Soldiers of Sorcery
Part Twenty-Seven
Wufei watched Heero as
the Japanese youth slept soundly. He couldn’t get over how different Heero
appeared when he was asleep. Heero looked younger...more innocent, even if he
was covered in bruises and other injuries. It was as if all of his barriers were
lost. Wufei wondered, briefly, if Heero would have looked like that had the war
never happened. He doubted that he’d ever know for sure, but it was a likely
assumption.
Finding the need to occupy his time, and not stare like a love-struck schoolgirl
at Heero’s attractive features, Wufei glanced around the room he was in. He
supposed it was a good thing that Heero was the only patient in the Hospital
Wing at the moment. Heero had always been a light sleeper, and the slightest
noise tended to wake him.
The room, in and of itself, was simple. It didn’t have that sterile scent of
Muggle hospitals...which made sense. There were a few lamps, lit with
candles...though the sun was still brightly shining. Wufei guessed that they
were for chasing the shadows away. The lantern by Heero’s bed caught Wufei’s
eye. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he could catch a glimpse
of something moving within the tantalizing, golden flame. Compelled by an
unknown force, Wufei looked closer, his eyes drawn deeper and deeper into the
flickering flame of the lantern.
Sound faded from his awareness, all noises driven from his mind to be replaced
with only the sound of his own heartbeat. The world around him disappeared and
there was only the flame in its golden brilliance, nothing else was there or
even mattered. Time was meaningless...there was just nothing but the flame.
Shapes appeared in the undulating fire...voices crying out in pain, slowly
growing louder as his focus deepened. Someone was hurt...but the image was too
blurred for him to make it out clearly. Before his eyes, within the orange and
yellow hues of the flame, a figured huddled over a slender young body, neither
face clear to Wufei’s gaze. The youth was stripped, revealing a pale male
frame that writhed on the stone of a floor, struggling under the assault of the
figure above him.
“Stop.” A frightened voice whispered, a voice Wufei felt he should know.
Yet, he couldn’t grasp the memory of whom it belonged to. Things were
distorted...he couldn’t even tell where this was taking place or see any
faces. All he knew was that it was bad, and that the victim of this attack was a
young male.
The moment was broken as Wufei felt a firm hand land on his shoulder, a voice
snapping him out of the visions in the flame and back to reality. “Mr.
Chang?” Madam Pomfrey asked, concern in her eyes as she looked at him.
Wufei blinked, becoming aware that he was covered in a sheen of sweat, his body
feeling unbearably warm. His throat burned...parched and dry. He shed his robe,
panting for breath although he didn’t recall doing anything strenuous since
bringing Heero here. It was hot in this room...so indescribably hot...Wufei felt
like he was being consumed by fire, as if he had not only watched the flame but
had sat right in the middle of it.
Pulling his tie loose, Wufei had a brief sense of vertigo and closed his eyes.
He leaned forward and grasped the side of Heero’s bed as the world around him
spun at a maddening pace. Nausea caused his stomach to roil, making him grimace
and groan in discomfort. And then quite suddenly, everything simply went black.
Quatre shivered, feeling a bit chill. Wind whipped around his body, burning his
exposed skin with icy stings. He curled his arms around himself, feeling lost as
he looked around at his surroundings. Here he stood on a vast open plain, snow
and ice covering all that he saw. It was like a white dessert, pure yet cold,
beautiful but quite dangerous...especially since Quatre seemed to be wearing
nothing but his boxers to protect him from the frigid weather.
He didn’t know how he had gotten here, didn’t even remember getting out of
bed. And where was Harry? Why was he all alone here? This wasn’t the
school...Quatre was frightened...confused and scared because of this unusual
situation. This was too weird.
“Come to me, Quatre.” A strange voice whispered, tangled in the sound of the
wind as it rushed around Quatre’s shivering body.
Quatre spun, looking around. “Who’s there?” He called out, fearful of who
this strange individual was. “Where are you? What do you want with me?”
The wind only bit at his skin, the voice continuing to taunt him. “You belong
to me, Quatre Raberba Winner. Come to me.”
Whoever this was didn’t matter to Quatre. He didn’t like this...something
was horribly wrong here. The voice...there was something terrifying about it,
something in his heart told him not to trust it. “No! Leave me alone!”
Quatre cried out, backing away a few steps.
An invisible force grabbed Quatre’s arms, forcing him to remain still.
Quatre’s eyes widened, a pair of disembodied eyes hovering in the air before
him, glowing a bright crimson. “I will have you, Quatre. One way or another.
If you will not come to me...I will take you!”
Quatre tried to struggle away, to no avail. This invisible creature held him too
firmly, its sharp fingers digging harshly into Quatre’s chilled skin. “Let
me go!” Quatre whimpered, wriggling and writhing in an attempt to escape.
One hand lost its grip. However, only a moment later pain slashed across
Quatre’s chest as clawlike nails scratched at him angrily. “You will be
mine, Quatre. In time, you will be mine. I will lay claim to you, my
beauty...just wait and see.” Quatre screamed in pain, his body jumping in
reaction to the attack on his skin.
His eyes snapped open, only to find that he was still in Harry’s room. He had
never left. It had only been a dream...a terrible nightmare. Quatre blinked,
finding that he was standing beside a window looking out at the afternoon sky.
He turned, seeing Harry’s bed several feet away from him, Harry still sleeping
soundly on it. He didn’t recall ever sleepwalking before, but that must have
been what had happened. How else could he explain why he was standing by the
window and not lying in the bed with Harry?
~ I will lay claim to you, my beauty...just wait and see. ~ His mind echoed,
reminding him of the threat of that frightening specter from his nightmare.
Suddenly, a wave of coldness seeped into Quatre’s body, chilling him to the
very bone. He shivered, falling to his knees as tears fell from his eyes. He
felt dirty and he was unsure as to why. It was just such a strong feeling...that
voice made him feel like he was covered in a layer of grime, its words carrying
such emotion that it left Quatre wanting to run to the nearest shower and scrub
his skin raw to get rid of the disgust he felt about himself.
Hands fell on Quatre’s shoulders. In reaction, Quatre flinched and jerked away
from the gentle touches, fearing them. The nightmare left him scared and
jumpy...he didn’t know why he was so frightened. It had only been a dream,
hadn’t it? But then how could he explain the unbearable coldness that was
freezing his body?
“Quatre?” Harry’s concerned voice asked, his hands laying on Quatre’s
shoulders once again.
This time Quatre turned, his bottom lip quivering as he saw that it really was
Harry standing there. Without uttering a single word, Quatre threw himself into
Harry’s arms, breaking out into throat-shredding sobs that left him tired.
“What’s wrong? You’re skin...it’s ice cold.” Harry said, cradling
Quatre’s trembling body, his hands strong on the frightened Arabian’s back.
Gently, he pulled Quatre away from him, his green eyes flickering with deep
concern as he gasped. “Quatre...your lips are blue. Are you cold?”
Quatre nodded. “Y-Yes...it’s so c-cold.” He cried, feeling as if he were
still standing out in that frozen wasteland from his dreams. “I...I h-had a
d-dream. It w-was c-cold there.”
“That must have been some dream.” Harry commented faking a laugh if only to
keep Quatre calm. Harry’s gaze drifted down, taking note of Quatre’s intense
shivering. His emerald gaze widened, a sharp intake of breath catching on his
lips. “You’re bleeding.”
Quatre looked down, his own eyes widening as he took in the sight of the
scratches crossing his chest...deep clawlike marks, slashing across his flesh.
Just like in that dream, Quatre thought, his heart pounding in his chest, his
breathing becoming increasingly difficult to maintain at a normal level.
“Quatre, calm down. It’ll be okay.” Harry tried to assure him, his hands
cupping Quatre’s face tenderly.
Quatre shook his head. “No...it was a dream...it wasn’t real...” He rambled,
panicking as he fought for air. “Wasn’t it? What’s going on? What’s
happening to me, Harry?”
Harry wrapped his arms around Quatre’s body, holding him close if only for a
brief moment. “I don’t know. Maybe Professor Dumbledore will know what to
do.” He said, his one hand stroking through Quatre’s hair. Then he pulled
away and helped Quatre to his feet. “Come on, I’ll take you to see him
now.”
Quatre only followed numbly, trembling in the cold. He barely noticed as Harry
dressed him then himself, didn’t register as Harry escorted him out of the
room and led him through the hallways of the school. He was deaf to the whispers
of the students milling around in the corridors, blind to the stares and gawks
of his fellow students. He just followed where Harry led him, leaning heavily
against the youth he cared for in a need for physical contact, for reassurances
that he was truly safe here.
Quatre was unaware of the passage of time. It could have taken them seconds,
minutes, hours, or even days to reach Dumbledore’s office for all Quatre knew.
He was shaken, his senses totally blown by the fact that he had received an
injury in his dream and it was still there when he had awakened. The coldness
wouldn’t leave him, the icy tendrils of air still burning his throat. Beside
him, he could feel Harry shivering in response to his proximity to Quatre’s
chill form. It was almost as if Quatre’s body was manufacturing the cold
itself...it seeped from every pore, most of him numb from the iciness that
encased him.
Harry looked worriedly at Quatre as he escorted the youth to Dumbledore’s
office. Quatre was pale, his slender body no longer shivering as he had probably
fallen into a deeper state of hypothermia. He was so cold, like ice to the
touch, and just being near him made Harry shiver in cold. Quatre was cold enough
that in his hair, frost had begun to collect. Harry didn’t understand how
Quatre could have gotten this cold so quickly, especially when it was quite a
warm day. He hoped that Dumbledore would have an answer and hoped even more that
he knew of a way to stop this.
He quickly said the password that would gain entrance to Dumbledore’s office,
climbing the stairs until he found the door. With Quatre by his side, Harry
knocked sharply, impatient for the help of the headmaster of the school.
In only a few short moments, Dumbledore opened his door, smiling brightly as he
bade for Harry to enter. “Come in.” He said pleasantly. “Don’t imitate a
hallway decoration.”
Harry strode in, his arm protectively wrapped about Quatre’s slender
shoulders. “Professor...I have...”
However, his words were abruptly cut short as Professor Dumbledore laid eyes on
Quatre and took note of his poor condition. “Goodness me! Whatever it is can
wait a moment. Sit Quatre down right here in the chair by the fire.” He said,
gesturing to the chair he had mentioned. He smiled kindly, bringing out his wand
and producing a blanket to wrap Quatre in.
“There...” Dumbledore reached over, picking up a large mug of cocoa from a
table near the chair. “I had this sent up for myself, but...this young one
needs it far more I see.” He pressed the mug into Quatre’s hands. “Drink,
little one. It will warm you.” He said, coaxing Quatre to lift the edge of the
mug to his lips and sip at the heated contents. He smiled in satisfaction, even
though Quatre barely drank any. “There. Now...what is the problem?”
Harry frowned worriedly. “I wish I knew.” He admitted, shaking his head,
raking his hand through his hair in frustration. “I woke up and found Quatre
kneeling on the floor, shivering and crying. He was ice cold to the touch and he
had gashes on his chest. He said that it was a nightmare, and seems determined
to believe just that...but I don’t know. Something seems off about this. It
has been warm lately. He shouldn’t be this cold...even if he had gone into
shock.”
Dumbledore nodded in understanding, a soft sigh passing his lips. “Well...we
will have to ask Quatre when he warms up a bit. I’m sure given time he will be
able to fill us in and we will be able to clear up this mystery.”
“Yes...I hope so.” Harry replied, taking a seat on the floor near Quatre’s
side, not wanting to even look for another chair at the moment. He didn’t want
to be away from Quatre...not now, not when he was obviously in a vulnerable
condition. Every now and then Harry would tip the mug up for Quatre to drink,
hoping that this tactic was working.
When the mug was empty, Harry took it from Quatre’s hands, setting it
carefully aside. Harry nearly smiled when he took note that the color was
finally returning to Quatre’s cheeks, if only a little. Shivers began moving
throughout Quatre’s body, showing that he was indeed getting warmer...his body
was now trying to reheat itself. That was a good sign. Still, Quatre hadn’t
spoken yet, or even acknowledged the presence of either Harry or Professor
Dumbledore.
“Quatre? Can you hear me, child?” Professor Dumbledore asked, laying his
hand down on Quatre’s shoulder in what was probably a gesture of comfort.
In reaction, Quatre shuddered violently, his eyes brimming with tears as he let
himself fall forward, latching onto Dumbledore as if desperate for human
contact. Dumbledore merely held him as he sobbed, while Harry looked on,
saddened that his young love was having such a difficult time.
“There, there.” Dumbledore hushed, then looked over at Harry. “Here,
Harry...you hold him while I prepare a tea to calm him and warm him further.”
Harry nodded, rising from his place on the floor and sliding into the chair that
Quatre had so recently vacated. He wrapped his arms around Quatre’s body,
pulling him over to sit across his lap. In response, Quatre turned and curled
closer to Harry, bringing his legs up as he buried his face in Harry’s robes.
Harry adjusted the blanket around Quatre’s body, keeping him snugly covered.
“Sshh, Quatre. I have you. It’s all right.” Harry attempted to soothe his
trembling, weeping love...but to no avail.
“No...it isn’t! You didn’t hear! You don’t know!” He declared through
his tears, his shaking hands clutching tightly to the cloth he had hidden his
still-bruised face in.
Dumbledore returned, carrying another mug. Harry didn’t know where he had
gotten it so quickly, nor did he care. Quatre was the only thing he was
concerned with at the moment. Still, he listened as Professor Dumbledore spoke.
“Then perhaps it is best that you tell us. If someone is threatening one of
the students under my care, I feel I ought to know about it!” He said, setting
his hand lightly on Quatre’s shoulder. “Now...Harry here, will probably
understand more than I. During his years as a student, he had trials that would
have broken many a spirit...and nearly broke his, I dare say.”
Quatre looked up at Harry, his beautiful aquamarine eyes shimmering, his face
tracked by the salty rivers of his flowing tears. He looked utterly
terrified...he looked lost. Harry tightened his embrace minutely, not wanting to
hurt the injured and already frightened blonde, just wanting to offer him some
hint of reassurance.
“Can you explain this nightmare to us, Quatre?” Harry asked, grazing his
fingers lightly across Quatre’s cheek, skillfully avoiding the dark bruise
that lingered there.
Quatre nodded, taking the mug that Dumbledore had been holding. He sipped at it,
taking a breath, then sipped again, apparently allowing himself a moment to
collect his thoughts. Then he just stared down into the swirling contents of the
mug, his eyes focused intently on the tea within.
When he started speaking, he said the words calmly, continuing as if detached
from everything he was speaking about. He told them of the cold, of the plain of
nothing but ice and snow, then told of the bodiless creature that had spoken to
him, the cold red eyes that had stared at him intently. He was just going
through the details, lost in the memory as he relayed all the information that
he could, his voice sounding dead until he spoke the last word. However, as soon
as he finished going over the terrible nightmare that he had suffered through,
Quatre’s body broke out into intense shivers, the trembling so severe that the
liquid in the mug he held threatened to spill over the sides.
Dumbledore took the mug from Quatre’s quivering hands, setting it aside. He
laid his hand on Quatre’s head, smiling kindly to him. “May I see these
cuts?” He asked.
Quatre nodded, fumbling with the catch of his robes briefly, then with the
buttons of the bloodstained shirt that he wore beneath it. Opening it, Quatre
turned his head away, while Harry and Dumbledore both examined the wounds to his
chest. Dumbledore sighed, gently closing Quatre’s shirt and robes, recovering
him with the blanket.
“What do you think is doing this?” Harry asked, worried by the silence that
had fallen. Quatre was crying again, his head pressed against Harry’s chest,
but he was waiting for an answer from Dumbledore, as was Harry.
“I believe that young Mr. Winner here was attacked by a rather powerful wizard
or witch. I do not know why he or she would want Quatre for anything, but I’m
guessing that whatever it is cannot be a good thing. Quatre’s bout of
sleepwalking suggests that he was being led somewhere. Although he didn’t know
it, Quatre was unknowingly submitting to the will of this person...until he
finally did begin to struggle against its control. Fighting it off as he did,
most likely made this individual angry enough to manifest himself in the dream.
The coldness that Quatre experienced was an aftereffect of a mind
predator...also an attempt to wear down his defenses so that he would be unable
to stop another attack. I have no doubt that if you hadn’t been there, Quatre
would have fallen into unconsciousness and his body taken over by
this...person...for whatever purposes he has need of Quatre for.”
“And the scratches?” Harry asked, his concern growing to an insurmountable
amount.
“Well, the marks have left a definite unpleasant effect on Quatre’s
emotional state. My guess is that they were made just for that purpose, to scare
Quatre...to make him nervous and furthermore to wear his defenses down even
more.” Dumbledore sighed. “This person seems to want Quatre quite
badly...the danger to him is obvious.”
“What can we do?” Harry asked. In his arms, Quatre stifled a sob, looking up
at Dumbledore and waiting for his answer.
Dumbledore smiled. “I will have Professor Snape mix together a tonic. It
should do the trick of protecting him during his sleep. Until it’s ready
though, Quatre will have to remain awake or under supervision if he does fall
asleep.”
“What about when I am awake? If this person is so set on having me, won’t he
try and kidnap me?” Quatre asked, his voice weary.
Professor Dumbledore set his hand on Quatre’s shoulder. “That is true.
However, we can protect you here. Unfortunately, that means you are not
permitted to leave the school grounds under any circumstances, including trips
to Hogsmeade or returning home during the holidays. At least until we can find
out who this person is and stop their attempts at gaining hold of you.”
Quatre smiled, if only faintly. “That’s okay...I don’t celebrate Christmas
anyway so I have no reason to return home other than to visit with my sisters.
I’m sure they won’t mind a postponement of my return to them.” He said,
obviously covering his disappointment over the situation.
“That is very noble of you, Quatre.” Dumbledore smiled. “I will be
enlisting the assistance of the Ministry of Magic for this matter...I hope you
do not mind. Given the severity of this situation, I think we will need all the
help we can get if we want to clear up the problem speedily.”
“Thank you, sir.” Quatre said, leaning back against Harry’s body.
Dumbledore’s smile faded. He reached out his hand, brushing it gently through
Quatre’s hair as he took in and let out a deep breath. “You’re tired,
aren’t you?”
Quatre nodded, his eyes slipping closed for a brief instant. “I’m sorry.”
“No reason to be sorry, child. This has been a stressful day for you. Why
don’t the three of us go down to the Potions classroom and see if we can find
Professor Snape? The walk should do you good, Quatre and serve to keep you
conscious a bit longer.”
“Okay.” Quatre said, yawning widely.
“Come along, Harry...we mustn’t waste any time.” Dumbledore said, turning
and heading out of the room.
Harry rose to his feet, helping Quatre up along with him. He wound his arm
around Quatre’s waist, assisting him in every way possible. Quatre yawned
again, leaning heavily against Harry as he slowly walked...his every move
betraying just how exhausted he was.
Harry fought the instinct to just sweep the blonde off of his feet and carry
him, knowing that this would help to keep Quatre awake and out of danger from
that predator stalking him in his dreams. He sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t
take Professor Snape a long time to concoct this tonic...Quatre was fighting
sleep valiantly as it was, but he couldn’t hold it off forever.