This chapter is beta-ed by the amazing PhoenixFanatic999!

So now you'd better stop

And rebuild all your ruins

For peace and trust can win the day

Despite of all your losing

#19

Of Warriors

The forest of the Quileutes was as bleak as the sky above. The emerging forms of wolves amidst the outlines of dancing trees were barely visible, but the growls that tore from their throat mingled with the rattling sound of wind and leaves. Harry's wand was holstered on the inside of his arm as he slowly put his hands up, a gesture of surrender. His fingers could conjure sparks and flames as great as with his wand, but it was something the wolves had never seen of him.

One of the wolves took one step, baring its teeth. Rosalie twitched beside him. Harry sent her a look of warning. She relented, schooling her expression from a scowl to a guarded look, and from the corner of his eye Harry saw the wolf took a step back with the same dejected demeanor.

Sam Uley's obsidian eyes burned even in his wolf form. His stance was rigid, ready to lung, but something kept him at bay. He bowed his head, bared his teeth, then turned his back on them; alongside him, the other wolves divided into two straight lines, clearing a path where Sam Uley waited tensely at the end.

Rosalie glanced at him, seemingly as surprised. Harry took her hand in his and followed Sam Uley's walking form carefully. The growls only grew more brazen as they walked further.

Two, five, seven, eleven… Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. They wolves were all alive, with all their limbs intact.

They walked along the seams, down to the shore, further and further away from both the village and Forks. Harry clasped Rosalie's hand tighter. There was nothing the wolves could do to him, but her… Harry inspected the ferocious comings and goings of the ocean with modicum of relief. The wolves' fur would only hinder them, but Rosalie was nearly unmatched in water.

They stopped before a row of small washed-out cottages with fading tribe marks painted on wooden panels. All seemed as old and lifeless as the ground beneath, save for the one standing at the furthest distance, the only cottage facing the ocean. Dim light penetrated through the edges of firmly-shut window panes. In front of it was a totem pole, its mark a bright and angry red.

Sam Uley sat proudly before it, nodding his large head to the front door. Harry carefully treaded upstairs. The wooden floor creaked under his weight.

The moment Rosalie took one step, Sam Uley changed from wolf to man. His voice was tense as he warned, "She stays."

Harry glanced at the line of wolves behind them. "She goes where I go."

Sam Uley's gaze turned cold. "Then you don't go in."

"Let them be," One gruff voice inside spoke through the creak. "Bring the girl too."

Rosalie bristled for a second – possibly for being called a girl by a human younger than herself – but she quickly recovered. Sam looked as displeased, though for an entirely different reason. He bowed his head for the elders who couldn't see him and took a step back.

To his surprise, the room was packed. Quileute men circled around a flickering lantern with grim faces and hooded eyes. Harry recognized Billy Black sitting at the side, his eyes inscrutable. Along with a few others he could put a finger on; but they seemed insignificant compared to the two sitting at the far behind, staring blankly back at him. They were the oldest in the room, clothed in torn rags and strange beads around their necks. They had the same glinting eyes as Albus Dumbledore's.

Idly Harry wondered why they were absent in the gathering; perhaps their fragile form hadn't allowed them to.

The left spoke. His voice sounded as old as he seemed, but it was all in sharp clicks and grave tone, undiscernible to his ears. Billy Black took the initiative to translate.

"Sorcerer," Black said. "Son of Almeric."

The right one assessed Rosalie with piercing eyes and spoke the same line, but what Black said vastly differed, "And blood drinker. Daughter of Succubus."

Rosalie's hand tightened around his. Harry rubbed her knuckle with his forefinger, soothing. It never mattered what people thought of them, especially this strange tribe with their strange ways, but he knew it bothered her to be thought of a seductress trapping him in her ensnare.

Their little exchanged didn't go unnoticed. The left one spoke again, and Black channeled it, "We mean no malice. Only history speaking through our mouths. We never forget, you see. Every kindness, every slight toward us, we never forget. Not the ones that are centuries-old, decades, or days."

Harry opened his mouth to speak – the left one held his paper-skinned hand up.

"You walked upon our land, had a blood drinker trespass along you, destroyed our trees, wounded our warriors. We consider you one of us, but even one in our ranks receives punishment when it is due. A slap on the wrist. An exile. An execution. None seems too far-fetched, at the moment."

Harry gazed back into Black's distrustful eyes, and wondered if the last bit was him or the elder speaking.

"Son of Almeric, Daughter of Succubus. This is your trial. Speak, before we decide your fate."

Rosalie tensed beside him. Harry shared her sentiment, and despite how he wanted to leave in a flash to show them how little power they had over him, he reminded himself that this was his own doing. There would be no animosity if he could have kept his head in check. The Quileutes were right to distrust him. And he was not here to expand the gap further.

"I apologize for what happened," Harry said with the most sincerity he could muster. "I regret it. Deeply. I lost my head and I was not myself. I came here to apologize, make amends, and ask for a second chance. I was relieved to see the wolves are unharmed. If there are any lingering wounds, I'll do my best to heal them. I'll rejuvenate your forest. I won't step a foot into your territory again, not unless invited. And for Rosalie – she meant well. She only meant to stop me."

A few murmurs. The two elders perked up. They didn't speak English, but it seemed that they understood.

"And what did she mean to stop you from doing?"

Harry stared at the flickering flame, the dancing shadows behind pairs of wary eyes staring at him. Truth or lies? Which one did they want to hear? Which one would save the Cullens from unnecessary retaliation?

"I lost my head," Harry said carefully. "I found myself trapped inside my own mind. I had no clear control of what I was doing. I – I was there to harm, but it was never my intention. I was… possessed, I think would be the right word. But the curse was lifted. I swear to you, it will never happen again."

Another set of mutterings, but this time it didn't diminish. It grew larger and larger until Harry watched them bicker among themselves in a language he couldn't discern. The two elders remained silent, eyes fixed on him, searching for lies. There were none. Harry stared back with conviction, even as the chaos around them escalated and one of the men on the elders' side began shouting.

"ENOUGH!" Black roared. Silence fell, though the faces in the room remained outraged. One beat, two, until Harry counted to fifteen and finally, the right elder sounded again. Black listened attentively, and then echoed, "We can tell lies and truths better than you sorcerers. You gave us truth, but only mere fragments of it. We are small people, but we are proud. Take your lies by omission somewhere else. Now that we know you are a danger to us, you are banished from our grounds. Our kinship ends, and so is our treaty with your family."

Harry could hear the wolves outside, ruffling and growling. Rosalie's hand was in his. He felt his throat close, to see that everything came to this – all because he failed against Death's attempts.

More blood. Perhaps this was Death's plan all along. If either way the wolves ended up dead, what did his choice matter?

"Take leave, now. We spare you the ambush because of our debt to your predecessor. With this, it is paid. You have until sunup to leave Forks. Any more, and we will bring you death."

Oh, how he wanted to laugh. At the irony, at their presumptions, at his own expense, at Death's clever tricks. But horrible guilt began to twist inside him. This was Carlisle's home. He came here again and again in his long life, and though Harry and the others couldn't care less if they had to move, Carlisle loved this place. How many lives had Carlisle saved in his time here? How many of them would grieve for his absence?

"My mistakes are my own, not theirs," Harry tried. "I'm not part of the treaty. Punish me however you want, but leave them out of this."

"You're one of them now," Black said simply. There was pity in his eyes. "For better or worse. Leave, sorcerer. Or we'll make you."

Harry wanted to protest, but Rosalie put her other hand on his arm. "It's alright," She murmured in his ear, "This place is not our home. Our home is where we all are."

He felt warmth in his chest then, at her words, at the way she looked at him now.

No. He couldn't let a century-old treaty break because of his doing. The Cullens were good people, and so were the Quileutes. Harry lifted his gaze from hers to two pairs of old, tired eyes at the end of the room. "Do you want to hear the truth?"

Rosalie's grip on him tightened in alarm. Harry rubbed her shoulder. Trust me.

This time it was only Black that answered. "It won't change the sentence. But go ahead."

"What's your tribe's view on death?"

Silence reigned, only for a beat. It was followed by low murmurs. The men in the room began to whisper among themselves, but the elders' stare had changed.

Black raised an eyebrow. "Same as everyone else."

"And what is it? An end? A journey?" Harry pressed.

"The gate to the next life. A neutral force. Inevitable."

"That's true. Death, the gate, you don't need to fear. No one escapes it. It's almost comforting, really, to know the inevitable. But there are two kinds of death: the neutral force, and the manifestation of it. And the persona of Death? There is nothing like it. It's not neutral. It's malicious. It's vengeful. It's blood thirsty," Harry said hoarsely. "And it wanted all of you."

Black's right hand slowly reached the shotgun beneath his coat. The wolves outside stepped closer. Two of them were right before the window, ready to strike.

"It despised your kind for your powers. You first gained them by merging your own soul with an animal's, and Death took it as a slight. To make matters worse, the powers are inherited throughout generations. With every newborn wolf it felt as cheated as it was for the very first time. It never forgot. And it got me. It messed with my mind completely, using past-traumas to trigger me to do whatever the hell it wanted. That was why I was there. It drove me out of my mind to take control of it."

"LIES!" One of the men snarled, suddenly standing up. He pulled out a blade as long as his arm and pointed it shakily at Harry. "You're feeding us lies."

"Stand down!" Black barked.

"No!" The man bit back, courage raising with his voice. "He's fooling us. He's trying to calm us down and once we're calm he'll return to his plan. He'll kill us all, he said so."

Several stood. Only the elders remained. And their opinions were the only ones that mattered. He stared back to their unrelenting gaze, ignoring the raised guns aimed at him from every direction. Prove it, those eyes demanded.

Harry closed his eyes.

The room grew colder. The lights flickered. He could feel it in the air, the electricity swirling with each of Death's presence solidified. Silence was filled with shrieks of terror, the sounds of men scurrying away from what had materialized to his left. On his right, Rosalie's grip on him trembled slightly.'

A gunshot. Two more, then four, and right on the fifth the door opened to reveal two wolves. Their jaws were open, salivating. Rosalie turned her body in a flash. They were now back to back; her against the wolves on the front door, and Harry against the wide-eyed pale faces with barrels of empty guns between their eyes.

All of the bullets went to Death's form and never emerged through to reach Harry. As though it was a black hole, ever-absorbing, ever-draining.

"Devil's tricks," The same man fearfully spat. "It's not real, I tell you – it's a cheap imitation, it's just hocus pocus, same old bullshit."

Harry fought against rolling his eyes.

"They don't trust outsiders," Rosalie murmured to him. "Why not bring them an insider?"

Harry snapped his head to catch her meaningful look, and felt his own eyes widen a fraction. Could he? Theoretically it could be done, but had he truly held this degree of control over Death, or was it all another trick?

Either way, he had to make them believe him.

Bullets shot through the air. Time slowed, as Harry watched the bullets dashing in his direction. Behind them the wolves lunged. Rosalie's hand in his tightened, and Harry closed his eyes, as his surrounding turned to hazy blur of faces of rage, dancing flames and frantic shadows.

They had not gone anywhere. They had arrived at the clearing just before the cottage, just behind the wolves. The beasts turned in an instant the moment they recognized his presence, but it was too late; Harry watched with bated breath as Death raised its scythe high up in the air, thunder blazing above, and waved it. The scythe torn the air like it was fabric – and through the hole, he saw mist and glass. It was the veil, brought here with a swing of its scythe.

Through the portal, emerged a man. He was of similar built, similar skin tone, similar long dark hair braided into curtain of ropes that reached its back. But the eyes were bright, piercing blue, and it was all indication needed to know that it belonged not to the living, but to Death.

The crowd had all exited the cottage, at this point, and all had the same look of wonder and terror, each face seeming bloodless. Through the commotion the two elders came with speed Harry would never have guessed for their age. Their grey eyes mirrored each other, tears pooling, lips trembling. The left one breathed, "Taha Aki."

The spirit stood with the gait of a warrior. On his back strapped a blade as tall as his shoulder, on his arms painted the same marks that he'd seen on the totem earlier. The first wolf turned to face them all. The other end waited, speechless, as the man that started everything stood before them as a ghost brought back to life.

Death hissed. Taha Aki turned, startled. Death kept itself at Harry's side with half of its scythe planted firmly on the earth. Death's icy blue eyes shone, and so did Taha Aki's.

Taha Aki fell to his knees. At once Harry thought of Dumbledore, whose soul was too weak to withstand the summon. But Taha Aki moved with precision. He did not fall. He knelt.

The Quileutes stayed where they stood, agape and wide-eyed, until one by one each one of them sunk to their knees. And all of a sudden, every breathing soul in his vision kneeled before him.

"Why did you do that?"

"They are now where they're supposed to be. On their knees. Before you."

Harry regarded the being in front of him. They were almost of the same height, but he felt towered still. He turned away. It was no use trying to hide how troubled he felt, yet still he didn't look at Death as he said, "I didn't not murder them all to build a tyranny. I didn't even want to lead, much less to rule."

"Asserting dominance over the weak isn't tyranny. They doubted you, and you showed them your words are true. Their submission wasn't in your control; you had their hero pay his master respect, and the living followed on their own will."

"His master?"

"His, and every other wolf that ever lived," Death answered. "Did you truly believe I was lying when I said there was no afterlife for them? They're mine, either way. Your unwillingness to shed their blood didn't stop this, only ensure even more unborn souls to my grasp."

He felt heavy weight on him, dragging his chest to the ground. Hatred ran through him like a torrent of poison.

"And what is mine," Death continued. "Is inherently yours."

The building tension inside of him came to a halt.

"Do you not see?" Death said, its voice softer than it had ever been. "Everything in my power, everything you've seen me do, is all yours."

"Harry?"

He blinked. "Yes?"

Rosalie took his hands in hers, and kissed his cheek. "You've been spacing out."

He smiled a little. "I have?"

Her lips trailed to his lips then, and in an instant he circled his arms around her. He lifted her with must have been surprising ease, because her eyes were wide and dancing. The earlier worry there had dissipated. He kissed her again, swirling her around, her golden hair riding the wind.

"I'm okay," He reassured her, once he put her down. "It's just… a lot to take in. Don't you think so?"

She was quiet for a while. Harry dulled his own apprehension with the sound of his footsteps on dry leave and shattered branches, in absence of hers. The rain had stopped long ago, and now sunrays seeped through the opening of trees above them. Suddenly, Rosalie stopped his wanderings with a hand on the either side of his head.

"Of all the things I've seen you do, what you just did went beyond what I've imagined," Rosalie confessed. "And I've imagined a whole lot of things. And I won't lie, it terrified me. It terrifies me still, what you can do. But it's not you I fear. Never you, Harry."

Harry leaned in, settling his forehead against his.

"Let's go home," Rosalie said. "It's been an awfully long trip, and you hate sleeping on mattresses, don't even deny it."

Harry replied her with a grin and a kiss to her temple. Death's voice in his head, their last interaction, was a constant presence in the back of his mind, but it was shadowed by her attention to him. For now, rest, he thought to himself.

He couldn't help the pounding in his heart as the sight of the Cullen's house grew larger and larger in his vision. Rosalie said he was being silly in his apprehension, that the others would welcome them with open arms in a heartbeat. Still he had insisted on walking instead of apparating straight to the front door. Now that they arrived at the front porch, he thought that it didn't matter. His heart beat wildly with dread and guilt, and the knowledge that they all could hear only added to his mortification.

Before his knuckle reached the door's surface, Rosalie stole a kiss that left him breathless. One, two… His heartbeat slowed with each second, and when they had pulled apart and Esme opened the front door with Carlisle behind her, only the numbing dread remained.

Esme's eyes were glassy, but Harry didn't have the chance to spiral into guilt. The older woman had sprung forward and enveloped him in a crashing hug.

"Don't do that again," Her voice was shaky. "Harry, don't you dare do that again."

Chamomile filling his nose, he mumbled through Esme's thick caramel hair. The rising in his throat was embarrassing. He fought to keep his voice neutral. "I won't. I'm sorry."

Esme gave him an earful after that. He bowed his head for each one, wincing and keeping himself from smiling the whole time. It wouldn't do to look unapologetic to the rest of them, but Esme's warmth was contagious. The matriarch strung him along inside. Rosalie followed, mumbling "I, too, am fine," until she walked into Carlisle who remained in place. Rosalie seemed surprised. It only came to Harry then that he hadn't seen the two talk to each other, save for brief addressing at family discussion.

Rosalie's eyes were distrustful and unsure. Carlisle looked like he wanted to say something, but Rosalie turned and left him at the doorstep before the words could get out.

Alice bounced from the sofa as if she had just seen him (he thought fondly of her dramatics), while Jasper stood near where she had sat. Edward was leaning against the wall, turning his attention from Bella who couldn't keep his eyes off Harry.

To his bafflement, neither showed animosity. Even Jasper, the-constant-vigilance Jasper, had an appraising look that was only topped by Edward's begrudging respect.

"We received word," Jasper said. His mouth was pulled in a good-natured smirk. "Seemed you handled things well over there."

"And you handled things well, when we disappeared," He glanced at Rosalie. "For which I'm absolutely grateful and sorry for."

Alice waved a hand and threw herself to Harry, who in reflex circled his arms around her tiny body. If either Jasper or Rosalie looked bothered, neither showed it. Rosalie turned to Jasper. "How did you find out?"

Edward answered for him. "Jacob Black came to Bella's house. Seething. I arrived when he was telling her what happened, and managed to see bits and pieces of it. Then you came home and confirmed it."

Esme didn't look too happy, as did Carlisle. "It was a low blow, Harry."

Jasper shook his head. "Desperate times, desperate measures. This is the best course of action, really. I had half the mind we abandon this place before they kick our door and tear our throats."

Carlisle sighed. "Perhaps. I worry this will affect how they see us, especially since Jacob Black proved the youngsters aren't exactly on board with the new development. The elders bend, but the children aren't as wise, and thrice as hot-headed."

"Oh, but it was absolutely brilliant," Jasper grinned. "If you can't dazzle them with your personality, do it with their ancestor. I don't know how you knew how the first dog looked like, but to conjure a replica and make him kneel? Inspiring."

Harry glanced at Rosalie, whose eyes widened a fraction. Harry returned Jasper's enthusiasm with a laugh. Suddenly, his throat felt a bit dry and he snatched the glass of water from the bar. Jasper and Edward didn't seem to notice, but Alice was looking back and forth between him and Rosalie.

Even Edward was smiling. "I have to say, even the story sounds authentic. You're more suited for Rosalie than I thought."

Harry was mildly alarmed when Alice's yes lit up with realization. "Oh, they're suited alright," Alice sing-songed. "You had sex!"

He nearly choked on his water. Rosalie exclaimed with rage, "Alice!"

"What?" Alice beamed, her face angelic. "Oh, it was good, wasn't it? I can tell."

"Alice," Esme reprimanded, though the effect was null with a smile so wide.

Jasper grinned lopsidedly. "At least something good came out of this. Do you know how much I work into making them wait for your arrival? They were ready to kill us where we stood, but Sam Uley is an honorable man with a cold head."

It hadn't seemed like Jasper's intent, but the conversation lost its mirth and turned to a more gloom direction. Guilt momentarily forgotten returned to him in full force. Harry swallowed thickly. His eyes searched Carlisle's on their own. "I'm sorry."

Carlisle stared at him. While his face was kind, the calculating look in his eyes made Harry feel small. "Can you tell us it won't happen again?"

Harry looked at the porcelain faces around the room, all eyes on him. The words came out of his mouth without thinking but with them Harry found certainty - something lost from him all this time.

"It won't. I swear to you, it won't."

Somewhere deep inside his mind, he could hear Death hiss.

He had almost forgotten how it felt like to live with so many other people. They had been gone for barely a week, but now everything felt new again. Esme ever-experiment on the kitchen (Rosalie said it was never this terrible, not until Harry came) and the constant scent of freshly-cooked delicacies that made his mouth water each time, Alice's obsession with reality TV programs, perched on Jasper's lap who didn't bother to restrain his snide comments, Edward's shift of presence and absence between his home and Bella's, Carlisle's arrival at home near midnight. It was something he had lived with before, but only now gained appreciation for.

Rosalie was another matter entirely. He was in constant high in her presence, alternating between biting kiss, tangled sheets and pillow talks. A honeymoon phase, Rosalie called it. The others usually moved out for a time whenever they desired intimacy, but with silencing charm on his side, none of the others were the wiser. Except for Alice, who seemed to possess an unusually sharp nose and never passed the chance to pester them about it. In response, Rosalie's rage had turned into a quick roll of her eyes, while Harry owned it with a proud smile.

This is what he had wanted, for a very long time. Normalcy. It was but a façade, he knew, with whispers and hisses at the back of his head. But Death was manageable now. He could feel Death beckoning him, wishing for attention, but he was too drunk on domesticity.

It was one Sunday morning. Bella had insisted on having a father-daughter time at home and as the result Edward was home when Harry woke, sulking. He was having a stare-contest with Alice, separated by a wizard's chess board with not one moved piece. On the sofa, Jasper seemed torn between exasperation and amusement.

"How long have they been at this?" Rosalie descended the stairs, not a hair out of place. A vision, Harry thought as he munched on his bacon. Esme had been more generous with cooking his meals, lately – Harry wasn't sure if this was a gift or punishment, since he had to finish them all.

"Sixty-three years," Jasper muttered disdainfully. "If you mean just now, it's forty two minutes. And counting."

"Who usually wins?" Harry asked.

"No one. They try and try again, but it's really pointless. It's not even a slight to them, you see. Her power and Edward's are paradoxical together."

"Turn it off?" Harry offered helpfully.

Jasper grimaced. "Edward can't, but Alice won't."

Harry stood from the counter and approached the duo. "Wait – so you haven't done a single move? Ever since I gave you this?"

"No."

Harry placed a hand on Alice's chair. "Knight to E5."

Alice's shriek was so loud that Harry winced and removed his hand. She turned to him, shaking at his collar. "Why on earth did you not tell us?!"

"I thought you knew," Harry muttered. "Sorry. Ed, take the knight out."

Barely recovered from his surprise, Edward followed up. And so did Alice, and then Edward, until finally Edward's own knight destroyed Alice's in a swift strike. Alice cheered, nearly in tears, while both Edward and Jasper seemed in awe.

"The rules can be altered," Harry grinned. With a wave of a hand, the pieces turned to their original place and shone as the spell washed over them. "Let's see if Edward's power works without knowing the rules. Alice, turn off the power, it's only fair."

They all gathered around, watching the sport with newfound interest. It lasted seven minutes until Edward figured out the rules – or either pieced it together from others' speculations. Harry changed the rules each time they were revealed. There hadn't been a rule that remained in secret until either won, but at least they were destroying each other's pieces now.

Eight games later, Alice had Edward at a stalemate. A mark in history, Alice declared, while Edward looked sour. It wasn't a battle of wits, but of luck. No one realized how the rule worked until it was too late.

No one realized how the rule worked until it was too late.

Edward seemed to have the same thought. He glanced at Harry, as if he knew what Harry was thinking without reading it. "A stalemate, with our powers strapped away. The rules are hidden to all but one."

Jasper perked up. "Victoria."

"The moment she decides to come after us, I'll see it," Alice vowed, more to herself than the others.

"And maybe that'll be too late," Edward argued. "We should strike first. We have the wolves now."

"Untrained, and completely unprepared," Jasper gave him a look. "You know you can't tackle newborns head-on. The wolves may be strong, but one wrong move they'll crush to death. Once they die, we're next, if not first."

"The news have died down," Esme supplied hopefully. "Perhaps they're decreasing?"

"No, they must have learned to cover their tracks better," Rosalie said. "Which means they're getting smarter, more careful. They have no reason to stop now."

Edward balled his feet. "We should go. The wolves were tentative before, but it's certain we have them now. Right, Harry?"

All eyes turned to him. Harry stared back, then down, to the destroyed pieces of the chess. Only one remained standing.

"I'll go. Alone."

Edward's eyes narrowed. "This is serious."

"So am I."

And Harry realized he was. This had never been his affairs, not really - but he had enough of staying on the sidelines when fate seemed fond of dragging him into the center of chaos anyway. He took one look on Esme and couldn't imagine her on a battlefield. He couldn't risk them, any of them. The domestic life had been pleasant, but it had to be put onto a halt.

"No, you can't," Esme frowned. The others had the same look on their faces, dawning realization replaced by disbelief. "You'll get hurt. Or worse, killed."

"You fight well. Exceptionally well," Jasper said. "But alone, you don't stand a chance."

"Then let me try. Even if I fail, no harm done. I assure you though," Harry smiled. "I won't."

Even Alice blinked. "Are you crazy?" She turned to Rosalie and demanded, "And you're okay with this?"

But Rosalie wasn't looking at her at all – her gaze was entirely on him.

Trust me.

"He won't die," Rosalie said simply.

Esme cried out in disbelief. Jasper looked incredulously at Rosalie, but it was followed by puzzlement – Harry could see cogs turning in his head. "You're serious, aren't you? I trust you have something up your sleeves?"

Harry grinned. "I have plenty."

"We're coming with you," Jasper insisted. "If you think you don't need the wolves, be it. But more numbers are always advantageous."

"Or hindering. I need to lay traps, runes, portals and all that. It's not something I can entirely control either. I'm not having any of you around."

"Just me then," Edward chimed in. His eyes were shining with anticipation. "I'll be your ears. You need to get into the enemy's head to trap them."

"Edward!"

"It'll be fine, Esme. The second things look back, we'll retreat. I promise."

Esme shook her head vehemently. "This is madness!"

"Don't worry," Harry soothed, taking the older woman's hands in his. "They won't hurt a single hair of Edward's. And in a few days, they won't be breathing. I promise."

Song Quoted in This Chapter [Muse]

Led Zeppelin - Immigrant Song (who else saw Thor: Ragnarok and absolutely loved it?)

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