Harry Potter and the Berserker

Chapter 73 A Soaring Dream

Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.

What had been going on?

That was the elusive question that had been on his mind for a cosmic second. Before he had been... he didn't fully know. Just where had he been? Yet another question that he did not hold the answer to.

Except that he did. He just didn't remember.

'Gnnh,' he grimaced, bringing a hand up to his chest. The once stabbing pain seemed but a faint memory by now. Had he actually been stabbed, had his heart suddenly stopped its rhythm of beating? Was that why he was down on the ground now?

His legs stretched out, shorter than he remembered and helped him stand once again. Had he been this short before? He was only... how old was he?

"There you are!" a voice called out of the open space he found himself in.

He quickly turned his head in the direction of the sound, expecting to see a female shape running toward him although he wasn't sure as to why. 'Huh?'

The boy that nearly tackled into him was not the boy he had been expecting either. "What are you doing down here all by yourself?" the taller boy asked, giving him a strong slap on the back of the shoulder, nearly making him slump from the impact.

'I... I don't actually know.' Did he know? 'Why are you here? Are you lost too?'

He was met with a near incredulous look that was complimented by a toothy half-smile. "Don't go losing your head on me now. I can't have you going and losing your best feature. Who else would I have to talk to?" He wrapped an arm around him and began walking through the grassy plain. Ah, yes! the grasslands. That's where they were. Just plain... plains, with an empty grey sky hanging above them.

There was substance in that nothingness that they found themselves in now.

So why was it all wrong?

"Hey, you listening to me?"

'Oh, what? Sorry. I was... thinking about something.'

"I'd be worried if you weren't. I was thinking too." His good-natured smile faltered near the edges. "Did he talk to you too, is that why you're out here?"

'Who?' he asked innocently, yet it sounded like he already knew the answer to his own question.

"Father. Who else?" the taller boy asked with a flick to his ear. "Brush your hair back, I think it's messing with your head. Anyway, father talked to me too."

'Nobody talked to me.' It was the truth, as far as he was concerned. But was it his truth?

"You don't have to hide it," his brother assured him. "I know how he talks to you, I've seen him when he starts yelling."

'And he yelled at you, then?' why was he asking that?

To that, his brother seemed to scoff. "Father doesn't yell at me. Well, not like he does you. But you go and say I have it easier than you do." His strikingly violet eyes seemed to darken a shade as his brows furrowed to give him a look that was far beyond the look of a mere child. He could only nod his head and signal for the other to continue on. "He told me that he won't always be in charge and that one day, it'll be up to us."

'To you,' he corrected.

"To us," he insisted harder, maybe even believing it himself. "Father might not always be rational, but the things he says about our blood being special, that we were born to rule it all one day... that isn't his future, it's ours."