Chapter 1: It all comes down

"Harry" indicating speech

'Harry' indicating inner thoughts

"Harry, come catch me!" called out a girl in glee as she ran, her feet padding down on the grass. A nine-year-old boy chased after her, a smile on his face, keeping his distance and gradually letting it grow.

"Ilya, stop! I'm too tired," mock-panted Harry, leaning on his knees and letting out exaggerated breaths of air.

"You're too slow, Harry," said the little girl, laughing, as the boy mock-gasped in offense.

"You won't get away now," Harry said menacingly, his previous running speed far eclipsed by his new speed as he started to run after the white-haired girl, lets see you evade me now that I'm trying thought Harry to himself.

Ilya squeaked at Harry's burst of speed, and no matter how hard she tried, she was caught too soon for her liking, 'NOO, I was about to win as well' lamented Ilya

"Okay, you caught me. Let's go inside now, Harry. I need some water," Ilya said, her face scrunched up in slight annoyance at being caught so easily.

 'Classic Ilya', mused an Amused Harry "Changed the topic, did you now, Ilya?" teased Harry, knowing his best friend very well and that she was annoyed.

"The weather is awfully nice today, isn't it, Harry?" she said, still trying to gloss over her loss, much to Harry's amusement.

Harry just laughed, much to the consternation of the white-haired girl at his side, as they moved back to the orphanage.

Ilya had come to the orphanage last year, not as someone with no guardian, but because there were some issues with her family at the time. Since the orphanage was sponsored by Ilya's family, the Father had taken her in. Coupled with her unique looks, she had become a target for bullies.

Harry hadn't liked that. He had gone through... something not dissimilar for his maroon-colored hair and deep green eyes and had to stand up for himself. Subsequently, he had been a loner, keeping to his books, or sneaking out after dark, or just disappearing so the bullies weren't prepared for him to intervene, and he hadn't been nice about it.

Since then, they had been inseparable, spending the past eleven months glued at the hip.

Harry sat down on the grass and stared at the sky, hearing a figure plopping down next to him. He looked over. "Weren't you thirsty?" he said, quirking an eyebrow.

"Nope," said Ilya nonchalantly, looking up at the sky, the moment was tranquil and peaceful but was broken. "Harry, I have a question. Would you still be my best friend if I was a cloud?" she questioned seriously.

Harry looked at her incredulously. "Where exactly did that come from?" he asked.

"I heard Sarah ask John if he would love her if she was a caterpillar. Caterpillars are gross though; I would never be able to love you if you turned into one. So a cloud, would you love—I mean, would you still be my best friend if I was a cloud?" she rambled on before coming to a stop, her cheeks flaming red at her slip-up.

Harry laughed at her rambling before looking at her and smiling with amusement. "Yes, I'd love you if you turned into a cloud," he said, causing her to smile before he jumped towards her, pulling her cheeks even as she struggled and tried to escape, before accepting her fate and pouting at his actions.

Pulling away, laughing, Harry also lay on his back next to her as Ilya nursed her now red cheeks, still pouting.

They stared at the sky for a while, the silence once again comfortable, gazing at the open expanse, before Ilya spoke up.

"Harry," Ilya began and then stopped, hesitating, suddenly anxious, 'how's he going to take it?' she wondered worried.

"What's up?" Harry asked, his face curious at the rare sight of hesitation from the girl before him.

She took a deep breath and said, "I'm leaving tomorrow. The sister just told me today morning," she bit out.

Harry didn't know how to respond; 'she's going, am I going to be alone again? I don't want things to back to the way they where.'

Lost in thought, all Harry could manage was an "oh," even as his face turned blank, and he turned away from her.

"Harry, I promise I'll come to visit. I won't give them a choice every weekend. Heck, I'll ask them to adopt you so we can be together forever," said the white-haired girl passionately, wrapping her arms around his back and burying her face into his back, 'I promise I will, I promise' making up her mind to do whatever it took so he wouldn't be alone.

Harry smiled at that, knowing it was unlikely, but he couldn't bear to be the one that broke that to her. So, he put up a smile for her even as he turned to her and hugged her back, humming his acceptance.

They stayed that way for a while and Harry wished It would just last forever. But the evening gong sounded and Harry broke the embrace, nudging Ilya.

"Come on we have to get inside."

"A bit longer."

"How much longer Ilya?"

"Two minute's," Ilya buried her face into his chest and her voice was so weak that Harry couldn't bear to tell her to get up.

Eventually they where forced to move inside, splitting up to change and take showers in the common areas before going to the church for their mandatory prayers before dinner.

Dinner consisted of gravy rice with a side helping of chicken. Sitting down, Harry started eating, lost in his thoughts.

He felt powerless. This wasn't something he could solve at his young age, and he couldn't keep his best friend, there's nothing I can do I? anguished Harry His helplessness started to lead to anger. Something responded to the anger, and Burton's chair—a kid on the chubbier side, to be polite—found that his chair gave out to the amusement of the kids.

Before he could continue his thoughts, Ilya sat next to him. She instantly knew what was going through his head as she held his hand and started rambling about the most mundane things.

Not willing to ruin their last day, Harry decided to forget about the upcoming event and enjoy their last evening together. He responded to her ramblings with quips, yet neither could shake the undertone of sadness present in the air.

At night, Harry lay down in bed, feeling melancholic. Usually, that meant little to no sleep. His emotions had always been strong, and he would need to slip out to enjoy the night's cool air and maybe spend some time with Ilya to calm himself down. They had a spot they agreed to meet at tonight, to spend some time before Ilya had to leave, But today his eyes were drooping till they closed, no matter how hard he tried to keep them open.

Something felt wrong to Harry even as he was forcefully being pulled into the realm of morpheus, his body wasn't obeying him, belatedly he realized that out of the thirty kids shoveled into the room, none where making a sound, even the older kids, something was wrong but Harry lost the fight and his eyes closed.

He woke up with a start, scared. Not much scared him anymore. He had been bullied for his odd combination of hair and eyes, the red and the green labeling him as a freak.

But one day he had decided he had enough, ignored them, and smashed his elbow onto the lead bully's face, breaking his nose. He had managed to stand up to them, overcoming his fears. That had done wonders for his confidence, and he had been the bravest out of all the kids, standing up to the older kids and for Ilya.

 What is this where are we, where's Ilya? But as he stared at the rows of children's bodies, all stationary, he wasn't feeling an ounce of bravery.

The hall was laden with kids from the Christian orphanage, almost a hundred kids strewn around in heaps and piles. Near the edge, Harry could see carvings in some weird language he couldn't begin to fathom.

His body was weak and sluggish, indicating they had all been drugged or, even worse, poisoned. However, for some reason, Harry was awake, and he could feel strength slowly returning to his body.

Quietly and cautiously, Harry maneuvered himself into a sitting position, leaning against the body to give the illusion that he had been placed upright by whoever had brought him there. Catching his breath, he surveyed the room.

The place was dark and damp, with a high ceiling allowing moonlight to pour in from a gap in the roof. The surface beneath Harry was rough, and the moonlight served as the only source of illumination, revealing a spot some distance away near the center. There, he could just about make out another child, judging from the size of the figure, surrounded by several hooded figures.

A sense of unease crept over Harry as he shuddered involuntarily at the ominous energy in the air. It felt dark, almost black, sending shivers down his spine, as if he were surrounded and submerged in a pool of the most malevolent things in existence.

Suddenly, Harry noticed the figure in the middle turning around, muttering something while holding out a stick. To his horror, the stick lit up, and flames erupted from it, engulfing the bodies and rapidly advancing toward him.

His body still lacked the strength to do anything. The fire approached, and panic set in. Then, dread consumed him as he recognized the screams—it sounded like Ilya.

Desperate to move, Harry struggled against his weakened body. The fire crept closer, inching up to his feet, and the screams grew louder and louder until the flames reached him, burning like nothing else. Harry tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lips.

Feeling useless in his childish ego and arrogance, Harry had considered himself tough and ready. However, the reality struck hard as the crescendo of screams enveloped him. His closed eyes opened to a nightmarish scene—it hurts, it hurts soo much, screamed Harry in his head, until it didn't the engulfing fire that once wrought destruction now transformed into a soothing force. An eerie silence replaced the silent screams, leaving the Hooded figures bewildered.

In this surreal moment, Harry's eyes glowed with an otherworldly fusion of green and amber. The flames, once consuming the lifeless bodies, now danced in harmony, radiating a bizarre tranquility. The hooded figures at the center, initially wielding their sticks in feeble attempts, now stood in panic against Harry's levitating fiery form.

A misguided move by one figure, who hurled a piece of rubble at Harry, triggered a response that showed them how outclassed they just were. Harry's eyes snapped open wide, capturing the rock with a flaming hand and swiftly returning it, claiming two lives. Unfazed, he seized two more figures, holding them in a relentless grip until they burned away, the flame's leaving nary a remnant.

"Untangle the wards quickly!" screamed a hooded figure in desperation, all he wanted to do was get away from this boy, nay this... Demon.

Harry looked at the screaming figure even as his throat worked, letting out a guttural sound. "You think I'm demonic when you've killed a hundred children with no remorse, and I'm the demonic one," Harry was roaring even as the air turned blisteringly hot.

"They're down!" screamed the figure who had been working on a stone, but before they could make a move to apparate, they found the hand holding their wands severed, causing them all to scream in unison.

Since awakening, Harry could see into their minds, witnessing their depravities and their disregard for life that wasn't born "pure". They wanted to teleport, but Harry had other plans. He grabbed all four of them, and while wanting to give them a slow death, Ilya was more important. He snuffed them out quickly, not giving them a chance at life, they didn't deserve one either.

Harry collapsed in exhaustion, looking towards the center in worry, hoping he wasn't too late. He dragged his body towards the center, where there were several burnt corpses and a living, breathing girl.

"You're not Ilya," Harry said. The girl jumped up, grabbing him in a hug. She was slightly hysterical, constantly saying something in Russian.

Moving out of her embrace, Harry looked towards the dead bodies, which meant Ilya was in the pile. His world seemed to stop as he walked towards the bodies in a zombie-like state, falling to his knees in front of a pile of ash and blackened charcoal bodies, he could sense it even as he collapsed, there was no source of heat in the pile, not like there was besides him, Ilya was dead and he couldn't save her.

The tears came, and this time when the embrace came, he leaned into it even as his mind gave out from the mental stress of the day, registering cracks in the air as he drifted off and the gentle promise, "I'll keep you safe."