Summary: Searching for one thing leads to another.
An: My entry for Running in the Hogwarts Olympics! I will go over I again after the judging and fix it up a bit more later. But for now enjoy
Nagini
The people stared at him as he passed. They were dark skinned, dark haired, and dark eyed and Tom might have fit in with them if not for his skin. As he walked past a small broken down hut a young boy whispered something in his language and disappeared into the shack.
"He calls you walking death."
The man who had spoken looked like the rest, but better dressed. His hands were in his pockets, his stance relaxed, his eyes calm but curious as he observed Tom.
"I don't particularly care about the opinion of a child," Tom drawled.
The guide shrugged. "The boy merely says what everyone is thinking. Superstition is abundant in this village, be wary."
Tom had to hold back a snort. These muggles were nothing in comparison to Lord Voldemort.
"I am not worried. Lead on."
The man nodded and led him to the giant river at the edge of the village. The water was muddy and brown from silt stirred up by the villagers fishing on its banks. Women hovered around the edge, tentatively making their way down the bank to fill buckets before dashing back to the village.
"They seem nervous," Tom commented idly.
His guide cast him a sideways glance "You have not heard about the attacks," it was a statement.
"No. Why didn't you tell me?"
The heavily imperiused man shrugged "I assumed you had heard, otherwise I would have alerted you to the potential danger."
"See that you do. Now what has been attacking the villagers?"
"No one knows. But it attacks in the river. Some say it is a giant fish, others a crocodile, one boy claims it is a giant anaconda."
"An anaconda?" Tom asked, intrigued.
The man snorted "No snake can grow big enough to eat an adult man, their jaws cannot make it past the shoulders. No if it was an anaconda we would have seen the proof."
Still, the idea intrigued him. Perhaps if he had time he would speak to the local serpents and ask about a potential man eater.
"If it attacks from the river why don't they avoid it?"
The other man snorted "Fear does not feed hungry bellies. They cannot afford to hide in their homes, so they continue to work. Besides the attacks have stopped on the last few days, the people grow bold."
"I see. Lead on."
The man nodded and they made their way to a small boat on the bank. It was disgustingly Muggle, but Tom could not find any magical alternative in the area and if he wanted the herb he had traveled all the way to South America for, he would have to tolerate it.
The man picked up a paddle and held it out to Tom who quirked an eyebrow in return.
"I can't do it alone," the man said.
"You will not need to. Get us out of sight and I will do the rest."
Without another word his guide started paddling. As they went Tom could feel the burning gazes of the villagers as they watched him go, but he ignored him and took in the scenery around him. The forest was thick. It was so thick he could only see a few inches inside before the giant trees blocked his view. Flowers blossomed everywhere, bright and fragrant, coming in a variety of shapes and sizes that caught and held the eye. Tom cared little for beauty, but even still his gaze lingered on a few of the more exotic species of flora.
A vine to cause heart attacks, a flower to create a coma, a plant whose root causes waking nightmares…
His mind listed off the uses of each one he saw. This place was a gold mine for any potions master. But there was only one flower Tom was looking for, and it wouldn't be growing along the bank of the river.
Immortelle Magus- or Merlin's Eternal Blossom as some preferred to call it, after some silly story about true love and a muggle- a blossom so rare it was thought to be extinct.
Ancient healers used the petals of the Immortelle to extend a wizard's considerable long life by as much as two hundred years, and to cure a bevy of now extinct diseases. It was curing a nameless plague that struck five hundred years ago that destroyed the plant… or so everyone thought. Tom had reason to believe the plant survived, and was still thriving in the jungles of South America.
His job at Borgin and Burkes was proving to be more fruitful than he had ever anticipated; first with Hufflepuff's cup, and second with a very old journal written completely in parselscript. Borgin had been going to throw it out, not knowing its true worth.
But the wriggling writing had shifted before Tom's eyes as he held the leather bound pages. He had started reading the squirming script as the author's words wove a tale about a mysterious blue flower that healed his Dragon Pox (Then Incurable) and made him feel "-As youthful as a spring buck." The man, who never gave his name, did not leave the jungle for almost fifty years studying the blue flower. The pictures in the journal, the diagrams of how to prepare and preserve the plant, and its many uses in healing forced Tom to come to the conclusion that it was Immortelle Magus, or at least a close hybrid cousin.
Either way it was a life extender, and Tom had to have it.
"Sir, we are out of sight," his guide murmured.
Tom stared blankly at him for a moment before nodding. With a smooth movement he drew his wand and taped the side of the boat forcefully. It jolted forward as if pushed by some invisible force and the muggle scrambled to grab a hold of the edges as he lost his balance.
"Steer," Tom ordered.
The man shakily obeyed, stumbling to the back of the shallow boat and dipping an ore into the water. Now back in the here and now Tom scanned the water as much as he had the trees. Fish, as numerous and eye-catching as the flowers dipped and swam around their craft with little fear. It forced him to remember the thing that had been attacking the local villagers.
If it was some sort of serpent it would be no trouble to him. He would simply order it to his will. But if it were something else it would do to be prepared. Tom did not put his wand away as they wound their way up river. His guide kept up steady chatter as they moved, explaining about all the different plant and animals they passed but Tom only listened with half an ear.
There had been a passage in the journal that worried and excited him. The author had described a species of protector for the Immortelle flowers, a type of Naga people never before disturbed.
The Naga were half serpent half human people who were native to India, and according to all records only India. They had been famous for devouring muggle and wizard children alike and all had been exterminated as a result. Rumor claimed a mating between a human and a Naga created the first parseltongues but nothing had been confirmed. The idea behind it had intrigued Tom as a teen but that intrigue was short lived at the discovered supposed extinction of the species.
If there were any Naga left they represented a link to Tom's past. They represented answers to many questions about his own gift he had carried with him ever since he was a child. The idea and the chance were too good to pass up.
So after telling Brogan he was taking a holiday to visit family (Not quite a lie) he had taken the first portkey he could to Rio. There he had found a guide familiar with the locals (Being descended from them himself) and the surrounding forest. Tom had quickly cast an imperius curse on the man and presented him with the journals translated coordinates.
"I know this place," the man had exclaimed "And I can get us there. Give me a night to prepare and we can go."
So far the man had proven true to his word. Tom had not doubted his obedience, his curse was too strong for a simple muggle to throw, but he had doubted his capabilities. It wasn't often he was pleased to be proven wrong.
They traveled for hours, weaving through miles and miles of river. Passing over thousands of fish, next to giant trees and plants, and under a sapphire sky; if not for the running commentary of his guide Tom might have become bored. But the man was a surprising wealth of information and Tom found himself listening to what he was saying.
He learned more in three hours from a muggles chattering about wildlife than he had from his Care of Magical Creatures professor in seven years. He was tempted to question him further when a sudden rocking forced him to grab the edge of the boat to keep from falling into the river.
"What happened?" Tom demanded.
The muggle didn't get a chance to speak as the boat was rocked again, tilting dangerously to the side. Tom scanned the water, heart pounding as he saw the shadow of something dip under the boat. It was long and thick and scaled.
Snake. Giant Snake.
He opened his mouth to shout to it but the boat gave a violent jolt and he went flying through the air, landing with a crash into the water. The hard impact forced the breath from his lungs and he tried not to choke on the river water as he sank into the murky depths. In the distance he could see the giant coils of the serpent curl around the boat and drag it down, the muggle struggling in the snake's grasp.
He was doomed. Tom started to swim weakly to the surface of the water. It had never been his strong suit and he wished he had developed it more as he found it harder and harder to find up. He twisted again and swallowed a mouthful of water as he caught the gaze of the giant man-eating snake as it stared at him with golden eyes. She (it was impossible of her to be anything but a she) coiled around him slowly, holding him steadily cuddled in her coils like a mother would hold a child.
He couldn't breathe and found no way to communicate this to her as black spots appeared in his vision. His last waking thought was of the way the light through the river hit her scales and how it was a thing of true beauty.
He awoke to lips pressed against his. He jerked up in time to throw up what felt like gallons of river water. Coils wrapped tightly around him, comforting and concerning at the same time. He gazed at the thing at his side. She was a young woman, small breasts pert and muddy on a thin torso leading up to a thin peculiarly shaped face. She had sharp features, everything from her slanted golden eyes, to her pointed cheeks, to her thin lips to her bare skull. His gaze traveled lower. Below her stomach a long glorious tail curled out and around his back.
"Are you a Naga?"
The girl seemed surprised at his parseltongue but pleased as she smiled, fangs curling around her lips.
"Yessss, I am the lasssst. The ressssst all burned with the flowersssss yearsssss ago."
"You are all alone?"
"Yessssss. Are you?"
"Yes. Why did you save me?"
"A ssssstrange feeling….I don't know. Feelssss like family."
Family? He looked into her eyes as she curled around him again, rapidly transforming into a full serpent as she rested her weight on his shoulders.
"You say the flowers are gone, were they blue?"
"Yes." She said clearly, serpent lips speaking the language easier than human. Disappointment rested heavily on him. "But the power lives on through me."
THAT caught his attention.
"What do you mean?"
"My venom can heal or kill as I wish. From exposure to the flower for years and years."
His fingers traced over her scales as she moved along his body over and over again.
She might not have been what he was looking for, but she might be just what he needed.
"What is your name?"
She met his gaze. "Nagini. My mother called me Nagini."
It was the start of a beautiful relationship.