A/N: I don't own anything you recognise. All else is mine.
Chapter 3: Death wish.
The girl Faye had run blinded by tears of frustration, fear, and fury. The raging storm drowning the world with the tears of angels blinded her more. She ran heedless of direction, unknowing of the destination, fearing what she had left behind. The only thing she could consciously think of was the embryo which would grow to be a child in her womb. The child whose father did not even yet know that it existed. She had wanted to surprise him with it tonight. Yet it seemed according to Fate he was to remain in the dark. Her subconscious followed the last command she had been given. "Run".
She ran...until she went soaring into the air having tripped over something. She reached the apex of her ascent and a primal instinctive scream ripped out of her lungs as she realized that due to her blind flight, her child may never see the light of day if she landed wrong. The universe seemed to freeze a moment as all the plans she had for the child flashed through her raging mind. And then the apex was over, the descent began. She plummeted headfirst to the rough gravel that would surely rip her to pieces. Rocks jutted out eagerly awaiting her blood...and eagerly awaiting her blood? They seemed to get no closer to shredding her and then before she could blink she was standing upright again.
"Are you alright child?"
What the fuck? Ran through her mind yet a startled scream escaped her lips. Standing before her where less than a blink ago was nothing but rain filled blackness, was an impossibly old man whom somehow even with the pure white beard and hair that were long enough to tuck into his belt, stood with the vigour of youth. A blinding glow in the dark Santa Clause hat rested precariously atop his head. His face was deep set and etched in ancient creases and lines. His bright blue eyes twinkling madly behind half moon spectacles. A slight apologetic smile gracing his lips. Yet his apparel was even more of a shock. He was wearing a neon orange and pink dress with purple stars that shouldn't have been able to but for some reason were darting all across the dress' surface. The dress itself reached to his ankles and showed off fluffy pink bunny rabbit slippers. The very same slippers that nearly potentially ended the life of her child before it even began.
Faye looked to his outstretched hand that was withered beyond belief. And in the other one he held...a stick?
"What the fuck?"
"My apologies child I did not watch where i was going. Are you quite alright?"
"Who are you? Where the fuck did you come from you weren't here a second ago? And what drugs are you on?"
"My name is Albus Dumbledore. And I was already here just on my way to the little glade further up the path. And im sorry what do you mean?"
"You were not here you just appeared out of nowhere-
Faye saw the man Ablus something raise the hand with the stick in it and before she could help it she was backing away. There was no conscious thought. Just primal instincts of a mother fuelled by hormones to protect her young. He stepped closer and her hands automatically covered her stomach and she screamed;
"No! I'm pregnant!" breaking into sobs. The man paused.
"Child, I was not going to hurt you...I will not hurt you, what is the matter."
His only answer were the heart wrenching tears of despair rolling down a young pretty face.
"Minerva, come we need to take her somewhere safe."
At that moment, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the greatest wizard alive, the only one feared by Lord Voldemort who was the greatest Dark Lord in over a Century, the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, the defeater of Grindelwald, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, felt a disturbance. One that could only be caused by magic. And more of it than Grindelwald, Voldemort, and himself could produce when battling together with all they had. This power had an ancient reek to it. This was more magical energy than Hogwarts itself possessed. And that should have been impossible. For the first time in his life, Albus Dumbledore, felt afraid. He went to turn towards Minerva to tell her to take the girl and leave, but he felt frozen. He couldn't breath and he rightly assumed neither could the other two. And then as suddenly as it had come it passed. Just vanishing out of existence as if it hadn't been there in the first place.
Dumbledore turned towards his Deputy Headmistress. Faye turned to look where the weird man was looking to his left and saw a small tabby cat come out of the shadows. Faye blinked. And the cat had gone leaving a tall ageing woman with her hair tied in a bun and a deep emerald dress.
"Albus?"
"Take the girl to a safe place Minerva, I must go find the cause of that disturbance."
"Where?" Short clipped tones hid the fear deep inside.
"I'm not going anywhere with anyone. Especially you bunch of crack heads." She went to turn so she could run away as she had been told to do when she saw the woman pulling out a stick from the sleeve of her dress. The man had his out and was holding out an old sock with a hole in it, thankfully plain black giving rest to her tortured eyes. He tapped it with his stick and it softly glowed blue before reverting back to its normal state. The woman gestured with her stick, saying.
"We will not hurt you, this will take you somewhere safe where we can get a nurse to look after you"
Faye fearing the worst but unable to resist in fear they would beat her and her child to death acquiesced, holding the sock gingerly. Then just as the woman went to grab hold of the sock with her, impossibility manifested into reality. Her boyfriend Seraph barrelled in appearing like a wraith in the impenetrable darkness. He shoulder barged the old man with enough force to momentarily send him airborne by five feet. And before she could blink the woman had a mesmerizingly sharp blade lethally pressed hard against her throat. The man hit the ground, and was up in a second with his stick pointed at her boyfriend. Seraph pressed the blade harder against the woman's neck.
Don't hurt them, they mean no harm but don't let up either. The old man has many titles one of the most important is that he is headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His name is Albus Dumbledore.
"And who may you be child?"
"If you call me that one more time Dumbanddork, you can call me Death."
"Why?"
"I'll kill you."
"I-
"No. I'm asking the questions old man. What the fuck do you think you were doing with my misses?"
"I did not know she was your partner child and I was only going to take her to safety. May i ask how you know me?"
Who doesn't.
"Where and who doesn't?"
"Ah, alas who in fact does not know me besides anyone not part of our world. Will you release Minerva?"
"No. And you still didn't answer my first question."
"Son, i must implore you to release my Deputy lest I perceive you as a threat and act accordingly."
Seraph pressed the dagger even harder against the old woman's throat.
Do not hurt her Seraph. The sock Faye is holding is a portkey. Ask her to drop it. And beware the old man he is incredibly more powerful than his appearance portrays.
"Faye, drop that sock babe."
Before she could the old man flicked the stick in his hand. The sock glowed blue. His girlfriend was gone. Something inside him snapped. Seraph crushed his thumb into the pressure point on the soft spot at the back of the woman's neck with more force than was necessary. She dropped like a sack. She would be out cold for at least twenty minutes. He moved as if in a haze. The only thing that existed was his target. Albus Dumbledore didn't get the chance to blink as the young man stood before him toe to toe. His eyes frightened the ancient more than Voldemort's ever had. Before it had been cold, now it was freezing.
"What the fuck did you just do."
He activated the portkey. A device that will allow the user to transport through space and time to arrive at the preordained destination in the time it takes someone to blink depending upon the distance between the point travelled from and the point travelled to. That portkey most likely transported Faye to either Hogwarts which is his school or St Mungos. A magical hospital.
"No it is i who must ask. Who are you?"
There was a sickening crunch. Followed by a spray of blood. A loud thud signified the drop of the headmaster. Yet he was back on his feet in an instant. The stick raised. Looking calm as ever even with the blood freely flowing from his broken nose.
"I told you, you can call me death."
With that Seraph lunged but his fist connected with nothing but air. He instantly converted his forward motion into a roll and saw the fruit the motion bore as a red beam flew harmlessly above him.
I told you beware. At the moment he is more powerful than you. He could disintegrate every bone in your body switch them around and replace them upside down before you could jump. And he could do it all day long.
Seraph ignored the voice and lunged once again fist outstretched. And yet again his target was not there. He twisted in mid air and landed facing his opponent.
"Where did you send her."
"To a safe place, where she will be well cared for."
"I will burn Hogwarts to the ground with every fucker in it if you don't bring her to me."
"Now I mu-
He was cut short as Seraph dove for the downed old woman. He lifted her face from the rough ground whilst crouching over her back his blade once again pressed hard against her throat.
"Bring her to me. Now."
He barely got a chance to finish his sentence before he felt a hook around his navel and the world started spinning. There was nothing but endless flashes of colour. And then it stopped. He landed awkwardly upon the cold, hard marble floor but was up again crouched ready to scrap in a second. His eyes darted around with astonishing speed taking everything in even as he inhaled a deep breath through his nose. Sterile was the only word that entered his mind. And then damp. And then roses. Wait roses. Seraph inhaled again his eyes still raving over every miniscule detail they could pick up. The weak smell of roses wafted over to him again. Faye.
He turned and immediately spotted her lying on a bed unmoving. Barely breathing. He ran towards her forgetting for that instant everything that had just happened.
DUCK!
His upper body bent forwards as if with a mind of its own barrelling him under the bed his girlfriend was resting upon and sliding him out the other end. He turned mid-slide and slammed his foot on the floor stopping the slide altogether. He looked up his dagger raised. The last thing he saw was a pair of blue eyes no longer twinkling set in a grave old wrinkly face staring back at him. A flash of red which hit him full in the face slamming his head back into the marble floor.
Seraph opened his eyes and stood up before the old mans heart beat again.
"That fucker hurt. My turn."
He whirled around his arm flashed out and back in so quick it could be mistook as a trick of the light. And then he did it again. His other hand flicked out and then was clenched in a fist which rocketed its way into an ageing sternum. A flash of silver. A fine spray of red. Silence.
He stood there now unmoving. His eyes burning into Dumbledore's own. The headmaster had suffered a few more injuries. He had a deep gash across his left cheek. His neon coloured robes were barely more than tatters. He had a tooth or two missing and his nose was slightly hanging to the side. It also appeared as if he could barely breath and he had another slash across his wand arm and his chest. Blood seemed to gush out ever eagerly. Yet he stood there. Shocked to the point of denial.
A shadow watched from the entrance of the infirmary. The only thing running through his mind was the impossibility of the whole situation. The last time Dumbledore had bled had been at the hands of Grindelwald more than half a century ago. Even Voldemort had been unable to draw blood on him Albus Dumbledore. Yet this child fuelled by righteous anger had done so not only once but five times in a span of less than two minutes. Moreover he had shrugged off Dumbledore's Stupefy without batting an eyelid. Again something that should have been impossible to anyone other than Grindelwald, Voldemort, Mad-Eye Moody and himself. Wizards and witches grew spell resistance the longer they used magic. Power became a factor also as the more powerful the wizard, the stronger the spell resistance. However the process took decades and only begun when a person reached their magical maturity which usually was at the age of seventeen. Or in the case of the Dark Lord merely a few years yet the sacrifices those certain rituals required ended up with the user having lost more than what he gained. No this lad had not used any of those certain rituals. Once you got to Dumbledore's age of a hundred and fifty four, spells from first to fourth year were nothing. From fifth year to seventh year a bare nuisance. From Auror level to Unspeakable level, quite concerning. From the unspeakable level onwards, well there were less than a handful of people capable of such magicks. And he knew them all. If someone else was also able to use such powers...well that was truly frightening.
This child barely seventeen, should not have anywhere near the spell resistance Dumbledore had. And even then to resist a stunner from Dumbledore himself especially with the power he had put behind it, which in and of itself was more than could be mustered by all students from first to second years, was freakishly phenomenal. He should be knocked out for at least a month unless Dumbledore himself awoke him. Yet to be hit with it at face blank range and stand up carry on fighting and on top of that manage to draw blood from Albus Dumbledore, before Dumbledore himself could barely blink and come out looking none the worse for wear, was not only a feat impossible. It was insanely ridiculous in its impossibility. The one thing that had extended this beyond the realm of impossibility, into the realm of a word as of yet non-existent, but hopefully sufficiently powerful enough to express the impossibility of the whole situation, was the fact that this child had not even drew his wand. Something was terribly, terrifyingly wrong. This should not be.
Who was this child?
Dumbledore felt his blood ooze out of him and could do nothing about it. For one he was stood there in denial. He could not believe it. The greatest dark lord in over a century Lord Voldemort himself had not been able to draw blood on him. Yet this child had. Before he even had a time to react. Secondly Albus wasn't sure he wanted to heal himself yet or let Poppy see to him. After all any movement on his behalf may be perceived as a threat. And this time the child may not back off after proving a point and drawing blood in various places. Not that Albus actually feared for his life it was just that he could not bring himself to use his full arsenal against a child. It was just wrong on so many levels. Yet lastly the thing that had put the most towards causing his temporary paralysis, was the fact that the child had managed to get up and still fight him when by all rights he should be in a temporary coma right now. Moreover, as if to rub it in, the child raised his right middle finger up at him then turned his hand and simply stuck his knuckle into his mouth. Albus caught a brief flash of white, pink and red and rightly assumed that the lad must have split it when using his hands for weapons before following through with one of the many deadly blades he had in his arsenal.
Then he took the knuckle out, and there was nothing but smooth, dark unblemished skin.
Yes, something really was wrong here.
"May I inquire-
"No you fucking well may not. Who the fuck do you think you are? What the fuck do you think you're doing kidnapping a helpless teenage girl, bringing her to god knows fucking where in front of her boyfriends very eyes you perverted old fuck? You're a paedophile bastard old man. So no let me ask you something...have you got a death wish?"
The cold whisper echoed off the infirmary walls. The Matron stood there in shock not knowing what to do. After all the lads arguments had an irrefutable logic to them.
"The boy has a point headmaster if you look at it from his point of view."
Snape didn't get a chance to move forwards out of the shadows as he intended. He didn't see the lad move. He didn't see the throwing star rocketing towards him its black blades glinting malevolently. He did however feel his neck nicked by one of the ultra fine edges, as it embedded itself through his collar and into the wall he had been leaning against a second before.
The lad who still stood staring the headmaster out, whispered in his now trademark chilling voice.
"Call me boy one more time, I swear the next one won't just nick your neck and draw blood. And i guarantee even you won't be able to counter the poisons."
Seraph felt more than heard Faye's breathing quicken ever so slightly to indicate return to consciousness. He was by her side instantly and rolling the bed out and behind him against a wall. He ripped a strip off his already tattered t shirt and placed it over her eyes whispering softly while he did in a voice so full of affection and warmth he seemed like a completely different person.
"Don't open your eyes babe. It's a surprise." Never did he blink. Never did his eyes leave the other occupants of the room. She acquiesced with unquestioning acceptance, in the state of confusion that she occupied.
In that time Snape had freed himself, careful not to touch the throwing star and had torn his cloak in the process, and moved to join Dumbledore.
You cannot face them both. Grab Faye and hold her as tight as you can without hurting her whilst thinking of home. Imagine yourselves disappearing and reappearing in your front room. think of it methodically. Do it now. And keep watching them.
Seraph did as he was told. There would be time for questions later. He stood there engulfing her in an embrace, yet his eyes never leaving the two men that were attempting to circle around to him. He could feel something happening, it felt as if something ancient rose from within him, instantly he was filled with energy. Energy coursing through his very cells it felt amazing, revitalising, right then he felt like he could take over the world with a flick of his fingers. He could feel a small portion of it building up and before it fully could, Seraph flicked his wrist and two more throwing stars shot out faster than the naked eye could physically follow.
The stars embedded themselves in the right side of the men's chests.
"A reminder. I will be coming back for those. I hope you can answer my questions then."
Both men froze. Literally frost covering their whole beings and rapidly forming into ice which grew thicker and thicker by the second. Yet it seemed to be lit by an internal flame of sorts and shimmered in the light showing tantalising glimpses of abstract and hypnotic runes and engravings which then erased themselves and formed themselves anew whilst rearranging themselves to display something completely different.
The small build up of energy solidified. He heard a slight whoosh, then he was gone with his misses and bed and all.
Poppy stumbled towards the now two human shaped ice cubicles. There was a thick band of ice linking the two cubes together. In the centre glowing a flashing red as if with a life of its own was a small inscription.
These men had a death wish.
It will be fulfilled.
The scream that ripped itself through her mouth ricocheted throughout the castle. More than a few spines shuddered in that one instant than had at the same time in the whole of Hogwarts history. That scream inspired instant fear and or worry in the hearts of many and anxiety at the very least in the hearts of a few. The scream awoke Hogwarts.
In years to come...that scream would signify...the dawn of the new age...the dawn of the new war.
It had begun...