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yatorihell · 4 years ago

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In The Darkness Chapter 58 - Beyond The Veil

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 7,308

Summary: The prophecy is within reach, but who will reach it first?

Also available on Yatorihell A03

The ex-Order were now in a hostage situation; reveal Tenjin’s ‘secret weapon’ or face the Cruciatus Curse. What Hiyori was planning, Yato had no idea, but if it wasn’t something smart, they’d all end up in St Mungo’s Hospital.

Yato had hoped that Oshi would only take him and Hiyori and leave the others out of it, but with a bigger group, one of them might be able to disarm her if her attention was diverted.

The group were marched out of Oshi’s office under her thin black wand, and Yato briefly thought about the whereabouts of Professor Takemikazuchi. As they left the castle and headed down the path, Yato looked behind Oshi, hoping to catch a glimpse of him or Madame Kofuku. Alas, no one seemed to notice them being marched into the night.

“So, you’re the one behind all of this?” Yato asked, not turning back to look at Oshi as they walked. “Trying to make me a less credible witness to the Sorcerer’s return, sending Dementors after us?”

Yato looked out the corner of his eye, not that it helped see the smirk on Oshi’s face. She was playing right into his hands. Deep down he knew that she wasn’t – couldn’t – be alone in this, but she wouldn’t admit it. Not entirely.

“Who do you think convinced the Minister that the Sorcerer hadn’t returned?” Oshi didn’t hide the malicious smile from her voice, twigs breaking underfoot as she hoisted her robes above the dirt and kept a wobbly aim on the group ahead. “You think he’d want half-bloods and mudbloods ruining his plans, especially when Tenjin was a threat?”

It dawned on them all too quickly. They really did have no luck with Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, but now it seemed the Ministry was corrupt as well. Holding onto whatever power they could and silencing those who would oppose them, all the while Deatheaters hid right under their noses.

Yato’s eyes slid back to the front, but not before they caught on Nora who walked just ahead of Oshi. He scowled as her eyes slid away from his.

Dusk had enveloped the castle, candlelit turrets disappearing as they made their way down the steep steps and past Kuruha’s hut which had a thin trail of smoke coming from the chimney. Twisted knots of trees under a half-moon greeted them as they stepped inside the Forbidden Forest.

“It’s hidden deep within the Forest, where no one would find it,” Hiyori said.

Branches snapped underfoot and roots threatened to trip those who didn’t keep their eyes on the path. The trees became thicker and taller, nearly blocking out the moonlight with their overlapping summer canopies. Yato’s fingers brushed against his trouser pocket where he felt the outline of his wand; the darkness should hide his movement if he moved slowly.

They came to a stop in the middle of a clearing. Owls hooted from their perches concealed in the trees, watching over the wizards and witches beneath them.

“Well,” Oshi said. Yato hand stilled in his pocket as her eyes darted over them. “Where is this weapon?”

Oshi circled around in front of the group with Nora by her side, wand trained on Hiyori in particular.

Hiyori remained silent, eyes on Nora who nervously looked between her and the group. Behind her, Yato, Yukine, Kazuma and Bishamon exchanged looks, and their cluelessness finally made the penny drop.

Oshi’s face fell, and she came to a stop. “There isn’t one, is there? This is a trick…”

The silence spoke the truth, and the moon dappled light which shone on the group illuminated the barren glade. There was a dangerous glint reflected in Oshi’s eyes, like a façade finally crumbling away to show what lay beneath. Something dark.

Yato felt his heart stop, his fingers only just brushing his wand when a spell began to tumble from Oshi’s chapped lips.

“Cr-,”

Time seemed to stand still but was broken by a resounding snap.

Oshi spun on the spot, facing the sloped tree-lined hill behind them with her wand aimed, spell dead on her lips and eyes narrowed.

Yato grabbed Hiyori’s arm and pulled her back into his chest. A whoosh of air left her as she fell into his protection, along with Yukine’s who had placed a hand on her back as they watched the shadowy figures beyond their gaze move closer. Kazuma and Bishamon huddled closer to each other with Touma, creating a tightknit formation behind Oshi.

From the corner of his eye Yato could see Nora – who seemed to back away closer to the small group – melted away into the treeline on their right, half-shadowed and her eyes on the hill.

A thundering of disembodied galloping hooves grew louder, snapping twigs and rustling the eaves around them. Yato expected some dark creature to emerge from the trees and make short work of them. Nevertheless, he pulled his wand from his pocket and held it by his side.

Instead, what emerged was something they had only see in books and heard about in stories. From the treeline, silhouetted in the moonlight, were Centaurs.

Half-human half-horse, the Centaurs stood on the ridge looking down at them. Even from a distance it was easy to see that they stood taller than humans, muscular builds taunt as their hooves stomped the ground at the intruders. The leader, a brooding Centaur with black hair plaited down to his waist, stood at the forefront of the herd glaring daggers at Oshi, who had her wand raised at him.

“You have no business here, Centaur!” Oshi exclaimed, rather shrilly. “This is a Ministry matter!”

A few of the Centaurs shifted in response, but the situation had seemed to worsen as Yato noticed they had taken bows from their backs and notched them with arrows. He glanced at the others, relieved yet heart quickening when he saw Kazuma also had his wand drawn by his side as the Centaurs took aim.

“Lower your weapons, you mutant half-breeds!” Oshi snarled.

An arrow loosed on the word ‘mutant’, aimed straight at Oshi’s head which she deflected effortlessly with a wordless spell.

Yato took Hiyori by the arm, pulling her to the side closely followed by Yukine, Touma, and Kazuma who held Bishamon’s hand. They spared quick glances at the Centaurs as they moved to make sure they weren’t being targeted. However, it seemed the Centaurs knew Oshi was the only threat here.

Yato spared a quick glance at Nora as they came to a stop a short distance away, close to the path they had taken in. Though half visible, Yato could see she her shocked expression as she watched Oshi whip her wand in the air.

“Incarcerous!”

Ropes materialised and lashed out at a Centaur closest to Oshi, the one she believed fired the arrow. They whipped around his neck and torso, extracting a mutated scream from him. Thicker ropes had entangled themselves around his kicking legs, rearing back too far and falling backwards onto the hardened ground with a sickening thwack. A prolonged scream tore through him as his hands grasped at the choking cords around his throat.

“Professor, stop!” Hiyori cried.

Yato could feel her try to make a move but he held her fast; Centaurs were proud and dangerous creatures, and right now they were in a frenzy. They let out cries and roars, turning in circles and their hooves stamping the ground at their inability to help their fallen brother.

Yato’s eyes flickered to Oshi. She stood proudly, watching the Centaur writhe on the floor whilst ignoring the pleas for mercy, human and centaur alike. Her mouth had twisted into a sadistic smile, wand dropped to her side, pleased to have taught the ‘lesser being’ a lesson.

One thing was for certain; if Oshi didn’t stop, they would all end up dead.

The dying cries and ignored pleas proved to be too much. The leaders face had twisted in a snarl, and his arm raised in their air and came down in one fell swoop.

With a sickening realisation Oshi realised her mistake too late.

Their bows in hand, the Centaurs galloped down the hill, sending clots of mud flying in the air along with their war cries as they bore down on Oshi. She stumbled back, but her foot caught on a stray rock falling down in the dirt with a cry and her wand falling from her hand.

A rattling gasp came from the ridge and the Centaur had kicked his way to his feet, ropes melting away from his body, the spell broken. His head snapped to the horde that surrounded Oshi. Like a bull to a red flag, he charged downhill alongside his whooping brethren.

Oshi scrambled for her wand, head snapping from the oncoming storm and the dirt which camouflaged her wand. Within seconds the Centaurs were upon her, the wand kicked away by a dozen hooves which crunched her hand underfoot with a sickening scream.

Oshi turned on her side, hand in the dirt and legs curled up to protect them from further assault as the Centaurs circled her.

“Do something!” Oshi screamed – beseeched – at them.

Oshi’s eyes implored each of them before the Centaurs crowded around her and hid her from view.

Hiyori could feel her heart in her throat; Oshi was a bad woman, but she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t know there were Centaurs here. Her mouth went dry, trying to think of another quick excuse to save Oshi, the way she had tricked her into coming into the Forbidden Forest, but none came.

Yato’s gripped tightened on his wand, but he knew if he attacked then they would all become targets. No one moved, too shocked to say or do anything. The moon had begun to hide behind clouds, obscuring their view of what was happening.

It felt like hours before Oshi re-emerged, captive and dangling between two Centaurs who held each of her arms. Her hand was bent at an odd shape, limp on her wrist, and Yato winced at the sight. Her black shoes peeked out of the hem of her dirtied robes and her hair had become untied, falling loose and dishevelled around her waist.

Her eyes, wild and helpless, once again implored the huddled gathering of students she had tormented.

“Tell them I mean no harm!” Oshi cried.

They stood frozen, words escaping them, but a voice came from Yato’s side.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Yukine brushed past Yato and stood in front of the group. His eyes bore into hers. “I must not tell lies.”

As if on cue, the Centaurs took off into the night. Oshi’s cries could be heard over their thundering hooves as they wove between the darkest thickets of the Forbidden Forest where no one dared venture. The clouds parted and the clearing was once again cast with shadows from moonlight. A collective sigh of relief passed through their lips, although it was tinged with uncertainty about Oshi’s fate. They would have to tell Madame Kofuku about that as well.

Madame Kofuku.

Yato’s thoughts snapped back to Sakura. He needed to get to the Department of Mysteries. He quickly looked to the treeline, but Nora had vanished without a trace nor whisper. Just as well, he didn’t want her hearing this.

Yato spun around to face Kazuma, Bishamon and Touma. He promised he wouldn’t say anything to them about the Order yet, but Sakura was in trouble, and he needed all the help he could get.

“Look, no time to explain but I need your help,” Yato said quickly.

The three of them looked at him quizzically as well as Hiyori and Yukine. Yato took a breath.

“The prisoner that escaped from Azkaban is my sister, there’s a prophecy about how to defeat the Sorcerer in the Ministry, and we need to break in and save my sister from the Sorcerer who’s torturing her there right now.”

An unsettling silence fell over them. It was apparent from the blank expressions from Kazuma, Bishamon and Touma that they thought he was joking, and Yato’s heart sank when he realised that they didn’t believe him.

“It’s true.” Hiyori stepped forward to stand by Yato, facing the group. She looked at him and then the group. “Her name is Sakura, and she isn’t a criminal.”

Yukine stepped forward and stood on the other side of Yato. “And she is the real leader of the Order of the Phoenix. She’s been fighting the Sorcerer when the Ministry has been ignoring it.”

Yato gave Yukine a half-smile and looked back at Kazuma and Bishamon.

“I need you to help me,” Yato said. “Please?”

“I believe you,” Kazuma said, and Bishamon agreed. “But how do we get there? We’d need to get some brooms without getting caught by Kiun, and work out how to get there as well.”

He had a point; Yato’s broomstick was back at Grimmauld Place, and the others had borrowed theirs from Hogwarts.

“Thestrals,” Bishamon said suddenly. Her hair blew slightly in the warm breeze as she looked from Kazuma at Yato. “Kuraha said you can ride them, and they’re smart enough to know where to go.”

Yato’s eyes lit up. It was no Hippogriff nor broom, but Thestrals were better. Yato nodded his affirmation.

Yato looked at Touma, who stood in front of Kazuma with her arms folded across her chest. He dropped his voice gently; she was only a second year, and he needed her to do something important.

“Touma, I need you to go tell Madame Kofuku where we’re going, ok? We might have a fight on our hands.”

She regarded him reproachfully but nodded.

Yato gave her a small smile. He looked up to Kazuma who gave him a short, determined nod.

“Let’s go.”

The Thestrals had taken them to the heart of London, to the Ministry of Magic, as daybreak crested its way to illuminate the skyline of the city. After a brief explanation of the Order of the Phoenix and the prophecy to defeat the Sorcerer, Kazuma and Bishamon understood what was at stake, and why it had been kept a secret from the Ministry.

Now, underground and descending into the bowels of the wizarding government, Yato could almost hear the soft whispering call of his destiny.

He knew where to go.

The black marble corridor reflected their faces in the walls as they wove their way down, avoiding stray souls that hurried between doorways with their noses in folders, too preoccupied and tired to notice the intruders slip by.

Kazuma brought up the rear along with Bishamon, wands drawn and alert as they scanned and strained to hear for approaching ministry officials. Yukine and Hiyori followed Yato, wands in hand and breathing quiet as it mingled with their soft footsteps.

Yato looked to his side. This hallway, as mundane and uniform as the rest, stirred something in him. The glistening scales of a snake’s skin shimmered in his memory, reflected in the same polished marble alongside his reflection.

Yato looked ahead, and as his visions had shown him, a dark grey door with a brass handle in its centre stood at the end of the hall.

“We’re here,” Yato said softly.

Yato held his wand tighter as his hand wrapped around the cold metal and turned, and the door swung open without a noise. An abyss greeted them, pierced by dim lights that shone at them like stars in the sky that eventually came into focus under the gentle light of their wands.

They varied in size, from as small as a marble to as big as a globe, yet their contents were concealed only for the eyes of those named on their stands. Each one a life. A destiny.

“Are these the prophecies?” Kazuma whispered. He regarded the orbs closest to him, the milky film reflected in his glasses as his eyes travelled higher to the uppermost globes.

Yato nodded, but his gut twisted. It was deafeningly silent. He cast his wand in an arc in front of him. The aisles spread around them, a maze mirrored by their likeness to the next, making it impossible to locate where he had seen Sakura.

Their footsteps fell gently as to not disturb the prophecies unforetold and ominous. Although it was an unspoken thought, they wondered if their own destinies were hidden within the depths of the cobwebs.

The tips of their wands shone into the bleakness, sending phantom shadows over the pale globes, and creating spectres that would make them look twice before continuing.

Yato…

A faint whisper caressed Yato’s ear, echoing away from him like ripples in a pond. He stopped short, shushing the group and arcing his wand slowly from left to right. His ears strained, yet only their bated breath could be heard.

Yato…

The voice whispered again from the heart of the maze, straight-ahead where Yato’s wand was pointing.

They paced forward slowly, the light of multiple wands shining down each aisle behind Yato glittering out of the corner of his eye. Their paths traced shapes in the air as they followed, searching for hidden assailants and any trace of Sakura between the dull glow of futures untold.

Yato strained to hear the voice, bidding for some sort of direction in the uniform aisles, but the longer time passed, the more his stomach twisted at the silence.

“Yato,” Yukine said softly.

Yato paused and, tearing his eyes away from the path ahead, looked behind. Yukine, wand raised in front of him, stood eye-level with an orb that grew a murkier colour as Yato’s eyes fell on it. A yellowed label on its pedestal showed Yato’s name scribbled in large black lettering that tapered off as if it had been ripped away, leaving the sticky residue of the label.

All eyes fell on the orb. It was no bigger than the spheres they used in Divination, the contents alternating between light and dark swirling clouds.

Yato tentatively reached out, fingertips brushing against the smooth glass. In an instant, the colour became true once again, and the group held a collective breath. After a moment, Yato tightened his grip on the orb, lifting it from its stand and cradling its weight in the palm of his hand before him.

Yato gazed into the smoke, willing the prophecy to reveal itself. Ghosts of moving lips passed by the glass, lost just as quickly as they appeared, and their voices stolen.

Yukine and Hiyori exchanged looks as they watched Yato, who seemed transfixed on the orb just mere inches from his face. They remained silent, bystanders to the revelation of a prophecy that would save their world or destroy it.

It seemed nothing had appeared, as within moments Yato broke out of his trance, but it was not the lack of prophetic voices that distracted him – it was the hint of movement behind Bishamon.

From the blackness a figure emerged, cloaked in dark robes which masked their form well in the dim lighting. Yato pushed his way through, prophecy clenched in his hand as well as his wand which he held aimed at the intruder. Their mask, welded into a blank expression and nondescript, reflected the light of their wands as they drew closer.

A Deatheater.

Hiyori and Yukine drew closer to Yato’s sides, wands aimed ahead whereas Kazuma and Bishamon stood behind them, wands equally as poised and alert. Yato clenched his jaw, steeling himself for an attack.

“Where’s Sakura?” Yato demanded.

The Deatheater began to slow, hands raised by their sides where they could see a thin black wand between their gloved fingertips. His voice, deep and all too familiar, rang into the cavern and surrounded them.

“You should be able to the difference between dreams,” He raised his wand and cast it across his mask. The cold metal plate dissolved from his face in a whisper of smoke, revealing grey, matted dreadlocks and piercing green eyes. “….and reality.”

Kugaha.

The shock on their faces made his lips twist up at the side. It had been a while since he had seen his less-than-favourite ex-students, Yato more recently under the guise of a Deatheater at the graveyard upon the Sorcerers return.

Kugaha’s eyes lit on the globe in Yato’s hand and his smile faded into its usual grimace. He held out his hand, palm up.

“Give it here, boy.”

Yato glanced down at the orb, conflicted. Hiyori was right – Sakura was not here. Only his destiny.

“I’ll break it if anything happens to us.” Yato looked up, grip on his wand tightening, and from the fire in his eyes, Kugaha had no doubt that he would.

A laugh broke through the darkness behind Kugaha, one that was unhinged and manically high-pitched.

Yato felt Yukine tense beside him as the woman emerged beside Kugaha, her white robes nearly black with dirt and her hair flowing loose around her shoulders. He heard Kazuma mutter something to Bishamon behind him, but he was too fixated on the newcomer to make out the words.

“This one knows how to play,” Oshi rasped.

It seemed that Oshi, unrecognisable from the dignified Headmistress they knew, was able to escape the Centaurs at the expense of her pride. She bathed in the shocked and disgusted looks they gave her as she sidled up to Kugaha, a head shorter than him but just as imposing.

Oshi’s eyes slid over to Hiyori, and then across to Yukine. She smirked, the dried mud around her mouth cracking as she did so. “How’s the hand?”

Yukine inhaled a hissed breath, taking a step and wand jerking up to aim at Oshi.

A mixture of noise came from both parties, inhaled gasps and lost words. Yato put his arm up to catch Yukine from lunging forward, whereas Oshi had shrunk away from the advance and tucked herself behind Kugaha. Her hand, damaged but functioning enough to hold a wand, waivered over the outnumbering group.

Kugaha held his hands out in the air, shielding Oshi behind him as he spoke.

“Let’s just calm down,” Kugaha said smoothly. He brought his palms down with his wand balanced between the tips of his fingers. His eyes gleaned over the orb in Yato’s hand, obviously calculating a plan. “All we want is that prophecy.”

“Yato,” Bishamon hissed.

Yato didn’t turn, but he could tell from his friends’ movements that they weren’t alone anymore.

Kazuma and Bishamon turned their backs on Yato, wands aimed at the new, silent intruder behind them. Hiyori looked to her side, and then to Yukine’s own. The glimmer of emotionless silver masks reflected by the prophecies showed Deatheaters advancing on all sides.

Wands at the ready, Hiyori and Yukine turned to take defensive stances either side of Yato, creating a square with him at its helm facing Kugaha and Oshi.

“Don’t you want to know, Yato?” Kugaha said gently. He took a step forward and froze when Yato’s wand twitched. His eyebrows drew together, feigning concern for Yato’s troubled expression. “Don’t you want to know how to make all of this stop?”

Yato looked down at the prophecy in his hand, every aware of his friends casting glances at him as the Deatheaters drew closer.

It was his fault they were here, now he had to get them out.

“I do.” Yato sounded wistful as he watched the clouds swirled in his hand. His eyes broke away to look at Kugaha, who once again stopped mid-step. “But I think I can wait. NOW!”

“Stupefy!”

Five different voices and curses flew in different directions, and flashes of blinding light rippled out in all directions, slamming into each Deatheater before they could react.

The spells blue hues spat out from the tip of Yato’s wand, illuminating Kugaha’s and Oshi’s blindsided faces for a brief second once they realised that Yato had no intention of giving up the prophecy. Neither had time to deflect it as the force hit them and sent them flying down the aisle along with the dissipating light.

The light fizzled out into blackness for a moment before it exploded like a firework, blue sparks ignited by something within the darkness. The orbs waivered mid-air, and a tinkling sound grew louder as Yato realised the shelves had lilted, and orbs had begun to rain down and shatter on the floor.

“Go, go go!” Yato shouted.

Yato pushed Hiyori and Yukine ahead of him, orb clutched to his stomach and wand raised up to defend Kazuma and Bishamon as they ran past him, eyes darting on the lookout for more attackers. He tore after them a second later, breathing hard and fast already and trying his best to not trip over his own feet when he glanced behind into the smoky hazy of destroyed prophecies and their whispers which filled the chamber.

Wordless spells and bolts of light glinted from the Deatheaters masks who drew too close, their arms attempting to protect them from falling debris as well as attacking the group as they weaved through the maze.

Shards of glass encompassed them, the shelves crashing and cracking against each other in a domino effect which sealed off any others means of escape besides the door they had entered through, and most likely trapped Kugaha, Oshi and the other Deatheaters.

Kazuma turned a hard left, his hand gripping Bishamon’s to pull her around to the side, closely followed by Yukine and Hiyori.

Yato felt his lungs burn, his arm thrown over his head, but the sight of the slightly ajar door at the end of the aisle had him let out a huff of relief which intermingled with his exertion. He held the prophecy tighter to his chest, feeling the curve of the glass in his gut, as he threw himself through the door after Hiyori… into nothing.

Yato’s gut lurched against the orb. The reflective hallway that they had walked through not so long ago was gone, caving into an abyss that left them to hurtle face-first to the ground. The blur instantly gave way to dirty, sand coloured floor, and speckles of black that grew larger as they neared their splattered demise.

Yato felt his body seize as if something had wrapped around his chest and waist to stop him mid-air. He heard the caught breath of Hiyori beside him, her wand stretched out beside his, face equally as surprised that she was suspended a few inches from the ground alongside Yato, Yukine, Kazuma and Bishamon.

It only lasted a second before the group were dumped unceremoniously on the ground, sending up puffs of dusty from the cracked mud. A collective grunt and coughing echoed in the chamber as they attempted to rectify themselves.

“Nice catch,” Bishamon groaned as she pushed herself up onto her knees.

“No problem,” Kazuma replied. His glasses – miraculously intact – hung precariously from one ear as he sat up and looked down at his dirtied uniform, before rectifying his frames and looking around.

Yato uncurled the orb from his stomach, feeling the painful pressure still there and the tightness of his locked fingers wrapped around the precious ball. It had survived the fall, but still the whispers grew louder.

“What is this place?” Yukine said, just off to Yato’s right side.

Yato tore his eyes from the swirling fog. Whilst the room was dimly lit, a stone obelisk stood on a raised platform in the centre of the room. Carved stone benches ran along the walls, creating a look of a raised amphitheatre that a crowd would look up or down to depending on their position.

Yato regarded the statue closely, walking around slowly behind Bishamon, afraid he would break the stillness and revere of the room with his muffled footsteps. Yato stopped beside Bishamon.

From this angle, Yato could see the pillar was in fact an archway. The peaked stone had cracked and crumbled away in places, a testament to its age, and a translucent, tattered black curtain hung from invisible railings within it. The curtain fluttered gently despite there being no breeze, but a chill came over both him and Bishamon the longer they stared. Gentle voices washed over them, seemingly every time the curtain fluttered in their direction, beckoning them closer.

Yato’s eyes focused beyond the veil, seeing Yukine approaching. Hiyori followed closely with Kazuma who’s eyes traced over the archways form.

“Stop!”

The three halted, giving Yato a questioning look. Although he couldn’t explain it, Yato had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that something bad would happen if anyone so much as touched the curtain.

“Don’t touch it,” Yato said. He held his wand in his fingers with his palm outstretched, telling them to stay still.

Yukine looked at the curtain again, but his eyes did not see. Yato could see the same confusion reflected in Hiyori’s and Kazuma’s darkened faces.

“Can you hear them, Yato?” Bishamon said softly.

Yato looked at Bishamon’s face, and his ears pricked at the louder whispers that floated to them. He looked from the orb back at the veil, realising that the whispers hadn’t grown louder.

There were more.

“There are no voices, Viina,” Kazuma said gently from across the veil. His words intermingled with a ghostly voice whose words went unheard, but Yato shook his head in response.

“There are,” Yato said gently. Just like Thestrals, only he and Bishamon could sense that which belonged to the realm of the dead.

Yukine, Hiyori and Kazuma shared uncomfortable, silent looks. They stepped around the archway carefully, eyes flicking over the aged stone as if it may collapse at any second from the numerous fault lines that spider-webbed across it.

Bishamon was the first to tear her eyes away from the archway, and Kazuma pretended not to notice their glassiness; if the dead were truly speaking, he could imagine who she had heard calling out to her.

“Let’s get out of here,” Yukine said with a nudge on Yato’s elbow. “There’s gotta be a way out.”

At this he scanned the room, looking for the exit, thankful that no Dementors had fallen in after them nor found where they were.

Yet, in that instance, it seemed that they must have heard his private thoughts.

A low whooshing came from above them, and as Yato’s eyes flicked heavenward, distracted from the whispering ghosts that waited on the other side of the veil, he saw they were no longer alone.

“Get behind me!” Yato ordered.

His fingers gripped the orb and his wand even tighter, the latter aimed skywards as the four came behind him, all wands aimed at the swirling masses that descended upon them quicker than they could draw breath to utter a curse.

Swirling black robes engulfed them, billowing and translucent as the Deatheaters surrounded them in a storms eye. A flurry of arms lashing around him, Yato clutched the prophecy closer to his chest, throwing spells from his wand that seemed to go straight through the black curtain that swirled around them.

Yato heard Hiyori’s – or was is Bishamon’s? – yelp, quickly followed by a few muffled yells and grunts. A blunt impact came across the back of Yato’s head. Whether it was a fist or a boot he couldn’t tell as he crashed to the floor, sending dust into his mouth and nostrils in a splutter of coughs. Yato winced as he looked up, just in time to see something fly into his field of view, long and cartwheeling to the ground.

A wand.

The Deatheater black forms swirled above Yato one last time before they glided away, the tail ends trailing over him like a Dementors rags. Yato breathed heavily as he pushed himself onto his shoulder, head raised to look around him. Whilst the prophecy and his own wand were safe in his hands, he could see that his friends weren’t so lucky.

Spaced around the auditorium, Deatheaters stood alone or with their hostages caged in their arms, wands to their throats. Kazuma and Bishamon, both held behind Yato, met his eyes with unbridled hate for those that held them, their wands in the dirt tangibly close.

Yato’s stomached flipped as he stood, realising that his elevated position made him an easy target, even more so with the precious cargo in his hand.

Yato tried to keep his wand from shaking, not wanting it to be mistaken for an attack when his eyes caught on the unmasked Deatheaters that in front of him. Oshi, her smile as twisted and deranged as before, held Yukine tight to her chest, her wand making a clear indent in his throat.

A few metres to his left, Hiyori stood caged against a tall man with hair as grey and matted as Kugaha’s. He held Hiyori tightly by her hair, her head drawn back to rest just below his shoulder, wand under her chin. All too quickly the recognition hit.

Rabo.

Yato’s heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing just as fast as he tried to think of the shrinking chance of an escape route that didn’t abandon his friends.

Dark chuckling greeted him, and from the darkness Kugaha emerged. His green eyes twinkled with victory as he picked his way slowly up the weathered steps of the podium, growing nearer to Yato. His voice, as deep as night and silky, broke through the muffled whimpers that emanated through the chamber.

“Did you actually believe...” Kugaha’s voice lilted into a hiss. “That you stood a chance against us?”

His clothed boots, tinged brown in the dirt, came to a halt in front of Yato. He stood a few inches taller, yet he inclined his head to look down on Yato. His eyes, still glinting with a feigned kindness, as if he were being merciful, peered down at Yato.

“I'll make this simple. Give me the prophecy now...-” Kugaha held out his hand, palm up, with a pause. “Or watch your friends die.”

“Don’t give it to him, Yato!” Yukine’s shout came as quickly as Kugaha had finished his sentence.

Oshi gripped him by the neck and pressed her wand even harder beneath Yukine’s Adam’s apple, ordering him to be silent.

Yato tore his eyes from Yukine, to Hiyori, and then to the prophecy. Every fibre in his body screamed to fight rather than give Kugaha – the Sorcerer, even – the future.

But he had no choice.

Slowly, Yato raised his hand, the orb feeling heavier than before from the strain its weight had put on his hand. The orb slipped, warm and smooth, from his palm into Kugaha’s waiting hand.

Kugaha held the prophecy aloft, fingertips delicately wrapped around the smooth surface as he surveyed the hidden contents. He inhaled through his nose, and a breath of victorious relief flooded through his features.

A flash of white caught Yato’s eye, shining through the orb and highlighting the side of Kugaha’s face as it twisted in confusion.

Yato’s breath caught as Kugaha turned on the spot, his bulky figure no longer blocking the woman who had appeared in front of the veil.

“Get away from my brother.”

A glancing blow struck Kugaha in the side of his head, sending him tumbling over the precipice of the raised platform with a grunt. The prophecy, fallen from Kugaha’s tenuous grip, shattered. The mist clouded upwards in a dissipating cloud of smoke and fading whispers that crept up between Yato’s stunned face and Sakura’s cold eyes.

Sakura, her fist still clenched, cast her wand over Yato and gave an order that rose to a shout. “Get down!”

Blue sparks shot through the air where Yato’s chest had been milliseconds before, leaving him semi-blinded as a rush of wind tousled his hair and lightning strikes of cascading white mist exploded around the auditorium.

Yato took a breath of dusty air, hardly noticing the burn it made in his lungs as he saw the smoky hazes dart around the chamber, seemingly made of pure starlight in contrast to the Deatheaters dark matter. Glancing blows could have struck the Deatheaters and their hostages if they had not released them at the last moment, leaving Yukine, Hiyori, Bishamon and Kazuma to stumble or let out gasped breaths as they felt the wands leave their throats.

Madame Kofuku and Daikoku lurched from their own respective furls of white, the mist dissipating from their shoulders and their faces screwed with determination as their eyes fell upon the masked Deatheaters that advanced on them in a blur of black robes and distorted facades.

The Order of the Phoenix had come to save them.

Sakura grabbed Yato by the shoulder, fingers digging and twisting into the fabric of his jacket and dragged him down the uneven steps and pushed him down to the floor with little grace.

“Stupefy!” The cry echoed out and Yato heard an unknown Deatheater grunt followed by a thud.

Yato dared to peak his head above surface level. On the far side of the room he could barely see the top of Daikoku’s head, seemingly ushering the others around the circumference of the chamber.

Overhead, the Deatheater – consumed by their own darkness – intertwined with the shimmering force of an Order member that threw themselves across the room in a struggling battle for dominance.

Bright pink hair caught Yato’s eye, just in time to see her head bobbing just above the surface and screaming unknown curses or hexes in the direction of a Deatheater.

Yato felt himself being pulled down again, this time by his forearm, and once again being dragged away by Sakura. A myriad of spells exploded overhead followed by faint yelps. Yato dared not to look behind in case he lost his footing in this crouched position, until Sakura stopped short ahead of him and pushed him back without a glance.

Sakura stood, moving her wand across her chest and blocking a spell that would have hit her dead on if not for her quick reaction, and followed it up with a spell that distorted the air around her with the force of her magic. Whoever was on the receiving end, Yato thought in wonder, would be lucky to be alive.

Sakura hunkered down once again, this time facing Yato and pressing him against the wall beside the steps. Just behind her Yato could see the tip of the veil and the second set of steps that led up to it, but his attention was taken by her finger running over his shaking hand.

“Yato, I need you to take the other and get out of here.” Yato blinked at the instruction. Leave? He would never leave her in a place like this, not in the Ministry, not facing Deatheaters.

“No, I want to help!” Yato began to protest, but Sakura’s hand gripped his tightly, making his wand dig into his palm painfully.

Her eyes, serious but warm compared to the look she had given Kugaha, raked over his face.

“You need to go. We’ll take it from here. I’m right behind you.” She said this last sentence with a pointedness as if she knew it would silence his worries and make him leave, and for half a breath he was right, until the Deatheater appeared behind her.

Without thinking Yato’s wand darted under Sakura’s arm and the Deatheaters curse bounced off the protection shield Yato had conjured. No sooner than the spell had bene deflected did Sakura stand and while around, a curse spitting from her lips and slamming into the Deatheaters face, knocking their mask to the floor. Dark hair spilled out from under their hood but their face was hidden, pressed into the dirt and knocked out cold.

Two more Deatheaters advanced from behind their fallen comrade. Knowing there was no escape and that there was no convincing him, Sakura pulled Yato up the staggered stairs back up to the podium.

The chamber was a mess of dropped wands, scuffles in the dirt and never-ending tornados of black and white swirling across the room. Witches and wizards faded in and out of view as they fought and dropped to the ground, picking themselves and delving right back into the fight quicker than they had fallen.

Maniacal cackles reverberated around the chamber, and on the far side Yato could see Oshi facing off against Madame Kofuku and Daikoku. Although he scanned Yato could not see his friends, only their wands at his feet. He could only hope they were tucked out of sight or had escaped altogether.

His thoughts were interrupted by a bolt of light being deflected effortlessly by Sakura, her long hair whipping around her as her arms waved, conducting a series of spells in all directions that either found their mark on a Deatheater or fizzled away against the stone walls where they had missed.

Yato threw his wand up in defence as a curse hurtled at him, returning it just as quickly, barely noticing whether it had hit its mark before he was sending out the next curse, and the next, and the next.

A swirl of white and black spun out of control overhead, the white falling away and landing sickeningly against the far side of the wall where an Order member collapsed to the floor out of sight. Dark mist tinged with white hurtled down towards where Yato and Sakura stood, but made no attempt to hit them. It slowly far too rapidly a few metres ahead of them just before the veil.

The black mist dissipated from Kugaha’s smile as the distortion melted away.

“You will not live to see the Dark Lord defeated, prophecy or not.”

The polish of his wand was seen to slowly before Yato was flung away, crumpling to the dirt. He heard Sakura’s shout, dulled in his ringing ears as he fought for breath in his lungs. A heavy darkness settled over his chest, nearly crushing it with the weight of his empty lungs screaming for air.

Sorcerer… Prophecy… Deatheaters… all the things that had plagued his mind, his every waking moment. Legilimens that barely worked, teachers he couldn’t trust, his friends risking their lives for him. The frustration of not being good enough, of not being able to protect his friends. His family…

It made him want to utter a curse. One that would stop this madness, for just one moment of breath that would show the Sorcerer that he was not a child who could be quelled so easily.

A curse that was unforgivable.

Yato scrambled to his feet, his lungs finally taking in a breath of air that nearly cleared the darkness from his head, his heart, but not entirely. This was anger he hadn’t felt since he was a child; not since he lived with Father.

Anger seething in his vein, Yato’s wand spat out a bolt of green light aimed at what should have been his target. What Yato didn’t see was the ongoing battle he hadn’t seen in the dark edges of his vision. He had not noticed the waif figure now stood fighting for her life in front of the veil.

The light hit her chest just as her wand came up with another curse, spreading and dissipated as if it had sunk beneath her clothing and been absorbed by her skin. Her hand came up to press against where the invisible wound lay. Her face showed confusion, eyes looking into his as reality dawned on them both. Her wand fell from her hand and rolled with a dull click against the rocky outcrop of the veil.

Ever so slowly, Sakura stumbled backwards, arms falling to her sides and eyes falling shut. Silently, the grey mist of the portal embraced her in smoky tendrils, letting her float away and evaporate from the world.

The only family Yato had known was dead, and he killed her.

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