Title: Side Effects
Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy VIII or Harry Potter
Summary: After killing Voldemort, Harry had planned on taking a long overdue vacation. However, Harry is Fate’s favorite toy, and she has plans. Two hexes and an accidental portal later, Harry finds himself dropped in the middle of another reality where people fear magic, and a Sorceress is intent on taking over the world.
Pairings: eventual Squall/Harry; currently mild Squall/Rinoa
Warnings: Swearing, death, and eventual slash as the main pairing.
Spoilers: For all six books and the game.
Author’s notes: I don’t like Rinoa, but I don’t like bashing either. I’m doing my best not to slip into it, but if I do, please let me know. And like always, if you spot a mistake, feel free to let me know.
Chapter Two
Harry was flying.
The last time he had been on his broom, he had been racing ahead of the flames eating away at the gasoline soaked Inferi behind him. Hermione had been riding behind him since his broom was so much faster than Ron’s and her weight wouldn’t slow the Firebolt down too much. Ron had been flying a little ahead of them, and Hermione had tightened her grip on Harry every time Ron had shouted out a turn. Harry hadn’t been able to figure out if Hermione’s death grip was caused by her fear of flying, her fear Ron might get hurt, or a mix of the two. He hadn’t asked after they landed either; he had just stood back and watched as Hermione jumped Ron, somehow managing to lecture on flying safety and kiss Ron at the same time.
This was different.
Now he was lazily drifting around the Quidditch pitch, sometimes doing barrel rolls and Wronski Feints for fun. In the distance, he could hear the Gryffindor team below him, and the faint sound of a train whistle as the Hogwarts express returned from London. It was peaceful, relaxing, and quiet. The only problem was the wind gusts that kept trying to knock him off his broom. Harry gripped the handle of his Firebolt tightly, trying to keep his broom from shaking. He knew he should land—Hermione would have a fit if she ever found out he was flying in a wind storm—but he didn’t want to just yet. It felt like he was saying goodbye, and he wanted to put it off for it as long as he could. He wanted to keep flying for as long as he could. He wanted to stay here.
He didn’t want to-
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Squall yanked the blanket off Harry, feeling a tiny bit of satisfaction when the Sorcerer jolted awake and glared at him sleepily. Squall had been trying to wake Harry since the warning chime had rung ten minutes ago, and it had come down to yanking the blanket away or punching him, because calling his name, shaking, and random poking hadn’t worked. Squall thought Harry should be thankful he had chosen to try the blanket first. Ignoring the sleep-slurred grumbles of “reality sucked” and “jerk” coming from Harry, Squall calmly folded the blanket and tossed it on the shelf above Harry’s bench, saying, “It’s a ten minute walk to the hotel. Can you stay awake that long?”
Harry nodded and stood up, pushing himself off the bench. He swayed for a moment and almost fell back, but Squall grabbed his shoulders and held him in place. Still swaying slightly in Squall’s grip, Harry made a move to rub at his eyes before he suddenly dropped his hand and grimaced. “I slept with my contacts in,” Harry mumbled in a sleepy whine.
Squall’s hands twitched, briefly tightening his grip on Harry’s shoulders. “You wouldn’t happen to have your contact case with you, would you?” Squall asked, already expecting a negative answer, and wasn’t surprised when Harry shook his head ‘no’ while yawning at the same time. There was a feeling of amusement in the back of Squall’s mind, a direct counter to the annoyance he was feeling, and Squall sighed—Shiva getting interested in the kid was the last thing he needed. Sending a silent ‘It’s not funny’ to Shiva, Squall said, “We’ll deal with it morning, but you’ll have to sleep with them in again for tonight.”
Harry nodded, and Squall dropped his hands from Harry’s shoulders, grabbed one of his hands, and began guiding the Sorcerer off the train. Harry stumbled a few times, but by the time they were walking down the stairs of the tiny train station, he was mostly awake, and Squall could feel Harry trying to glare holes in his back. Squall ignored the sensation and looked around the small town, making note of where the pharmacy and supply store were for tomorrow, but also keeping an eye out for Geezards and other scavenger monsters. Bigger towns and cities could afford guards twenty four hours a day and the cost of running repellent fields everywhere, but little farming towns like this one had to rely on volunteers to protect the population and saved the repellent fields for the crops. And while Squall would definitely enjoy watching Harry’s reaction to seeing a monster for what could possibly be the first time, Squall was sure the town wouldn’t appreciate Harry blowing something up while trying to kill it. His lips twitched into a reluctant amused smirk when Shiva responded to that thought with the image of the town coated in ice, reminding him there were ways Harry could cause problems without calling on fire spells.
Seeing someone sitting outside the hotel, Squall slowed down and loosened his grip on Harry’s hand, already preparing to call a Blizzard spell to his free hand. When the person stepped into the light of the street lamp, Squall let the spell fall to the back of his mind and tightened his grip on Harry’s hand again. “Irvine.”
“Squall,” Irvine said, lowering his shotgun as he looked them over, his eyes lingering on Harry in a way Squall didn’t like. He had promised to kill Harry if he lost it, but Squall didn’t want to be pushed into it because someone set Harry off, even if he did find the idea of the cowboy flying through the air immensely amusing. Squall moved so he was standing in front of Harry, cutting off Irvine’s view. Irvine’s eyes met his, and Squall stared back, silently warning him to back off. Irvine’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly recovered and turned to open the hotel door.
“Rinoa’s waiting up in her room,” Irvine said, shooting another suspicious look at Harry as Squall pulled Harry past him and into the hotel foyer.
Squall sighed. He had known Irvine wouldn’t have stopped all together and him protecting Harry would make Irvine and the others curious, but this was just ridiculous. He sent another warning glare at Irvine, and Irvine glared back this time, demanding an explanation, before quietly shutting the door. As he pulled Harry into the hotel foyer, Squall resisted the urge to tell Irvine to mind his own damn business.
Irvine walked past them, and tapped the small bell sitting on the counter. “Hey, Maggie, you want me to lock up for ya?”
“I’ll get it, Irvine,” a matronly woman with dark auburn hair said as she walked out of the back room. She smiled warmly at Squall and Irvine, but when she caught sight of Harry, she frowned and leaned over the counter. “Good Hyne, child, are you alright?”
Squall turned to look at Harry and frowned as well. While Harry wasn’t shaking, his skin was starting to go back to the pasty color it had been when they boarded the train, and his eyes were shining in a way that told anyone who looked closely he was less than five seconds away from a breakdown and holding it back by sheer force of will. Squall felt a small twinge of guilt for pulling the teen along as he had, but the only other option had been to carry him to the hotel, and Squall knew he couldn’t have done that and been ready to defend himself if they had run across a monster. Squall turned back to Maggie, saying, “He just needs some sleep,” Squall said. Catching the way Irvine was wrinkling his nose at them, he added, “And a shower.”
“And some food I’d wager,” Maggie said, pushing off the counter and heading to the backroom. “You show ‘em where the showers are, Irvine, and when you’re done, bring down their clothes. I’ll have a tray ready for them.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Irvine said, tipping his hat at her as she disappeared behind the door. He started up the stairs, motioning for them to follow. “Come on, they’re up here.”
When Harry didn’t respond to the first tug, Squall was half tempted to carry him up, but then Harry seemed to shake himself and started walking. Squall let go of Harry’s hand and gently nudged him up the stairs first so he could walk behind him. Harry seemed so far gone in his own little world that Squall didn’t think he could make it up the stairs without tripping at least once. Squall was proved right when a door burst open with a bang, and Rinoa ran out, still trying to tie her robe closed over her nightgown, apparently too eager to see he was there with her own eyes to wait. The noise startled Harry, and he fell back against Squall, staring at Rinoa with wide eyes, his right hand twitching like he wanted to grab something that wasn’t there. Rinoa froze, looking from Squall to Harry and back again.
“Are you alright?” Squall asked softly as he steadied Harry. Harry nodded jerkily, shooting nervous glances at Rinoa. Squall wanted to say Harry was easily startled, but it was more like the door crashing into the wall had knocked him into hyper awareness, making Squall wonder just what Harry had been doing before the portal dropped him on his lap that Harry could go from sleepy to wide awake in less than a second. But now wasn’t the time to ask, and there was a dull, heavy pressure in the air that Shiva’s faint voice identified as building magic. Squall pushed the thought into his mental ‘later’ box, and focused on calming Harry down.
“That’s just Rinoa; she was there when you…” Squall paused, trying to come up with a diplomatic way to say ‘crashed in to me and knocked me on my ass.’
“Landed?” Harry whispered, his lips quirking into a half smile. Squall nodded, and Harry relaxed slightly, the heavy pressure dissipating slightly. Squall wanted to wait until the feeling was completely gone, but he knew Rinoa wasn’t going to wait much longer.
“Squall?” Rinoa said uncertainly.
Squall looked up and saw Rinoa was inching towards them cautiously, like she was afraid of startling Harry again. Or maybe she was insecure about the whole situation. Squall hoped it was the later—Rinoa had been throwing him off balance ever since they had met, and it was nice to see her in the same position he kept finding himself in. Squall was startled out of his thoughts when Harry leaned back and the magic started building again. His first thought was Harry trying to get away from Rinoa, but then he saw Harry was looking farther down the hall to where Irvine was waiting. Following Harry’s gaze, Squall saw a thin blond woman was peering out of another room, scowling at them for the noise. Squall swung his gaze back to Rinoa and saw she had noticed the woman as well. That would make this part easier. Hopefully.
“Rinoa, meet us in Irvine’s room. We’ll discuss our plans for tomorrow after we shower,” Squall said, gently pushing Harry forward. He almost sighed in relief when Rinoa nodded, smiled apologetically at Harry and the woman, and turned to go back in her room. The second Rinoa’s door closed, the woman turned her glare on Squall, and he met it with one of his own as they walked past. She paled and slammed her door shut.
“If you chase Maggie off like that, I’ll never forgive you,” Irvine murmured as Squall and Harry walked past him and into the bathroom. He shut the door and locked it. “She’s the best damn cook in this town.”
“Whatever.”
Squall dropped the bag on the bench by the door, and he looked around the small shower room, mildly impressed. The room downstairs had looked nice for a hick town hotel, but the bathroom was a nice surprise. The two toilets stalls at the end of the room all had doors, as did all four shower stalls, something rare in most small, poor town hotels. The shelves lining one wall were with stacks of clean towels and robes—which explained where Rinoa had gotten hers, and probably the nightgown as well now that Squall thought about it—and the stock of fresh tiny bars of soap, shaving cream, disposable razors, toothpaste, and tooth brushes on a shelf by the sinks showed the owner was used to getting guests who lost their gear while dealing with the monsters outside of town. Unfortunately it also meant the owner got away with charging an arm and a leg. Pulling two small rolls of clothing out of the bag, Squall quickly added up the cost of supplies, getting their clothes washed, and food plus some extra gil for contact lens cleaner and decided they were bunking with Irvine.
Hoping Zell wouldn’t complain when he found out, Squall handed the rest of Zell’s clothes to Harry. He put a towel and bar of soap on top, and gently pushed Harry towards the showers. Now that they were away from almost everyone, Harry was once again in his own little world, and it was starting to bother Squall—no one should be that unaware of their surroundings. Squall blinked when Harry suddenly pulled away, shoved the clothes at him, and all but ran for the toilets. Irvine snickered, and Squall felt his own lips twitch into a small smile when he heard Harry muttering thanks to Merlin—whoever that was—that their world was civilized enough to have toilet paper. When Harry reappeared, his face was bright red.
“I forgot how much bathrooms echo,” Harry muttered, staring down at the floor as he took the bundle Squall handed him. This time he went into the nearest shower stall, only to blink in confusion when Squall stopped him from shutting the door.
“I need your clothes,” Squall said, his smile growing slightly when Harry turned an even darker shade of red, and let go of the door, “so they can be cleaned.”
“Oh, right, hold on,” Harry said, and he shut the door. A few minutes later, the door was cracked open, and Squall barely had time to grab the clothes and boots before Harry slammed it shut. Shaking his head at Harry’s odd behavior, Squall turned on the other three showers and the sinks, before dumping the dirty clothes on the bench. He pulled the dirty clothes from the bag, and Irvine turned to face the door as Squall took off his gunblade and began stripping off his own clothes, gagging when he pulled his undershirt off. Hyne, they really did stink.
“What happened?” Squall asked as he wrapped a towel around his waist.
“On our way out of town Rinoa and I saw a train headed for the D-District Prison,” Irvine said as he turned around to face Squall. “When we got here, Rinoa called Watts, and he did some digging around. When she called back, he told her they had been arrested; got caught entering the sewers according to the file the Forest Owl’s computer guy dug up.”
Squall nodded absently, taking everything in. Rinoa’s contract said no replacements, and they all knew that wasn’t going to change even though they were the only team assigned to take out Edea. They needed everyone. “We have to break them out.”
“We’re already on it,” Irvine replied. “Rinoa also talked Watts into getting the guard schedule for us, and I called a friend I have in the Galbadian army. She’s dropping off the prison blueprints in a safe spot in another town tonight, but I won’t be able to get them until tomorrow morning without getting her caught.” Squall’s eyebrows shot up, and Irvine scowled at him. “She’s Garden raised; she won’t back a Sorceress. After this, she plans on going AWOL.”
Squall rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Irvine’s friend, it was more along the lines of not trusting Irvine to stick around for the fight. Irvine’s courage had come back in time to help fight Edea, but seeing Irvine choke was a lasting impression, one that wasn’t going to go away easily. Squall stifled a sigh. He didn’t like it, but they needed those blueprints tomorrow to pull this off; he was going to have to trust Irvine. “How long will it take you to get back?”
“I hid the car I stole outside of town, so if it’s still in one piece…” Irvine paused and reached up to adjust his hat, a gesture Squall identified as a nervous habit, and it didn’t make Squall feel any better about having to rely on Irvine. “An hour, tops.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Three hours walking, two hours on one of the old trains, but if the express is running, it’s still an hour,” Irvine said. He adjusted his hat again, a nervous yet stubborn expression on his face. “Look, man, I’m not going to-”
The shower stopped running, and Irvine’s mouth snapped shut.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry’s hand hovered over the lock on the stall door, not quite ready to leave yet. He was dressed in the too long, baggy jean shorts and over sized tank top, and his hair was as dry as it was going to get, but he had spent the entire shower having a good cry—something he had desperately needed—and he was sure he looked like it. He didn’t really care if Squall knew since Squall had seen him practically breakdown on the train, and Harry figured Squall would be expecting it, but the other guy, Irvine, had been shooting suspicious looks at him since they had arrived. Harry could understand the suspicion and curiosity, but he really didn’t want to deal with it right now. When he added in the fragmented conversation he had overheard, Harry’s urge to hide in the stall for the next ten years or so quadrupled.
But Harry had learned the hard way hiding never worked because life always threw something at you to drag you back, and—he tightened his grip on the twisted lumps of gold, silver, and bronze he had found in his pants pocket—he had something to ask Squall. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door.
Keeping his head down—he really didn’t want Irvine to know he had been crying—Harry walked out into the bathroom proper, and stopped in front of the sinks. There was a tense moment of silence before Irvine finally grabbed the clothes off the bench and walked out of the room, muttering something about getting the tray, and Harry looked up. He took a step back when he saw how close Squall was, and looked away when Squall frowned at him.
“I don’t look that bad, do I?” Harry asked, admiring the shiny tiled walls. They really were nice.
“You look like you’ve been crying,” Squall stated flatly, and Harry snorted softly, but there was no amusement in the sound.
“Yeah, well, I was, and I think I had some damn good reasons to,” Harry muttered grumpily. “I’m in another reality, I have no way home, I’m never going to see my friends again, and I run the risk of going insane if I defend myself in a fight, which you plan on running into tomorrow during your little jail break. Hell, I don’t even know if the magic I know works here!” he snapped, clinching his fists as he turned to face Squall. “That means I’m completely and utterly dependent on you, and I hate being dependent on other…” Feeling the little lumps of metal digging into his palm, Harry’s voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out in an explosive sigh.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Harry said quietly, opening his eyes, and Squall nodded, his face blank. Feeling thankful Squall wasn’t going to snap at him, Harry lifted his fist and opened it to show Squall the bronze and silver streaked lumps of metal. “I found what’s left of my money in my pockets. Goblin magic held them in their shape, so they’re all twisted now… Anyway, it’s not worth much in my world, but can I sell these here?”
“Harry, is this natural gold?” Squall asked quietly, picking up the smallest lump and holding up so the light highlighted the silver streaks. “Not lab made?”
Harry’s jaw dropped, and he looked down at the metal in his palm, his mind constantly repeating Squall’s words over and over. He had been responsible for the destruction of the only magic capable of creating gold, but here they had the technology to make it. If they were willing to waste time and resources doing that, then maybe there was or had been a scientist who wasted his time looking for ways into other realities. “You can make gold here?” Harry asked weakly, feeling stupid for over looking muggle methods and a little dizzy at the idea science might be his way home. Squall carefully put the nugget back down on Harry’s palm, and what he said next dashed Harry’s hopes again.
“Monsters make it hard to mine here, and it’s rare for people to bother mining for precious metals like gold and silver, so fifty years ago Galbadian lab developed synthetic metals similar to gold and silver. Nowadays, that’s what most jewelry is made out of. This,” Squall said, tapping the lion pendant hanging from the chain around his neck, “cost me four thousand gil, and the ring that came with it cost two thousand because they’re natural silver. You’re holding at least eight thousand gil. The only one we might be able to sell here and get anywhere close to what it’s worth is the little bronze one.”
Suppressing the urge to cry again, Harry nodded. He should have expected that greed would have been the motivation—greed was the reason humans did most things. But when Squall’s words finally penetrated his sleep deprived, stressed out mind, Harry realized he had other things to worry about. He reran the beginning of Squall’s short speech through his mind, and felt the blood drain from his face. Oh Merlin, had Squall really said… “Did you say monsters?”
Squall didn’t say anything, just pushed him back to sit down on the bench. Harry wanted to smack Squall’s hands away—he wasn’t going to pass out, damn it—but he was too busy trying to stay in the denial zone, because several things were suddenly making a whole lot of sense: the guards at the train station not asking Squall about his blade, why Irvine had been sitting outside with his gun, the shadowy dog sized thing with three heads he had seen when Squall had been dragging him towards the hotel, the odd moving shadow with eyes he had seen in the sewer water. He had thought the last two were just his mind playing tricks on him, but if Squall was being honest those things could possibly have been monsters.
“Holy fuck, I’ve landed in Hagrid’s dream world.”
“Are you going to be alright while I take a shower?” Squall asked.
Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and watched Squall gather up his clothes, blade, towels, and soap. He had the feeling Squall was annoyed with him for his reaction, and Harry suppressed the childish urge to stick his tongue out at him as Squall shut himself in one of the shower stalls. This world having monsters—honest to God monsters—was the maggoty icing on the rotten cake of his bad day, and he could have a minor freak out if he wanted to. He hadn’t fainted yet, and that was the important thing. Feeling a panicky laugh bubbling up, Harry bit his lip. He was not going to breakdown again. He had done his crying during his shower, and now he had to survive, even if that meant facing creatures that Hagrid would call cuddly and try to raise as they burned his house down around him.
Feeling a touch calmer and a whole lot numb, Harry, put the lumps in his pocket, stood up, and turned off all but one of the sinks, before grabbing one of the toothbrushes and tiny tubes of toothpaste and set about brushing his teeth. When his teeth were as clean as he could get them, he turned the faucet off and stared at his reflection in the mirror. More accurately, at his scar. A part of him had expected it to fade with Voldemort’s death, like the Dark Mark had after Voldemort’s first defeat, but it hadn’t. Sighing, Harry finger brushed the tangles out of his hair, making sure his hair covered the thing. Squall’s scar was memorable enough.
Squall’s scar…
Harry sat down on the bench with a thump and stared at the wall. He hadn’t seen it before, but there were parallels between their realities: Squall had a scar, while not distinctive in shape, was in a recognizable, identifying trait, and Squall had been fighting the Sorceress with a male redhead and brunette female.
And that’s where the similarities ended, because everything was skewed in a way that once again made Harry aware of how far he was from his friends. Squall’s scar looked fresh, not years old like his; Irvine and Ron both had red hair, but Irvine’s wasn’t Weasley red, and Ron would never touch a gun; and Rinoa hadn’t looked at Irvine with the same hopeful, pleading ‘please see me’ expression Hermione had looked at Ron with back in fourth year before the ball, but she had looked at Squall that way. Closing his eyes, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to force the thoughts away before he did breakdown again.
The last shower suddenly stopped running, and Harry dropped his hand, opened his eyes, and saw Squall walk out of the closest stall, a thoughtful expression on his face. Harry frowned absently, vaguely wondering where Squall’s shirt was, because he had clearly heard Squall telling Rinoa to meet them when they got out. Unless Squall was completely oblivious, he had to know going around her in only jeans and belts, with a sword hanging from his waist was a bad idea. Especially since he was fresh from the shower and still wet. Harry mentally shrugged. If Squall wanted to walk around looking like the model from a cheap romance novel and risk getting jumped, that was his problem, not Harry’s.
“Does your world have Guardian Forces?” Squall asked. He dropped his clothes next to Harry’s and picked up one of the toothbrushes from the shelf.
“Guardian what?”
“Guardian Forces, or GFs for short,” Squall said as he squeezed the last of the toothpaste from the tube Harry had used on his toothbrush. “Beings that a person summons into battle.”
Squall sounded like he was quoting something straight from a text book, and it was so Hermione-ish that Harry couldn’t help but smile, albeit sadly. “No, at least I don’t think we do,” Harry said, mildly curious where this was going, but Squall didn’t say anything, just started brushing his teeth, somehow managing to still looking thoughtful. Harry scowled at Squall’s reflection in the mirror, he did not like that look on Squall’s face. It made him think Squall thought he was going to have another breakdown, but he wasn’t; he was determined not to. “I’m not going to break, you know? I had my big freak out in the shower, and I’m done. Voldemort could come back from the dead, and I would care less.”
Squall rinsed his mouth out and spat in the sink before turning to face at Harry, not bothering to turn the faucet off. “You said that name when you saw Edea. Who was he?”
“Voldemort?” Harry asked, and Squall nodded. Harry ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it. He did not want to talk about Voldemort, but he was the idiot who brought him up, so…
“Voldemort was the big bad of my world, or at least the magical community,” Harry said, reluctantly looking Squall in the eye. He wanted to look anywhere else, but his instincts were telling him Squall would believe him more if he managed to get it all out while facing him. “He was a terrorist. He preached against half-bloods and muggle-borns, saying they didn’t belong among pure-bloods. Which is stupid because magic is just a quirk of genetics in my world, and Voldemort was half-blood himself-”
“Half-blood? Muggle-born?” Squall asked.
“Oh, um, a muggle-born is someone who was born to parents who don’t have magic, and a half-blood is someone born with magic to a one parent who has magic and one who doesn’t, or someone like me, who has one muggle born parent and one pure blood parent,” Harry said, feeling a little odd; he had never had to explain this before. “And a pure-blood is someone from a purely magical family.”
Squall nodded and motioned for Harry to continue. Harry chewed on his lip for a moment. He could describe what Voldemort had done to make people so afraid of him, or he could skip right to Snape overhearing the prophecy…
Squall cleared his throat, and Harry sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this.
“Voldemort attracted a lot of followers, mainly pure-bloods, but he had a few half-bloods following him as well, anyone who really wanted power or got off on torturing people, really. They killed a lot of good people, magical and non magical, and generally just terrorized everyone. The worst part is the magical community lives part from everyone else, so the non magical population had no idea who was really the cause of everything,” Harry paused, tugging on his hair again; this was the part he really, truly didn’t want to talk about. What little wandless magic he had done had always been fueled by strong emotions, and this was bound to stir up something. “About sixteen years ago, one of his followers overheard a prophecy predicting someone who would be his downfall. Snape didn’t hear everything, but he heard enough to run to his master—” Harry broke off, staring in shock at the towels floating off the shelf, and Squall was suddenly kneeling in front of him.
“You need to calm down now,” Squall said, and he grabbed Harry’s wrist, squeezing it tightly. Harry’s gaze swung back to him, the towels falling to the floor. He stared at Squall, for the first time noticing the blue grey color of Squall’s eyes. It was a random and strange thought, but Harry decided the color couldn’t be completely natural because there was a pale blue swirl twisting around in the irises that added an odd icy glow to Squall’s eyes.
“I want you to focus on me, and try to distance yourself from this,” Squall said softly. “I felt a pressure in the air before the towels started floating, and every time something like that happens, I’m going to squeeze your wrist to give you something else to focus on.”
Harry nodded and licked his lips nervously. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispered, nodding his head at the towels. “Maybe I should wait until I have better control before I talk about this. Just thinking about Snape pisses me off.”
“I want you to keep going,” Squall said, and Harry blinked at him. “Consider this a lesson in control.”
“Right,” Harry whispered. He took a deep breath and tried to distance himself from his emotions, but that only made him think of Occlumency, which led to more thoughts about Snape, and his magic start swimming to the surface again; Squall squeezed his wrist. Harry winced, took another deep breath, and started again.
“Snape knew the prophecy was talking about a child that could defeat Voldemort, Neville Longbottom or me. Snape hated my father, so he took a chance Voldemort might get his revenge for him by telling Voldemort everything he heard, and Voldemort came after me. My father died trying to buy my mother time to get me and leave, but Voldemort got to her right as she was getting ready to pick me up. My mother stood between us and refused to move aside. When he killed…” Squall squeezed his wrist, reminding him to stay calm, and Harry paused, taking a moment. “When he killed her, she used her love and desire to keep me safe to create a shield of sorts to protect me. Voldemort cast the killing curse at me, and it bounced off the shield, destroying his body. I still have the shield,” Harry said, reaching up to touch his scar. “I have incredibly weird luck because of it, makes me hard to kill.”
Squall frowned, absently tapping his fingers on Harry’s wrist. “When you mentioned him the first time, you made his death sound recent.”
“It was; he died only a few minutes before I landed on you, actually,” Harry said, smiling weakly when Squall glared at him. “You see, Voldemort found a way to split his soul into a bunch of little pieces and store them in objects called Horcruxes, so while the backfired curse destroyed his body, he didn’t die. He just needed a new body.” Harry paused and focused on his breathing—he was not going to think about that right now—for a few minutes before speaking again. “I didn’t know it at the time, but I destroyed a Horcrux when I was twelve, and last year the headmaster of my school destroyed another. I’ve spent the past seven months hunting the other four down. This morning my friends and I went after the last one, Voldemort’s snake, and he felt her death. He came after us. I swore an oath on my magic to never use the spell he used to kill my parents, and it took forever to kill him because of that.”
“And you fell on me because…” Squall prompted.
“Because I was an idiot,” Harry said in disgust, pinching his nose with his free hand. “Voldemort’s new body wasn’t stable, and when he died, it turned into acidic sludge. It started eating through Malfoy’s floor, and I backed out of the room and right into a duel between Moody and Lestrange. I have no idea what spells they hit me with, but I think my weird luck kicked in, because the world seemed to dissolve into silver ribbons, and the next thing I knew, I was dumped out of that portal.”
Squall nodded, a distant, thoughtful look on his face, and Harry barely resisted the urge to fidget while he waited for Squall to say something. He had left out a lot, and he hoped Squall didn’t call him on it. Harry didn’t think he could control himself if Squall began asking for details.
“You could control your magic before?” Squall asked.
“Yeah,” Harry said, wondering where Squall was going with this. “But my magic was calmer there, and anyone who was born with magic and had the proper schooling could control it there. And I had my wand to focus it,” he added, and Squall suddenly lost the thoughtful expression and focused all his attention on Harry. Harry tried not to squirm or wiggle away; being the only focus of that look made Harry feel like what he imagined a rabbit felt like when cornered by Crookshanks: terrified, nervous, and excited all at once. Harry prayed he wasn’t becoming prey.
“Can you use something else to focus it? Like a weapon?” Squall asked, his free hand touching the blade hanging from his waist. Harry’s eyes followed the movement, and blinked. Was that a gun? On a sword? How had he not noticed that before? Harry gave himself a little shake, reminded himself this was another reality, sword-gun thingies were probably normal here, and nodded.
“I could try,” Harry said slowly, considering the idea. “But the only weapon I’ve ever used was a sword, and that was only twice.”
“You don’t have any formal training?” Squall asked, and Harry shook his head. Squall looked a little annoyed at his answer, tempting Harry to snap he hadn’t ever needed it until now, but then Squall sighed. “I guess we’re going with Shiva’s idea for now, then,” he muttered in a resigned voice.
Harry wanted to ask who Shiva was, but Squall let go of his wrist and closed his eyes, and Harry’s jaw dropped when a small sphere full of swirling sea-green mist slowly appeared in Squall’s cupped hands. Right as Harry reached out to touch it, Squall’s eyes snapped open, and Harry jerked his hand back. “What is that?” Harry asked softly, clenching his fist to resist touching the thing before he knew what it was. He knew better, damn it.
“This is Carbuncle, a GF,” Squall said, holding it out. When Harry didn’t move, Squall grabbed his hand, forced his fist open, and dropped the sphere on Harry’s palm. “Carbuncle is only a defensive GF, but he will cast Reflect when you summon him. You need to curl your hand around it, and pull him into you. You’ll feel a presence in your mind, but it will be faint.”
Harry nodded, feeling slightly nauseous. He had spent the past seven years trying to get rid the constant feeling of Voldemort in his head, and now Squall was giving him something to replace it. He was tempted to throw the sphere across the room or flush it down a toilet, but Squall didn’t know about the link Harry had had with Voldemort, and thus had no clue how much the idea bothered him. “What will it feel like?” Harry asked, gingerly rolling the sphere in his hands.
“Carbuncle doesn’t like me, so I can’t tell you what he’ll feel like to you, but to me he felt like a grumpy rabbit,” Squall explained. Harry blinked at Squall, not quite believing Squall had said that with a straight face, before looking back down at the sphere. A grumpy rabbit didn’t sound so bad—it was a huge improvement from the slimy presence of Voldemort—he did need a way to protect himself without magic, and he would always have someone with him so he wouldn’t be alone here…
Harry sighed, realizing he had already accepted the idea, and closed his eyes. Now, how to get Carbuncle from the sphere to his mind? Squall had said to pull him in, but that sounded cruel, which probably explained the grumpy feeling. Harry decided to go with asking. Focusing all his attention of the sphere in his hand, Harry thought, ‘Carbuncle, can you come here, please?’
Nothing happened for a moment, but then the sphere dissolved, and a bright, pale green light flashed across the inside of Harry’s eyelids, accompanied by a very fuzzy, very happy presence. Squall was right; it did feel like he had a rabbit in his head. The rabbit-like presence jumped and sent a trill of joy towards Harry’s thoughts. A very excitable rabbit.
“Carbuncle, calm down. You’re giving me a headache,” Harry whined, rubbing at his temples. He sighed when Carbuncle seemed to calm down, but then there was another flash of light, followed by an image of what looked like a large, pale green version of the creature Neville had accidentally created when attempting to change a squirrel into a rabbit during their fifth year Transfigurations class sticking its tongue out at a miniature, deformed Squall. Harry laughed and opened his eyes to find Squall was giving him a look.
“Carbuncle really doesn’t like you,” Harry explained apologetically, and Squall shrugged as he stood up. Harry waited half a second for Squall to say something in response, but Squall just picked up the bag and held his hand out to help Harry stand. With a sigh, Harry took his hand and let Squall pull him up. Now that Squall’s questions had been answered, he seemed to have retreated into his shell, and Harry was grateful. As long as Squall was being distant there would be no more questions, and no more questions meant no more magical out bursts.
Tags: crossover, ffviii, hp, side effects, squall/harry