Like being in a negroid version of New Zealand
10
Sometimes, Harry remembers how as a child he had loved the thrill of day dreaming, his seven year old brain being as imaginative as they came. Left to his solitude, he had whiled away many happy hours as a child, turning the ordinary into the magical. And so it was that the dust motes that danced in the small slips of light from under the cupboard door crack became faery people, the cobwebs around him grew into an enchanted forest; cloaked in snow; and the spiders scurrying around the cervices were once noble princes turned into hideous beasts, awaiting the day when Harry would grow up, turn against his cruel captors, and save them all.
When he was young, Harry remembers wanting very much to be a hero. But that was another lifetime ago, when he hadn’t yet grasped what being a hero entailed.
*
Two mortals stood outside the horned gates of Hades, gaping in supplicated awe at the new world they suddenly found themselves in. The sky of Hades was nothing they’d ever seen – nor expected before - sullen, roiling purples, streaking blues, and sinister, coiling grey. They hung low and ominous, an almost palpable witness to their wanderings. It was the landscape beyond them however, was truly awe-inspiring.
For they now stood at the precipice of Hades, and underworld was no mere cave.
The air was brisk and clean, the soaring blue skies above reminded Harry of a Renaissance painted ceiling. It was green place-very green, and variegated with a phantasmagorical profusion of moving colors and sound, tantalizing and bewildering. The land itself was as folded as old cloth, with many hills and bumps, and everywhere tiny streams ran like rivulets upon a pane of glass, peppered with small arches of whimsical bridges. Schools of electric-colored birds flew in perfect formation over the trees, their peacock-tipped tail-feathers trailing like feather boas.
Even as they watched, the sky begun to change colors again, turning lighter and seeming to rise ever higher. The clouds shifted into deep plum hues, absorbing and contracting as it rose in the sky like a shedding balloon. Harry watched, amazed, as the clouds turned a candy floss pink, and stopped rising. The sun rays diffusing down upon Hades was speckled with pink, turning the whole landscape into a child-like wonderland.
‘Its beautiful,’ Draco breathed; Harry could only nod dumbly. Wherever the kingdom of Hades was located, it definitely wasn’t underground. Apparently it wasn’t even on earth.
Harry tried very hard not to think about that part. The theory of alternate dimensions always made him a little queasy, even after years of wizardry.
He dug around for Snape’s rusty compass, fished it out, and gasped- now that they were in Hades, the pocket watch shone as if its finishing touches were only completed hours ago. Its intricate shell was burnished to a golden finish, and the clasp unlocked itself with a musical ‘ping’. The cracked glass replaced within had been replaced, its many luminescent dials and wheels whirling a merry sort of mechanical music.
The flourishing script on the face of the clock was unfamiliar to him.
‘Read this,’ he demanded, ‘and tell me which one says North.’
‘Domos… Haidou,’ Draco read. ‘Its ancient Greek for House of Hades. You know Harry, I’m beginning to think this is not so much a compass as a map.’
Harry snatched the watch back and peered at the symbols moving around the dial. ‘It seems to work like a compass of sorts. The main arrow points pretty consistently to the Horned Gates; that’s where we are…. What does Pedion Hlusion stand for?’
‘Do I look like a walking translating charm to you?’
‘You’re the one with the private tutors and superior education. We should have forced fed Snape his own dammed potion. He’s a greasy bastard, but he’s also a greasy all-knowing bastard.’
They begun the steep descent from the rocky asphalt of Pluto’s castle . Even with the rough-hewed steps winding around , the descent was slow, and Harry’s temper grew short as he listened to Draco muttering to himself.
‘Hlusion, helusion, illusion, illisyum-‘
‘What are you on about now?’ Harry grunted irritably at him.
Draco ignored him. ‘Illusium, helusium, aelusium…’
And so it went, until a particularly rocky step-
‘Elysium!!!’ the shriek of triumph behind him almost deafened Harry. ‘Pedion Hlusion is the Elysium Fields!!!’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ the dark-haired man grunted. ‘Try not to get us killed.’
‘There’s gratefulness for you,’ his companion huffed. ‘We would have been walking in circles if it hasn’t been for my-‘
‘We don’t know for certain if your father is in the Elysium Fields,’ Harry snapped. ‘and the notion is far fetched, considering the type of person he was on Earth.’
‘Don’t you dare breath a word about my father-‘
‘I hated Lucius,’ Harry almost shouted. ‘I always have. Which part of the word hate do you not understand, Draco?’
The blond actually looked stunned at his outburst, which in turn shocked Harry himself.
‘You’re Harry Potter,’ Draco pointed out as if it was it the most elemental of things. ‘You’re not supposed to hate anything.’
‘By now, Draco, I hate most things. Especially if they don’t leave me alone.’
They stared at each other for a long, uncomfortable moment. To his surprised, Draco looked away first.
‘Fine. I can see now that you’re no hero.’
‘I’m not,’ Harry said, trying to sound defiant and failing miserably to his own ears. ‘I never was.’
‘My mistake, then,’ Draco said with cold politeness, and resumed his descent.
Seething with helplessness, resentment and guilt, Harry reluctantly followed.
*
At the bottom of the cliff, they found sheep. Lots of fat, wooly back-faced sheep.
Whole heards of sheep- moving like groups of slow, ponderous charcoal-coloured clouds over the rolling hills.
‘It’s like being in a negroid version of new Zealand,’ Draco observed sourly.
‘Lamb steak must be cheap here,’ Harry commented nervously, his pleading gaze on Draco. The blond did not reply, nor cracked a smile. With a sigh, Harry continued trailing behind the almost military click of dragonhide boots.
They followed the path, laid in pale blue slabs which lead them gently past a clearing of trees- the species of which Harry was sure he’d never find on earth. Monkeys chittered at them, sporting white, heart-shaped faces and scale-flecked emerald wings.
The walking went on for hours, until they both wearied of the strange landscape, which seemed to grow oppressive and threatening. Everytime Harry opened his mouth to ask Draco -who was now holding on to their ‘point me’ pocket watch- if he actually knew where he was going, his courage failed him.
‘Yea, you’re such a hero, all right,’ he berated himself. ‘Heroically chicken-shit.’
Soon it begun to rain. It started as a fine, misty rain that gave everything around them a smoky, ethereal glow that made Harry smile at first…and then rapidly turned sour as the fine drizzle became a steady hammer of tiny missiles, going in every direction thanks to the capricious wind. The road became muddy and slick, and Draco became more and more waspish and short tempered.
It was all in all, Harry though, an adequate reflection of the story of his life.
And just when it couldn’t get any worse, the terrible countenance of the albino child-god Hypnos appeared before them. A small doe lay dead at his feet amongst a scatter of red petals, or perhaps it was blood, the dark-haired man couldn’t discern.
‘Get behind me,’ Harry barked. Grimly he drew his Gryffindor’s sword, as Draco scurried behind him.
*