10

The darkness was all encompassing. It had been a constant companion for hours, seething just beyond range of the torches like a lurking hunter in the depths. The trudging steps fore and behind drown out the dripping of water and the moans of the dead. The situation only unnerved the woman who held the torch.

"Remind me again why we're slogging through this stupid crypt?" snapped an annoyed woman dressed in mammoth hide and wolf furs. She shifted her hand down the haft of her battle axe and briefly smiled at the glint on the two polished edges. The woman with the torch looked at the uncouth woman and sighed.

"Miran, we were hired to investigate the reason the relics from the monastery have stopped working," huffed the light basked woman as she elegantly swept her hair from her neck as she looked over her shoulder. "Why are we down in the sun forsaken pit that is crawling with the undead? You'd have to ask that hippie elf." She shifted her torch to the left and and ran her right over her hair to adjust the circlet that she wore and kept her hair out of her face. She turned up her nose at the thoughts of what kind of muck was in her hair as she flicked out a splatter of mud. She hoped it wasn't viscera, oh she would ring her friend's neck if it was.

"Miran no need to be rude," came a voice from the darkness behind them both. Turning they saw a tightly robed elf who, despite the blood and grime, looked beautiful as she always did. She pressed a finger to her lips and motioned with her left hand to the fourth member of this spelunking expedition, a short stocky woman dressed in vibrant metal and covered in silk robes. She was murmuring with her hands clasped at the apex of her breastplate holding a necklace with a stylized rose dangling over her fingers. The elf continued as she glared at the vain woman holding the torch. "Vorviae, your hair is fine. I'd think you'd be more worried about the amount of noise you're making that could call down further, unpleasant, company."

Vorviae rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue before she turned back to the hallway they were traveling down waiting for the rest of her companions to follow her. Miran turned to the elf and glanced at the dwarf woman still murmuring.

"Elilith, I understand little of your arcane mysteries but must she continue in such a manner, it's unnerving."

Elilith smiled and nodded. "You're only feeling jumpy because you can hear them but haven't buried your axe in their rotting skulls. Sarka is holding her divine's influence to ward away the undead so we may pass further unmolested. Keep on alert and help me guide her and we will be fine." The elf's smile radiated her beauty and for a moment Miran was lost in the radiant eyes and smile of her fellow adventurer. Shaking her thoughts free she huffed but nodded and moved forward. Elilith smiled again and gently tugging on Sarka's shoulder began to move the small party forward again.

The quartet continued on in silence mapping out the turns they took on a sheet of parchment that Elilith kept out and floating in front of her. They took a turn and things changed. The first indication that something was wrong was the feeling of walking through something like oily water. This however paled next to the smell of whatever hulking mass lay before them. Then it started moving. A ten foot tall mass of flesh and dripping ichor pulled itself from the floor and stood before it swayed, it's legs scrambled before it found balance and its head rolled across its shoulders, barely attached to the still dripping neck. Crimson eyes glittered with arcane light and the mouth opened as a wet cackle heaved from the throat of the thing.

Sarka was the first to speak, and the implications of that event soon had Elilith snapped from her stupor. "Ladies," she began as she shuddered with revulsion at the desecrated tomb the stood before, "This place is preventing me from keeping the blessing of my goddess."

Elilith spun and began chanting her fingers flying over her grimoire as she found the passage and dug in her stachel for the spider silk she kept there. As she molded her will through her magic she threw the strand into the darkness. Instantly thick ropes of silver webbing criss crossed the hallway thickening and weaving over each other. Behind her the priestess and the fur clad woman leapt forward to engage the hulking monstrosity and cover for the unprepared Vorviae.

A clawed hand reached out and gripped Vorviae's wrist jerking her towards the creature. Unprepared for the assault, she screamed as she dropped the torch and was slapped with a clawed arm from the other side. Cursing the axe wielding woman stumbled and lost her footing as she was dropped into the darkness as the torch died. Sarka however was able to adjust within moments and threw her bulk behind her shield as she charged the monster. The assault was followed by a clever twist and the dwarf slammed her warhammer into the elbow of the beast. Vorviae cried in pain as she fell to the stones and crumpled in a terror induced paralysis shivering and clutching at her face as blood seeped from between her fingers.

Miran swore as she heard her friends battling without her. A grunted 'Grab her!' gave her focus for her bubbling anger. Snarling she fumbled blindly in the dark and crawled forward listening for Vorviae. As her fingers grasped the finely woven cotton that Vorviae wore Miran pulled and drug her friend back from the monster and towards Elilith. Once she had her far enough out of reach she grasped Vorviae's hand from her face and called her name. Frustrated with her friend's dazed look she slapped her uninjured cheek and shouted her name. Vorviae's eyes finally swung to her face and the terror bled away as she nodded. She cursed in her native nomadic tongue as lights flared into being and floated to the ceiling basking the area in light. Miran rubbed her eyes and blinked to clear her vision to the abrupt change.

"Get up off the ground you silly wench and beat that abomination into paste," Eilith's voice danced over the din of guttural wet gasps and shuddering moans from the other dead now strung up in the webbing behind them. Elilith's amused voice continued to advise her friend, "make sure not to pulverise our priestess, we will need her to turn back the hoards."

Miran grunted and climbed to her feet pulling Vorviae to her stand beside her before Miran stomped to her axe and then charging straight at the titan of wet fetid flesh. Miran saw red and dashed over the dwarf that was warding off blows with her shield, a mantra being chanted with each movement, a battle plea to her patron goddess for strength and insight. Miran swung over the Sarka's head and her axe bit deep into the flesh of the forearm as the beast of decay stumbled from the hit. The creature swung it's other arm at her head. Miran wasn't finished, she had to let the dwarf take the first assault and she had to pull her friend back from the battle, a disgrace she would not suffer. Roaring her own battle lust into the beast's face she swung her fist towards the beast's incoming arm and landed her fist at the elbow. The same place that Sarka had landed a hit not two minutes previous. A wet squelching snap echoed in the hallway as the arm suddenly lost much of it's momentum and the broken bone fell back as it tore the decaying flesh. Miran howled with glee as she drove her battle axe down onto the shoulder of the beast.

Sarka followed up the raging woman with a hard blow to the beast's hip, pale blue light swirling over the head of her warhammer, a blessing from the goddess to smite the vile creature of evil. This time the beast certainly howled in pain. A howl of the damned as it swung it's leg around and kicked Miran into the dwarf priestess and drove both against the wall near the tomb. The abomination of flesh turned and staggered to them it's one arm hanging loose at the elbow dripping ichor from the torn flesh. Cackling it's crimson eyes sputtered as the arcane energy struggled for purchase in the decaying construct. It lifted it's good arm and dropped its clawed hand down upon the winded adventures. Miran spit a mouthful of blood at it as it hovered over them.

The blow never fell. Blue lightning danced up and down its arms searing dead flesh and boiling congealed blood and organs. A wet screech tore it's throat open and black gore dripped down on the Sarka and Miran. "Now Vorviae!" Elilith's voice chimed in the stone hallways of the dead. A livid, bleeding sorceress snarled at the undead golem and from her hands burst a beam of white light that gored the beast and continued past the abmoniation into the tomb's door, the angry focus of the battered magic user tore through the dead flesh and ripped the arcane magics from it's anchors in the construct, burning the abomination in the beam and boring it's fury into the stone door behind it. Squealing the dead thing's body burned to ash and the unpleasant smell of decay was banished in the beam's wash.

Panting like having ran uphill in the blazing sun, Vorviae lowered her hands and fell to her knees. Miran and Sarka climbed up from the ground and walked back to the two magic users. Elilith turned back to the web that had trapped a dozen undead and for once her visage was not beauty but rage as she vocalized her spell and crushed the tiny ball of sulphur in her hand and blew the dust forward. A tiny ball of flame formed and sailed into the webbing before detonating in a massive ball of flame burning to cinders the dead flesh and charring the bones of the dead until they crumbled as desiccated powder. Elilith turned to her companions and her look of fury and rage dimmed to a look of concern as she gently dabbed her fingers gently onto Voriae's gashes. With a sad smile she pulled a blue flask from her satchel and rubbed it into the wound before placing a red phial in her hand. "Drink that," turning to the priestess she sighed before thumbing the grimoire at her hip, "let's see about sanctifying this place and get out of here."

Sarka nodded, and pointed to the tomb where the door now covered the floor as crumbled dust, "The focus is in there." Following the dwarf priestess all four entered through the door and cast their eyes about to find anything that might be the cause of the unholy raising of the dead. As Elilith's lights floated in after them and illuminated the inside of the tomb a rasping laugh sounded from the far side of the place. Four sets of eyes snapped to the end and weapons were raised.

Standing at the far end was an old man, skin tight and dry against his bones. His dry laughter echoing in the silent tomb as he reached for the statue of a woman standing over a sarcophagus, with care he lifted a cameo and placed it over the statue's neck and gently caressed her face before reaching into his satchel. With a flick of his hand he threw the last of his spell ingredients on a prepared gate crystal. A oval of light swirled into existence behind him like a halo. Placing his hand on a bundle of cloth that was next to the open sarcophagus his eyes light up with red arcane magic and as he gazed at the invaders his cracked lips and cheeks pulled up into an unnatural grin with too much teeth as he pulled the bundle into his arms and stepped through the doorway that then blinked out, it's purpose fulfilled.

"An unnatural grin?" Padma, one of the Indian girls, asked with an accent much like Harry's fathers' had. "What does that even mean?" She asked herself.

"That has to be the necromancer we're after!" Parvati, her twin sister, exclaimed with a similar accent.

"It doesn't have to be an actual necromancer," Their cousin Cashmere didn't have the same accent but she still drawled like a champion. "I think it's a vampire."

"A vampire? Really? No way. It's gotta be a warlock." Padma suggested.

"What about a demon?" Parvati added her own idea to the discussion. Padma responded by gently smacking her in the face with Harry's Monster Manual, making Cashmere giggle.

Harry wasn't really listening to the girls he was playing with. He was looking at his talking skull that he had somehow managed to convince to be the Dungeon Master for their game. It was smiling as much as a skull without skin could smile and it got Harry's mind working. An unnatural smile with lots of teeth. Someone raising the dead to attack the village and magic that interfered with the monestary's relics. A creepy longing for a woman and caressing her likeness. Removing a corpse. This didn't sound like any of the suggestions from the girls.

"It's a lich," Harry had to speak up to be heard over the giggles at the table.

"A what?" The twins asked in near unison.

"It's not a lich. It's clearly a vampire." Cashmere insisted with just the slightest hint of condescension.

Harry turned his head to Cashmere with a stiff jerk. He was not about to allow her insult stand without a challenge. "On what grounds?" He asked politely, yet firmly.

"Vampires are inhuman. They like to live in crypts and raise the dead. It'd also explain them terrorizing the village!" Cashmere smiled proudly

"Vampires might like to live in crypts, but they do not raise the dead. They make thralls by feeding and killing their victims," Harry turned to the twins. "A lich is a powerful undead magic user that can also live anywhere but can lurk in crypts, but as greater undead they can use magic and also raise undead minions. It would also explain that bit with the statue and cameo of the young woman. Some sort of connection. Maybe he was a necromancer once but went way down the dark magic path?"

"It could be a victim." Cashmere forced her opinion into Harry's point. "Vampires are known to take tokens from their victims!"

"Just one token, though? And stroking that statue's face?" Harry answered without looking at her. "That's such a long shot it can't be considered. I bet you it's a lich!"

"It's a vampire!" Cashmere raised her voice, like that was going to make her point clearer.

Harry turned to face her, her attitude finaling getting under his skin. "Would you rather take this outside?" His soft tone didn't diminish the threat.

"Ok." Padma spoke up, cutting through the tension at the table. "Logan made better points, so I say we go with his idea of it being a lich." Parvati nodded her head quickly in agreement.

"And here I was hoping for a fight," the talking skull chuckled. The twins each gave the skull a hard glare. "Are you ready to continue the game or do you need to argue some more?" it asked with a snide tone.

"Fine!" Cashmere slouched in her chair with her arms crossed and a pout on her lips. "We'll do it Logan's way."

Harry tried his hardest not to look too pleased. He gave Cashmere a lopsided grin to apologise for getting into an argument over a game. While he was sure he was right, the talking skull could have a twist lined up that would make him wrong. Nothing for it now. They had finally agreed on a course of action and the game was starting again.

It hadn't taken the adventurers long to finish that task. With the necromancer gone the monestary's magic was set right and as thanks their wounds were healed and a discount on their potion stock had been made. With a few small personal gifts of silver pieces the four traveled to the next largest city to inquire about information on the woman in the cameo. It took some work and a few manipulations from Vorviae showing too much thigh than she had rights to but they were able to track her home to a vineyard across the valley. The current owners were her nephews who had inherited the home after their father, the woman's elder brother had died. They were invited in and learned that the woman was engaged to be wed to a noble wizard who hailed from the coast. Before the talks and betrothal were complete she was killed by bandits from during a trip to the city. Her lover had lost his mind and hunted the bandit clans in the area relentlessly until he finally disappeared nearly seventeen years previous. They were pointed to a small fort the lover had constructed to headquarter his hunt of the bandit clans. They were pointed in the direction and thanked for the information about a necromancer breaking into their family tomb and taking their aunt's body.

The slog through what turned out to be an underground necropolis was rough. Miran got plenty of time to try out a new axe she had claimed from a fallen bandit lord. Sarka and Elilith had purchased new accessories to enhance their defenses and Vorviae had found a glove that amplified her evocation spells. It was an ordeal but knowing what they could encounter tempered their gusto, Vorviae keenly reminded of her fault at freezing in fear in front of the monster of stitched flesh.

They had delved into the center of the necropolis and strode boldly into the gazebo that had been set up like a wedding with the bride a shambling mummified corpse held together by the wrappings as much as the dress. The man they had seen before stood in front of them and chastised them for interrupting his darling's special day. Vorviae had enough and used a fan of flames to try to fry the old necromancer. The result was horrific, his flesh flash burned like dust and all that was left was a chittering skeleton that moved much too smoothly and retaliated with lightning. Once the fight was done, of which none of them escaped unscathed they ground the body into dust before the cleric and elf pooled their knowledge of lore and came up with the idea to look for any further evil presence in the area. They were led to a plush room in a nearby mansion.

On the vanity was a wedding ring that looked diseased and tainted. The once bright diamond looked like it was smokey and brittle. The group took the ring back to the gazebo and after resting for a few hours to gather their strength the sorceress cast several fire spells on the ring before Elilith cast cooling and what ice spells she knew to make the ring as brittle as she could. Sarka sought the blessing of her goddess and imbued her hammer with a holy might to smite the undead and evil. Miran took the blessed weapon and with a mighty drive shattered the ring. A cry of despair and wailing issued from the broken shards and the released soul was pulled through the necropolis into the depths of the darkness wailing all the way. The corpse of the woman in the wedding dress seized before falling to the ground and crumbling to dust. In its place a spectral version of a young woman with a brilliant if sad smile nodded to the companions and spoke before she faded. Her "thank you" echoed by the thousands of entombed bandits and murdered adventures ringing throughout the necropolis, finally at rest.

"Ha!" Harry popped up from his seat with his fist raised into the air. "I knew it was a lich!"

The three girls sitting around him looked at him with a wide range of emotions while the talking skull chuckled to itself. Padma leaned forward with her head in her hands.

"You're so smart, Logan," she softly hummed at Harry.

"How'd you figure it out?" Cashmere asked as she flipped through Harry's Monster Manual. "I thought for sure it was a vampire." She muttered unhappily to herself.

"I have a lot of free time while my family is traveling, so I read to pass it." Harry shrugged nonchalantly as he sat back down. "I've read through the Monster Manual a few dozen times, at least, so I know all the monsters very well."

Parvati nudged his shoulder with her own. "Looks like Logan won the bet." She spoke with a large smile as she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow..

"Bet?" Harry asked in confusion. "Oh! Yeah. I guess I did get it." Harry thought in silence for a moment. "But I wasn't serious. None of you owe me anything for it. I was just being silly." He waved his hand in the air in an effort to dismiss the idea.

"No way!" Padma exclaimed suddenly, startling Harry slightly. "You won the bet, fair and square. We need to give you something!" She looked between the two other girls, her eyes lingering on her sister's hands on Harry's arm. "But what?"

Cashmere shrugged her shoulders unhelpfully while Parvati appeared thoughtful. "What about a henna?" She turned to Padma. "Like the one Grandma gave cousin Rupee?"

"That's a great idea!" She looked back to Harry. "The whole family loves you, but Grandma especially," Padma whispered tenderly, like she was telling him a secret, which made Cashmere roll her eyes as Harry shivered from her breath on his cheek.

Harry wanted to argue with the girls, but he knew that was pointless. He had learned very quickly after meeting them that once they set their mind to something, it was nearly impossible to change it, and that went double for the twins. It was the main reason he had even agreed to play Dungeons and Dragons with them in the first place. They got to talking about his books and then 'no' was not an option.

The three girls helped him pack up his books and papers, but folded their own character sheets into their pockets. Parvati grabbed Harry's bag and held it open while Cashmere grabbed the skull and tossed it in like a basketball. The skull let out a string of colorful curses that were soon muffled when Pavarti quickly closed the bag with a snicker. Cashmere led the group through the part of the family business they had chosen to play in and back towards their family home through the market while Harry had a twin on either side of him. Padma had linked her arm with his as they walked while Pavarti merely walked close to him having lost her place on his arm to her sister. Harry had been to their house a few times now, but he hadn't been able to figure out whose house it really was since it seemed like everyone lived there.

There were a few aunts and uncles milling about inside the house, as well as a few smaller cousins running around. The girls had tried a few times to explain to him how everyone was related, but he just couldn't keep up.

"Mama!" Cashmere called out to the women cooking in the kitchen. "We brought Logan back."

"Really?" One of the women replied with a smile. "Is he staying for dinner again?"

"Not too long, I'm afraid." Harry spoke as he sat down on the other side of the long kitchen counter the women were cooking at to watch them. A fresh pang of longing for his mothers bit into his chest as he watched the women work. "My family is moving on this evening."

"Oh. That's a shame," another one of the women, an aunt or cousin, said sadly. "We've really enjoyed having you around," she gave him a sweet smile with her words.

"I've really enjoyed coming over. I'm going to miss the time here with your family."

While Harry was a little sorry to leave such a nice family behind, the time they spent in India was beginning to make him itch. This place wasn't like China, where he was actively learning something. He spent his time reading or playing games with the Patil girls he had met and he was beginning to get bored. The only reason they had stayed here as long as they had was because his fathers had some sort of shady business here that had been taking a while to finish.

"We were going to see if Grandma would give Logan that pretty henna she gave Rupee when she got married." Padma spoke sweetly to the women, her eyes innocent. The women in the kitchen all turned to Padma with strange looks on their faces.

"Padma? Really?" the first woman asked in a concerned tone.

"That's really only for family. And women. You should know this, dear," another one spoke up.

"What am I doing now?"

Harry turned to see their grandmother walking towards them though the dining room. She was an incredibly old, frail looking woman that looked like she would shatter if you breathed too deeply near her. She was always a hard one to read and he couldn't even be sure if she had magic or not. She was a mystery that Harry hated that he didn't have time to unravel.

"Grandma!" Padma ran up to the old woman and gave her a careful hug, "I was wondering if you would give Logan that pretty henna you gave Rupee when she got married," Padma asked her grandmother in a much sweeter tone that she had used with their aunts.

"And why would I want to do that?" the old woman asked Padma in the same overly-sweet tone while giving Harry a strange look.

"Logan won a bet in our game and we were thinking it would be something nice that he would remember us by?" Parvati chimed in and gave Harry a bright smile having figured out her sister's intention.

"No one could forget you two if they tried," he mumbled under his breath. Harry tried very hard to not roll his eyes at the twins' antics. Padma was about the least subtle person he had ever met. He was also painfully aware that whatever affection she had for him was ultimately pointless. Him and his family would be on the road again by tonight and he would never see her again. A sad truth he had come to accept.

The old woman disentangled Padma from her body and slowly walked over to Harry. She stared into Harry's eyes for a long, silent moment while the other women in the room chatted around them.

"Alright," the matriarch finally spoke. "I'll give him the henna."

"Really?" Padma's eyes lit up as she hugged her grandmother again. "Thank you grandma!"

"Really?" one of the aunts in the kitchen asked in confusion.

"Yes," the wizened woman replied firmly, silencing any more questions. "Come along," She told Harry as she began to walk away from the kitchen.

The old woman led Harry and the twins into a small back room that he could only assume was her personal room. Cashmere must have decided to not join them since he didn't see her come with them.

"Take your shirt off and lay down on the floor," grandmother commanded as she began to fiddle with some jars on a counter near the back of the room.

Harry did as he was told, even if he was a little self-conscious with the twins there watching him so closely. He got his shirt off and set it aside with his bag, his face flushing as their eyes devoured his skin.

"You already have a tattoo?!" Parvati reached out and touched his right shoulder that left a tingle on his skin. His flesh burning under her feather light investigation. Harry looked over and saw that Oheo had curled over his shoulder and around his upper arm. It was one of the little dragon's favorite spots to lay under his skin.

"It's so pretty," Padma spoke in a reverent tone as she stroked the little dragon with her finger. Harry's body ran a pleasant quiver up his shoulder and down his spine to simmer at the top of his hips.

"Yeah, I got that from an old monk in China," he felt the little dragon vibrate slightly, no doubt purring. "I sometimes forget that she's there."

"She's beautiful, Logan," the matriarch walked back to them with a slender bag that was full of something brown cupped in her hands.

The old woman pushed on his chest, a gentle insistence to lay down which he did. Parvati made sure he had a pillow under his head while Padma was busy stroking Oheo and Harry fought not to squirm under her fingers. Grandmother began painting the brown substance onto his chest over his heart. He wasn't really sure what to make of the design itself, but he could feel a faint magic seeping into his skin more and more as she put more of the substance onto him.

"Now, let it dry completely before you knock off the extra henna, alright? It has to soak in properly," she told him without turning around.

"Thank you very much grandmother," Harry looked at the design as best he could. The design looked like a stylized sunflower with curly lines coming out from it, making it also look like a sun. He found he actually liked it.

"You should be thankful. We don't normally give those to anyone outside the family," she wagged a finger at him.

"Why is that?" he asked curiously. He hadn't had much time to study social norms here, but that was his fault he knew. Too many Dungeons and Dragons manuals to go through.

The old woman sat down in a well worn chair in the corner of the room. "It's more than just a pretty design, boy. It's a weaker ward of protection. It'll tell you when something with ill intent is trying to sneak up on you while looking lovely," she smiled at him and then made a vague gesture that didn't translate. "You can think of it as binding you to the family, in a way."

Harry wasn't really sure what to make of her words or the henna design now on his chest, but he had been given things in far more invasive ways, so he really couldn't complain. At least this time it wasn't a living creature or a magical artifact that wouldn't shut up.

"Thank you, ma'am. I truly appreciate it," Harry bowed his head slightly to the older woman.

"Oh, you will," she muttered as he left the room with the twins.

Harry had enough time to get one last meal cooked by the many aunts and the girls before his fathers had finally tracked him down to leave. He had thought about knocking off the tracking charm Remus insisted on putting on him every time he left on his own, but he knew the fun wouldn't be worth the lengthy lecture that would surely follow. He got a lot of kisses from the many women in the house and a few back pats from the boys. The twins made him promise to write them and tell them all about his travels. He wasn't sure how he would since he only had the one magical crow to send letters with and it was almost always out with a letter to his mothers, but he promised he would try anyway.

"How are you doing, Harry?" Remus asked him softly once they were some distance away from the town. Another place they couldn't stay and another group of friends he wouldn't see again.

"I knew this was coming, so I'm doing well enough, I suppose," Harry shrugged as he continued to read his D&D spell book. "They insisted that I write them."

"That would be nice. Writing someone that isn't either of your mothers or your grandmother."

"What's wrong with writing them?" Harry asked a bit more sharply than he probably should have with his father.

"Absolutely nothing." Remus was unaffected by Harry's tone. "I'm only suggesting it's good to talk with more people. Especially people that aren't family."

Harry nodded, now feeling a little bit ashamed with his attitude. He should know neither of his fathers ever had any ill-will towards his mothers or grandmother, beyond some of Hausis' teachings, for how much trouble they caused them.

"Is that the group you've been playing that muggle game with lately? The dragon one?" Sirius sounded like so many of the many fathers Harry had come across. Trying their best yet so very clueless, different responsibilities he supposed.

"Yes, it is. The twins gave me a henna because I won a bet at the end of our campaign," Harry informed them conversationally before he realized what he just blurted out.

"Getting your girlfriends' name tattooed on your body is the first step to adulthood. Good for you." Sirius nodded knowingly to himself.

"Are you serious?" Remus turned to glare at him, ignoring the smirk and Sirius' reply of 'yes'. Remus lifted his hands from his sides, folding across his chest and one hand rubbing at his eyes and the bridge of his nose. "That is not even remotely correct!"

Sirius smirked as he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the name Lily in a stylized font. "Hell yeah it is!" Sirius exclaimed loudly. Remus opened his mouth to say something when Sirius pulled his sleeve up the rest of the way to show the name 'James' above the 'Lily' and the date 'October 31st' accented with an exuberant 'Pow' from the old dog.

"I've seen you without your shirt on too many times, so how have I managed to miss that tattoo?" Remus slouched in his seat, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "And why did I have to say that, like THAT?" He muttered angrily to himself.

"Ah, don't worry Love. I'll let you check me all over later," he added with a lecherous smirk directed at Remus.

"I swear to whatever higher power you believe in: I. Will. End. You." Remus threatened Sirius with bared teeth, but it just made Sirius and Harry laugh. They both knew that Remus would never truly hurt them. He quickly shook off his rage and turned back to Harry. "Is this like the magical dragon tattoo that clearly isn't?"

Harry looked up at Remus with feigned confusion. "It's just a magical tattoo. The monks gave it to me when I completed my training. I explained that to you before dad."

"That is no normal magical tattoo, Harry." Remus gave him a hard look, like he was trying to look through him. "It moves far too much," was his father's continued conclusion.

"Magical tattoos move," Harry insisted as he crossed his arms and scowled at his father..

Remus lifted up his t-shirt to reveal a rather large tattoo over his heart. Harry had seen this tattoo before. It was of a forest scene with a large rat on the stump of a tree in the middle and would run around in a little circle. To the left of the rat was a large stag that would occasionally nudge a flower with its snout that Remus had explained was a lily. On the other side there was a wolf sitting with a shaggy dog, both panting happily. Remus had explained that each of the friends had gotten this tattoo back in school as a symbol of their friendship. It was changed to what had the group had lost to the war his fathers still didn't talk about.

"They move, yes. That dragon... journeys," Remus muttered after he searched for the word. He pulled his shirt back down. "I understand that you wish to have privacy. I just want to make sure you're safe."

"You're being a helicopter parent again, Remus," Harry was grateful that Sirius spoke up. He hated when Remus started to pry. He loved his father but there were things he didn't think he could tell his father, maybe ever.

"Well one of us has to be!" Remus defended himself a bit too loudly.

"You seem wound up, Honey. Do you need help relaxing later?" Sirius gave Remus an exaggerated wink.

"You're impossible," Remus sighed all of his anger out. "Why do I bother with you?"

"Because you love me," Remus gave Sirius a hard look that did nothing to dissuade him. "Tell me you don't."

"I don't," He replied without inflection.

"Liar," Sirius hummed with a smile. As hard as Remus tried to deny it, it was obvious that he enjoyed Sirius' antics.

The three of them rode in silence for some time after that. Harry continued to read the D&D spell book as they rode through the winding dirt hills of rural India. He was interested in the differences he was finding in the standardized magical textbooks he got from Camilla and what non-magical people imagined magic could do. At some point, Remus looked over to figure out what Harry seemed so engrossed in, the magically expanded sidecar fitting them easily side by side.

"Which spell book is this?" Remus asked while peering over Harry's shoulder. "I don't recognize any of these spells."

"That's because these are non-magical...uh...it's spells by unmagical..." Harry stopped speaking, realizing he didn't have a nice way to describe magic created by people without it. He decided to settle on using the terminology his fathers used, if only for it's utility. "It's muggle magic." He shrugged and turned the book to show Remus the cover.

"Muggle magic?" Sirius questioned in a way the nearly sounded like a sneer. "Muggles don't have magic."

"Not like we do, but they've made their own. Look!" Harry handed the book to Remus and pointed to the description of a spell called 'Magic Missile'. "There isn't a spell like this in any of the Ilvermorny books I have. Does Hogwarts?"

"No, not really. We have offensive spells, but they all have a particular effect. Like petrification or blasting one away."

"Or creating fire!" Sirius added with exuberance. "That's one of my favorites."

Remus rolled his eyes, but chose not to comment. "This here looks like it doesn't have an effect."

"Like it's pure magic being shot at a target?" Harry asked, the wheels in his head already turning.

"Something like that." Remus handed the book back to Harry. "I'll be honest with you. I'm not really sure how to classify that kind of a spell. We simply don't have anything that's comparable."

"That's alright." Harry closed the book and placed it back into his bag. "I'm just curious, is all. Our magic and Muggle Magic are very different, but I'm seeing a lot of similarities."

"I wouldn't be surprised if the person who created that had a magical family member or friend," Sirius shrugged slightly. "Everyone knows someone with magic."

"I'm going to go into my bag for a bit, alright?" Harry nudged Remus' shoulder with his own.

"Of course, pup." Remus grabbed Harry's bag and held it open for him. "I'll call you when we stop for food." He added with a kind smile.

Harry climbed into his bag and breathed out a sigh when the portal behind him closed. While he knew they would be leaving India at some point, it was still hard to do so. He actually made friends his age this time and it hurt a lot more than he was prepared for. It would heal in time, but it was going to be a pain in the meantime. The best thing he could do now was to keep himself busy and wait for those feelings to begin to fade on their own. It helped that the girls were getting ready to go back to school soon so he wouldn't be able to see them anyway.

He grabbed the spell book he placed in his bag from the small table he kept by the portal. After about the third time of having to pick the things he put inside the bag up off the floor, he figured out to put an enchanted by the portal to grab the objects. He flipped back to the magic missile page and continued his reading of it as he meandered his way towards the library. His footsteps faltered once he entered the library. The henna on his chest had gotten noticeably warmer and had pulled his attention away from his book. He pulled up his shirt to see if he was having a reaction to the ink that was used, but found that it had looked the same as when he got it. He placed a hand to the design, but felt none of the heat with his hand that he could feel with his chest.

"Stripping already, boy?" The talking skull chuckled loudly from the corner of the library. "Go on and take care of yourself. Don't mind me," It murmured lecherously.

"Go to hell, Mary." Harry barked at the skull as he placed the spell book on a shelf.

"They threw me out!" The skull screeched a shrill laugh. Harry could only roll his eyes and leave the library again.

Harry walked slowly through the many plants in his garden. It was easy to grow his garden when he had so much free time. The magical bees were small like regular bees as they buzzed between the plants. Many of them landed on him and buzzed their greetings to him before flying off again. Queenie wasn't out to greet him which probably meant that she was sleeping in the beehive. She would no doubt come out to see him once she realized he was around.

Having nothing better to do, he decided to go to the training building next to the house and play around with the muggle magic. His fathers said they had learned nothing like the magic missile from Hogwarts, but Harry knew he didn't have a standardized education. He just didn't do magic the same way his fathers did. And that was what got him thinking. They didn't have anything like that spell, but that didn't mean he couldn't make something like it. Nothing would be more surprising in a fight than a magical person throwing out muggle spells.

It was a dark circular room with a single, magical candle on one of the window sills in the room. There were three beds with large canopies around the edge with a side table and window between each one. The beds were filled with sleeping people that were obscured by their blankets or pillows.

A fourth figure entered the room through the only door silently. It was an older man with a long white beard and wearing strange looking blue robes with a matching pointy hat that had a pattern of stars and crescent moons. He walked over to one of the beds and gently shook the occupant awake.

"Huaw...what?" The occupant sat up in the bed, showing them to be a young man with dirty blond hair. He rubbed his eyes aggressively before looking up to the old man. "Prof…" The old man put a hand up to the young man's mouth to silence him before motioning the young man to follow him.

The old man led the young man out of the circular room and down a winding staircase that connected to a large room that was too dark to see much other than the vague shapes of couches and tables. They continued through the room and out another door to even more staircases. The old man walked at a fast pace, making the young man half jog to keep up.

"What's going on? Why are you here?" The young man asked when they entered a large hallway.

"There is something direly important I must show you for your fight against the Dark Lord," the old man spoke sagely. "We must hurry before you're missed."

The two exited out a large wooden door, down the trail past the lake and out of the iron gates to the castle grounds. He moved out into an open area. The old man stopped in the middle of the open area and waited for the young man to catch up.

"Why are we out here?" the young man asked out of breath.

"Alas, I am not supposed to be here at the school, the anti-apparition wards are active and I am not keyed into them. We had to walk outside of them," the old man spoke without looking at the young man.

"Where are we going?"

The old man said nothing, only offered his arm to the young man and when the young man took it, they were magically transported from the field to an old cemetery. The young man was clearly affected by the magical transportation, but recovered quickly enough. The old man motioned for the young man to follow him once again, leading him at a much slower pace between the smaller headstones. The old man stopped in front of a small mausoleum with two stone statues on either side of the door, one of an angel and one of a cloaked figure holding a scythe.

"What's this?" the young man asked, the fear noticeable in his voice.

"Your destiny," the old man turned to the young man with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

The young man walked towards the door and reached out for the handle. His arm was suddenly grabbed by the stone angel and it jerked him towards it. It grabbed each of the young man's arms with its own and wrapped it's stone wings around his body, immobilizing him.

"What's happening?" he turned to the old man with a pleading look. "Professor!"

The old man turned away from the young man to face a third man holding a brown blanket and was standing in front of a huge cauldron that wasn't there when they approached the mausoleum. "I have brought the boy."

"Good," a sickly male voice replied, but it was not the man that was standing behind the cauldron. "Let me see him!" It growled an order. The third man took the brown blanket and carefully moved it to the side to reveal an incredibly sick looking baby with red eyes and two thin slits for a nose. The baby grinned as it turned its wrong-looking eyes to the young man. "Not the one I want, but you'll do." It closed its eyes and sighed tiredly. "Begin." It gave a weak order.

The man holding the baby walked towards the cauldron and stepped into it. He and the baby both looked at the young man as they sunk under the surface of the liquid inside the cauldron, the baby's head cradled to the chest of his caretaker. The old man pulled out a wand and used it to pull a long bone from the mausoleum door and dropped it into the cauldron. He then put the wand away and pulled out a slender knife and the young man screamed as it was used to cut his face. The old man walked to the cauldron and flicked a drop of the young man's blood into the cauldron.

The cauldron began to bubble violently as soon as the blood hit the liquid and erupted in black fire soon after. It bubbled and rolled inside its container before the black liquid seemed to rise out of the cauldron in a solid mass. It moved over the edge of the cauldron bubbling and belching dark flames as the mass moved. It glided to the ground without changing its height and began to move to the bound young man. Two hands came out of the liquid and seemed to pull the dark mass back like a hood that extinguished the bubbling black fire. There was a man under the liquid that resembled the sick baby that went into the cauldron, only now it was a man much healthier looking, but still had the unnatural red eyes and long slits for a nose as well no hair but his skin was a much healthier color and his body filled out much better the dark robes he was wearing.

"Well done..." the bald man smiled coldly at the old man. "...Professor." The old man responded with a deep bow. "Now deal with the other," he motioned to the young man. "We have work to do."

The old man handed the bald man his wand and the bald man used it to leave the cemetery with a crack. The old man turned back to the young man and made a motion to the stone angel, which removed its wings from the young man's body, but continued to hold his arms.

The old man put a hand on the young man's shoulder and gave him a kind smile. "Your sacrifice has redeemed your family," He told him softly before plunging the knife into the young man's chest.

Harry woke suddenly and sat up in his bed, looking around in tired confusion. He rubbed his eyes and looked over to a clock he kept on the wall near his bed. It was nearly three in the morning and he had just had another one of those dreams that made no sense to him. This time it was a blond boy instead of another red headed woman. Harry sighed as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and wondered if he should write about the dream now that it was still fresh or go back to sleep and do it in the morning. He grumbled as he decided to write it down now that it was still fresh and made his way to his library. The inside of his house was a bit cold, but that could have been because he was only wearing his pajama pants.

The skull wolf whistled at Harry as he walked in. "Be still my dead heart. Look at all that young man!" The skull laughed far too loudly for Harry's groggy state.

"Hush now, Ripley. I have writing to do," Harry yawned as he pulled out his notebook and sat at the table. He rubbed the spot on his chest where the henna had long since faded, yet still burned at strange times.

"Only because you asked so nicely," the skull chuckled to itself before falling silent.