Prologue

A/N: Hey everyone, here's another Harry Potter & RWBY plot idea that wouldn't leave me alone. If any of you are following 'The Wizard and the Grimm' unfortunately that story is basically dead and if you are following 'The Return of Magic' its on hiatus for now. I'm not really sure what I'm doing with that second one. I sort of lost my inspiration for it at the moment, but am not quite ready to say I'll never go back to it. I'll have to see.

This story is a bit different than the other two, but I think it might be fun. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think of it. This is sort of a side project for the moment so please don't expect regular updates. It' more for whenever I have a little time, I might work on this a bit. I have other fics that are of a higher priority at the moment.

Anyway, thanks again for checking this out!

Harry knew he was dead the moment his parents failed to appear in the mirror before him. The only reason Professor Quirrell hadn't killed him yet seemed to be because he couldn't find the stone and had got the idea stuck in his head that Harry would somehow be of use in this endeavor, or rather the shiver-inducing disembodied voice had seemed to think so.

Harry had just as much of an idea on how to find the stone as the next guy. This last protection had been set by Albus Dumbledore no less, what did they expect of him? How was he, a first-year Hogwarts student with average grades, supposed to figure it out. In the end, it was because of this train of thought that he was so surprised when his mirror reflection, instead of showing him standing with his parents as it had before, showed him holding the very stone Quirrell sought. His reflection winked at him, stowing it in his pocket while at the same time, the real Harry felt a very tangible weight appear on his person.

Harry felt his heart rate accelerate. He had just gone from a side concern with a reason to be kept alive, to the only obstacle between this madman and his prize. Why did this have to happen to him? Why did he feel the need to come down here and save the day himself? It seems like Quirrell wouldn't have been able to get it in the end anyway. Maybe he could find a way to let the crazy teacher let him go, and he could escape with the stone before he was any the wiser.

"What do you see, boy?" The turban-wearing professor demanded.

His first instinct was to yell 'nothing', but years of trying to avoid punishments at the Dursleys had taught him that it only made one look guiltier, not that his so-called relatives had ever actually cared if he was guilty or not. He needed to come up with a lie.

"I- I'm with Professor Dumble-"

"Look me in the eye when I'm talking to you!" He barked, causing Harry to flinch.

Unwillingly meeting his eyes, he reiterated his earlier statement, "I'm shaking hands with Professor Dumbledore. I think I've won the house cup."

The man scowled in disgust, flicking his wand and causing a wave of invisible force to slam into his chest. He stumbled back, barely managing to stay on his feet. As much as it hurt, he was more relieved that he seemed to be out of his direct attention, but unfortunately, it didn't seem like Harry was that lucky.

"He lies!" That hissing, bodiless voice spoke again.

Quirrell whirled back around to face him, wand raised, "You lied to me, Potter? Tell me! What did you see in that mirror?"

Harry took a few steps back, "I told you! I saw myself winning the house cup!"

"LIES!" The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor raised his wand threateningly, and Harry was once again sure he was about to die, but again something intervened. "Let me speak to him… face to face…"

"B-but Master. You're not strong enough!" Quirrell exclaimed.

"I am strong enough for this," it hissed.

The next few minutes gave Harry the perfect opportunity to try and run away, to try and find escape, but he didn't. He couldn't make himself move. It was if his legs were frozen to the ground, but it wasn't any kind of spell that held him there, it was a strange kind of horror he'd never experienced before.

Quirrel had started unwrapping his turban. While that in and of itself it didn't sound abnormal, there was something sinister about this action Harry didn't understand at first, though that soon changed. He realized immediately why he felt that way when he saw the face that was sticking out from the back of his Defense of the Dark Arts professor's head. It was ugly really, pale and splotchy, with two slits for a nose, and burning red eyes.

"Harry Potter," it's voice was barely a whisper and yet it seemed to fill the whole room. "We meet again at last."

"Voldemort," Harry said, only a small warble in his voice. He knew who it was as soon as he had seen him. Who else could it be? And to think he'd been living in the same castle all year… it sent shivers down his spine.

"You say my name," Harry thought he sounded surprised. "It seems you are quite brave, boy."

"Shut up!" Harry snapped back. While anyone who was observing the conversation between these two adversaries might have thought Harry was reacting to the mocking tone of the Dark Lord's voice, it was in fact how he'd addressed him. The only one who called him 'boy' was his uncle, something that always set him off.

"How dare you-" Quirrel shrieked only to be cut off by his master.

"Silence!"

Harry didn't know what to do. He couldn't help but hope that Dumbledore would come sweeping in at any moment and save the day, but as the minutes ticked by, he was starting to feel that it was less and less likely to occur. He couldn't help but wish to deepest depths of his heart that he were somewhere else. Somewhere he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived. Somewhere without Voldemort. He knew it was his own fault that he was in this situation… his own fault that he hadn't stayed up safe in his bed. It was own fault for taking this unnecessary task on. Despite his current regrets and his dislike of his title, it wasn't that he didn't like helping people, trying to be a hero as some would say, but he wanted to earn it on his own. All the 'Boy-Who-Lived' title did was glorify his parents' deaths, that's why he really hated it. He wanted to be a hero on his own terms.

It was as these thoughts were passing through his mind that Harry's eye caught the mirror once again. For the third time since he'd first seen it, it showed a new image. It wasn't his parents or himself receiving the stone, instead, he was standing in front of a large building with sprawling grounds. For a split second, he thought it was Hogwarts, but he soon realized that wasn't the case. It didn't look the same even if the structure was somewhat castle-like. It was definitely much more modern looking with a large central tower. Unfortunately, he couldn't gather any more information than that, seeing as Quirrel stepped forward and blocked his view.

"Now, I won't treat you like a fool, boy," Harry grit his teeth but didn't rise to the bait. "I am certain you know why I am here."

"The stone," He said without inflection.

"Very good," Voldemort hissed. "I'm sure you have an idea of why I want it as well, but that is of no consequence at the moment. What you need to consider is what you want. I am the greatest sorcerer in the world, and can be quite… generous… to those who serve me. Help me get the stone, Harry Potter, and I will reward you most handsomely."

"I would never serve you!" Harry yelled back, appalled at the very idea.

Voldemort's eyes flashed, but his twisted smirk did not change, "Are you so sure of that? Even if I could return your parents to you?"

Harry stiffened, "Y-you're lying!"

"Are you sure you want to take the chance that I am not?" The face chuckled. "They may have defied me before, but if you just help me now, all their insubordination will be forgotten and I will return them to you… so why don't you hand me that stone in your pocket."

Harry took a step backwards, hand going aforementioned pocket on reflex. How had he known? It was almost like he could sense it… or he could read his mind. Was mind reading possible with magic? Not knowing what to do, Harry's eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. He didn't find anything other than the exit still covered in fire.

Turning to run, he only made it up a few steps towards the door when it happened. He felt like he was somehow hooked around the middle, being pulled back with great force. Flying through the air, he hit the stone floor with a thump and clatter as the ruby red stone fell from his pocket and bounced just out of reach.

"Accio!" He heard the incantation and he saw the stone fly up into the air.

Despite the fact that he was now bruised and a bit battered… despite the fact that his head was swimming and he had not had a chance to catch his breath, Harry launched himself from the floor, tackling the stone with his body mid-air before it could reach the other wizard. Stumbling to his feet, he prepared himself to try and run again, even if it seemed hopeless. He wished he had his wand, even if he didn't know anything that could help, it was a comforting presence, but Quirrel had already taken that from him too.

"Get it fool!" The voice rasped out again angrily. "Kill the boy if you have to."

"Avada Kedavra!" He heard Quirrel shout.

Twisting to the side, he just barely missed being hit by some kind of green flash of light, and he was glad he did as it left a small crater in the floor where it hit. As lucky as he was there, it still caused him problems. The quick dodge had left him off balance so when his foot caught on the uneven stone floor, it was inevitable that he tripped. Stumbling backwards, trying and failing to regain his footing, Harry stretched out his arms to brace his fall. The problem was that his one hand still held tightly onto the Philosopher's Stone and he wasn't falling into the floor. He fell into the ancient magical mirror.

The invaluable stone that supposedly granted immortality hit the mirror surface with a crash, sending a network of cracks spreading across its surface. The stone of itself seemed to somehow get sucked within, out of sight.

"What have you done?" Voldemort's voice screeched, distracting him from the strangely alluring, if now fractured, image of that unknown building in the mirror again.

Even if he wanted to answer he couldn't, he had no idea. How had the stone just disappeared? It had been inside the mirror before… had he somehow sent it back? Could he get it back? Did he really want it back though? Now it was safe from Voldemort, right?

Harry didn't have any more time to think on this as with mixed voices both people inhabiting Quirrel's body let out a cry of rage. Raising their wand high and slashing it towards him. The wave of force threw him backwards through the air again. Expecting to smash into the mirror, he was surprised instead when he hit something much more malleable. It felt as if he'd fallen backwards into a pool or some other kind of water. Struggling against this strange sensation, he began to panic as he saw the strange silver substance began creeping over his body. It almost looked like liquid metal… like the mirror had melted itself down. Was that even possible?

He could hear the shouts of both Quirrel and Voldemort in the background, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. The metallic liquid was now up over his chest and approaching his face. Twisting and turning in order to get away, nothing worked. It was in his mouth now, he could feel it, the smooth cool texture, but surprisingly it seemed to have no taste. Then it was over his nose, and yet he could still breathe. Harry was confused, but before he could figure anything out, it had covered his eyes, and then everything went dark and he knew no more.

It was because of all this that Harry didn't see how he vanished inside the mirror. He didn't see how the mirror rippled once before returning to its previous solid state. He didn't see how the cracks in the mirror, that were still present, started to shine with a crimson light. He didn't see how that light grew brighter and brighter until with the sound of breaking glass the mirror exploded, the blast killing Quirrel instantly and causing the ceiling of the underground room to cave in. He didn't see the howling shade that fled the scene quickly or the horrified expression on Dumbledore's face as he finally arrived minutes later to view this disastrous scene.

Harry didn't see it because he was now far far away.

Harry hit the ground with a thump. His whole body hurt, and he was even feeling a bit sick. He had no idea what had just happened. He couldn't have put the sensations into words even if he wanted to. He was just happy that whatever the floor was made of, it was at least a bit softer than the hard stone that he had been expecting, but he wasn't sure how that could be the case. Had the floor changed? Had he just undergone some kind of magical travel like the floo and was now in a completely different place? Traveling by mirror didn't sound anymore strange than traveling by fireplace, right?

Forcing his eyes open, he blinked his eyes a few times in order to get his bearings. Surprisingly his glasses had held together throughout the whole ordeal as he was clearly able to see all the leaves above him. Slowly pulling himself into a sitting position with a groan, he continued to look around. Obviously, he was in a forest, the softer ground being the dirt below him instead of the stone of the room he'd been in previously. It seemed he had traveled somewhere then. He wondered how, though the real question was actually which forest he was in.

Harry's first thought was that he had somehow been transported to the Forbidden Forest that acted as one of the boundaries of the Hogwarts grounds, but he wasn't sure about that. The trees did indeed look old, but they didn't appear to even be the same type. They were more spread apart too, allowing a better view of the sky. Orange tinted light filtered down between them from the setting sun. This was another inconsistency since he was quite sure that it had already been dark out when he, Ron, and Hermione had left to go after the stone.

The stone!

Looking around frantically, he saw it lying a few feet away, glowing faintly. It took some effort, but he carefully crawled towards it. Stopping for a moment before acting, he eventually gathered the courage to touch it. Closing his hand around the famous gem, it's uneven surface neither particularly cool nor hot, he was surprised to see the glow disappear. What did that mean?

Knowing it was pointless to speculate on at the moment, he stuck back in the pocket from which it had first appeared when he'd looked in the mirror. Shuddering, he tried not to think about that specific magical artifact. While at first, back around Christmas, he'd been enthralled with it, seeing as how it was able to show him his family, now Harry wasn't sure he ever wanted to see it again, if it was even still in one piece.

Looking around once again, Harry tried to decide on his next course of action. Unfortunately, he still didn't know what would be best. He could stay put, possibly making any future rescuers have an easier time finding him, or he could choose a direction and hope that he was able to find civilization on his own.

What was it those instructional videos they'd once shown in primary told them in case they were ever stuck in a situation where they had to survive in the wilderness? He was pretty sure it was to stay put so that rescuers knew where you were, but he was also fairly certain that those instructions were more aimed at airplane crashes and the like. Dismissing that part for a moment, he tried to remember what else had been important. He was pretty sure it had been something to do with finding shelter and food maybe…. Oh and water! He was sure that was the most important one! Now… how was he going to do that? If he'd just kept a hold on his wand things would have been so much easier... not that he even knew that much magic yet at the end of his first year.

Seeing that his wilderness survival skills were severely lacking, Harry decided to try looking for a way out. If someone really was coming to save him, he severely doubted that his decision to wander off would stop them from finding him, especially with magic on their sides. So looking at his surrounding much closer, he tried to determine which direction was best. At first, everything looked the same, just trees, trees and more… trees...

He had an idea!

Wrapping his hand around a low hanging branch, he pulled down on it, testing its strength. To his dismay, it snapped easily under the weight, hitting the ground. Reaching up for the next lowest, it was just a few inches past where his fingertips could stretch. Scowling at the fact this plant was currently able to defeat him, he pushed off with his legs, jumping up to grab it. It took a few attempts, but eventually, he did manage to get ahold of the offending piece of wood. It sagged slightly under his weight, but it did hold.

He'd only maintained his grip for a few seconds, but already his arm was burning. At least the one time he'd been hanging onto his Nimbus 2000 racing broom from this position, it had been with both arms. Taking that thought in mind, he gripped the tree trunk between his two feet, and using that extra bit of friction, pushed upward just enough so that his other arm could grab another nearby branch. Now that he had a better grip, Harry managed to take his original hand and grab a higher limb of the tree a bit easier. Getting the one after that with his second arm took a bit more wrangling, namely having to swing precariously a few times in order to get the proper momentum, but he ended up managing that one as well. Things went much more smoothly after that, seeing as he now had branches to stand on as well. He found it a bit like climbing a ladder.

Before much longer, and with only a few more difficulties, Harry arrived near the top of his chosen tree. It seemed the experience climbing he'd gained when running from Marge's dog ripper actually had a positive impact on his life… who would have thought? Marge would be furious to know she'd helped him, even indirectly, not fall and break his neck. Pushing those thoughts aside Harry looked over the tops of the trees for anything he might recognize. He did find something, but it was not even close to what he was expecting. There was a giant cliff rising out of the forest in one direction. The other directions were covered in trees as far as the eye could see. For that reason alone he would have chosen to head towards the large rock outcropping, but that wasn't his main reason here. No, Harry was focused on what was on top of the large cliff. It was a building... but not just any building. It was a building that was very recently familiar to him. It was that castle-like structure he'd seen in the mirror both before and after it had been shattered. What this meant… he wasn't sure, but he was feeling very confident that if he wanted the answer to those questions, he would need to be heading towards cliffs.

Getting back down the tree after that was almost more taxing than the initial climb, but again he did indeed make it without any major mishaps. Taking a few minute break after that, Harry then decided he shouldn't waste any more time, and as such began his trek towards the unknown. Walking on and on through the almost identical looking forest, his mind began to wander.

Were his friends ok? Was the school? He didn't think Voldemort could do much seeing as how he hadn't got his hands on the stone, but he was still worried. Ron had been hit in the head pretty hard in that chess game. He'd seemed ok, only knocked out cold, but as Madam Pomfrey had explained to him in his physical check-up before he was cleared for the Quidditch team, head injuries were notoriously difficult to heal even with magic. He hoped he was ok. He figured Hermione was still ok, but anything could have happened after he'd gone on to face Quirrel. He hoped they had gotten out or that Professor Dumbledore had found them.

It was as these negative thoughts clouded Harry's mind, his worries and fears hanging around him like a dark cloud, that something took notice. He didn't realize the effect it was having on some of the creatures nearby. Creatures he had no idea even existed. Creatures that were drawn to his internal suffering. If it wasn't for the sudden growl, he wouldn't have had any warning at all.

Spinning to the side, the lunge of the Beowulf that allowed it to clamp its jaws down on his arm, was mostly avoided. It would have closed down around his torso instead if he hadn't moved. Letting out a cry, Harry struggled to free himself, but it seemed to be of no use. Shaking its head back and forth, he felt as if his arm was going to be ripped right off. With one last mighty shake, he was flung away through the air. It seemed to him that he was being thrown around a lot lately.

Struggling past the pain, a skill Harry had unfortunately picked up from his childhood, he tried to find the best escape route. Those plans died a moment later when he finally met the creature's glowing red eyes. He had already seen some pretty horrifying things that night, but for some reason, this creature chilled him to his bone. One might wonder how a wolf-like being could be more terrifying than Voldemort's face sticking out the back of another man's head, but somehow it was. Something about this wolf just screamed unnatural to him… like it didn't belong… like it was the antithesis of all that was alive. Harry didn't like it, and apparently, it didn't like him either.

It rushed at him again, and Harry tried to dodge. The burning stabbing pain that erupted in his side was his first indication that it hadn't worked. The beast hadn't even gone in for a bite and instead had hit him with a mighty swipe of its paw. Hitting the ground and rolling, his whole body was wracked by pain. With no time to recover, it was on him again, this time its mouth going for his torso like he had feared. Wedging his arm in such a manner, he got just enough leverage to hold its jaw back from slicing him in two.

Feeling it's putrid hot breath wash over his face, Harry struggled to breathe. The pain in his side flared each time he tried and he was starting to think one of his ribs had been busted. Letting out an excruciatingly painful cough, a splash of crimson escaped his mouth and splattered across the bone-like mask of the creature only inches away from him. He had some kind of internal bleeding… this was not good.

He needed a way to fight this thing off… he needed a weapon… but he knew he had nothing. The sharp edge of the Philosopher's Stone digging into his leg made it's known once again. It was essentially a rock, right? Maybe he could bash it over this thing's head. Struggling with his one free arm, he finally managed to wrap his fingers around the item in question and pull it free. What now? He could see now that it was clearly too small for his idea. Not noticing as some of the blood on his hand soaked into the stone, he did take notice when it suddenly began to glow once again.

What?

In his shock, Harry had slacked his grip and the monster took full advantage, pressing his teeth further into the young wizard. Letting out a cry of pain, he couldn't help but despair. He was losing his ability to hold this thing back and he knew soon enough he would be dead. Who would have guessed that he would survive meeting Voldemort once again, only to die in some random forest, getting mauled by a strange wolf instead?

He just needed a way to get this thing off! A million thoughts flashing through his head, both his panic and will to live asserting themselves, then something changed. The stone flashed even more brightly in colour and then there was a loud BANG. A wave of primal force came exploding out around him. The monster's head didn't stand a chance, exploding like a large melon hitting the concrete while its body was thrown backwards. Trying to regain his composure, Harry watched with a strange fascination as the creature's corpse began to smoke and then evaporate away a moment later.

What was this thing? His suspicions that the creature was not natural became even more certain in his mind. Still trying to recover, he found that after another few moments that his breathing has become no easier. It was at that point that he was pretty sure that his bleeding had come from a punctured lung. He needed medical attention. Coughing up more blood, he tried to figure out what his next best move was. After a seconds contemplation, Harry couldn't think of anything better than his original plan.

Staggering back to his feet, Harry wobbled dangerously but remained upright. Taking one step at a time, he managed to get himself into a rhythm. Right foot, left… right foot… left. It wasn't the best of situations, but he had to make it to that building. It was the only option. He had no ideas on how he would get up the cliff when he did arrive, but he didn't allow himself to consider that just yet. Pushing himself on, farther and farther, he didn't give in. Even as his head started to get fuzzy and his wish to lay down and give up was so strong he was sure it would now be what he saw in Mirror of Erised, he didn't give up. He didn't even falter… until he heard them that is… more howls.

Could he not catch a break? Was fate out to get him? He was already bleeding out as it was, did they really need to add more of those psycho wolves to the mix? Trying to speed up his progress, he managed to do a half limp half jog for a few more meters before his foot snagged on an unseen root and he went tumbling down. Hitting his injured arm, the surge of pain was so great that he almost missed the stinging in his leg indicating a new scrape. How much more blood could he lose? He was getting really really dizzy all of a sudden.

That's when he saw them again. At least five of those crazy wolves prowling out of the trees towards him slowly. Which was a better way to die? So far bleeding out seemed pretty peaceful, it was almost as if he was slowly falling into a deep sleep. That wouldn't be too bad. Being ripped to shreds by that monster had hurt a lot more. Would it just happen already… this anticipation was killing him...

Just before he finally fell into unconsciousness, Harry thought he heard something other than the rumbling growls of the monsters. It was a voice. A voice calling out to him. It was a woman. Now that he was dying… would he finally be able to meet his mum?

Glynda Goodwitch, Deputy Headmistress and Combat Instructor of Beacon Academy, tapped her foot impatiently as she rode the elevator up to the top of Beacon tower. She wasn't sure why Ozpin had summoned her. He knew she was extremely busy at the moment, preparing the final combat examinations for the four years of students currently attending the prestigious academy. Letting out a sigh, she straightened her posture and cleared her mind of any of that useless speculation. If her superior, and longtime friend, was calling for her, it had to be important.

With a loud ding, the doors opened and Glynda strode into the large office. Eyes scanning the room, she quickly found Ozpin, though he wasn't where she was expecting. He stood at one of the large windows, back facing her. With the way the sun was setting at the moment, all she could see was his silhouette. It cut an impressive image and tickled a sense inside her that she couldn't quite name. If she hadn't already known there was much more than met the eye with the Beacon Headmaster, she had a feeling she would have gotten that sense now.

"Professor Ozpin," she greeted politely. "You sent for me."

He didn't answer right away, so she walked over and stepped up beside him.

"There's something out there," he murmured.

"What do you mean?" She asked alarmed, her eyes scanning the horizon, but all she saw was the Emerald Forest running unbroken into the distance. Looking out the other window she knew would show her a good view of the bay with the City of Vale on the other side, while to the left of that would be the ocean. Ozpin wasn't looking in those other directions though, he was looking at the forest. "Is it a Grimm? Is a Goliath getting to close? I wouldn't think it would be able to navigate the trees."

"It's not a Grimm," he said, finally turning away to look at her. "I sensed it, Glynda."

The Deputy Headmistress furrowed her brow, Ozpin's eyes boring into her from above his spectacles. What did he mean? She felt like she was missing something. He sensed it? Her breath caught, he didn't mean…

"Y-you don't mean it has to do with… magic…" he didn't say anything but she knew from his expression she was right. "Is it one of the maidens? Fall shouldn't be anywhere near here at the moment and why would she be in the Emerald Forest anyway?"

"It's not Fall," he said simply.

"Than one of the oth-" Goodwitch began.

Ozpin cut her off here, "I do not believe it is the maidens."

"Than, is it..." she stopped for a moment, her voice hushed, "her? Would she really come here herself."

He smiled grimly, "I am more than certain that is not the case… however, this situation is quite perplexing."

"Sh- should we call James?" Goodwitch asked hesitantly. "I know he just got his new promotion, but we know he can be trusted. He might kno-"

"I do not believe that will necessary," he said. "If we launch our own investigation, maybe even send out young Qro-"

Ozpin stopped as an alert popped up on his computer. It wasn't just a normal one either, but a drawn-out alarm. Hurrying over, he flicked through the screen of his terminal.

"My sensors have picked something up in the Emerald Forest... Something human," the huntsman in green said.

"So there is something out there," Glynda said. "Who would it possibly be? A student? The forest is off limits during the examination period. It could be someone from outside the Kingdoms trying to enter, but this area is more heavily guarded than any of the actual borders."

He didn't respond, continuing to flick through screens of his terminal. A moment later, a brief flash of a screen containing hundreds of different video feeds popped up, but it disappeared quite quickly as one, in particular, was chosen. What they saw made Glynda gasp.

"It's a child!" She pointed at the screen. "What is he doing out there."

Ozpin typed something else into a holographic keyboard, "It appears like a pack of Beowolves are closing in on his location."

"He looks to be what? Ten? He will stand no chance!" She gripped her riding crop, a feeling of horror welling up inside her. While she often appeared stern and cold to the students under her care, there was a reason she had become a Huntress.

"Then I suggest you hurry, Miss Goodwitch," Ozpin said, a holographic map of the forest popping up beside him, a red dot blinking on the destination she needed.

Only taking two seconds to memorize the location, she turned. Instead of heading to the elevator, she threw it open one of the towers large windows and simply stepped over the edge. Activating her semblance, she allowed it to guide her towards the ground. For the sake of speed though, she pushed herself farther, not touching the Beacon grounds at all and going right over the large cliff where initiation usually started. Sweat beaded on her forehead at the extensive use of her powers, but speed was of the essence.

Finally touching down on the forest floor, she released her semblance, happy to feel the drain on her aura stop. Not wasting any more time, she began running all out, darting through the trees. It wouldn't take her long to reach the boy at her current speed, but whether he'd still be there alive was uncertain. She heard a strange bang in the distance that she wasn't sure about. It sounded almost like an explosion, but she had no idea where it would have come from. She pushed herself even harder. Getting closer to where she knew he should be, she heard howls just ahead.

Bursting through the trees, she took in the scene before her. She still wasn't sure if she was too late yet, but she was going to take care of the Grimm anyway. Flicking her riding crop one way and then the other, she blew away the creatures of Grimm that were descending on the young boy with her telekinetic semblance. Now infusing some fire dust into her attack she created a ring of flames around him, though keeping them far enough away so that he was in no danger.

Glynda watched with satisfaction as her fire tore the Beowolves apart, bursting into ashes one by one. Lowly Grimm like this posed no real threat to a professional hunteress like Glynda, but to a child, they could be deadly. Hurrying over to his side she knelt down to look at him properly. He didn't seem to be moving and with all the blood, for a moment, she feared the worst. Fortunately, she was soon able to pick out the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

Knowing that he was at least alive, she tried to take in the details of his injuries. One of his arms was mangled, she figured it had acted as a chew toy for one of the beowolves. Scowling, she continued to look him over. There were some marks that indicated one of the Grimm had tried to bit through his torso, but they superficial at best… somehow the beast had been stopped there. Another thing that drew her attention was the dark angry bruising already showing itself on his one side through his torn clothes. She had a feeling that he had a broken rib. All in all, despite the loss of a lot of blood, the boy could have been a lot worse. That being said, she was worried about the blood loss, he needed medical attention.

As if to challenge her very assertion about his state, she heard a strange gurgling sound come from his mouth as his breathing turned even more laboured. Blood dribbled from his lips. Eyes widening, Glynda tried to figure out what to do. He definitely needed help, but she truly didn't think he would make it to the hospital. There was one option that might stabilize him, but she hesitated. Civilians were generally not supposed to have their aura's unlocked. Even in case of medical emergency it was usually not a step that is taken. Having one's aura unlocked was usually reserved licensed Huntsman and those in training. It was not unheard of for a civilian to possess this trait, but they would most likely be closely monitored by law enforcement for the rest of their lives. The council didn't want criminals running around this kind of power, even if it inevitably happened anyway.

Despite these reasons, and knowing the guidelines were put in place for a good reason, Glynda found herself unable not to act when this boy's life hung in the balance. So, in a moment of weakness from her usual strict and rule-abiding self, Glynda performed the ritual.

For it is in passing that we achieve immortality.

Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all.

Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee.

She felt another huge drain on her aura that left her reeling for a moment, but it seemed to have worked. The boy glowed with a brilliant emerald light for a moment before it disappeared. She could already see some of his injuries healing. He would still need to be checked over by a doctor, but at least his bleeding had stopped. With an active aura, it should replenish quite quickly as well.

Pushing herself back to her feet, she used her semblance to gather the boy up before her. Strangely enough, as he was pulled into the air, she saw a small red stone tumble from his less injured hand. Eyeing it for a moment, she gathered it up, put it in her pocket, and started running once again with him floating along. It didn't take her that long to reach the cliffs, but since she wasn't alone she had to take the long way around. Finally reaching the campus, she entered the main building heading straight for the infirmary. Students froze in their tracks at the sight of her, eyes wide with fear that she was coming to punish them for something, but that soon changed into shock as they watched her levitate a child covered in blood passed them without saying a word. The only sounds in the hallway were the hurried whispers she left in her wake and the loud echo of her heels on the floor.

"You made it," Ozpin spoke. She would have jumped at his sudden arrival at her side if she weren't long used to it by now. "How is the boy?"

"He's lost a lot of blood," she explained tonelessly, though pausing for a second before continuing, "I unlocked his aura to keep him stable."

The Headmaster of Beacon quirked an eyebrow, "You know what tha-"

"Of course I know," she shot back, stopping before the closed door to the infirmary. "I'll have his condition assessed and if stable enough will prepare a medical transport to Vale General."

Ozpin put a hand on her shoulder, "If his life depends on it, call for the transport, otherwise please inform Dr. Cross that I would like his treatment taken care of here."

"Ozpin!" She looked at him in askance. "This is a school for Huntsman, he should be in a hospital. We will need to get the police invol-"

"He is the source," the Headmaster said quietly.

"What?"

"The feeling I had earlier," he explained. "This boy had something to do with it."

Eyes wide, she glanced over to where he was suspended in her. Turning back to meet her superiors eyes, she nodded once seriously, before opening the doors in front of her and entering the wing. The boy had already waited long enough for treatment. She truly hoped he was going to be ok. She had a feeling had a large role to play yet.