Steve: So then, it's been decided?
Steve's internal monologue yes, the poll was clear, Neville shall find his calling in healing, and Luna shall weave her magic in voice and instrument from the back of the oddest companion to grace the heralds since Oria and Trinia.
Steve: No! Not them! They had to be obliviated from history, their actions turned haven upside down, they single-handedly started and finished a dozen wars in the space of two months.
Steve's internal monologue: Yes them... it's interesting you know? Neville reminds me of bear.
Steve: so did you tell them yet?
Steve's internal monologue: huh? Oh! the audience. No I haven't told them that we don't own Potter or Valdemar, or that you're just a little kid who decided these two sandboxes would be so much better together.
Steve: I resent that!
Steve's internal monologue: nah, you resemble that. Anyway get on with the story.
"The brothers that should have been,
in the land of the star-eyed shall reunite;
brothers in all but blood,
one stolen, hidden, and abused,
and he was fated to be broken;
The other was thought broken and bound,
He shall rejoin those that he lost;
They shall escape to the land of the vale,
At the hand of the wanderer
The dark plans of the tainted light shall fall,
The Stag and his bride shall laugh,
The Grim and Wolf be reunited,
and The Rat imprisoned,
The Healer shall rejoin his brother the Herald,
and fate's prophecy shall be sundered."
The girl with the silver blond hair stood before her mother, "Mummy, we have to meet the wanderer. We have to follow the boy with the green eyes."
Selene looked down at her daughter, she remembered the gift at that age. Her gift hadn't been quite as powerful. She remembered the brief glimpses she had of the tree of time as each decision and change pruned branches of possibilities. Her gift had faded to almost nothing after her last vision showed her daughter before she was born.
Her daughter had felt the most recent major shift of the timeline. Selene remembered the first major shift before her daughter was born as if the whole branch of time had been cleanly severed and a new line grafted on in it's place.
She remembered the vision that had followed. Her vision centered around the baby with startling green eyes, as a man who wasn't supposed to be there stepped forward and cleansed the child of the tainted scar. So when her daughter spoke of green eyes and black hair, Selene knew to pay attention. "Tell me what you see, Luna dear"
"The wanderer will be at gringotts all day tomorrow. He can send us. There is another boy who just got his parents back. They have to come with us. If the boy stays here the old man will try to bring the bad snake man back."
"Why do we have to go as well?"
"Because we have to tell the wanderer that the lonely boy needs to be sent to the green eyed one. And the lonely boy is the one I want."
It had taken them another fortnight before Sian was confident that Harry's shields were steady and strong enough to hold back the thoughts of thousands of people at the capital city, and keep him from broadcasting his own thoughts to anyone nearby. They had joined up with the bard from Soroll when they left the small town. A genial young man by the name of Flynn with chestnut red hair.
Harry's eyes had lit up the first time he played for them, and over the two weeks travelling the young minstrel had further coaxed the scarred boy out of his shell having discovered he was somewhat talented with a few of the instruments the bard had brought along with. The two often played well into the night after setting up camp. Any awkwardness in the six year old's playing was covered by the bard's own instrument.
At first neither were familiar with the tunes the other played. Harry having grown up listening to the music his aunt and uncle had left playing from the radio. Or the childish tunes his aunt put on for his spoiled cousin. There were also a few tunes He didn't remember learning at his Aunt and Uncle's they were soft melodies that reminded him of warmth and comfort. If he had been able to remember far enough back he would have known them as the songs his mother used to sing. Music that held a magic all its own.
Harry was now sitting comfortably on Alastrine's back. In his hands were working with a few strands of hair from her tail that he was braiding carefully as Alastrine directed him through their mind link. He had started the braid a few days back on Alastrine's suggestion when he complained about the long ride. Flynn and Sian had been keeping their own conversation going and Harry wasn't interested in the adult's choice of topics.
He got a bit frustrated with the mistakes he kept making in the pattern. Mistakes that would force him to undo several minutes worth of work to correct each time Alastrine examined his work to point them out.
The braid was just getting to the point where it would wrap around his wrist comfortably. Alastrine showed him how to weave the ends together and then tie off the extra cords so it wouldn't come undone. Then he examined his work before pulling at the weaving to slip it onto his wrist. On a whim Harry took the remaining strands of hair and wove them into a small ring which he slipped on.
As he slipped the braided ring onto his hand he felt warmth flow down his arm and into the bracelet and ring. He wasn't paying attention to either after he slipped them on. Both ring and bracelet glowed brightly for a moment and had he been looking he would have noticed what looked like letters in the weave of the bracelet. The letters glowed a darker blue, then the glow faded.
As Harry continued his meditation training under the watchful eye of Sian, the weather grew colder and the days shorter. Between the attentions of Sian and Flynn, his body recovered to the point where he no longer resembled a half starved street urchin. His hair though, remained the same mess though it no longer looked uncared for. He was now able to maintain a shield around his mind, to the point where he only needed to pay attention to it when someone was deliberately pushing at it.
Having stayed a month longer on circuit than her original schedule called for Sian was ready to return to the comfort of the collegium. Flynn needed to submit the new songs he and Harry had worked on to the Bardic Collegium records among other things. Both were ready to introduce Harry to Haven and hoped to give him some more stability among other children in a place where he would have his own room and be able to make friends that he wasn't going to need to leave behind after a few days.
Sian was more than a little anxious to get the mages at the collegium involved in training him considering the speed with which he had accomplished the various task's his companion had set before him.
She had observed quietly more than a few times as he held his hand out to lift an object slowly from the ground. Or the rare occasion when he would summoned something from his pack without thinking.
Harry looked up, he was in an empty room it was dark, grey there was some form of light coming from above. In front of him was a large chest, it was simple in design, held closed by a plain bronze latch. Step forward not really thinking. Calmly, he pulled open the latch, and lifted the lid.
Inside the chest was whirling silver mist. Not thinking, he dipped his hand into the chest, suddenly he found himself watching as a toddler with his green eyes and messy hair looking up into the kind face of a man with brown eyes and black messy hair. He heard himself, his younger self giggling, and instinctually knew he was watching a memory the wee tot was himself, the man who looked familiar had to be his father. The memory held paused in that moment as he took in the scene, remembering for the first time, his dad holding him up and playing with him. He wanted to cry, tears for what was lost, for the newfound sense of knowing his father loved him, for even just knowing what his dad looked like.
The scene shifted, they were outside now, he was with his uncle padfoot, the name slipped in from somewhere in his memories.
'Pafoo' his younger self exclaimed gleefully with a giggle. Harry watched stun as uncle padfoot presented him with a trainee broom, a model broom scaled down for a small child's use. He watched as his younger self took off at a fast pace around the yard on the broom. The memory integrated itself, he remembered flying that broom. The sheer thrill of being in the air even if it was only a foot or two off the ground, he loved it.
The next scene was both scary and at the same time made him want to cry happy tears. This redheaded vision of fury scolding his uncle padfoot in righteous anger was his mother, and she was honestly cared for his safety! She was both beautiful and frightening as she scolded him for even thinking of giving her precious baby a dangerous flying instrument of death. Though honestly flying wasn't that scary for him, his mother was enough to make him rethink that original opinion.
This was a dream, he knew that. He had been having similar dreams bringing with them memories at least once a week. The first had scared him, a man with brownish hair streaked with grey and a scarred face had met him the first dream.