Harry's Hands

By Megan Nielson


Chapter 49

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling and I make no money off of this

Warnings: Minor swearing


"Ah, Potter, it's been a while since we've had a nice chat," Dull gray eyes lit in amusement, expensive robes rustling as the other boy shifted his stance into one perhaps more arrogant, "Have you ever spoken to someone about your worrisome habit of sneaking away in the night?"

Harry shivered from the residual chill in his bones and took a warning step forward, "Get out of my way."

His magic swished like an immutable beast in his chest, the silver bands on his arms coiling and twisting right underneath the paper thin glamours he had just reapplied before he entered the castle.

The other boy let the mocking smile fall off his face like how a heavy gust of wind blows ashes off of a slate; he stepped forward, peering blatantly at the boy's bare arms, "That's interesting, I can't imagine what must have ruined your robes like this..." his words wandered, quieting before resuming again, "You look as if you've been in a certain Forbidden forest again."

He stilled and Draco's eyes narrowed further.

"You smell like creatures. Savages."

Harry felt his arm twitch instinctively, "Oh sure," his eyes rolled, "And how would you know?"

"My father has trained me to recognize filth when I see it," Malfoy took a step closer, circling the boy like prey, "Just whom or, more exactly, what, were you with in that forest?"

"Has someone ever spoken to you about your worrisome habit of stalking me?"

"Oh please, don't flatter yourself," Draco snorted, tilting his chin even more up in the air if at all possible, "I'm a prefect, you know, I'm supposed to monitoring for troublesome students-and have you honestly forgotten? You have something I want..."

He should get out of here. Soon.

The boy leaned forward, shoulders hunching in combined exhaustion and anger, "If you knew anything, you would know that I had nothing, and even if I did have it, I couldn't nor would I give it to you," he stopped, feeling his gut steam and his mind fog, "I'm tired, I'm going to bed, and you're not going to stop me."

Harry stepped easily past the other boy, taking slow steps up the main staircase, and tried to calm the billowing thunder clouds that gathered in his chest.

A hand dug roughly into his shoulder, "You're not going anywhere, Potter, not unless I say so-"

Startled, his elbow jolted backwards instinctively, arm lighting up like a magically charged battery that aimed to vaporize anything in its path, and struck Draco in the chest. The magic in his core roared, not able to be quelled, sending bursts of blinding white light shooting out of the bands on his arms and whizzing through the air like deadly projectiles.

All the white, needle-like projectiles in the air coalesced into one, sharp point, aiming for the target behind him that he could not see. He swiveled on his heel, turning to face the other boy, seeing a flash of fear past his rage filled haze.

For a moment he thought he was in the lake again- taking a breath only to see the white glass over his eyes and hitch onto the back of every molecule in his body, burning his lungs much like how the lake water did, but this time with immutable rage instead of hopeless terror. In that moment he wanted to explode, to destroy every atom of everything around him, lost in such haze of blindness that nothing remained in his mind.

Instead of water, he choked on oxygen, until he felt a pair of steady talons latch onto his shoulder- and then another pair, and another, dragging him back to reality. The steady arrow of light poised sharply in the air trembled, exhaling like a giant, sleeping beast, before dissipating and allowing a seamless fog to suck back through his arms and to his core. The white in his eyes washed away, a whirl of color- of gray stone, of olive carpet, of cold tile, and metal railing- seeped back into his vision, making him trip backwards onto the steps and blink.

Finally, Malfoy's face had expanded in his vision- first his nose, closed eyes, and down-turned mouth, then the apparent pallor of his skin, and then blonde hair pooling onto the floor like wilting weeds.

Harry gagged on his own saliva, sucking in an involuntary breath of air at seeing the other boy sprawled on the ground, unmoving.

The silver whips buzzed underneath his skin, hissing in rapidly diminishing ferocity.

Harry whimpered, "Did I do that?"

Fawkes nuzzled closer into the boy's neck, reassuring him, "It isn't your fault."

He didn't speak.

"It isn't your fault, do you hear me? Child?" The bird spoke, firm and unyielding on the point, "It isn't your fault."


Merlin's voice was a rasp, so very low, and yet trembling like a child's broken rattle, "Did I do that?"


The boy grasped onto the metal railing as if it were a lifeline, knuckles turned white as he stepped off of the stairs plopped right next to the unconscious prefect, "He startled me, did you see? I couldn't- I couldn't control it."

Fawkes turned to peer at the child's impenetrable eyes.


The man grasped limply at the fibers of the other's red-stained robes, "Fawkes, thou know'st that I wouldn't ever intentionally- I was startled."


"I killed him."


Merlin shuddered, "I killed him."


"He is still alive, child, merely unconscious," Fawkes corrected.

Harry's hands ghosted over Malfoy's wrist, feeling for a pulse, and he immediately let an exhale pour out from his lungs. It was a strong beat.

"He is uninjured," the bird said, examining the prefect, "He is only faint from the fear."


The elder man gagged, feeling the other's blood that had pooled around him soak through his trousers.

Lifeless yellow eyes stared up at him, unblinking and a containing a mere visage of the soul that had once been firmly present in them.

Fawkes dug his talons into the man's shoulder, trying to draw him out of his reverie, "It is not thine fault, dost thou hear?"

Incessant shivering.

"It is not thine fault."


"Wake up," Harry grasped onto the boy's shoulder, shaking, and watching the head loll the other direction before stopping.

Dull gray eyes lit up, alive, looking at the other boy before narrowing in disgust, "Potter?"


"Wake," Merlin shook the figure, watching his head loll like a limp rag doll with a choked cry. "I beseech ye; wake, knave."

More liquid fire poured out of the of his head like a comical imitation of a cracked egg.

The eyes remained as lifeless as ever.


Immediately, Harry bolted up from the floor, sprinting up the staircase and into the direction of the common room.

The other birds trailed behind him.

Fawkes remained perched on his shoulder.


Fawkes remained perched on Merlin's shoulder.

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