The End
The moment she finishes posing the question, Hariel is almost sure she sees steely disgust flash in the child's eyes, but it is gone so quickly she decides she must have imagined it.
"Of course, Madame. Where are we going?" The child tilts his head, and if it wasn't for the oily presence of the curse still making it hard for Hariel to breathe, she is sure that the sight would make her melt.
"We're going to my apartment, okay? I'll bake you lots of cookies when we get there."
"Your apartment?" He asks, voice neutral and innocently curious, but Hariel can't help thinking that something is a bit… off.
She dismisses it. She must be even more tired than she thought.
"Yes, I know it sounds boring but I promise it won't! There's something I really need to do, and I need your help to do it," She reassures. She's sure it would work much better if she could look at the child without feeling the urge to gag.
Hariel thinks the child's eyes get darker, harder for a moment, but she can't really trust her senses, so overwhelmed are they by the poisonous darkness of the curse.
Also, she's exhausted. She can hardly keep her eyes open, much less ensure that they actually notice things. That's asking for entirely too much.
So she dismisses the worrying harshness in the child from her mind. Frankly, all she can concentrate on is finishing the ritual and then sleeping for a month straight.
So they walk together, her leading him through the different streets towards her apartment, and she wonders if perhaps his movements are a little heavier and grimmer than before.
.
.
.
Halfway to her apartment, it strikes Hariel quite suddenly that this two or three-year-old child is following a complete stranger – at least to him – through the streets of Paris into said complete stranger's apartment.
…And, now that she thinks of it, hadn't the way she'd asked him to come been quite suspicious as well?
Sweet Nimüe, this is probably how the child was cursed in the first place, following strangers about! One would think he had learned his lesson!
This… this is very worrying.
"Bise," She stops walking, crouching down so that she's eye-level with the child, ignoring the increased nausea that comes with the closer proximity to the pacifier with not inconsiderable difficulty. "You can't just follow people you or your parents don't know to places, okay? Even if they promise to give you cookies."
Bise looks at her startled, for a second, before his face colors with confusion. He looks like he doesn't quite know what to make of her. "Does that mean I shouldn't follow you, Madame?"
"Ah- no, well," Hariel flusters. How complicated. How does she give a child the stranger talk – and really, his parents should have done this if they let him walk around on his own like this – when she, herself, is a stranger? More specifically, a stranger who needs him to follow her to her apartment so that she can remove the curse that is feeding on his soul? "You should follow me, but in the future, I don't want you to follow strangers, okay? Even if they seem friendly, or they buy you cake, I want you to promise me you won't follow them, especially if they're asking you to get in their car or apartment, or any other place where it's just you and them. This is very important."
To emphasize her point, she manages to look through the blackness of the curse and straight into the child's eyes, and for the first time notices how utterly magnetizing they are.
It is odd to describe a child's eyes as "magnetizing", yet she cannot help but feel so. There's something about them that has her hand twitching to reach out and touch the child – to comfort, to shelter, to reassure somehow - momentarily forgetting even the weight of the curse.
Morgana, the exhaustion must be affecting her more than she thought! What would her friends say if they find out she's being sucked in by the eyes of a child!
Tearing her attention from those deep, dark eyes, Hariel can feel Bise's confusion rise, notices how he seems less sure in his dealings with her. Well, this is what she wanted, for him to be more cautious of strangers, but it still hurts a bit to have a child be wary of her.
"Okay, Madame. I promise," The child looks at her earnestly, and Hariel is satisfied.
"Good." Hariel nods her head, point made, and they resume walking to her apartment.
.
.
.
When she inserts her key into the door, she does so with a little nervousness, but it is quickly overshadowed by pure, ecstatic relief.
Finally. Sleep.
Just one more thing – an hour at most – and she'll get to sleep.
She can hear her bed calling her from here!
The open door reveals an upscale apartment done in tasteful burgundy and creams, with some orange interspersed to brighten the place, the sunset palette a nod to her Gryffindor heritage.
"Make yourself at home, Bise! I apologize for the mess – I swear it's not usually like this, but it's been a bit of a hectic week," Hariel flutters around the room, suddenly embarrassed at all the parchment and pillows strewn all over the place, realizing just as she's straightening a pile of papers on the floor in front of her loveseat that no three-year-old will give a rat's ass about how messy her apartment is.
Morgana, Hariel, get a grip. One more hour, that's all, then you can sleep for the rest of the week.
More composed now – and she really shouldn't have indulged in so many sweets, she's positive the sugar rush isn't helping her jitteriness – Hariel puts down the papers she was tidying up and gives up on making the room look more presentable. "Right, well, you just stay right here, dear, make yourself comfortable, and I'll get you those cookies I promised." The child gives a small nod and Hariel is reassured enough that he won't escape to flee to the kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, it's all Hariel can do not to collapse on the floor.
What do I do now?!
Somehow, Hariel had done all the research on curses, had prepared all the materials, had carefully etched each individual rune for the ritual in her own blood, yet now that she had the reason for all of this past week's madness sitting in her apartment, she has no idea how to proceed.
Should she just go back in there and begin chanting? Should she immobilize him first? Put him to sleep? Drug him? Or maybe give him a cookie and then start chanting?
Sweet Nimüe, what is she thinking? She sounds just like a pedophile!
But what is she going to do?
Merlin, Hariel, you're a Gryffindor, aren't you? Stop dilly-dallying and go in there and do it! Every second you spend uselessly fretting about is a second that child is having his soul devoured.
That thought sobers Hariel immediately, and, steeling herself, the witch grabs a platter of cookies she had previously prepared and strides into the living room with renewed confidence.
Luckily, the child is still in her living room despite all the time she spent in the kitchen, patiently sitting on her burgundy couch.
She offers the child the platter of cookies for him to choose from, not noticing that he doesn't take a bite until she herself has sat down and started munching on a cookie as well.
Hariel is keenly aware that beneath the both of them is her runic circle, carefully covered by a creamy rug she's going to have to throw out after all of this is over so that the child isn't frightened by the bloody marking on her floor.
Upon finishing her cookie – the most tasteless cookie Hariel has ever eaten, although she isn't sure if that's due to the sleep deprived state she was in when she made them, or the nervousness that grips her now – Hariel leans forward, elbows resting at her knees.
I'm a Gryffindor, aren't I? I can do this.
"All right, Bise, now I asked you to come here for a reason. I'm going to do something, and I won't lie, it's going to hurt a little bit, but I need you to be strong for me, all right, darling? You're going to feel much better afterwards, I promise." She tries to reassure, but judging by how stormy Bise's expression is getting she's not doing a very good job. "And once this is all over I'll buy you as many millefeuilles as you want! Too many to count!"
And then, as fast as lightning, Hariel wand is pointed at the child, a quick "Immobulus" leaving her lips.
Bise's eyes widen when he finds that he can't move his limbs.
"I'm so sorry, Bise. I really am. I'm so, so, sorry. But it's going to be worth it, I promise, it's going to-" Hariel's next words are swallowed by her gasp as she sees Bise moving his left arm jerkily.
"Immobulus!" Hariel yells again, putting more strength behind her spell in order to completely paralyze the child. Even still, she can feel the child battling against her magic for dominion over his body, and she has to make a concentrated effort to keep him still.
The part of her brain that isn't feeling utterly horrified at having pointed her wand at a child wonders if it is the curse that is giving him such strength. No child- Actually, no muggle, no matter their strength, should be able to move even a pinky toe when under the immobulus charm. Even the average wizard or witch would be hard-pressed to move, and movement should be completely impossible when it is Hariel and her humongous magical core that powers the immobulus.
Yet there Bise is, under two immobulus charms, yet still jerkily moving not only his arm, but his leg as well, and Hariel feels it is only a matter of time before he is able to move his entire body.
Realizing that she won't be able to sustain the charm with Bise constantly fighting her magic, as well as complete the ritual at the same time, Hariel goes to fetch rope.
As she ties Bise's hands and feet with the rope, a steady stream of apologies and reassurances leaves her mouth like some frantic verbal diarrhea, "I'm sorry, Bise, I didn't want to do this, but I need you to be very still for this to work, you understand? This is for your own good, darling, okay? I promise I won't hurt you – well, actually, I'm going to hurt you a little bit, oh, but please don't be scared it won't last long and I promise it's all necessary and, oh, Bise, I wish none of this was necessary but I promise I'm going to take care of you, and soon you're going to be all better and you'll be with your mummy and daddy and I'm so, so sorry, darling-"
Once Hariel deems Bise sufficiently immobilized via rope, she finally manages to stop talking and gathers the courage to look straight into Bise's eyes. There's disgust there, and it's painful to see, but very understandable. Even after she obliviates him, Bise will probably always feel some measure of revulsion towards her, despite not knowing where this feeling comes from.
Trying to look as reassuring as possible, which she realizes is not very reassuring at all when she has the other person tied up in thick rope for unidentified reasons, Hariel picks Bise up and gently lies him down in the middle of her rug. With the greatest care she can muster she pats his head, running her fingers soothingly through silky locks. "It's going to be okay, Bise, all right? I promise it's going to be okay. You're very sick right now, and this is going to make you feel better. It's an hour of pain, but then you'll be free for the rest of your life. I promise. I'm going to make it all better, okay?"
Hariel wants to say more, she does, but she can't find the words, and after a minute of silently staring at the child lying immobilized on her rug, she stands up and walks to the mantle on her fireplace where a very large, very old book lies open.
She has the entire ritual's incantation memorized, of course, but it doesn't hurt to have the words available in front of her should she falter. Opening the grimoire to the correct page, Hariel walks to the edge of the runic circle, each step heavy and burdened not only with the physical exhaustion from the lack of sleep and blood loss, but the emotional exhaustion of having spelled and tied up a muggle child.
There's no going back, however, and even now she can see the curse swarming around the child, feasting on his soul like obese pigs at a banquet. The sight of the curse reminds her of why she is doing this, and with a strong, steady voice that seems to echo hauntingly across the halls of her apartment, Hariel begins her incantation,
"Regna terrae, cantata Magicae, psallite Cernunnos,
Regna terrae, cantata Magicae psallite Aradia.
Caeli Morgana, Morgana terrae,
Humiliter Magicae gloriae tuae supplicamus-"
Hariel cringes as she hears the child's first blood-chilling scream, braces herself in preparation because she knows it won't be his last.
"-Ut ab omni infernalium spirituum potestate,
Laqueo, and deceptione nequitia,
Omnis fallaciae, libera eum, dominates,
Deiectionem omnis immundus maledictum,
Omnis anathema potestas, omnis incursio,
Maledictum adversarii, omnis legio,
Omnis and congregatio secta lues.
Ab insidiis pravus, libera eum, dominates,
Ut coven tuam secura tibi libertate servire facias…"
And so it continues for what feels like days, weeks, years, yet can't truly be anything more than an hour. She continues with the ritual, feels the runes light up to do her bidding and purge the curse from the child's body, all the while listening to Bise's agonized screams.
.
.
.
Hariel is aware she has started crying at some point, but she can't quite tell when. Her eyesight is blurry through her tears, but it's all right because the ritual words come to her so readily that she hardly even has to think to say them. Through her tears, she can still see the blackness of the curse fight against the magic. With every word she feels the magic, invoked by her blood, tighten its hold around the curse, erode at the blackness bit by bit with the force of her strength, her will, her life.
She knows, also, that at one point Bise stopped fighting against her magic and started fighting against the curse through his torturous pain, and she is so, so incredibly proud of him.
Eons pass in a second. Battles are lost and vanquished, entire galaxies created and destroyed, lives started and lost. Through it all, Hariel chants, Bise fights, and the curse ever so slowly is vanquished.
Hariel can't feel her legs anymore. In fact, she can't really feel any part of her body anymore, wonders how she is even standing up, but she can still hear the incantation words as though from a distance so she must still be speaking somehow.
The world starts becoming worryingly blurry, and Hariel knows it's not because of her tears anymore. She worries she might not make it- that all of this would have been for absolutely nothing, but then-
But then, suddenly, a blazing fire erupts from Bise, exploding through the room with all the force of a supernova and Hariel isn't sure how she manages to stay standing.
Her rug is on fire, Hariel notices, flames are burning away at the material and revealing the blood runes underneath, but the thought is far away, muffled, as though spoken by someone else six rooms away.
In a brief moment of quasi-lucidity at the sight of the flames, Hariel's first thought is that she has just freed the child from a curse only to condemn him to a gruesome, fiery death.
Her second thought, related to the first, but no less important, is that she has killed a child.
She looks to Bise, to apologize, to reassure, to beg for forgiveness, she's not sure.
But, standing in the middle of her runic circle is no child.
Instead of a chubby-cheeked three-year-old boy, standing in front of her is an irresistibly handsome man with long, silky black hair, chiseled cheekbones, and an incredibly muscled chest.
He is also very naked.
"Oh." It is all Hariel can say before she collapses in a heap from exhaustion.
And then there is only darkness.