…” Harry trailed off.

“The world today is not the same as when you were… conscious. The age of wizards is done, to paraphrase the centaurs.” Liliana drummed her fingers on the marble countertop of the island. “The older generations have been steadily disappearing. No one is reaching the full lifespan of the normal wizard from before.” Liliana concluded.

Harry paused, “… what about… me, then?” He was physically very healthy. Would he be outliving his children?

“You’re an aberration—you do not qualify.” Liliana stated solidly, her voice as carefully flat as ever.

“How much time?” Harry pressed, switching back.

“They’re on a potions regime, and they’ve been on significant bed rest for the past year. Everyone expected them to pass before great grandmamma…” Liliana frowned to herself. “They’ve been exerting themselves too much these past few months.” Because of you, was the blatant accusation that Harry heard without it being said.

“Maybe a few more months. Garth gets exhausted easily… And Giglio—she is frail. Giacomo is the healthiest. I believe he will last the longest.” Liliana concluded.

Harry took a breath, shaken and trying to keep that buried. For some reason, even with the physical evidence before him—it just seemed so impossible. They were too young. (Expect they weren’t—they really weren’t.) “You seem… very calm over it.” Harry murmured.

Liliana whipped about to face Harry directly, back straight and shoulders back. Lips terse and eyes biting. “I’ve known them my entire life. I’ve known they’re frail since I was ten. I accepted their coming death when I was fifteen. I’ve watched them waste away! You don’t get to even imply that I’m heartless.” Liliana bit out, knuckles white and excluding violence.

Harry closed his eyes and dropped his face in his hands.

“Sorry…” Harry trailed off. “I just…”

Liliana sighed. “No, no… it’s—“

“It’s not fine. It really isn’t. But I…” Harry interrupted. But lost his train of thought over it.

Liliana leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “It is what it is.” She concluded. “Besides—I need to talk business with you.”

“Business, is it?” Harry asked, taking a few more breaths before he straightened up.

“Yes, business… Arcobaleno business. What are you planning in that aspect? I am boss, here. I need to know what our stance is. The Carcassa has claimed you, Skull. But the Arcobaleno have a claim as well. What are you going to do?” Liliana pressed.

But really, what was Harry going to do?

“I… I don’t know,” it came out weak.

Liliana frowned, young lines creasing her face. “… no. You must know. Think hard, Skull.”

“Do I have a choice? I see where you’re pressing.” Harry lowered his voice, shoulders drawing up.

Liliana crossed her arms over her chest, “there is always a choice. But I must know it.”

“… let me think on it.” Harry murmured. “… please.”

“Then you can do something for me while you think of it,” Liliana declared, and Harry frowned. He frowned at the countertop, before he directed it at Liliana. Well, Harry had done ‘jobs’ for Ginny (and wasn’t that a strange thought? What had even been in those boxes he had shipped?) but this would be the first one he would be doing for Liliana.

Well, the silence spoke for itself. And Liliana drew herself up. “Your jumpsuit. It has runic modifications. Amongst other things. You need to retrieve it from where you’ve been separated from it.”

“Wait… you mean…” Harry pressed a hand to his shirt even as he eyed the jumpsuit that Liliana was wearing.

“Yes. Go to the Arcobaleno hideout and retrieve it.” Liliana was sitting up tall, shoulders back and trying to be authoritative. It was as cute as it was vaguely insulting. Before Harry could even demand why she would want such a thing, she continued. “It’s soaked in your very presence. DNA and power. The Carcassa villa location is a hidden place. But if turncoat Longbottom gets his hands on that suit—if he realizes just how valuable that thing is…” She trailed off. "The memory you've left behind in that suit is undoubtedly strong enough to lead him here."

It would be a catastrophe.

“But wait… the wards I crashed…?” Harry shivered.

“Fixed and in place. The goblins were quick. We were down for only a handful of minutes.” Liliana dismissed. “My underboss is swift.” Well, it was good that they were competent.

But, there was still the problem of the ‘Arcobaleno hideout’, and returning to a place he didn’t know how to feel about or want to return to or… “Where is the hideout, anyway?”

Liliana closed her eyes, her eyebrow furrowed as she held herself back from obviously sighing. “I guess I need to see Lily about my state of mind…” Harry rubbed his temples, pushing down hard as if that would stave off the headache.

“Indeed,” Liliana grimly sassed.

Harry nudged the water bottle away from himself. He had hardly taken a drink from it, and sagged forward to pillow his head on his arms. “… maybe I should just leave? So that you’re not found.” Harry offered it, as much as it pained him.

Liliana scoffed, “no. This is your home too.”

Harry peeked at Liliana. Well—his gut didn’t say that she was lying. She looked down at him. Hand still tangled in her necklace, clutching at the jewelry like it was the most precious thing in the world. Perhaps it was to her. “You can’t mean that, after what I did.” Harry pointed out, without directly stating the death that lingered between them.

“It’s complicated… It’s complicated, and we will never be close. But great grandmamma loved you so much that she created the Carcassa. Over time, it morphed in to a multipurpose entity. But the basis of it will never change. This is your home… as long as you want it to be. This is where your children lived their lives. Your grandchildren… your great grandchildren… and all of your future descendants. This is the home of Potter—even if under a different name.” Liliana was definitely charismatic with her words, even though she was cold to him.

“… as it is—just… just keep proving to me that you’re worth loving. Worth the heartache. You’re love and heartache in equal measure, as great grandmamma once explained you…” The twist to Liliana’s mouth was bitter.

“… your mother… what was her name?” Harry asked.

Liliana closed her eyes.

The silence stretched.

“Her name was Rose. Grandpa Garth’s youngest daughter.” Liliana slowly answered, easing her eyes open to lock with Harry. And then she didn’t look away.

“His other children?” Harry asked, feeling a bit breathless.

“Seven children total—Gabriel, Sergio, Emilia, Donna, Bellance, Antonia, and Rose.” Liliana listed. “Mostly girls. The only surviving ones to this day are Emilia and Donna. They’re muds.” Liliana trailed off, an argument with herself active behind her eyes as she mentally debated if she should speak. And eventually she decided on yes, and spoke.“… They’re also flame active. Rains. They took after their mother, Grandma Aria. She passed away ten years ago. Blood infection.” Liliana was watching him intently, looking for weakness.

Flames…

…. Flames…

Harry frowned to himself. “That is… Flames are…” Harry clawed at his memory, begging for something. But the silence yawned wide in his head. Just a darkness that stretched on and on as he sought an answer.

“It’s evolution. The evolution of magic,” Liliana’s eyes almost looked like they were glowing, flashing orange even as her hand went white from the grip around her necklace. “I know the older generations don’t think of it as such—but I know it to be true. There can’t be nothing in the absence of magic, so there is this.”

Harry shivered. “I don’t… I don’t have enough information about this.”

“Get yourself sorted then. Sorted, and that suit! That’s an order from me. For the wellbeing of everyone.” Liliana pointed a finger at Harry before she stood up. Liliana swept her fingers through her short hair in a gesture that Harry remembered himself doing more than once, especially when nervous.

She’s nervous giving orders.

But gutsy enough to do it anyway.

Harry silently watched her leave. Harry growled to himself and ruffled his hair. Damn his memory! Harry marched back to his room and picked up Oodako. He paused and eyed his belongings. The back pack, the shoebox… the motorbike.

He pocketed the bike and it’s key. Perhaps a drive would do him good.

“Let’s get my wand, Oodako.” Harry settled Oodako on his left shoulder. And once Oodako was firmly wrapped in to place, Harry strode out of his room, out of the Potter House, and back to the main Carcassa villa. He located the greeting room, and spotted the death stick right where he had left it.

Harry gingerly picked it up.

Nothing. He felt… absolutely nothing. Harry gave it a wave, and watched the short lived life of bright purple sparks shoot in to the air. Harry settled the wand on his palm, free to wiggle. Although now that he was here and in this moment of time, well…

Harry didn’t have any plans to live forever. Ginny had already gone before him. Teddy as well. The rest of his children apparently not too far behind. Harry had no problems with freely using his magic to make himself better, in eliminating Frank and any other threat that would bring harm to this sanctuary.

Harry would not shy away from the inevitable.

Death was never the enemy. Neither was age.

“Point me Lily Luna Potter.” Harry murmured, and watched the wand spin until it located the direction it wanted. Perfect. Harry kept his hand steady as he moved through the villa and out the front door. The wand was pointing out—was Lily outside of the villa?

Harry didn’t have long to think of it. The clip-clop of hooves caught his attention. Harry glanced up—the sun had set. The moon was out. He looked to the left—and there was Firenze.

“… I never expected to see you again, honestly. When you returned to the herd back then.” Harry admitted, “but with the world as it is… I am glad to set my sights on you.” Harry turned to face Firenze, head craned back to look up at the old Centaur as he towered above. Pale and shimmering in the night.

Firenze offered a wrinkled smile and a hand, “come, take a walk with me.”

Harry didn’t hesitate to take the hand, and laughed at the strong yank that had him almost falling off of Firenze back. Harry clamped down with his legs and balanced himself without having to grab at Firenze’s back. Firenze might look old, but his strength was still there. Firenze turned left and started a slow, steady plod toward where he had come from. Heading toward the woods that was kept neat and away from the main villa by several meters.

Harry waited till they were in the trees before he spoke, “do you know anything about what happened to the magic?” Because Harry had gotten the wizarding side to what they thought happened. Centaurs were wise, surely they had some idea?

“The energies of the world have slotted back in to place. All is as it should be,” Firenze was following a well-worn trail in to the woods. They didn’t go far before they reached a clearing that had a half forgotten gazebo in it. Mostly overgrown in vines. Bushes planted around the gazebo were tall and burdened with bright purple flowers. The smell of it was heady.

Harry’s head swiveled around. The same type of tree was planted in a circle around the clearing. Tall, thin, and heavily burdened with lilac pale purple blossoms that grew in clusters and sagged like old fox tails.

“What is this place?” Harry asked, hushed. The very air seemed charged with something here.

Firenze motioned for Harry to step down, and Harry dutifully slid off and on to his own two feet. Everything seemed so much larger here. Firenze silently plodded in to the gazebo, which had an entrance and size that would make centaur habitation easy. Harry trailed after. The gazebo had been white, once. But the paint had peeled away in large patches.

Harry found a bench to perch on, and turned to face Firenze. The centaur merely reached out of the gazebo to touch the vibrant purple blossoms of the bushes. “These are often called the marvel of Peru. The Greeks called it the night flower. The French call it the belle de nuit. All the same, they only open wide at night.” Firenze plucked a flower and offered it to Harry.

“The flowers have been used to make food in dazzling colors. Parts of the plant can be used for diuretic, purgative, and for vulnerary purposes. The leaves reduce inflammation… and the seeds are considered poisonous. A pretty flower, for such uses.” Firenze continued, and Harry waited as the centaur spoke what he wanted to speak. Rushing a centaur was never going to be one of the life choices that Harry picked if he could help it.

Of course, then Firenze decided to go silent. Harry waited as long as he could. But he could only stare at flowers for so long.

“Why did you bring me here, Firenze?” Harry asked, breaking the silence after it became a bit too much.

“You were ready to be here, so the world moved to allow you to exist in this space as you are.” Firenze turned his wizened face to smile at Harry.

“But why is this place so important? I mean—it’s not like it isn’t pretty… but why?” Harry gently set the flower on to the bench space next to himself and focused his undivided attention on Firenze.

The old centaur hummed and craned his head back. The point of the roof was gone. And from the inside they could look up and in to the sky.

“What importance would you give to this place?” Firenze didn’t answer, and Harry despaired over ever getting a straight answer the longer they spoke. Things always got muddled, and he didn’t much appreciate.

Harry slumped, listing a bit to the side as he let his head fall back to stare up at the foliage or the plants buffered against the sides of the gazebo, blocking most of the view from the open ‘window’ areas. Well, why would anyone keep this place? It was rundown, but no one was working to fix it up. The air was charged with some kind of feeling, but Harry couldn’t place a thumb on what it was.

In short, this would only be useful as a…

“This is a memory. A representation of someone’s memory.” Harry concluded out loud, and angled his head to look to Firenze.

The centaur hummed, but didn’t correct nor deny the assumption. Harry let out a breath and returned his gaze to the foliage. “I don’t know what you’re trying to impress on me, Firenze.”

Firenze hummed, “not many do. That is the conundrum of life. We are the sum of our experiences. We are what we learn. But when we depart from this world—what happens to the marks we left behind?”

Harry froze.

Oh…. Oh.

“The marks fade. The world turns.” Harry murmured.

“All that is will be again, and all that has past will come again,” Firenze replied in kind. Harry opened his eyes to look to the centaur, and found that the centaur was not looking at Harry, but at the spot where he had picked the flower from before.

A new flower was already there, fully bloomed and facing up toward the moon.

But what does that mean, exactly?

“… you’re not going to explain this any more than you have, are you?” Harry couldn’t stop the sulky tone even if he tried.

Firenze laughed, “your Ginny said the same thing to me—many times.”

Harry twisted his fingers in the fabric of his jeans. “Firenze… was she… was she ever happy?” Harry didn’t dare look up from his hands. He didn’t want to see, so he closed his eyes.

But he left his ears open.

“Did she miss you? Yes. Your Ginny mourned and loved in equal measure. She smiled, and she cried—plotted and reacted… she was the full spectrum of the rainbow, as humans often are. Instinctively your species knows how to impart as much joy in to their lives so that it may be fulfilling.” Firenze’s voice was low and soothing, like a wind whispering on the breeze.

“But to say she was happy? I do not think the word ‘happy’ could encompass all that can be felt by a human in their lives. No, I believe the question you want to ask is… did she live?” The silence was back. Harry stared in to the dark behind his eyelids.

“… did she live?” Harry finally begged.

Neither can live while the other survives.

“Yes.”

Harry heard the smile in Firenze’s voice, and opened his eyes.

The centaur was gone.

There were no flowers on the bushes. Although the lingering too sweet smell still clogged his nose. Harry idly glanced around and then down to his knees. Purple caught his attention, and he looked to the left and found the flower that Firenze had gifted to him still there. Carefully, Harry moved to cradle it in his palms with care.

“Was that a dream, Oodako?” Harry asked the octopus. Oodako gently squeezed Harry’s shoulder in silence. In comfort. Harry let out a shuddering breath and pressed the flower to his lips—gave it a kiss. And let it drop to the ground.

“All that is will be again, and all that has past will come again,” Harry murmured to himself, echoing Firenze. Slowly, Harry stood up. He carefully stepped over the flower he had dropped to the ground. He walked to the threshold of the gazebo and paused to stare.

The flowers in the trees had all dropped. Carpeting the forest floor in pale lilacs. The trees bare except for the memory of what had been there.

“… till the next time, then.” Harry smiled to himself, reaching up to stroke Oodako’s head. “I can live with that.” Harry stepped forward, carefully stepping along the path that had brought him here. Trailing footprints behind him as he went. Although no hoof prints could be spotted.

The air was electric on the tongue. The night pleasantly cool on his face.

Wand in hand, “point me, Lily Luna Potter.”

The wand spun, then settled.

And Harry followed the magic.