Chapter II

"I don't have a good feeling about this, Harry." Hermione said, a sinking feeling in her stomach beginning to grow.

Her fear only increased when she saw the bizarre creatures bounding towards the castle.

"We've got to make haste to the castle gate, Hermione. I don't like the looks of this!"

Harry sped towards the stairway, and Hermione ran after him, her heart racing wildly. Something in the air wasn't quite right; it was both dark and uncertain, like a black veil had fallen over reality, obscuring a great presence that had yet to be revealed. Or maybe she was letting her troubled emotions about Ron affect her judgment about everything else.

Then she heard high-pitched, blood-curdling screams emanating from the entrance of the castle.

Perhaps she wasn't imagining things after all.

Harry and Hermione quickened their pace, practically tripping and falling face-first down the stairs in their effort to reach the source of the screams as quickly as possible. When they finally arrived, complete and utter carnage met their eyes.

The students downstairs had obviously been caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the creatures. Blood and chunks of human flesh littered the corridor. The air was thick with the iron stench of blood, emptied bowels and bladders of the deceased. The beasts seemed to be everywhere, pouncing with incredible speed on anyone who looked even remotely vulnerable or weak. Those who hadn't already been torn to shreds were desperately fending for their lives, but only with moderate success.

Hermione gaped. These creatures were unlike anything she had seen or even read about. And she had read quite a few books in her time.

The slobbering monsters were about the size of a jaguar, although they lacked fur and resembled overgrown insects more than any feline. Their eyes glinted red with malicious glee as they sliced through the students with their razor-sharp claws that protruded from tentacles attached to their backs. Their jaws seemed to be locked in a permanent and ferocious grin, with tusks flanking the sides of their jaws. They moved like cheetahs, bounding and pouncing on all four of their legs, with their spiked tails undulating behind them. Their dark tan carapaces gleamed in the torchlight. These creatures appeared to be designed for the sole purpose of killing and delighting in every gory second of it.

Hermione pointed her wand at the nearest beast, and a fiery wolf exploded from the tip of the wand, howling as it honed in on the blood-thirsty creature. In a mere matter of seconds, the wolf engaged its adversary and tore the creature apart.

Harry, however, was having difficulties. Each one of his stupefy spells rebounded off of the creatures' carapaces, sometimes stunning random students instead of the monsters.

Hermione sighed. Honestly, when would Harry learn to use spells other than the most basic ones he'd learned years ago? He had all the magical might of a rabid rabbit.

"This is preposterous!" Harry sputtered.

"Harry, use summoning spells!" Hermione hollered amidst the fray of combat. "Those are more effective!"

"Summoning what now?" Harry asked confusedly. "Is that like a Patronus or something?"

"Harry, I don't think that'll work in this situation!"

"Hmph. Preposterous!" Harry flourished his walking stick which now functioned as his wand. His customary silver white stag leapt from it and charged the intruders, doing little more than making them hesitate for a moment before continuing to slaughter the students with hideous delight.

"I told you it wouldn't work, Harry!" Hermione shouted, her frustration beginning to build. Maybe it would be better just to stun Harry then and there so she wouldn't have to worry about friendly fire.

"Die, yer beasties of Hell!" Hagrid suddenly shouted from the castle entrance, brandishing his new, metallic automatic crossbow he had just purchased at Bob's Hunting Shack during his recent trip to southern Kentucky. A hail of crossbow bolts whistled through the air, striking almost every beast with pinpoint accuracy. But this display of Kentuckian technological prowess only served to enrage the creatures more. They darted towards Hagrid, rage evident in their inhuman, blood-red eyes.

But this didn't intimidate Hagrid in the slightest. He tossed aside his crossbow and crouched down in a wrestler's stance. His eyes blazed with such rage that even the monsters paused before they could leap at him.

"Are ye afraid, yer scaly bastards?" Hagrid roared, spit flying from his lips. He flexed his muscles, causing his humble shirt to explode in a rain of cheap fabric, exposing his bulging pecks and rippling abdomen.

The monsters began to edge away nervously from this unfettered display of masculinity. But Hagrid did not let them complete their retreat. He struck first, tearing towards the nearest beast and ripping off its head with one smooth motion, as if he had been fighting the creatures for years.

Hagrid continued his rampage, as if he were the very harbinger of death itself. But despite his monumental strength and brutality, there were simply too many of the little monsters. They began to swarm him, inflicting some minor wounds on him. Even the mighty half-giant appeared to be on the verge of being overwhelmed.

"No, Hagrid!" Harry shouted, more desperate and emotional than Hermione had heard him in months. "I'll save you!"

Oh, no, thought Hermione. This won't end well.

"It's monocle time!" Harry adjusted his monocle with newfound confidence. Suddenly, a brilliant light shot out from his monocle striking each of the beasts, which subsequently disappeared in a blinding flash of energy.

Suddenly, Hagrid was standing alone. His chest stained with the blood of the monsters, accentuating his already naturally manly aura.

"Harry?" asked Hagrid, confused. "What did ye do with the bastards?"

"I tore open a portal through the fabric of space and time itself!" Harry announced proudly. "They shall never trouble us ever again!"

"But . . . Harry . . ." Hermione asked tentatively. "Where and when, precisely, did you send them?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know. I doubt it matters much, though."

"Uh-oh," Hermione groaned.

"Well, thanks fer saving me," said Hagrid. "Fer a second, I thought I was going ter be nibbled ter death."

"Anytime, Hagrid!" Harry chuckled and then looked at the blood, organ, feces, urine, and chunks of flesh scattered across the floor and sticking to the ceiling. Harry sighed sadly. "I think I'll need a broom."

Harry strode over to the broom closet, which was conveniently located nearby. When Harry opened the closet door, he gasped in astonishment.

"Ron! Whatever are you doing in this broom closet?"

Ron seemed not to register Harry's presence. He gazed vacantly ahead as he stepped out of the closet and proceeded to stand in the middle of the room.

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked and ran towards him. "You've left your mother's closet. I'm so proud of you!"

When Hermione threw her arms around him, she sensed something was terribly wrong. And it had nothing to do with his blank, empty eyes, nor anything to do with his tangled, shoulder-length hair that seemed to have the remnants of a bird's nest in it. It also had nothing at all to do with the putrid stench emanating from the tattered knee-length robe he was wearing.

No. Something much more terrible than Ron's repulsive appearance and smell troubled Hermione. His fundamental Ron-ness had disappeared entirely.

"So," Harry outstretched his hand for Ron to shake while winking at Ron. "How have those centaur women been treating you?"

A thin bead of drool dripped from Ron's lips. The entire room just stared at him until his saliva touched down with the earth.

"Doom."

"Doom?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "That bad, eh?"

Suddenly Ron looked Harry squarely in the eyes, as if he had just realized he was there.

"Beware the red rider who dwells within the heart of the soul of one once beloved. From therein he shall bring destruction upon this world! Heed not the symptoms of the disease nor the chaos that it ushers in! Instead, focus upon that which dwells in the shadows, sowing the seeds of madness, debauchery, and eventual Armageddon!"

"Sounds kind of preposterous to me," Harry muttered to Hermione under his breath.

"What do you mean, Ron?" Hermione asked. She could barely keep herself from crying, seeing her Ron in such a pathetic state. The Ron she knew would've never used such vague terms while heralding impending doom.

Ron turned to Hermione and gazed soulfully into her eyes. For a second, Hermione thought she could see a shadow of the person that she once knew. Then he simply murmured, "Doomed."

He then smacked Harry on the cheek and walked back into the broom closet, closing the door behind him.

"Hey!" Harry yelled and rushed to the closet. "Nobody strikes Harry Potter!" But when Harry opened the door, Ron was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn!" Harry swore.

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione said consolingly. "We'll find him eventually."

"No! That's not it! There aren't any brooms here!"

"You know, Harry, you could actually learn a new spell for once. You know, one that cleans for you."

Harry's moustache bristled in indignation. "That's just preposterous!"