Plot Bunnies Chapter 4: Steal a Candy 1: Ragnarok, a harry potter fanfic

Plot Bunny #4: Steal a Candy

By stealacandy

A/N: I was thinking about introducing a female character into a Harry Potter plot, cross-over style. I started thinking about whose character could I steal and go unnoticed, and I came up immediately with Roger Jordan. His Power of Time stories have been going on forever, and everyone in them have been dancing around each other for ages, and have little to show for it. And Jordan created so many characters with such delightfully ridiculous names (that sound like he stole them from the Foundation books), he probably wouldn't miss one if I borrowed her for a while.

Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter, and won't allow anyone else near her stories, which is a pity, as she seems to have lost track of it long ago. Tonight the last book is coming out and I'm sure many of you will spend your money on it and would finish reading it by tomorrow morning. Then you could say thanks to Miss Rowling and never look at her work again. Then you could go back to your computer, and find yourself some quality fan fiction, and it would even be free of charge. Isn't life great? Roger Jordan owns the Power of Time circle and he can stuff it for all I care. That's the never-ending story… Reminds me of a guy I know from Argentina - in the 1960's they didn't have cable T.V. so when they wanted to hear news about the 1967 Arab-Israeli six-day war, they listened to Radio Cairo, which they somehow got, I've no idea how they managed that. I think they set up international broadcasting, but I don't know how did it make it's way to Argentina. It was the Chunta days back then, I think, and they were allied with the Egyptians, but that's about it. Anyway, between one false report (that would make Rita Skeeter proud) and another, the Egyptian editors decided to give their international listeners some culture, so they played Schubert's (I think it's his) Unfinished Symphony, or as they called it in Egyptian - "Simfonia Mush Chalastra". Now in some languages, it is slang. "Bring me chalastra" means annoy me greatly, get my temper raised, which seems to be exactly the sole purpose for which Jordan's books were written for. But as it is Jordan, and not I, who wrote them and profits from them, I can't be held accountable for any brain damage you might come up with as a result of reading anything that relates to them.

That was a legal disclaimer.

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Steal a Candy

(alternatively: Ragnarok - I can't seem to make up my mind between those two names...)

By stealacandy

Voldemort had the most powerful and most trusted of his followers standing in a circle, chanting continuously. They were summoning a creature that would steal Harry Potter's magic and bring it to him. He had called Lucius son, Draco, to guide the spirit back to Hogwarts and take it to Potter. Lord Voldemort could have used Snape, but he was afraid the potion master might try to harvest whatever creature his summoning would bring up for potion ingredients. Then he would take Potter's magic and Potter would be helpless against him. It would be like taking candy from a child.

Urged on by his men's chanting, the Dark Lord set the wood on the stone altar on fire. "Incendio. In the name of Yggdrasill," the Dark Lord struggled with the pronunciation - even with his skill an Parceltongue, this was ridiculous - "ashes and fire, I cast thee out." The sacrificial cow on the altar was catching the fire. He would have preferred to go with a wizard or a witch (a muggle was every bit an animal as the cow, so it wouldn't have made much difference there.), maybe even a virgin, losing he innocence in a ritualistic rape, then losing her life as well in a ritualistic murder. The Dark Lord had a reputation to keep, and certain standards to uphold. A human sacrifice was much more grandiose and impressive. The ritual, however, called for a cow, so a cow it was. "In the name of Hell, fire and blood, I call thee in. In the name of Galar," here the Dark Lord nodded to two of his Death Eaters, who promptly sent a barrage of cutting curses at the cow, who bled onto three bowls beneath the altar. It galled Lord Voldemort to call on a dwarf, but it couldn't be helped. Half-breed or not, that's what the ritual required. And they did do an admirable job killing other half-breeds like themselves. Although he would better not give voice to his opinion, as the giants were hot-headed and it was a touchy topic for them. "blood and gore, I lift thee up. In the name of Fialar," he nodded at Severus, Bellatrix and Peter, who started steering honey in with the blood in the bowls, "gore and soil, I send thee forward." by now, the cow was consumed with fire. "In the name of Audhumla," he cried out, tossing a handful of salt at the smouldering carcass, "ice and wind, I give thee life. In the name of Syn," as he Voldemort wondered why she was called on, it didn't seem right, "wind and justice, I open thy path." The Dark Lord Paused. "In the name of Lodur, justice and wisdom, I give thee a vessel." He took the three bowls from Severus and the others, and placed two in opposing corners of the altar and the third on top of the cow's carcase. The cow was still breathing, just barely, but it has given up on struggling, and even the convulsions stopped. Voldemort had to hurry now, else the stupid cow would die on him. "In the name of Haenir, wisdom and sense, I bring thee to me!" finished the Dark Lord in a great voice, stabbing the cow in the chest with a golden dirk, piercing the rib cage and entering the heart, as the ritual climaxed.

A great gush of wind came from the alter, and the ringing of bells. The chanting Death Eaters stopped, and remained silent. Then, just as suddenly as the wind came, it disappeared.

And in place of the cow, in place of the wood, in place of the blood and in place of the honey, lay a beautiful and deadly woman. She was a sight for a sore eye. She was an eye candy.

'I got to learn this ritual!' though Wormtail to himself. 'But I don't want to share!'

The woman lay still, then shivered a little, and opened her eyes. She looked around, disoriented, then rose from her bed.

Lord Voldemort, in satisfaction at a gob well done, greeted his guest. "The Dark Lord welcomes you," he said.

Over at the altar, Esmeralda was panicking. 'The Dark Lord? No! No! it can't be! The Dark Lord and all the forsaken were bound by the creator at Sheol-gal!'. She looked around her. Three of these people - two men and one women - were cleaning themselves - with the Power! She could see the power working, but could not see the flows. It had to be the male half of the One Power. How could they? And a woman? She must be channelling as well. Esmeralda saw the dirt on her hands and ashes on her robes disappear , as if by magic, yet the woman did not seem surprised, or revolted, so that meant she did it herself. And Esmeralda could feel kinship to the woman. She could channel, indeed. But how did she do that? Has she managed somehow to disguise her flows? And why? What Aes Sedai would work in cohesion with men? What is Siouan playing at? Hmmm. Siouan… she could use this for her benefit. If she was to capture two men who could channel magic and bring them back to the white tower, she would gain face and prestige - she might get powerful enough to claim the Amyrlin Seat - and bring back her Ajah to it's old glories. But could she capture a man who could channel all on her own - let alone two?

"Who are you?" asked the ugly one in front of her. 'Must be some sort of a formal servant, to do the talking,' she thought. Like Leanne was for Siouan.

"I am Esmeralda Orohiurin Aes Sedai, of the Red Ajah, Aes Sedai Councillor of Andor."

Lord Voldemort wasn't really sure what that meant, but it sounded promising. Except she was talking about red? Was she connected to Gryffindor? "Are you in league with the lions?" he asked the strange woman he has summoned.

"I am not a subject of the white lions. I serve none but the Red and the Tower. The power of the White Tower is mighty, and it's wrath is terrifying. See that you don't incur it!" said the woman. She was thinking hard. She would have to gentle the two of them, and probably still the woman who was helping them. She'll bind the men - no, the Dark-Friends - that were helping them. And leave them for agents of the Tower to deal with later, after she takes her prize back for a trial at the Tower.

The Dark Lord didn't like that answer, but it was expected. You couldn't summon demons and expect them to be meek. She was bound to do his bidding, and had little power to threaten him with here, in the mortal plain. Whatever hellish plane he brought her from, he doubted he would ever come to call on her at home. He had taken percussions to assure he'll never die and leave the mortal plain. Still, politeness won't cost him anything, and caution was prudent with such creature of power, who could steel a wizard's magic. "I have no plans to incur anyone. As you can tell, we are all wizards here," he said. As Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, he added "and witches." Bella closed her mouth. "United under the Dark Mark, we seek to purify the world of the blood of those who cannot wield our power."

'They can all channel?' Esmeralda paled. 'I can't possibly capture them all. I can't gentle them all! I won't stand a chance!' Panicking, she still tried to calm herself. Taking several deep breaths, she thought about it. The man must be trying to intimidate her - there is no possible way they can all channel. The Red Aes Sedai have been turning every stone looking for men like that, and have found less and less. So many men couldn't have fooled her sisters and evade capture, could they? No, they are lying. That two men who could channel worked together was astounding by itself. And they are organized - the only men who could channel and started organizations like that, spreading terror and ruin across the land, were false Dragons. Was this, then, the army of one such Dragon? Her suspicions of Siouan were proving to be true! She indeed dabbled with false Dragons. Yet Esmeralda didn't recognise the Aes Sedai with this group. She would have thought Moraine - but no, it was somebody else. 'I will find out who she is.' thought Esmeralda.

The ugly one spoke again. "Yet one enemy stands in our path, a mere boy, yet he has been a pain at our side for as long as he lived. Young Draco here - " here, he turned and beaconed a young man over, "would lead you to him. When-"

The ugly one's words were lost at Esmeralda, as her eyes bulged out. "Draco" the man said. Was this young man the False Dragon? Rumours from Cape Toman had him with red hair, a lot like that AlThor boy that Moraine dangled from her leash. 'Perhaps Siouan has more then one False Dragon running around doing her bidding?'

She had to act fast. If the boy was the False Dragon and he had other men who could channel working for him, that would almost have to mean he could channel too, wouldn't it? Otherwise, they would have lead themselves, not followed. So she decided.

Weaving her flows quickly, she laid the net on the boy, and seconds later, his connection with the ambient magic around him was severed. The job wasn't as good as a concentrated attempt by six, or twelve, or thirteen Aes Sedai, but gentled was gentled, thought Esmeralda.

"What - " the boy stammered - "What have you done to me?"

That answered Esmeralda's question for her. If he felt the gentling, he indeed was gentled. And now to the other two - she was surprised the woman did not try to intervene or stop her. In short order, all three adults were stilled, and bound too, for good measure. Now all she had to do was facilitate her escape. And then Siouan would learn her wrath and her own folly at trying to have her agents take care of her, Esmeralda Orohiurirn Aes Sedai!

"Master," said the woman she stilled. "Master, our magic is blocked - it's as if it isn't there!" she said with a trembling voice. "It's gone completely! She stole our magic! She was supposed to do that to Po-" she didn't get to finish her sentence.

"What?" shouted another man, with platinum blonde hair and robes made out of good Andoran wool, adorned with silk from behind the Aiel Waste. "You turned my son into a squib?" silent prevailed in the chamber. No one spoke. No one dared to breath. What would their master do if his followers lost their magic? What would they do if this woman-like creature took their magic away?

"Crucio!" said Lucius Malfoy, pointing his wand at Esmeralda. Pain, rivers of pain like she never felt before, hit Esmeralda in waves. Another man who could channel? That Dark-Friend had it coming. As soon as the man lifted the ter'angreal in his hand - it had to be that - she pounced, and soon after, he too was squibified.

"Do not attack my guests and my allies, Malfoy!" shouted the Dark Lord. He was not amused. Oh, he was amused at what happened to his followers, and relieved that the ritual worked and the right being with the right gift was brought forth, but he wasn't happy at losing his best followers - and that brat Lucius called a son.

But they were no use for him now, and he couldn't let Lucius' transgression go unpunished. He pointed his wand at Lucius Malfoy, who was now shacking in fear, rather then rage or in shock, as he had moments before. "My Lord, - " he started, but Lord Voldemort wasn't listening.

"Avada Kedavra!" said the Dark Lord. A jet of green line shot from his wand toward Malfoy, hitting him smack on the head, and the Death Eater collapsed on the ground in a pile of limbs.

'Another man channelling?' thought Esmeralda in awe. She was beginning to think that perhaps the ugly one said the truth. Perhaps they could all channel? 'Impossible!' she discarded that thought. But this one man, the ugly one, he could definitely channel, and she had to get rid of him, and quick. The other men seemed in awe of him and the blonde had called him "My Lord". Maybe he was a noble? She weaved the power again and directed the flows into a net to capture the man. Nothing happened.

'He must have been holding on Saidin already' she thought, '- good thinking - but what can I do? He's too strong!'

"You Dare!" cried the ugly one in rage. "Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Istera Belagina Kish Kish Karya! Kul Calb Bigi Yomo! Crucio! Oh, stop screaming, Mufilato! Silencio, Crucio! Schwarzeneggerio! Crucio!"

Pain beyond pain engulfed Esmeralda. If she thought what she went through before unbearable, it paled in compression to this. The pain came, and continue to come, and intensified as it did. And as it continued, her mind snapped. She forgot all that had transpired, she forgot what she was thinking, what she wanted - all she could remember was the man in front of her, torturing her, causing her pain - and the one thing she dedicated her entire life for. Leashing out with everything she could master, to the last bit of Saidar she could hold, she wielded it like an axe and struck at the man. Then she fell down on the altar, unconscious.

Lord Voldemort was in shock. He had lost his magic! He couldn't have lost his magic! It couldn't possibly have happened to him - it was supposed to happen to Potter. How could it be? What? How? He was without magic now? How? What? He stumbled forward, then fell down to ground.

It was Ragnarok.

As Lord Voldemort touch with his magic was broken, so was his spell, and a great gush of wind came from the altar, with the sound of a hundred ringing bells. Then, just as suddenly as it came, it was gone, and in place of the beautiful, dangerous woman that lay on the altar, only three stone bowls stood, filled with ashes and small chunks of bone.

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Over in Tar-Valon, Esmeralda Sedai set in her bed. She had a headache. She would have to go to the Yellow for some healing, she wasn't very good with that herself.

She was insane, now, after all the torture she went through.

No one noticed any difference.

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At Hogwarts, on the grounds by the lake, Harry Potter lay on the ground, relaxing, his back to a tree. Had he known anything about trees, he would recognize it as Mountain Ash, but he didn't know, and didn't care. Had he bothered to read "Hogwarts: A History", he would have known that it was called Rowan in Scotland, referred to as the "Witch Tree". In fact, most of the trees in the Forbidden Forest were Mountain Ash, and it was Rowena Ravenclaw who planted the first ones there. Harry didn't know that either, and would never bring himself to ask Hermione.

He had a full day and was now resting, in the last hour of light, before curfew started, while Ron and Hermione were busy elsewhere, and he got to be alone. All of a sudden he was jolted out of his position.

A tension he didn't know was there was now gone and Harry's muscles seemed to relax, all over. His head felt good and his headache - when did he got a headache?, he wondered - seemed to have gone. Looking around, he saw nothing, so he went back to laying on the ground, savouring the solitude.

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In his office, Hogwarts School's headmaster Albus Brian Percival Shmendric Dumbledore set, concerned. Severus has gone to answer Tom's call, saying he would be late to return. Yet it was now nearly five o'clock in the morning, and Severus failed to show. Dumbledore spent the night at his desk, waiting for Severus and what information he cared to share. In his unease and worry, He had gorged himself, without noticing it, on his stash of lemon drops. Now he sent his hand to the candy bowl, and find it empty. Someone has stolen his candy! He would find out who did it.

More hours came, then went away, and still no Severus, and still no candy. All the tense, all the pressure, came back rearing to the headmaster. It was almost to much to bare. Almost - .

It was too much to carry, for an old men with short nerves like him. The headmaster, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, Ten-Pin Bowling enthusiast snapped.

He didn't become insane, he was crazy for a long time.

Only now, as his behaviour would become more and more erratic, people would finally take note.

The End

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About the Norse deities invoked in the ritual: