It was amazing, really, the way his body moved. He looked completely aloof as he twisted and turned around the spellfire rocketing toward him, lithe muscles tensing and relaxing on cue. There was no wasted movement in his calculated dodging of the spells being hurled at him. A slight twist of his torso, a small tilt of his head, and the spells shot past him with millimeters to spare.
His icy green eyes narrowed as a spell ripped itself free from his wand and shot toward his opponent, and the man's eyes widened as he hurriedly produced a shield. The shield held, but turned an angry shade of red as the curse pushed it to its limit. Abruptly, the curse was cancelled, and the shield collapsed under the sudden loss of pressure. And then, without warning, the man with blazing green eyes was standing before the second man, wand touching the man's chin, the second man's wand in his grasp.
"Harry Potter is the victor!" The announcer bellowed out to the roaring crowd, and I had to cover my ears as the noise reached painful levels. Harry held his arms above his head in a gesture of triumph, and the crowd redoubled their efforts to cause permanent injury to their vocal cords.
The announcer, by this time, had made his way down into the large-ish ring where the combatants stood, and a sudden hush came over the crowd as they watched in anticipation.
"Harry Potter will now take his prize," the announcer stated into a small, magical microphone, taking the wand from the defeated duelist that stood before Harry. He handed the wand to the victor and for a moment, the world was silent as the defeated took a knee on the ground before Harry.
Harry raised his wand slowly, his face an indifferent visage set in stone, as he stared down the length of yew enclosed in his fist toward his opponent. His wand twitched.
The man's head exploded in a shower of gore, bloody pieces of bone and brain matter raining down upon the crowd, which soon resumed its frantic and exuberant screaming.
Money was exchanging hands, I noted dully, giving my wand a small swish to keep any gore from reaching me. I hated these underground dueling matches, and the only reason I was here now was that finding Harry Potter was damn near impossible. This was the only place he had been seen in on a regular basis lately, and, as distasteful as this place was, it was worth it to see that man.
I waved at him. He blinked back, then nodded. I left.
Twenty minutes later found him and I alone in an alleyway behind the warehouse that had housed the illegal dueling match. He looked no worse for the wear. He had not even broken a sweat during his match with the cocky young man he had killed. He also looked like he held no remorse, and I cracked a small smile at that observation.
"So, Ginny Weasley," The man with the icy green eyes started, "What can I do for you?"
I walked down the steps in the main entrance hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, humming a small tune as I went. A small breeze whirls through the foyer of the castle, rustling the robes that hung loosely around my frame and sending a small shiver down my spine. A man was standing in front of me suddenly, confusing me for a moment before I gave a small squeak as I attempted to backpedal, but I tripped on the stairs that I had forgotten I was on. I fell to my arse with a ungraceful grunt.
"Steady yourself, girl," The stranger said in a neutral voice, " I mean you no harm."
I had not noticed until that moment that I had drawn my wand and had pointed it at the stranger. The man looked down at my wand and then back at me, eyebrows raised as he displayed his empty hands for me to see. I blushed an hurriedly stowed my wand back into my robes.
The man gave me a small, approving smile.
"I am looking for Headmaster Dumbledore. Will you lead me to his office?" The man's tone of voice belied the fact that it was a command, hidden behind a question.
I tried, and apparently failed, to mutter some coherent sentence, tried to tell him that I didn't know where it was. The man knew it was a lie, and annoyance sparked into life in his eyes. A small sliver of fear pierced through me at that moment, and I knew, without a doubt, that this man was dangerous. For a few long moments, my body was frozen, paralyzed by fear of this man as magic saturated the area, the smell of ozone lingering in my nose as magic poured from his body, the tension palpable in the air.
For a few long moments, I considered saying no, I considered defying this man who stood before me, a stranger to the halls of Hogwarts. For a few long moments, I thought like the Gryffindor that I was.
But common sense won out, and I led him to the Headmaster's office.
I don't really know why I considered saying 'no' to leading him there, I was headed there anyway. Probably just a Gryffindor being defiant for no real reason,I thought with a small amount of humour.
As we approached our destination, I surveyed the man carefully out of the corner of my eye. He was not tall, but not short. He didn't appear to be well-muscled, but he also didn't appear weak. He walked confidently, back straight, and his icy green eyes seemed to see everything at once. I also noticed that he was carrying a large parcel.
We stood awkwardly in front of the gargoyle for a moment. I didn't know the password, and obviously neither did he, as he continued to stand there, studying the ancient stone guardian that acted as the entrance to the office of Albus Dumbledore.
After a few minuted, he cracked a small smile and tapped his wand against the statue, which promptly, to my undying amazement, slid aside.
He ascended the stairs, and I, belatedly, ran up the stairs behind him as the gargoyle started to close the entrance to the revolving staircase. I reached the top of the stairs in short order, quietly stepping up the slightly open door and peering through the crack into the office of the most powerful wizard in recent memory.
"Ah, Harry, I see you've returned," The headmaster said in greeting to the strange man. There was a light twinkle in the aging wizards eyes, seemingly at odds with the fact that a strange man was in his office without his permission. The portraits hung in random order on the walls of his office were vocalizing my thoughts unknowingly.
"Headmaster," the man nodded toward him, his back toward me as he stood in front of the headmaster's desk. He dropped the large package delicately on the desk. "I've brought the book. Look it over quickly."
The headmaster nodded and tore through the packaging with a silent spell. As the paper fell to the wayside, I took notice of the extremely thick tome that the man had deposited onto the desk. The book was nondescript, with no title visible to me. I could not see much of the cover or spine of the book, but the edges of the pages that I could see were word, old-looking, and had the odd stain on them. Some of the stains were dark, and looked to me to be blood. The thought made me a bit woozy.
"I see you've done your research, Harry," The headmaster said, looking over his glasses at the young man as he opened the book delicately, turning the pages slowly as he leafed through the massive tome before him. "Very interesting, although I cannot say I agree with the topic that you have chosen to pursue.
"However, I commend you for the great detail that you have gone into in documenting this." The headmaster stopped turning the pages and leaned closer to inspect something he saw more closely.
"Ah, I see you've found that spell most interesting," The man noted wryly, finally taking a seat in one of the armchairs available in front of the old wizard's desk. "I agree, of course, though the practical applications, I've found, are harder to use than one would expect."
"I can understand why. The sheer amount of variables that come into play would be difficult to compensate for," The headmaster produced his wand and waved it. Shortly after, a large bowl of some sort came floating into view, dropping onto the desk with a thump. With no prompt, the man (Harry, I reminded myself) placed his own wand to his temple and withdrew a long, silvery strand from his head, which he placed into the bowl.
The headmaster placed the book to the side and nodded to Harry, who, at the same time as the old man, seemingly plunged into the bowl, leaving the office empty.
I peered further into the office, weighing my chances of getting caught lurking. Deciding to just go for it, I mustered up my courage and opened the door further, quickly slinking into the office and up to the desk.
I looked at the book and a strange sensation overcame me. I felt... awed, afraid, scared, unaware of the magnitude of power that came from the book. Instinctively, I knew that this book was something special, something more than any book I had seen before.
My thoughts were halted at that moment as the bowl that the two had disappeared into began to swirl more violently, and I looked around for somewhere to hide. I groaned internally as I found that the curtains were my only viable option and I ran towards them. I had been hidden for no more thatn a moment when both men reappeared.
"Truly fascinating, my boy! Truly fascinating. Tell me, how did this spell come about?" The headmaster looked younger than I had ever seen him, and he looked so very happy. Excited, even. And then, as one, they tensed and turned slowly toward my hiding place. Faster than I could track, the man, Harry, was in front of me, wand pressed into my jaw.
I laughed nervously.
"Miss Weasley, care to explain why you are here in my office without my permission?" The headmaster asked cheerfully, though his eyes belied the seriousness of this transgression.
Harry's eyes bored into mine and I found that I couldn't breath as I stared back into those icy chips of emerald.
And that is how I, Ginny Weasley, met Harry Potter.
"I want a book, Harry," I said confidently, watching him as he leaned against the wall of one of the buildings that lined the alleyway. "You know what I'm talking about."
"You also know what acquiring such a book entails, if you know about the book."
"I do, and I am willing to pay the price."
"You don't even know what the price is."
"No, but I am willing to pay it," I stared into his eyes, those damnable icy eyes, as I made my statement. He stared back, unwilling to look away as he gauged my intentions. I could feel him slithering into my mind, wandlessly and wordlessly using legilimency on my unprotected mind.
"And if I refuse?" He queried softly, eyes remaining on mine.
"Then I go to the ministry and tell them exactly what is in those books of yours. They would have a field day with it, I'm sure," I gave him a coy smile as I moved closer to him, ending my threat in a bare whisper as I moved my mouth up to his ear. My body was pressed against his gently, and I allowed myself a moment of reminiscence. Midnight trysts in the halls of Hogwarts, rooms rented in various taverns all over Britain, and some beyond the borders of the small country, kisses stolen under the noses of my friends and parents.
I smiled as the memories assaulted me. He did not share my amusement.
"I do not fear your government, or the people who make it run. They could not catch me, nor detain me, unless I chose to make it so."
"I don't doubt that, Harry," I smiled at him, a true smile this time, "But I also know that you prefer to... fly under the radar, as it were. I know that it would cause you undue annoyance if I were to do so." I slowly, almost regretfully, pulled my body away from his. He, in turn, removed his wand from my ribcage. I hadn't even noticed it there. I hid my surprise well, but I knew that he saw it.
"Very well, Ginny. Let me tell you of the price involved in this little endeavor. It starts with blood. The book is tied to you, in every way, shape, and form that magic allows. You cannot give it away, cannot loan it to anyone, and it cannot be read by anyone but you.
"After the blood, I need money. Around six-hundred-thousand galleons. It pays for the travel involved, and a little profit for myself.
"The last part of my price is the one that is most difficult for most people to bear. Most people attempt to get out of this part of the deal, and I have had to hunt them down and... reclaim the books."
He had closed the distance while he had been talking, and he was once again looking straight into my eyes. My eyes darted to the side, unable to hold the weight of his burning emerald eyes.
"The final payment, Ginevra Molly Weasley, is your magic, which I take when you are on your deathbed."
AN: Hey guuuys. A new story, because ideas pop into my head, and I write them down.
Yeah, I have ADD, so what?
Anyway, hope you like it.
Don't forget to review, please. :D
-Brandon.