Disclaimer: Don't own HP or FFXV
This will be a short fic
Very AU for HP
She did not like failing and yet there had been too many failures. She had failed to save her beloved and had 'died' in the process. She had been unable to spare her young charge the grief of her Mother's death and her Brother becoming a tool for the Empire. The Chosen King had been saved from debilitating injury and the Scourge that had lingered within his wounds only to face the grief of his city falling to the enemy, his Father killed by a trusted soldier. She had done what she could to support the Oracle over her years of captivity until she Ascended to her position and then began travelling to aid the people. The time on the road after Insomnia's fall had been trying, watching Lunafreya weaken with every Astral she woke, guiding the young King where she could and then had come Leviathan. She wished she could have frozen her solid for what she had done. She had not been the one to kill Lunafreya, but she had severely weakened her by attacking, far more than the Covenant would have normally. They had all tested the young King, only Leviathan had legitimately tried to kill him.
She had given her Covenant to the Chosen King, as Lunafreya had wished but not only for her. He was her best chance at freeing her beloved from what he had become at the hand of the Accursed. She had never agreed with what had happened so long ago but Bahamut would not be swayed from his precious Prophecy's. The King of Light had returned from the Crystal and even now made his way to the final showdown and his destiny.
She felt another join her and his disquiet as well but what could two do? The mortals remained oblivious as thunder rumbled in the distance.
She felt a flash of pride as her beloved actually evaded every shot from the Draconian, but she knew what had to be done, no matter how it would break her heart. She materialised on the battlefield, the temperature plummeting as she walked gracefully towards the King in her guise of Messenger. "Pyreburner. That heart of flame was turned to ash once… A dead fire must burn no more. Taste again the chill wind of death," she called as she walked past the exhausted King, her form twisting and changing, splitting. Snow fell as the wind whipped up as she unleashed her most powerful attack. Ifrit hefted his weapon and began running forward but with every step he slowed until he froze in place and she flew up to gently touch his cheek, kissing him one last time before his physical form shattered. "Rest, my love. May your soul know peace at last," she whispered before turning to look at the King. "King of Kings, the grace of the gods is with you always."
"I made a promise…one that I intend to keep," he answered, and she faded away. She watched as he faced the Accursed, killing his mortal shell, then the goodbyes between the four boys before the King ascended the Throne and called upon the Lucii, giving her energy with the others in order for the Prophecy to be fulfilled…but she did not give too much, nor did Ramuh.
As the fight proceeded she appeared before the Throne, looking at the body pinned there by a sword, and as she felt the battle ending, she reached out and gently touched the King's face, before leaving to find his companions. There was a lot of work to do and not much time to do it in
Harry choked as he slammed into something hard, forcing the air from his lungs even as he forced his body into a roll, coming to his knees, magic rising, shields forming around where he heard the two thuds of his companions landing. Dark emerald eyes flecked through with gold, scanned the surrounds, showing growing confusion.
"No one in range," Hermione groaned as she got to her feet, warm brown eyes scanning the massive hallway they were in, magic swirling around her fingers before vanishing as he released the scanning spell she had crafted.
Ron was the last up, having stayed down to heal the bruises, now he moved to Harry and then Hermione, ensuring they were both fine. "Any bets on who redirected the Portkey?" he asked, blue eyes sharp as he took in everything they could see.
Hermione snorted and tossed her braid over her shoulder. "It would be easier to work out who didn't. And why send us to an empty hallway in an at least mostly empty building?"
Harry looked around, running a hand over a ledge and frowning. "From the dust, no one's been here in ages. What is this place?" They didn't question him on that, if anyone knew how quickly dust and grime accumulated it was the one who had been forced to forever clean as a child.
"It's creepy is what it is," Ron muttered as he pulled his armoured coat out of his bag and put it on, the others following his example, better to be safe than sorry. "Which doesn't make sense," he sighed. "This isn't the Black summer house," he glanced at Harry who nodded, he'd seen an old painting and it was nothing like this.
He moved to a window and looked out, feeling the mid-thigh length black coat settle as he moved, they had been dressed for vacation, not battle. Not that their casual wear wasn't spelled for protection, it was, but they all felt safer in an unknown situation wearing at least some armour and their jackets were Basilisk hide, more spell resistant than dragonhide. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," he stared with wide eyes and they moved to see as well. A city rose up in front of them, a modern muggle one except the buildings were damaged, some totally collapsed. They were high enough up to see the city ending at a wall and then beyond that, wilderness.
"Bloody hell," Ron sputtered as Hermione stared out at the view, searching for anything familiar as she had travelled the most out of the three of them.
"Do you feel it?" Harry asked and they nodded.
"Magic and loads of it, more than Hogwarts," Ron offered.
Wherever they'd been sent they had to find a way home. Kingsley was barely holding on to his position as Minister and he needed their support. It wouldn't be the first time the Dark Alliance had attempted to get rid of them, but this appeared the best attempt yet…if they were actually involved. Surely they would have been attacked on landing? The heroes of the last Blood War were not easily taken unawares and yet none of them had detected anything off about the portkey that was meant to have taken them to the Black summer home in Australia. This was definitely not that house or the British Ministry. Despite the dust and general feeling of a long time without upkeep, the place was incredible and grand.
With no other option they began moving down the hallway, a shield around them for safety, spells at the ready. They had been exploring dangerous places together since they were eleven, they were just a lot better at it these days. War had forged them into a unit, relying on no one but themselves. Ron had grown beyond chess strategies, learning how to look at a fight and see how to win it even as he learned to heal their wounds, something he had never seen himself doing. Hermione had overcome her worship of books and authority figures, but she still read voraciously, absorbing esoteric knowledge and sharing it. She had become a spellcrafter, if she couldn't find the answer in a book, she made the answer. Harry was the powerhouse, there wasn't a spell or ritual he couldn't handle, and it had been those reserves of power that had led to Riddle's permanent downfall. They each had their place in the trio, their bonds forged in blood and loss. Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Mad Eye…..the list was far too long, and they avoided thinking of it when they could. The losses in the war had been high, thanks to Dumbledore's ridiculous policy of giving a second, third, even tenth chance to those who killed without remorse. Mad Eye had taken command when he was killed, and they had begun fighting back but it had almost been too little too late. The war had torn their world apart and yet still the old prejudices persisted, no matter what they did to break down the barriers in the Wizarding World. They had been considering leaving Britain for good and Harry had the sinking feeling the decision had been taken out of their hands.
They came to an elevator and Harry pressed the button, all shocked when the doors opened. If the place had been deserted for as long as it appeared….how was there still power? They waited uneasily as it ascended, a bubble like shield surrounding them in case it should fail and decide to send them plummeting to their deaths. A slight crackling sound came from hidden speakers, whatever was left of the standard elevator music most likely. They exited cautiously and found a pair of massive doors before them.
"Anyone else think we're being led?" Ron asked and they nodded even as Hermione began inspecting the doors for spells or the like.
"Looks clean," she finally announced and then pushed at one to open it. She knew Ron would have preferred to do it, but they had finally convinced him that the Healer could not go first. An injured Healer could not help anyone after all. Harry went last, keeping them shielded while ready to defend their backs and able to cast around and over them if needed. Ron had pouted the day they realised Harry had actually surpassed him in height, though it wasn't even a full inch, Hermione had just rolled her eyes, she was the shortest and it didn't bother her at all.
The room they entered was longer than Hogwarts great Hall and could easily fit two or three of it stacked on top of each other. At the far end was a wide staircase leading up to a landing and then it split in two, each curving up…Hermione gasped and with an almost silent crack they vanished to appear on the midpoint landing, staring up in shock. Above them was a stone throne but it was what was on the throne that held their attention. What looked like an ice statue sat on the throne with an actual sword through it, pinning it to the stone, the statue slumped over the blade like a real body would. "The magic…" Hermione whispered in awe.
Harry nodded, the hair on his arms was practically standing on end from the feel of the magic coming from above them. He hesitated but then began walking up the stairs, he would be best able to defend himself from anything up there. He stood in front of the throne, amazed by the detail of the statue. The ice was clear though tinged slightly blue and yet he could see every strand of hair, every crease in the clothing and the sword had not so much as cracked or chipped the ice when thrust in. He hesitated and then touched the hilt of the blade, gasping as a woman appeared before him. She was beautiful in an alien sort of way, her hair in braids and just as white as her body.
"Harry!" Ron yelled and with twin pops they appeared beside him, ready to fight in necessary.
The woman smiled softly at them. "Please, save the Chosen King and the people of Eos," a voice that reached right into their minds whispered. "He gave his life to bring back the light, but it was our fault. The world would not have recovered in time to save the population," she indicated the window and they cautiously went to it. Below was obviously the main entrance to the building with a grand staircase…and three statues on the stairs, one on its back, the other two standing.
"The statues are people?" Harry asked and she nodded.
"The world has recovered from the never ending night and can now support humanity. Please, free the King and free everyone," with that she faded away.
"I get the feeling we now know who diverted us," Ron offered.
"Free the King, but how?" Hermione asked, moving to inspect the figure. "Surely the sword wound would be fatal?"
Ron moved in to inspect the wound. "Not immediately," he finally decided. "But we'd have to move fast once he was freed. His whole body appears to have become ice, he's not just covered in a layer."
"Which is why he's see through."
"Would have helped if she mentioned how to free him," Harry sighed as he settled in to work with his friends to try and free the man without killing him.
Within ten hours it was obvious this was not a problem they could solve quickly, and they soon had a campsite set up within the Throne room. They could have found actual bedrooms somewhere in the building but that felt too weird, those rooms likely belonged to someone after all. Instead they made camp close to their task to save time and so that they would not be separated.
Hermione spent her time bent over books and scrolls, working out various equations and theories. Ron was busy going over their medical supplies and working out what would be best to have ready for when they freed the King.
Harry spent his time at the Throne, getting a feel for the foreign magic since he would be powering whatever they ended up doing. He had spent time just looking at the young King, and he was young, though Harry was pretty sure he was older than they were. He sat in front of the throne, staring up at a face made of ice. The eyes were closed, features slack and it was obvious he had been very close to death when frozen, too close. He wasn't sure if they could heal him if his injuries remained once defrosted. Not unless…he hated using that, every transformation was harder to return from than the last. Would he do it for a stranger? For this stranger…he might. There was something noble, sad, about him but also strong. Harry had gone outside to see the three on the stairs, they were all male and looked (as best as he could tell from ice) to be about the same age as their King, they also didn't melt despite the sunlight streaming down on them. Were they his friends, retainers or just three unlucky souls who were on the stairs when they were frozen? To him it looked like they'd been fighting just before turning to ice. The one on his back had a gun in one hand, the other raised to guard his throat as if something was lunging for him. the largest carried a massive sword while the third had a pole arm of some sort. Harry had the feeling they had been defending the building and the King inside from something when the ice had taken them. He wondered how long it had been, he'd checked, the elevator was no longer powered which made him think that woman had enabled it to work and bring them to the Throne room. Their world had recovered but it looked like the world of humans had seriously deteriorated. Would the people be able to rebuild? Would they be thrown back into their equivalent of the Stone Age?
After three days Harry left them to their work, using line of sight apparition to head to the wall around the city, seeing water and a bridge to what had to be the mainland, so he kept going. He came to a fortified area and entered cautiously, finding only more ice statues. The land around it was totally wild and overrun with various plants. The animals he'd seen were nothing like those back home, but they kept their distance, sensing a more powerful predator. It seemed whatever spell had frozen the people kept the human settlements clear as well which would improve their chances once awake. It looked like it had once been a garage with a diner but had been later turned into something more like a small military post with massive floodlights and fences. The people of this world seemed to have been quite advanced, he'd spotted sleek phones scattered around. Though the weapons didn't seem all that advanced, modern Earth armies no longer carried swords or polearms except for ceremonial purposes and yet he had seen few guns. The cars weren't all that high tech either, no blue tooth or anything that he could see. Though at least they had what appeared to be a world map pinned to a wall which he took down to take back with him.
He used the map and kept apparating, finding the place marked Galdin Quay but it was overgrown and had obviously been destroyed before the great freeze. He then headed for Lestallum, finding it heavily fortified and full of ice statues. It was interesting that the smaller city was full of people while the large one, named Insomnia on the map, was empty. Had it been damaged before whatever had caused them to retreat into fortified places? Was it whatever the King had died to stop? Never ending night? How was that possible, even with magic? He'd gone through anything that looked official at the old garage and the city, but it still left an awful lot unanswered.
When he returned to Insomnia he found Ron helping Hermione, so he got to work as well, explaining everything he had found.
"What do you think's happening back home?" Ron asked quietly one night, four months after they had arrived.
"If time between worlds is constant…" Hermione looked away. "We've likely been declared dead."
Ron flinched at that and Harry felt bad for them, they had families who would miss them, even if Hermione's parents had never returned to England after the war. Kingsley would have mounted a search, and everyone would have gone along with it. Because if someone could take them out then no one was safe, and the Dark Alliance would know they hadn't done it which would mean an unknown third party.
"Yeah," Ron ran a hand through messy red hair. "If Kingsley's played it smart, we're being held up as martyrs for the cause," he admitted. It was the strategic thing to do, to give their side the chance to get a firm grip on power, finally.
"Maybe they've given Harry another hyphenated title," Hermione mustered a grin and Harry groaned even as he began re-braiding her wet hair.
"For people who can do so much….their imaginations suck," he grumbled, and they laughed even as Ron served up the mystery meat Harry had begun hunting in order to supplement their own supplies. Good thing they were paranoid, or they would have been in big trouble getting dumped in a world where they were the only humans. They ate in silence for a while, content to just be. They didn't need words, they hadn't in a long time. they knew each other, inside and out, better than anyone else.
"Tomorrow," Ron finally said, and Hermione nodded, tomorrow they would finally attempt to free the King.
They slept side by side, Harry's arm over Hermione's waist, her legs tangled with Ron's, despite their nerves. They had learnt to sleep wherever, whenever they could during the war, no matter how nervous they may be for the coming day.
Harry watched as Hermione drew out the runic arrays around the Throne, every stroke perfect. Ron had the makeshift hospital ready and waiting for up to three, just in case. Harry was kneeling beside Hermione, carefully powering the runes until she was done, and he stepped over them, bracing himself before wrapping his hands around the hilt of the embedded sword. "Ready?"
"Whenever you're ready Harry," she told him.
"One…two…." He shifted his stance slightly, feeling his magic flare. "Three!" the runes lit up, converging on them even as Harry pulled, feeling the blade resist before suddenly coming free. He tossed the blade aside and then moved, supporting the ice form to keep it from falling and shattering even as the magic surged up the Throne and over it.