The world spins as you lie on your back on a bed of
leaves and twigs. Above, sunlight streams through a
canopy of trees. Wincing, you rise on your elbows,
and spot the locket lying in the dirt.
You scramble up, and scoop it into your fingers, grinning.
"______, quickly, in my bag, there's a small bottle labeled 'Essence of Dittany.'" Michelle calls.
You turn, and see Michelle bent over Peter's twitching body.
"Quickly!" She yells.
You blink in shock, and stumble dizzily to the bag. As you reach inside, objects present themselves in furious succession.
Your brain glazes over with thoughts, "Accio Dittany."
A small brown bottle lands in your palm.
"Unplug it." Michelle instructs.
Michelle rips open Peter's shirt, which is soaked in blood. The flesh of his upper arm is flayed, as if someone had scooped a portion away.
"Oh my god— Michelle. His arm—" You choke, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.
"Just do it!" She demands.
You follow her instruction, and hand her the bottle.
Peter's head slumps over to look at you, he lifts his uninjured arm and his hand and caresses your face, his own blood staining his hand. You hold it to your face, your tears washing the blood away. He is breathing only shallowly and his eyes are glazed over.
Michelle's shaking hand sprinkles three drops from the bottle onto Peter's bleeding wound. Greenish smoke billows from it.
"What happened? Michelle, I- I thought we were going back to Tony's house." You say, your voice thick.
"We were— W-We were there. But s-someone — they had hold of me. I knew we couldn't stay once they'd seen, so when they let go I brought us here. Peter got Splinched. I'm...sorry...this....this is my fault."
"Don't be stupid." You sniff.
The smoke sifts, and clears. Peter's wound no longer bleeds, he drops his hand and you squeeze it gently.
"This all I feel safe doing so far." Michelle rises, takes out her wand and begins to walk in a wide circle, muttering, her hands soaked in Peter's blood.
"Salvio Hexia...Protego Totalum..." She mutters.
Peter's face is now peaceful, he is breathing slowly, eyes closed. You place his head in your lap and gently stroke his hair, wiping his blood from your cheek.
"What're you doing?" You ask.
"Protective enchantments. I don't want another visit like we had at the coffee shop, do you? Especially with Peter like this. He'll be fine. You can get going on the tent..."
You knit your brows together, "Tent? Where am I supposed to find—" you stop, glancing down at Michelles bag, then back to Michelle.
She doesn't even notice, still busy muttering spells, "Repello Muggletum... Muffliato..."
_
The tent glows from within under a starlit sky.
Michelle pours tea from a kettle into cups, "How're the mushrooms? They seem to be the only edible things growing 'round here."
You grimace as you chew. "Edible" is debatable.
"They're great." You grin, "I'll have to leave some for Pete."
Michelle nods.
You set you plate aside, pluck up the locket, and dangle it in the firelight, then glance at Peter.
"Be honest with me Michelle, as he is the love of my life. How bad is he?" You squeeze the locket in your hand.
Michelle sighs, and swirls her teacup around, "He'll be alright in a few days. Hopefully. If I did okay. If only we could take him to Midgards, to Madam Khan—"
Your glance stops her, confirming what she knows.
She changes the subject, "So where do we go next?"
"Well...Strange had a theory. He felt that the stones would not be made out of random objects. And he felt they wouldn't be hidden randomly either. We know of three so far. The ring, which according to Strange belonged to Thanos' grandfather. The diary, which belonged to Thanos himself. And this,
which— again, according to Strange— belonged to his mother." You dangle the locket in front of her face.
Michelle eyes the locket as it glimmers in the firelight, "It scares me a bit, thinking it's a piece of Tha—"
"No, don't! Don't say it" Peter winces.
You and Michelle turn, and see Peter stirring.
"It's taboo— his name. That's how they track people now. It's how they found us in the cafe that night." He says.
"How d'you know?" Michelle asks.
"I overheard a guy from the Enforcement office talking about it at the Ministry." Peter stops and sniffs the air, "What is that horrible smell?"
Michelle's eyes widen, "That's dinner..."
"Oh...it smells like something Ned would cook.
That man is the worst cook I know." Peter smiles, as if remembering something, but then his face becomes serious, "Ned...he went back. To Midgards," he slumps back down, "I hope he's okay."
"He's brave, Pete. He'll be alright. Now about you, how are you feeling? Want some tea?" You ask, walking over to him and stroking his face.
He nods, taking your hand. Grimacing, he pushes himself up, and finally notices he's wearing a sling of Michelle's fashioning. He watches Michelle make his tea, and a seeming flicker of remorse plays over his face for his remark on her cooking.
"Is that it?" Peter asks pointing to the locket.
You nod, and hand it to him. Peter turns it over in his hand, then frowns and looks at you, you nod in response.
You stare at the locket, "I know. I felt it too. It's... it's like it's ticking or something, like it has a tiny metal heart, like it's—"
"Alive." Peter finishes.
You nod.
"I hate it. It's like he's here with us." Michelle says in disgust.
You nod, "That's why we're going to kill it."
_
Peter sits on a blanket by the roots of a tree, arm still wrapped up by his side.
You and Michelle stand side by side a few dozen feet away, she nods to you.
You raise your wand, "Dissendium!"
The locket spins swiftly in place, but remains whole.
"Incendio!" Michelle fires. Flames engulf the locket and its metal flesh turns scarlet, but then the flames die.
"Expulso!" You shout. The tree stump the locket rests upon explodes, but the locket remains unmarked.
"Confringo!" Michelle whips. The ground beneath the stump craters, but the locket remains untouched.
Michelle lowers her wand, but you continue on, firing a succession of spells, feeling almost possessed.
After a minute, you finally stop. All goes silent except for the leaves shifting in wind above. Then, slowly, another sound comes clear...a ticking. Coming from the locket.
"It's angry." Peter mutters.
Michelle shivers. You step forward, kneel down and
take the locket by its chain. It ticks.
You sling it over your neck and rise.
"What're you doing?" Peter says.
"We have to keep it safe until we can figure out how to destroy it." You nod.
"I can put it in my bag—" Michelle begins.
"No." You answer firmly.
"Well...okay....but don't you think it's odd that Strange sends you off to find a load of stones, but doesn't bother to tell you how to destroy them. Doesn't that bother you?" Michelle asks.
You shrug, study the locket, whose ticking has slowed, then walk off.
_
You turn the mirror shard over your fingers, you
then eye Peter laying calming in a field of flowers in the distance, sunning himself. He looks beautiful, a warm blush dusts your face.
He turns his head, seeing you he smiles and waves with his good arm, then closes his eyes once more.
The radio begins to spit static behind you, and you tilt it so you can see Michelle. She looks annoyed, but you don't say anything and slip the mirror back in your pocket.
You notice the locket around your neck and slip it from your shirt, studying the fissures in the locket's metal skin. Suddenly you wince.
The locket spills from you palm, and dances upon the chain. The skin encircling your scar constricts .
An old man with pure-white hair and a bushy beard cowers in a dark corner, "I told you! I no longer have it! It was stolen from me! Many years ago!"
"You wouldn't be lying, would you? I mean, I must tell you that would be unfortunate..." Thanos twirls his wand in a purple hand.
There is a flash of a young mans leaping out a window, then a burst of green light. The vision ends.
Your eye flutter open. You see Peter, features sharp yet kind in the amber dusk, standing a bit away, studying you.
"I thought it had stopped." Peter says.
You sigh and look at look at him, then shake your head.
He stands in front of you, "You told me they'd stopped, _____. You can't let him in, it's
dangerous—"
You laugh sarcastically, "It's not a candle I can blow out, Peter. It always burns, even if it's just a flicker. Can you please understand that?"
He eyes you and looks away, then stomps the grown lightly and sighs, "Tell me. What you saw."
"He's found...someone. A wand-maker, I don't know who. You-Know-Who wants something the man once had— I dunno what. But he's desperate to have it. It's as if everything depends on it."
Peter studies you. Then, from inside the tent the radio squeaks loudly for the thousandth time that day.
Your eyes flare; and you go to yell across the field at Michelle.
But Peter stops you, "_____, don't. It...relaxes her."
"Well it sets my teeth on edge. What's she expecting to hear? Good news?" You scoff.
"I think she just hopes she doesn't hear bad news. She did save my life. So if it gets her through the day..."
"And what gets you through the day?" You shoot.
"We've all made sacrifices, _____. And besides, I have you with me. That's all I need." He pats your head.
"...Thanks, Pete." You sigh, "How long before you can travel?"
"I don't know. It takes time. Im doing all I can with everything and Michelle is helping me."
You glare, "Well she's not doing enough."
Peter studies your angry profile, "Take it off."
You turn, and see Peter studying you closely. He
points toward your throat, toward the locket.
"Take it off. Now." Peter says sternly. Very out of character.
You slip off the locket and your anger...evaporates. It feels as if twenty pounds has been lifted off of your shoulders.
"Do you feel better?" He asks.
You shutter in relief, "Yes, tons."
Peter takes the locket, and cradles it in his fingers.
"It's cold. Even though it's been lying against your skin for days." Peter frowns.
You stare at the locket, feeling troubled. It should be your burden and yours only to bare.
"We'll take turns. Okay?" Peter says, and slips it over his neck. He frowns briefly, sensing its presence, then looks up at you.
_
Peter lies next to you, asleep. On the table the a few feet away the radio buzzes with static, the tent flap is open, which means Michelle had gone out to perform even more protection spells around the forest.
You reach out, about to turn off the radio off when:
"...Loki Laufeyson, newly appointed Headmaster of Midgards..."
As the signal fades, you roll onto your side and twist the dial. As the radio resists you, fading in and out, you grab your rutsack and pull out the folded Marauders map.
Suddenly the radio signal settles in again, "...bears little resemblance to the school under Strange's leadership. Laufeyson's curriculum is severe, reflecting the wishes of the Mad Titan, and infractions are dealt with harshly by the two Children of Thanos on the staff..."
You peer at the map before you and— sure enough, you discover Loki's name drifting about Strange's
office. A moment later, the tent flap stirs.
You'd should probably tell Michelle the news.
You walk out a few dozen feet when you see people in the distance. Luckily, they're walking off near the edge of the forest.
Michelle stands there, deathly still.
"Snatchers. Good to know your enchantments
work." You nod.
"...One of them could smell it. My perfume." Michelle hugs herself and shivers.
"You know what this means, Michelle. We have to leave. We're not safe here."
"Peter's not strong enough to Apparate."
You nod then think for a moment, "Then we'll go by foot."
_
The country landscape expands into the distance for miles. You glance around, first at the blue sky, and then the surrounding wheat fields and a blue barn in the distance. Then, faintly, so faint it can barely be heard at first, a soft whistling sound rises on the breeze. Slowly, one by one, dots perforate the blue sky.
The whistling sound builds.
You stop, listening, then turn. Peter trailing a
few feet behind, stops, eyeing you questioningly. You focus over his shoulder, watching the dots attenuate, take the shape of plumes.
You, Peter and Michelle look at each other, absolute terror flashing over your faces. The three of you begin to sprint toward the blue barn, reaching it within moments, and sliding inside, shutting the doors.
The whistling is ear-splitting now, more of a roar. As you peer upward through the skeletal remains of the hayloft, your face lashed with light, you see a succession of Children of Thanos strafe the blue above. The rotting timber buzzes and bats dance crazily in the loftabove. Gradually, the sound recedes. The bats settle.
_
The three of you continue to walk, and walk and walk. Michelle trails behind as you and Peter walk side by side again. She'd been wearing the necklace all day and you know the sight of you and Peter is doing nothing to improve her mood.
"I'm hungry." She announces.
You and Peter stop, and turn. You study her for a moment.
"What?" You ask
"I'm. hungry." She repeats.
Peter glances at you, who continues to stare at Michelle, taking the measure of her.
"We're all hungry." You call back.
You walk even closer to Peter and touch the bandage on his arm. It's ragged and needs to be replaced. You take Michelle bag out of your duffle-bag.
"Leave it." Michelle says.
You glance at Michelle's profile, then at the locket dangling from her neck. Ignoring her words, you begin to rummage in her beaded bag.
She rolls her eyes, "The house Elves at Midgards could make food out of thin air."
Peter smiles tenderly, "Michelle, you know no one can conjure food out of thin air. Food is the first of
the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law. The other four are—"
"I know, I can understand English! I was being facetious." Michelle snips.
Peter frowns and you begin to undo the damaged bandage around his arm.
"I said leave. it." Michelle growls.
Peter looks between the both of you, as if he doesn't know who to side with.
You look up and meet her stern gaze, "No. I'm going to finish. Besides, this is a good place to set up camp. It'll be dark soon."
"Good plan," Peter smiles weakly.
"Yeah. Absolutely amazing. Only, correct me if I'm wrong...wasn't that yesterday's plan? And the day
before that? And the day before that? Walk. Sleep. Walk. Sleep."
You finish securing Peter's fresh bandage and stare at Michelle, then begin to walk toward her. Peter watches silently. Michelle stands utterly still.
When you stop, you simply nod to Michelle's neck "My turn."
As you reach out, she blocks your hand. For a moment, the two of you simply stand silently. Then she strips the chain from her neck, hands it to you and brushes past.
You glance at Peter, and drape the locket over your
head and follow. After a moment, Peter does
the same.
_
In the shadows, Michelle lies on her back, staring gloomily at the pitched ceiling of the tent, listening to the radios murmur; while you run the fingers of your left hand through Peter's hair, sniping his ragged brown locks with as pair of kitchen shears as he flips through the pages of 'A History of Magic'.
"Oh my god..." he mutters.
"What?" You ask, alarmed.
"I'll tell you in a minute." He shoos.
Peter looks down as he watches his hair dropping to the ground.
"Maybe you could tell me now, as I am currently in control of this head of hair." You grin.
Peter looks at you wide eyed, "Alright, alright. You drive a hard bargain. The Sword of Gryffindor? It's Goblin made."
"Wow...amazing." You say sarcastically.
Peter purses his lips, "You don't understand. Dirt and rust have no effect on the sword. It only absorbs it, which makes it stronger."
"O-kay." You nod slowly.
"You already destroyed one stone, right? It was on the cover of Thanos' diary— in the Chamber of Secrets."
You pause, "Ya, but I did that with a basilisk fang. If you're about to tell me Michelles got one of those in that damned beaded bag of hers—"
Peter huffs, "_____, In the Chamber of Secrets, you stabbed the basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor. It's blade contains basilisk venom."
"Ohhhh!! It only takes in that which makes it stronger..."
"Exactly! Which means..." Peter grins.
"The sword...it can destroy the stones." You gape.
"Which is why Strange left it to you in his will!"
"You're a genius Pete. Truly."
"I'm just being logical, so I can look past the finer details and see the things that others overlook." He says quickly.
You smile brightly and learn in for a kiss as you stand over him. He kisses back passionately.
"There's only one problem...the sword was stolen." Michelle is sitting on her bunk, Peter's deluminator in hand, she flips the cap off and the lights click back on.
You and Peter quickly pull away from each other and turn to her.
"Yeah, I'm still here. But you two go on. Don't let me spoil your fun." She says sarcastically.
You glance at Peter, who is studying her warily.
"What's the problem? He's my boyfriend. We can't kiss once in a blue moon?" You fire.
"Problem? There's no problem. Not according to you, anyway." Michelle laughs, but it is cold and harsh.
Heavy drops of rain begin to pelt the canvas of the tent.
You scoff, "Look, don't be shy. If you've got something to say, spit it out."
Michelle swings out of the bunk. As her face meets the light, she looks very mean, the locket chain glitters around her neck.
"All right, I will spit it out: don't expect me to cry out in joy now that there's some other damn thing we've got to find."
"______..." Peter mutters.
"Wha— I thought you knew what you signed up for." You fold your arms.
"Yeah, I thought I did too." She scoffs.
You knit your brows together, "I don't understand. What part of this isn't living up to your expectations? Did you think we'd be staying in five-star hotels? Finding a stone every other day? Did you think you'd be back to your family by Christmas?"
She narrows her eyes, "No, I just thought after all this time, we'd have actually achieved something! I thought you knew what you were doing. I thought Strange had told you something worthwhile! I thought you had a plan!" She shouts.
You look at her, dumbfounded, "I've told you everything Strange told me! And in case you haven't noticed, we've found a stone!"
"Oh! Yeah, and we're about as close getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them, aren't we!" Michelle stomps.
Peter lifts his good arm, "Michelle, take it off. Please take it off. You wouldn't be saying things like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day—"
You gently push his arm down,"Yes she would," You turn to Peter and Michelle, "D'you think I haven't noticed the two of you talking behind my back? Or while I'm asleep? You're my boyfriend Peter, d'you think I haven't guessed what you're thinking?"
Peter's eyes widen, "_____, we weren't—"
Michelle stops him, "Don't lie! You said it, too, you said you were disappointed—"
Peter knits his brows together, "I didn't! Not like that!______— I didn't!"
Michelle interjects, "Do you know why I listen to that radio, every night? Do you! To make sure I don't hear about two muggles— killed in a horrible accident— "
Your features twist in bewilderment, "You think I don't listen! You think I don't know what it's
like—"
Michelles face miraculously turns a deep red, "NO! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE! YOUR PARENTS ARE DEAD! YOU HAVE NO FAMILY!"
Dead silence.
Peter looks so shocked it's as if he's been hit with a stunning spell.
Suddenly, you lunge for Michelle's throat, "You've always been SO JEALOUS! You wretched—-!"
Peter rushes in, "Stop! Stop!"
Neither of you want to hurt him any further, you let go of one another and step back. You point to Michelle's neck.
"Go then. But leave that." You say sternly.
Michelle strips the chain from her neck, and casts it away, then turns to Peter, "Come with me."
Peter looks anguished, glancing at the both you. But his mind has been made up from the beginning.
"No. I won't lose, _____. Not again. Not for you. Not for anyone." Peter says darkly.
There is nothing playful or unwavering about his tone.
Michelle nods lips pressed together, "Fine. It's not like you both ever needed me anyway. You can keep the stupid bag. I don't care anymore. About either of you." She looks at Peter one last time, and whips aside the tent flap.
"Michelle, no...please..." Peter murmurs.
Everything is still for a moment, then Peter walks outside, and after a couple minutes he returns, freshly cut hair sopping wet and plastered to his face.
"She's gone."