Part 1
„Foolishly you meddled.“ The strange figure’s voice could not be mistaken for a human’s, just like the being itself bore only the slightest resemblance to human form. “Where you should have not.” It sounded sibilant at the same time as it resembled cracks resounding from a deep cave.
Its limbs were slender, twisted and longer than any human’s arms or legs had any right to be, while its face, it could be said it contained a mockery of the usual human features. Chill seemed to be gathering as the shadows grew denser. Clouds obscured the night sky.
“My agent you have stopped one too many times.”
Its arm lashed out as a whip and Harry had to dodge the now tentacle-like limb topped with clawed fingers.
“Pay for your impudence.”
Harry rolled to the side and regained equilibrium. Magic lanced out from his wand only for him to watch in dismay as it seemed to dismantle itself before it could hit the being.
“Fool! No magic of this feeble world can hurt me.”
Harry had to roll again to avoid dismemberment, the figure, a being of immense power from beyond this world, whose name he could not even pronounce, seemed to stand still, yet its limbs spilt into multitudes of spiked tentacles. Losing any resemblance to humanity, it now floated in the air, or perhaps it ignored gravity and Harry struggled to redirect debris to hit the tentacles. It looked like magic may not be able to hurt it, but rocks could at least stop it.
But just as this realisation came to him, another tentacle emerged from underground and wrapped itself around his throat. It squeezed enough for dark spots to dance in his sight as it emerged in its entirety.
He was being dragged towards the figure, its mockery of a human face.
“Not only will your death allow my agent to work unobstructed.” Its mouth moved, yet it did not sync with the sound coming out. “It will allow me to grow even stronger.”
Harry did his best to struggle, trying to claw at the tentacle, but its surface resisted his efforts. With both despair and disgust, he avoided looking at its face.
“Rejoice, mortal. Unlike your useless life, your death shall have meaning.”
It’s maw opened, far wider than should be possible, its teeth growing pointed and far too numerous. At this same time, the clouds parted and in the corner of his eye, Harry beheld silvery Moonlight.
‘Magic of this world may not hurt it.’ He thought with some degree of satisfaction. ‘But that is not all at my disposal.’ His right hand stopped clawing at the tentacle, grabbing instead the crescent-shaped pin on his cloak. A ray of Moonlight seemed to hit the ravaged forest clearing and in that instant, the pin elongated into the now familiar white gleaming sword.
The otherworldly blade pierced shadowy muscles and sinews held together by a strange will. Another sound emerged from the being as it let him go and started spasming. Shrieking, both a sound and resounding inside Harry’s own head, filled with pain of dying. Just as the being became just corporeal enough to kill him in this world, it became just mortal enough to die by his hand, not that its mind allowed such a possibility.
Yet Harry knew, this victory would have its cost. Shadows grew from the edges of his vision. With his last effort, he sent a smile towards the Moon, then the shadows were all he saw.
Part 2
The door to the Hospital Wing opened with a silent click, but still, Fleur was met with a pair of eyes looking at her. She smiled at Ron, whose silent vigil she had interrupted.
“’Ow is ‘e?” Her whispered question was accompanied by her looking at the occupied bed containing one Harry Potter, worryingly still.
Ron released a weary sigh. “No changes. Madam Pomphrey says that physically he is fine, but he refuses to wake up, like something is keeping him that way.” He rubbed his tired face. “It’s been days since we found him in that clearing, whatever happened there…” He walked towards her, tear tracks clearly visible on his face. “It must have been horrible. And Harry, he… he’s losing strength.”
Tears stang in Fleur’s eyes too at that, especially as she looked at Harry’s unnaturally pale complexion.
“Is there nothing we can do to ‘elp?”
Her query was met with a look of sorrow, Ron at that moment looked truly powerless.
“That’s what we’re all asking ourselves.” Ron shrugged helplessly as he slumped into a chair close to Harry’s bed. “We don’t even know what caused this. Only that we found him in a torn up clearing with some extremely dark magical residue, clearly a fight occurred there.”
He pointed at the nearest table. “And then there’s this.”
There was a bundle wrapped in brown cloth.
“A unicorn, of all things, was there and nudged us towards it. There were some metal shards, small, sharp. And nobody knows what they’re made of, not even Dumbledore recognised the metal.” Ron looked at Harry helplessly again. “Curious thing, really. When we tried to move it to Dumbledore’s office, Harry’s state took a turn for the worse, so we keep the shards close to him. It’s not much, but it’s the only thing that was of any help.”
There was a strange gleam in Fleur’s eyes as she looked at the bundle. “Unknown metal, you say? Was it white? Lighter than silver?”
“How do you know?” Ron sat straight. “What do you know?”
“Maybe ‘ow to ‘elp ‘Arry. Do you trust me?” Fleur’s gaze was now sharp.
“Harry does. That’s good enough for me.” Ron shrugged.
“Then wait for the night and ‘elp me carry ‘im into the Forest.”
Ron looked around the room before his sight settled on Harry’s pale face again.
“Alright.”
Part 3
Smuggling Harry out of the castle was surprisingly easy. A bit of magic and his cloak were enough to get their unconscious friend out. They only met Sir Nicholas on the way, but he kept silent, giving them a long look of sorrow, seemingly seeing through the cloak. He nodded solemnly upon seeing the bundle of silvery metal they were carrying.
Fleur directed Ron to take Harry across the courtyard in the middle of the night, heading to the Forbidden Forest. Fleur seemed to know the way, easily finding a trail Ron never noticed before. Were it any other time, he would be questioning her about it, but right now, he had other priorities.
They reached a small clearing with a small lake. Ron scratched his head, because Fleur suddenly stopped.
“Er, are you sure we’re going the right way?” He asked her, looking bemusedly at the curiously shaped lake.
Fleur just nodded and beckoned Ron to step towards the lake. He looked dubious. While snow was already gone, it was still quite cold during the night. Seeing his hesitation, she sighed, grabbed him by the elbow, and dragged him, and Harry, into the lake.
Surprisingly, he did not feel cold, merely disoriented, as it felt that the fall was twisted somehow. He landed on a cobbled path and just a look told him that he was somewhere much different. The undergrowth looked unfamiliar, much denser and some of the plants moved. Flowers as tall as him were turning towards him as if to watch him. Trees crackled, their shapes strange and sizes ranging from tiny to enormous.
“Where are we, Fl–“ He started asking before she shushed him.
“Do not say my name, not ‘ere. This world, it is close to yours and mine, but different. Names, thoughts, all have power ‘ere. Will and magic shape it.” She looked around warily. “Very powerful magic. We should not tarry.”
“Yeah, let’s go.” He cast nervous glances around. Birdsong unlike any he had ever heard greeted his hearing, the flowers whispered and he was quite sure that the hollows in treetrunks had eyes.
“Whatever ‘appens, stay on the road.” Fleur warned him seriously. “Whatever you ‘ear or see, never step off the road. You may not find your way back.”
His resolve to do just that was tested very soon, because loud skittering announced the presence of several huge spiders.
“Non! Stay on the road!” Fleur caught his shoulder. “They cannot touch you ‘ere. ‘Old my ‘and.”
He reluctantly did and it was a good thing too. Mist descended on them and Fleur’s gentle touch was the only point of certainty in the everchanging white void. But even the mist did eventually pass. Five more times they had been tested. Their resolve, loyalty, humility, generosity, and courage, all had to pass a test.
But finally, a snort sounded, prompting Fleur to smile. Ron was startled to see a unicorn step on the road, its silver hooves tinkling quietly on the stone.
“Is that–“
“Oui, ‘e is a friend. And will guide us to our destination.”
And that he did. None else dared approach them as they were escorted by the large stallion whose horned glinted in the ethereal twilight of the strange forest. Finally, an ornate gate wrought of bright silver stood before them, leaves and branches of the delicate metal decorating it, looking so faithful to the real plants that were it not for their colour, Ron would confuse them for the real thing.
“This is the Garden of the Moon,” Fleur announced and touched the richly decorated handle.
Part 4
The gate opened at Fleur’s slightest touch with nary a sound, but at the same moment, Ron felt the hair on the back of his neck stand straight. It sounded as if all the flowers around him started whispering.
Fleur quickly ushered him inside, taking care to push Harry’s levitating unconscious body without hitting any of the metal.
After the unnerving forest through which they had trekked for an indeterminate amount of time, the sight behind the gate proved to be quite an ordinary one. The think undergrowth changed into short, pleasant grass, just luring him to lie onto it, a few trees grew there, enough to offer shade, but not too many that would obstruct movement or vision. In the centre of this sudden clearing, and even the air seemed to taste different, Ron spotted a lake. Though it was clearly different, it had a familiar shape, looking at it from a distance, he realized it resembled a moon’s crescent. What furthered this impression was the silvery light emanating from the water. As they drew closer, he realised, also, that the bottom of the lake was clear white marble.
A figure rose from beneath one of the trees, unfamiliar, yet Ron had the feeling she perfectly fit her surroundings. It wasn’t the flowing white dress on which the reflected moonlight glistened, not even her face, so similar to Fleur’s in its inhuman perfection bordering on strangeness, not, what attracted his eyes were a pair of silver antlers rising from her head, parting hair resembling moonlight made solid, and the widely splayed pair of huge glistening wings growing from her back as she glided towards them.
At first, joy radiated from her silvery eyes as she saw Fleur, Ron was then confused, because she looked at him with familiarity, yet he was very sure he had not met anybody the likes of her. But then her eyes fell on Harry’s floating figure and her joyful composure crumbled.
“What happened?” She cried as she rushed towards them, reaching for Harry’s head.
“We do not know.” Fleur replied, hanging her head. “’E will not wake up.”
“Erm,” Ron interrupted, “we found him in a torn up clearing with some seriously dark residue. Also, this.” He brought forth the bundle of silvery shards.
The winged woman gasped upon seeing those and burst into tears. Each one that touched the grass changed into a pearl.
“What could?” She wondered. “Oh no, no.” Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, “But he lives. Oh, Harry…” She trailed off, mournfully caressing his cheek.
Ron was startled when she looked up at both him and Fleur, her eyes burning with a silvery light. “You both did well to bring him here. Help me take him into the lake.”
Such command did her voice carry that both Ron and Fleur moved at once without a word. Carefully, gently, Harry was brought to the shore. The woman went first, stepping into the water without care, and Ron noticed she did not get wet. Harry, though, floated in the water easily and his head was nestled in her lap.
At the same time, Ron noticed from the corner of his eye, the unicorn from before took the bundle of shards in his mouth and carried it away, out of the gate.
The woman started swaying and humming. As she went on, the moonlight seemed to brighten and her eyes, antlers and wings glowed with increasing intensity. In fact, the entire lake started glowing.
Part 5
Then she opened her mouth. Clearly, she was singing, but Ron did not understand the words, nor did he recognize the language. Looking at Fleur, he noticed her crying.
“What is happening, what is she doing? Who is she?” Those question burned in his mind even as he fired them off.
“She–“, Fleur sobbed, “she is the Princess of the Moon Garden, the Daughter of the Moon.” Fleur wiped her eyes. “And she loves Harry and he returns it.” More tears fell. “The song, she is singing in an old tongue, all Fey can understand and speak it, but the dialect is very old.”
She took a shuddering breath as the ethereal voice of the ‘Princess’ grew in strength, resonating around the garden.
“I, I am not sure I can translate, find the words. She sings of a lonely moon, born among cold stars. Doomed to be alone, the moon is met by comets, bright, but brief, ultimately always alone. But much later, it spies a comet so very bright, it hopes they will meet.” Fleur took a deep breath again. “And they do. The comet is so bright, and it agrees to accompany the moon.” The tears were flowing down Fleur’s elegant nose. “She is singing of her life, of her yearning.” She looked at Harry’s head, lovingly caressed by pale fingers. “Of her love.”
Fleur looked at Ron and pointed around the garden. “She is calling out to him, calling him back to her. She is straining her will, look and see.” She pointed at the grass moving to the melody, to the trees waving their branches to accompany the strange words.
“But how will that help? I thought she would, I don’t know, cast some spells?”
“In ’ere, the boundary between magic and music is a flimsy one at best, especially with singers such as her.” Fleur put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “If anyone can ‘elp, she can. Especially ‘ere.”
The song went on, though Ron had only the barest idea as to the contents, the voice was lovely and the melody tugged at his heart, conveying the yearning and love the singer felt. He felt reassured in a way, knowing that his best friend was well loved. He stood there next to Fleur, realising that he had indeed been consistently wrong. Seeing what he did now, he knew that Harry was the type to reciprocate a love so deep.
How long they stood there, listening to the song, he didn’t know, though he felt as if he was intruding on a moment so very private. Fleur noticed him glancing at his watch and chuckled.
“Time ‘ere, it does not flow as you are used to. It is mutable, as is everything ‘ere. We will stand ‘ere until ‘Arry wakes up.”
And so they did, finding comfortable positions leaning against one of the trees, and watched the moonlit garden and the glowing figure singing her heart out and cradling their friend’s body.
Part 6
Harry, however, showed no signs of waking up. His breathing stayed shallow and his skin, illuminated by the moonlight, had a deathly pallor, though with each caress of the soft hand, it seemed as if a bit of colour returned to Harry’s cheek for a time. It was this, Ron noticed, that gave all three of them hope.
Then, however, the song ended. And Harry, he still showed no signs of waking.
“Oh, Harry, please, return to me.” The winged woman called out, kissing his forehead. He remained motionless.
“Please, beloved, come back.” She cried again, this time kissing both of his eyes. Still, he remained as he was.
“My love, come back to your ISILVANARANEL!” She cried out for the third time.
And the garden shuddered, as if a shockwave ran through it. The wind in the trees whispered the echo, and then Ron knew. Names, in this strange world, had power. He recalled storied told by his own great-grandmother, of fairies, of promises and deals, and of the power of names.
Part 7
“That’s nice and all,” Ron interrupted, “but why didn’t you wake up?”
“As it was dying, some of the shadows it released, it rushed towards me, clouded my vision, my mind.” Harry shuddered. “My dreams. I was in complete darkness, but it spoke. It was like I was surrounded by dementors. The words coming out, every doubt, every fear, all was laid bare.” Harry looked at his beloved. “There was a person in there too, claimed they were a prophet, ready to lead me towards light. They pointed me towards a bright star and told me to follow it. That when I reached it, I would be free.” Harry shuddered again.
“I would have done anything to get away from the shadows, so I agreed. They gave me a walking stick made of iron. It was heavy, and cold, but I took it.” Again, Harry took a shuddering breath, shaking at the memories. “They told me that to reach the light, I would have to grind the stick away on the road.” He shrugged. “I don’t know how long I walked. I thought I’d collapse, but I would have done anything to escape the shadows. It wasn’t until you called me, that another light appeared. And then I could finally see clearly. That prophet, it was the enemy I killed, or perhaps its echo of some kind. I knew what I had to do. The staff changed into a sword and I ran them through, much like I did in the real world. What happened to the sword?”
Isilvanaranel looked at Fleur for explanation.
“It was found, shattered. Whatever ‘urt you, also shattered it.”
“But how? What does it mean?” Harry looked worried at Isilvanaranel. He sounded desperate.
“Your foe, it was a mighty one. You should not have had to face one such as it. Even the act of slaying it, it was quite a shock to the nature of the world. My sword could not bear the brunt of that.”
“But, what now?” Harry wanted to know.
“Now,” an unknown voice rumbled, resembling crackling of old woods and stones, “you should turn around.”
There stood another figure, tall and fierce looking. A man, rough and rugged, with wild white hair and a long beard, sporting a pair of large antlers on his head. He was dressed in browns and greens, his shoulders covered by a heavy cloak.
All four turned to him, though only three looked startled. The man shrugged his broad shoulders and brought up a long package from under his cloak.
“You spent much time here. Enough time.” His eyes, in a way, resembled Hagrid’s, also beady and glinting.
“Renewed is what was broken.” He rumbled as he handed the package to Harry. “You wielded it well. Choose a better foe next time, gift-bearer.” At his last word, his eyes sought out a small sack at Harry’s belt, one that contained Harry’s flute.
As suddenly as he appeared, the man turned around and headed for the gate, raising one arm in a nonchalant wave.
“Farewell.” His deep voice sounded. “Daughter.” His last words were carried on the wind to only one pair of ears. A chill ran down his spine. The woman was a fairy, a powerful one, and they had walked right into her sanctum, into the centre of her power, where her name was the strongest. Fleur interrupted his musings with a gasp. And no wonder, for Ron’s gaze was met by the green of his best friend’s eyes.
Harry was stirring and looking at them and at the beauteous glowing face hovering over him.
“Through dark shadows I have wandered aimlessly, but then I beheld you, my love, and Moonlight was in your face.”
The now named Isilvanaranel gasped and her tears flowed anew, though for different reasons. She cupped his face, as Harry got up, looking into his eyes from a distance so short that their foreheads touched. She was engraving every facet of his face into her memory.
“Welcome back.” She whispered, and brought him closer into an embrace with all the fierce strength she possessed. Their embrace was brief, however, as she soon released him, seeing both Ron and Fleur eager to welcome their friend back among the living.
After hugs were exchanged and tears shed, it was, however, time to talk.
“What happened to you, mate?” Ron was the fastest, but this question was reflected in all the pairs of eyes watching Harry at that moment.
“I found a clue to Tommy’s new power and how he was sharing it with his people, so I went to investigate.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “But it was an ambush, they nearly got me, but I hot them first. It also confirmed what I thought.”
“So then?” Fleur asked.
“Yeah. He made some deals with… very unsavoury beings. One of them was waiting for me there.”
“To hurt you so, Harry…” Isilvanaranel expressed her concern.
“That happened after I got him, her, them, I don’t know.”
“Then I think I know who, or what it was.” She nodded. “To emerge victorious is a feat that should rightfully enter songs.”
Part 8
They were non-plussed by the strange man’s sudden and shortlived appearance, however, joy soon prevailed. At Isilvanaranel’s urging, Harry unpacked the man’s newest gift. The sword, from the coin-shaped pommel to the slim, keen blade looked as it never broke. The hilt sat well in his hands and the weight and balance were familiar. Harry took a few steps back and took several practice swings.
Ron noticed Isilvanaranel casting appreciative glances at Harry’s form, admiring not just him, but also the easy familiarity of Harry’s movements. Clearly, Harry had quite a few secrets. Fleur, he noticed, smiled happily at the sight of the strange lovers.
“Renewed indeed,” the Moon Princess noted with a wide smile.
“As good as new.” Harry nodded and sheathed the blade with a flourish.
“Good,” she stated. “I am glad that this ended on a happy note, however, one thing I would be remiss to forget.” She turned towards Ron. “You helped bring Harry here, helped save him.”
Ron felt uncomfortable, finding himself the object of her focus. “He’s my best friend. You saved him.” He gulped. “I, I should be helping you.”
She took his hand into hers, her touch gentle, soft. “I am glad to see friendship so deep. Harry is dear to my heart. And you, his close friend, are therefore dear to me. Please, allow me to express my gratitude.” She waved her other hand and a group of pearls flew into it. “Seven tears, shed in grief and love, accompanied by seven tears shed in joy and love. Each one shall serve you well. Harry, and therefore you, face dangerous foes, but you stand together. Watch out for each other.” Her silvery eyes bore into his mind. “Cover each other’s backs, allow no foe to come between you. I wish you good fortune and am certain we shall meet again. I am looking forward to it, wishing fervently for it being under better circumstances.”
She then leaned forward to kiss Ron’s forehead. He felt a tingle at the contact, surely due to more than the feeling of her soft lips on his skin.
“Time flows differently here, but it still flows.” She sounded sad. “Depart, you now must. But remember that all three of you are dear to me.” She kissed Harry, embraces Fleur, and very quickly, also embraced Ron. “Keep me in your hearts as I shall keep you. Farewell, for now.”
Having said their farewell, they departed the garden. The way back was much calmer than when they first came in. No tests awaited them, but still, Ron breathed a sigh of relief upon finding himself in the Forbidden Forest again, and wasn’t that an interesting thought, he’d never expected the Acromantula infested forest to bring him comfort. Still, he turned towards his best friend, whose sword was now nowhere to be seen, having become a crescent-shaped silvery pin.
“Mate, you have some explaining to do.”