Hi, I haven't proofread this much. It was either not post for another week or edit more. So I went a posted it. Hope no one minds.
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Chapter 4
It was dark, so dark; he could see nothing, no light, just the dark, and the cold. They left him in the cell every night when they were done with him, and the cell was mostly underground and damp. The cold seeping through the walls had made him shiver in the beginning, now he was too tired to shiver. It was winter, and the cracks in the upper parts of the cell that let in tiny rays of light during the day also let the cold night air in. There was frost of the walls and ice crystals on the damp floor.
They had charmed him so that he would not die from the cold. He had no clothing but the charm kept him alive despite how much the cold hurt. It was different in the other rooms where they trained, where they tortured him, it was warm there. Almost enough to make him happy every morning, when they came just before dawn. Because it meant he would be warm soon. When the door opened and the warm air leaped in, it felt like heaven. But then the cruel hands reached in and dragged him out, and the heaven ended, replaced by hell. A hell with acids on his skin, weird experimental potions in his meager food, experimental curses driving him nearly insane while they laughed.
But he couldn't go insane, he'd been enchanted against it, there was no escape for his conscious mind from the unrelenting agony that consumed his days. The death eaters needed practice at torturing, someone needed to test the potions and the spells. The recruits had to learn to cast the cruciatus curse and imperius curse somehow. In the beginning it had been awful, waking up when the curses were removed and remembering whatever they had had him do under the imperius. It was usually something humiliating, they thought it was fun, brining down one of the Malfoys. And Draco felt like killing himself from the humiliation upon waking, but he'd been enchanted against that too. But after a while, when winter really set in, he stopped caring. At least it was warm and the imperius usually didn't hurt, at least not really bad. Not unless they had him hurt himself, or used it to make him fight some animal, that had been Bellatrix's favorite. But she had stopped coming a while ago. And the others had taken over, mostly doing the same thing. The rest of the time it was just embarrassing, enough to make him curl up on the floor crying, Malfoy dignity be damned.
The door was opening, warm light spilled in and he quickly shut his eyes to enjoy it, he only had a few seconds…then he felt a cold hand on his shoulder, which startled him, they usually wore gloves, he looked up, and saw a pair of fangs behind a cruel smile.
"We're practicing unforgivables?" The vampire asked someone behind him, while Draco nearly wet himself in fear and stopped breathing. Vampires. Good Merlin Voldemort had vampires helping him. Humans he'd been dealing with…but vampires? Finally his lungs protested and he gasped. "Well come on little mortal, lets see how well you scream." The vampire snarled, dragging him out of the cell by his hair. Draco heard giggles and glimpsed Pansy…his former friend…smirking and chattering softly with another vampire. Just wait, he thought to her just wait until you are given an impossible task. But she was doing well in the death eater ranks…being a slut could ensure that. And she'd never realize that she could end up like him until it was too late. Someone appeared with a needle and glass of a potion. They were always testing stuff, to see how it altered his experience of the unforgivables. Or whatever, half the time he didn't know what the potion did and couldn't figure it out, not that he cared anymore. He was warmer now, and now the room across the hall was opening, there was large group there today…and they were all vampires, and Draco was already thinking his cold cell sounded the better place to be.
Draco woke up screaming just as after the first curse was cast, as he did every morning since his arrival at the odd little house with the young vampire and the mortal sorcerer.
As usual Daray glanced up from his work, this time he was comparing diagrams of a demon dissection to the images of himself (taken with magic not knives).
"Do you think he screams like that during sex?" He asked curiously at Rahkesh, who was up earlier than usual.
"Do you always have to be so repulsive…and predictable?" Rahkesh retorted. The last part would be the most insulting of course. Actually he didn't really care anymore. There would have been a time when Daray's musing about Draco during sex, while the human was dreaming of being tortured, would have bothered him. But Harry Potter was long gone, consumed and burned to ash by his new personality. Rahkesh didn't care. Though he would, and had, stopped Daray from actually going after Draco. He was certain getting Draco to snap out of it, even a little bit, could happen with Daray raping him…not the vampire would call it rape, and not that he would care if Rahkesh did call it that. And it didn't matter that after being bitten by a vampire Draco would probably enjoy it, it was the principle that mattered, and Rahkesh did actually have a few of those left. Sometimes.
The front door swung open, Nuri dropped down from leaning on the knob and pounced, across the room, knocking Daray off the couch and flat on his back. Silas strolled in seconds behind the cat. He and Rahkesh exchange grins over Daray and Nuri, who were wrestling around the floor as Daray tried to throw the big panther off him. Nuri always tackled one or the other of them, Rahkesh just laughed and scratched him behind the ears, but Daray found it embarrassing to be tossed around by a feline. He hadn't complained at all the last time Satan transformed and knocked him off his feet….apparently it was more respectable to be outdone by a magical vampire bat.
"Nuriiiii." Daray whined, trying to brush the panther aside as Nuri licked him once across the face, then curled up and lay down across his chest. "You aren't a little kitten anymore! OW! And you've got claws and you weight a ton… Aw shit."
With a sudden snarl Daray transformed, the demon not tolerating the cat, scales and black leathery skin sprang into being. Daray's skin rippled into the transformation and his joints snapped audibly before reforming. Wings leaped from his back and claws sprouted. Black lids snapped open from red/orange eyes, the spines around his neck stiffened and the razor sharp ridge on his back lifted. Nuri shot off him and leaped back across the room to Silas, who caught him and put him on the floor.
Daray wheeled around, wings arching upwards and snarling. Rahkesh reached out and firmly cuffed him across the head. Daray flung himself around with an unnatural roar, Rahkesh met eyes and gave him a bored look. There was pause, stretching on for several seconds, then Daray blinked. The scaled and spined head tilted to one side, studying Rahkesh. Rahkesh relaxed into his chair.
"There's a good little demon. Now transform back will you? Before you send out enough of a demonic signal to let everyone know you exist?" Daray had been giving off a continuous painfully loud (magically speaking) demonic signal. One that was completely out of control, his scales flickered, turning red then jet black. Tiny bits of magic lashed over the edges of his scales and gave rippled of dark magic to his skin. He was almost giving in to the transformation.
Realizing his friend was frozen, trying to contain the demon, Rahkesh looked over at Silas. Silas sighed and slowly, so as not to startle him, sat down beside Daray, dwarfed by the enormous black body. He settled down for a moment apparently unconcerned about the nearness of the huge fanged jaws that could crush his skull like an egg. He reached out a pulled Daray's head close, then looked him in the eyes and began projecting memories of being a vampire. With his other hand he made a tiny slit on his arm, letting the smell of blood fill the air, then he closed it, before the demon could latch on and lunge, but not before vampire instincts identified a family member.
Daray rippled, shivered, and his wings contorted in a manner that looked agonizing. Then he was back as a vampire, sprawled out on the floor. Nuri bounced back across the room and lay down beside him, sniffing him all over and, satisfied he was a vampire, began cleaning his tail. Daray rolled his eyes over to look at the big black cat.
"Something's going to give one day." He muttered to the other two. "The healers potions may have stabilized my blood chemistry, but the instincts are still there."
"You've just got to figure out what's supposed to happen. How about you take the day to work on that. Silas will start testing Draco on what curses he knows." Rahkesh suggested. He had asked Silas to come help with that, knowing Daray would probably eat Draco alive. Daray nodded and picked up the diagrams again, Nuri curled up beside him, making it plain he wasn't moving anytime soon. "And if you do transform uncontrollably, we'll just bring around some pixies to force you out of it." Rahkesh warned, more to the demon than Daray. Threats worked with demons. The furious glare Daray shot him made him decide that it was actually the best time to get going.
XX
"Good luck pup." Remus said, hugging Rahkesh around the shoulders. At least he hadn't called him Thunder, Rahkesh could deal with pup, that was just Remus being a typical werewolf. Heck Daniel had called him that when he'd fire-called to thank him. Apparently saving his life made Rahkesh his pack…but pup? Rahkesh was too old for that, but he hadn't complained, Daniel was still in bad shape. Rahkesh gently pulled free, waved to Regulus, who was going through massive boxes of jewelry purchased from a newly dead customer of Mundungus Fletcher. Regulus waved back and resumed his search for the locket. Rahkesh closed down the wards behind him as he left the house and headed for Diagon Alley. With the change in immigration customs everyone traveling internationally had to use flying carpets, no portkeys over borders or apparition. It was annoying and time consuming but Rahkesh wasn't going to make a scene. Most of the alumni had found ways around the anti-portkey wards on the borders, but Rahkesh wasn't good enough at making portkeys yet and he wasn't going through the trouble of getting someone else to make him one. Never mind the danger in using portkeys someone else made.
There weren't any hell's steeds at the entrance to the Akren Mountains so Rahkesh grabbed one of the portkeys and took it to the valley entrance, then a second portkey to the school. It was mid summer and the hottest time of the year…though that didn't mean much so high in the mountains the magical plants were responding to the time of year anyway. As he walked past the growling flame vomiting flowers near the doors he had to sidestep their flesh eating roots. Most of the year they were completely docile but midsummer woke them up and they could be very aggressive. A couple of red pixies sitting on the massive flowers raised their flaming wings and sent sparks and tiny whorls of flames at him when he got too close. The pixies would migrate all the way to the Hawaiian islands come winter, this time of year they were feeding on the sap of the thorny flaming plants.
An enormous snow leopard seated on a railing by the front entrance yowled softly at him in greeting. The Headmistress was standing beside it, working with pieces of golden thread to alter the school's wards. The threads shimmered and glowed in her fingers, whispering and twisting and chattering occasionally like a brook over rocks. The sounds communicated how well suited the knots were for her intentions. Rahkesh had no idea what they were saying, but the Headmistress seemed satisfied. She let the set go and it hissed and steamed as it melted into the stone, then vanished. Pulling at the air the Headmistress called out strands of magic and twinned them with more thread from a massive spool on the ground beside her. This time she cut both index fingers, so her blood would coat the knots and dry them in place.
"Good morning Rahkesh." Nvara Alefly said. She always spoke softly, but her voice magic capabilities were immense and so everyone could hear her anywhere. In fact her powers of voice magic were so strong it was sometimes physically painful to listen to her talk. Right now she was occupied with something else and so Rahkesh dulled his hearing to stop the ringing and throbbing in his inner ears and the snap of the thunderbird responding to such powerful magic.
"She looks a little disgruntled." Rahkesh replied, nodding to the snow leopard.
"Just had to clip her coat for the summer, it does get a bit hot here for her. She's vain, hates the way I cut her fur." The headmistress replied, shooting the ruffled looking cat a smirk, the snow leopard growled loudly and hissed, slowly rising to her feet.
Big fangs, lots of claws, very powerful. Sygra hissed in his ear. Can we go in before we get eaten? Rahkesh gave the headmistress a quick bow and hurried in. He did not want to get caught in the middle of that fight.
Rahkesh secured his bundle under his arm again, leaving his hand free to wandlessly signal one of the massive redwood doors open. Moody would already be with professor Namach. Narcissa Malfoy was in a holding cell under Moody's house, just in case. Today they were going to destroy the horcrux residing in Hufflepuff's Cup. It was mid morning on a Saturday during summer break so most of Akren's students were away for the weekend or sleeping in. Namach had arranged things so they would have all of the bloodmagic chambers to themselves. Unfortunately the magic they were doing was soul magic and dangerous enough that professor Xanthius would be certain to sense it. Namach had avoided any conflict by inviting the elf professor to help before they even began. Being a researcher Xanthius had happily agreed to help, he'd never had the chance to closely observe the removal of a horcrux from a pre-enchanted object before.
"You're a disgrace to all bipedal life forms. Now get your silly little pointed ears out of my bloodmagic chambers." Namach's annoyed growl was audible all along the corridor.
"Don't you dare compare us with your inferior evolutionary line, we, my poor wretched bipedal friend, have six limbs." A purring male voice snarked back at the vampire. That wasn't Xanthius or Moody. Damn nice voice though, more than a little hypnotic actually, and somehow the lethal magic in that voice frightened him more than even the demons did. Who else was here? No one else had been invited. Rahkesh considered leaving, but realized abruptly that whoever had spoken was probably another elf, and therefore probably knew he was here. Leaving wasn't an option.
"Only when you transform, I have six limbs when I transform, therefore you can't count animal forms." Namach argued. "And having six limbs still doesn't give you a right to my bloodmagic chambers."
Rahkesh gently pushed the door to Namach's rooms open and went in. Moody was sitting in the chair at Namach's desk and waved to him. Rahkesh went to stand near him and glanced around to see who else had showed up, uninvited.
Three elves?. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Were they here about the demons? Rahkesh started panicking. Then stopped just as quickly. No fear, display no fear, ever. These creatures would smell it if he was at all frightened or hiding something. So he'd just pretend he wasn't. It was a trick he'd learned when dealing with older werewolf students, make yourself think you're safe and your smell will adjust to follow. Rahkesh went back to calm-but-wary so fast he was sure his smell hadn't changed, even for a second. And no one seemed to notice if it had.
Xanthius, white hair and weird purple and green eyes, was lounging on the couch. Behind the couch was a tall female elf, wearing armor. Dark green leather and bloodmetal armor, she was also carrying enough weapons to build her own armory. Throwing stars, knives, a set of twin swords, a crossbow, and a series of unusual slim curving blades the like of which he'd never seen before. She turned and looked at Rahkesh and smiled a little as his mental wards solidified and added on layers and layers of memories of the cruciatus curse and other extremely painful memories to hit anyone who tried to read his thoughts. Her eyes were red and yellow, going well with the red/gold hair. The most identifiable trait of an elf was the eyes – their eyes couldn't be disguised. Creepy, really creepy. And Rahkesh had though Madam Hooch had creepy eyes.
Namach was standing across the sitting room from the couch, against a bookshelf which, when turned around, could be pushed back into the wall to reveal a fireplace behind it. He was absently rubbing Eli's head scales, which were standing on end as the magical frill-neck growled. The big vampire was radiating suppressed power and the usual dark vibes swirling around him had increased enough to make Rahkesh's skin tingle. That sort of power could drown you…actually any muggle would have been half mad already. And anyone untrained some basic mind defenses or unused to vampires would have been in serious trouble just being in the same room with him. Rahkesh however had gotten very used to this and built up plenty of defenses against the vampiric powers always seeping around Akren. He never would have made it through Namach's class with his mind intact otherwise. Moody seemed to be doing fine as well. His mind blocking out everything, and have long since built up an almost immunity to the sort of undirected power Namach was giving off. Rahkesh had feeling that if that magic had actually been directed at him or Moody they'd have been in serious trouble. Fortunately Namach's attention was elsewhere. Both vampire and reptile were glaring at the third elf, which was leaning against one of the ancient columns. Taller even than Xanthius, with gold hair to his waist and a long black and gold cloak, he was also in armor, also dark green and bloodmetal. The plants hanging from the columns were actively twining themselves through his hair and glowing. Rahkesh guessed it was he Namach had been arguing with.
The two unknown elves projected and air of extreme violence. Predators Rahkesh's magical senses warned. Much more so than Xanthius, who was a skilled fighter, but also a researcher. At least Rahkesh had thought Xanthius a good fighter, he was one of the few Namach regularly sparred with, but comparing Xanthius to these two was like comparing a butterfly to an eagle. The female was taller than Xanthius, and broader with a great deal more muscle. The male was even taller than she and, for all that he appeared light and graceful, also seemed to built out of titanium with a physique that would have impressed Daray's father. These two were professional killers; Rahkesh could feel the unconscious growling and fury vibrating from their magic. But it was a violence hidden by equally extreme grace and beauty. While Namach was wrapped in a shroud of dangerous seductive darkness and seemingly endless suppressed violence these two elves projected a far more frightening aura of certain death mixed with enough exotic danger and absolute power to outshine even the oldest of vampires. Rahkesh could see why Moody had chosen a seat a bit away from the four immortals, to be too close right now, while they were arguing, might well have drowned him in their power.
Eli turned his head around and saw Rahkesh, with a sharp hiss his whole body rotated and his frill flared out a bit. Namach looked around, saw it was Rahkesh Eli was hissing at, and sighed irritably.
"Eli, really. Exactly what has he ever done to you?" The big lizard smacked Namach in the gut with his heavy spiked tail. Namach didn't even flinch, just grabbed Eli by his tail and picked him up, dragging the lizard outside onto his balcony. Eli's claws raked gouges into the floor the whole way. Namach dropped him none to gently onto a spot on sunlight. Eli turned on him, screaming at the indignity of being dragged around. The elves chuckled at the lizard's outrage. "Take a nap." Namach ordered, then came back in, Eli, now in sunlight, completely forgot about Rahkesh and stretched out to bask.
"I'll have to try that with my familiar sometime." Rahkesh said as Namach firmly closed the balcony doors behind him. Sygra, over his shoulders and neck today, despite her size, leaned around and hissed at the elves, scenting the air. The armor-clad male elf peered curiously at Sygra, then held out a hand to let her smell his fingertips. If the female elf's eyes had been creepy this one was down right scary. Neon glowing green (even more so than Rahkesh's killing-curse-like eyes). With a strange gleam to them that looked more like what Rahkesh would expect to see on a basilisk or dragon. This elf possessed the capability to kill with his eyes, Rahkesh realized abruptly, putting both him and the unknown female into the list of beings to avoid offending at almost any cost.
"Amazing," The female elf murmured, she was staring at Sygra with unconcealed shock. "I never though to see a black one of those, where did you get her from?"
"A pet shop, in Diagon Alley, London. You have seen her like before?" Rahkesh asked. The blond male looked up and stared at him. Rahkesh avoided his eyes and promptly settled his body just a bit more into a slightly less threatening stance. He was getting vibes that this one was even more likely to attack with virtually no provocation than most vampires were. What was it with magical begins like elves and vampires that made them all have such outrageously violent reactions to just about everything? Meeting these two Rahkesh would not be surprised if their culture was organized in a structure not unlike that of the vampires or a werewolf pack, and about as violent.
"Seen them? Yes of course. We created them…you don't what she is do you?" It was the female elf that answered, since her fellow warrior seemed more intent on deciding how best to take apart Rahkesh should he make any move with the slightest sign of aggression.
"I have a suspicion, but I can't confirm it." Rahkesh said carefully. Inwardly he was cursing. Created them? They had better not want their creation back.
"What do you think she is?" The female asked with a smile, Rahkesh wasn't fooled. They could act friendly all they wanted but he could feel their lethal capabilities that made his thunderbird look like an amateur at destruction.
"The theoretical fourth Basilisk." Rahkesh finally said. What the hell, maybe he was wrong, but he doubted it. It was the only type of snake his parseltongue magic had no knowledge of.
"Very good." The female elf agreed with a nod, "A very young specimen, has she transformed yet?"
"Yes." Rahkesh answered. He opened his mind to Sygra, letting her hear their conversation. Sygra whipped around the stare at him and he sensed his familiar's disbelief. Yes, very true Sygra, I have been thinking it for months. You are the fourth Basilisk. Sygra flicked her tongue twice as she thought, then she practically smirked.
Well, well, that is nice. Queen of serpents…hmmm…I could get used to that.
"You speak Parseltongue, very fluently." Xanthius murmured, observing Sygra talking to Rahkesh. Apparently he hadn't known.
"Yes I do." Rahkesh admitted. Waiting, but none of the elves reacted to that.
"I don't recall the records ever showing a mention of black one." The female elf said slowly, "they're supposed to be very specific. Was she black when you got her?"
"Yes, same as she is now."
"You can communicate a little telepathically?"
"Yes. Mostly we just use parseltongue though." Rahkesh said. The elves exchanged looks, then the female shrugged.
"Well it had been many years since we let them loose to live on their own, perhaps a thousand generations. Thy may have changed since their creation. Could I take a blood sample some time?" The last question was directed to Sygra, and Rahkesh realized with a start that Sygra could understand her, in English. That must be some sort of elf magic. Sygra hissed an agreement, and the female elf nodded, understanding. It wasn't parseltongue; Rahkesh would have sensed that, but perhaps merely an ability to communicate with animals? He needed to learn more about elves.
"Change of plans?" Rahkesh asked Namach. The ancient's eyes flicked over to the two uninvited elves. The female glared steadily at Namach, and waves of power began to shift and swirl about her companion.
"Tree-hugging pointy-eared parasites are interested in observing this." Namach finally said. The female growled like some great beast, the other one chuckled.
"The blood-drinking walking corpse is calling elves parasites?" He asked, Namach sneered at him. Sensing trouble Rahkesh looked over the two and decided that having them present wasn't any worse than having Xanthius around.
"If they don't interfere." He said shortly. The male elf turned, and how he'd started growling too. Perhaps he shouldn't have used that tone of voice. Rahkesh avoided his eyes and a little of the thunderbird slid through. A distant rumble and the air shifted again, Rahkesh felt as if crackling razor edged feather were wrapped around him. The elf rotated fully and looked at him carefully. Rahkesh curled the hand hidden in his cloak, pressing the needle attached to the ring he was wearing into his palm, injecting the potion. It was something he had found in the Potter vaults and which he had thought to use if the magics destroying the cup transferred from Voldemort to him. It could only be used after enough power had been fed to it, but he'd had it with him all week. And before that it had had nearly two hundred years to rest and let the magics working it repair themselves. He could use it four more times today. The potion surged through his veins and Rahkesh called it to his brain, blocking out his entire mind, everything…but the soul of the thunderbird, then he met the elf's eyes.
Immediately the elf's magic flooded him, invisible and almost impossible to sense, but for the fact that the magic was streaming into empty space rather than thought. Rahkesh grimly waited while it aligned with his soul. The thunderbird reared up, lightning arced across the sky and a wind sprang up in the room. Electricity crackled in waves over Rahkesh's body and the thunderbird roared across all their minds, wings unfurled, made of invisible magic. Waves pounded at all of them, like sound waves but with no audible sound. Rahkesh felt the elf lock out the thunderbird's magic and seek out its soul. A question crossed his thoughts, flying from the elf to the thunderbird that currently controlled Rahkesh's magic and body.
What does defeat mean to you? An unusual choice…and he must have known the answer, Rahkesh couldn't think of how he wouldn't.
Nothing. It will never come. The thunderbird's answer slammed back, bolts of lightning flying away from Rahkesh in all directions, the sky turned black and the thunderbirds presence filled the air with the sound of feathers and the roll of his terrible cries. Never. Death before defeat. You can kill me, destroy my soul, destroy my magic, but you cannot defeat me. I don't bend or break. I end, if I meet a foe capable of it. Victory is in forcing the opponent to back down. I do not. Even dead my soul and magic continue. Even without a soul my magic still continues to destroy that which destroyed me. And you may destroy my magic, but not before I destroy everything of this world that I can…including your magic and soul. There is no defeat.
Rahkesh relaxed, and let the thunderbird take full control. Telepathic talons lashed out ripping and tearing a razor beak snapped and wings edged with feathers as hard and sharp as bloodmetal blades. The thunderbird's fury went crashing through the room, Moody collapsed off the chair and Eli screamed. Endless rage. Hell bent on destruction.
And something answered, a deep power flamed up from the elf's soul, blocking the thunderbird. Roaring and crashing flames and death and an endless well of destruction powerful enough to block off the thunderbird's mental and magical attack while the elf left Rahkesh's mind and returned to his own. Rahkesh closed off his mind again behind thick walls, imagining a fortress armed with cruciatus curses and the thunderbird's fury and power and the basilisks venom. Only when he was sure he was secure did he uncurl his hand, pulling the needle out of his flesh.
For all the magic that had just been used Namach's rooms showed not the slightest damage. The bloodmagic that enchanted these rooms was so strong and thick that the walls of stone didn't actually exist any longer, the bloodmagic had replaced them. The endless runes had eroded out the rock and filled its spot with the ancient vampire's power. The protection extended to every nonliving thing in the rooms, and so nothing was harmed.
Rahkesh calmed the thunderbird, but this time it needed no calming, he and it were getting along much better these days and it folded its wings and sank back into his subconscious easily enough. Rahkesh briefly accessed its magic for whatever impressions the elf it may have formed.
An image flashed across his mind with such clarity and violence that Rahkesh stopped breathing. An immense flame-wrapped black, gold and red dragon roared back out of where the elf's soul should have been. Shiny scaled black wings edged in red and gold in fiery patterns like a wildfire. Black scales and talons. Black fire swirled from slit nostrils and black acidic venom flew form fangs with a rush of flame. Lethal soul-killing black magic roared over the beast, fueling a cloak of flames. A Death Dragon.
That explained a lot. The elf was a Death Dragon, and from the thunderbirds senses Rahkesh felt that the female elf was as well. So the elf warriors were Death Dragons. No wonder they were so fearsome. Death Dragons were a species that had only briefly existed, within a few generations they had gone so far that their souls couldn't stand their own existence and they had, in their endless seething rage, self destructed. They'd taken all life on earth with them in the worst extinction of all time. All life. Everything had had to begin anew and it had taken over a billion years for life to begin to form again. So long ago that nothing remained to show it had ever happened. Which meant elves, not native to earth, had been around during that time. Okay that was impressive. Rahkesh knew those records, he'd read up on all creatures that seemed to be a bit like the thunderbird, mentally. It appeared these creatures had him beat in sheer lethalness…but he'd bet the thunderbird was much more stubborn, dragon after all worked in an actual hierarchal society, thunderbirds could hardly handle each other's presence long enough to mate, and usually one wound up dead, the reason for their scarcity.
Coming back to reality Rahkesh looked around to make sure Moody was all right. The one eyed ex-auror was back in his seat and looking calm enough. Though he was grinning in his wrenching fashion and seemed quite pleased with something or other. Rahkesh looked back around at the elves. Namach gave him a fanged grin, apparently he was pleased as well.
The two new elves traded looks briefly. The female looked back over at Rahkesh curiously.
"You have more than one magical animagus, what is the other?"
"You are welcome to observe so long as you don't interrupt. The chambers are awfully temperamental and I don't fancy being ripped apart because you started using magic on them." Rahkesh said, not responding to the question.
"He's far to bold. Xanthius you're supposed to be keeping the lot of them under control." She complained. Xanthius was eyeing Rahkesh, then his kin, with a great deal of amusement. Namach laughed, breaking the tension.
"Easy Ryavar," he said gently, "kid's got some fine talons." The female elf, Ryavar, shot Namach an annoyed look. Rahkesh fumed and glared at the ancient vampire. He didn't need a couple of elves killing him because they thought he might put up enough of a fight to be fun. Ryavar's power flared and a deep growling sound filled her magic, Rahkesh closed down on his magical senses to verify that the sound was not audible to his ears, only his mind. It sounded a good deal nastier than Namach's Ice Dragon. "Ferraidar would you do something about her?" Namach asked, exasperated. The other elf, Farraidar, shrugged.
"No. We'll have to see just what the mortal can do later. Right now I'd like to see this soul decaying magic you've worked out. Relax little mortal, we wont interfere."
Rahkesh followed Moody out of the room, seething. Okay so the elves were about a foot taller than he was, and he would be considered tall for a mortal, really "little mortal?". Moody was very obviously trying not to laugh. Behind them the three elves were bickering in their own language, Namach was apparently listening and seemed to be agreeing with whatever Ferraidar was saying against the other two. Well, at least they didn't appear to know about the demons. Though they undoubtedly would shortly. Then of course he'd be in for more questioning. Rahkesh's blood went just a bit cold at the thought. Would they blame Daray? He'd had nothing to do with it but they might get rid of him anyway…too much of a risk and all that. He hoped they were just visiting for this soul-killing, then they'd be gone again to wherever they'd come from. Te world did not need the elves involved right now.
"Some display back there."
"My animagus and I have an arrangement. It works most of the time…you'd think, it being a physical and magical manifestation of my soul it would be easier to manage."
"No, I wouldn't. I'm surprised it isn't worse. After all if you refuse to back down on anything major why would the creature that reflects your soul do so?" Moody said. Well he had a point, Rahkesh admitted, his own defiance made things more difficult for himself. Well, he wasn't changing any time soon. "So you've really got Malfoy living with you?" Moody asked, watching from the doorway while Rahkesh did a quick examination of the chamber.
It was the most magnificent bloodmagic chamber he'd ever seen. Namach controlled its use strictly, easy to understand, since it was more a work of art than anything else. A full sized griffin skull stood out above the door facing the hallway, away from it curled wave after wave of runic magic. Inside the floor was a roiling mass of swirling black and white marble, a solid piece almost as large as the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Heavy ornate carvings wrapped up the black and white marble pillars that stood against the walls. The ceiling was gilded with many-colored gem stones in stone magic. Slices of gems thinner than a fingernail put together like an enormous mosaic. The image was flames, rainbow fire exploding outward from the center of the domed ceiling. Around the room where the pillars ended and the dome began was the full skeleton of a basilisk, fangs set into its own vertebrae near the tail to hold it in place.
Namach had thought this room's snake magics would be helpful for the purposes Rahkesh intended. It was chamber meant for bloodmagics related to necromancy and soul magic. This was a place for destructive magic only though, there was another room for nicer stuff and a third for intermediate purposes. The Basilisk had been driven insane, with anger, before it was killed. Whatever presence remained was entirely destructive. Rahkesh purred at the feel of what little magic of the basilisk remained, it had been killed in its current position, and rotted there over the centuries. Yes, this would suit his need perfectly.
"Yes." Rahkesh answered, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone so timid. But I think he's still got that old fire. And perhaps more of a backbone than I remember, he's been through a lot. I'm hoping Daray will push him too far and the old Draco Malfoy will wake up."
"Push him too far…as in bite him or rape him?"
"No idea. He's been drinking Draco's blood all week without much fuss. He's also been testing a few wandless curses on him. Draco's starting to show signs of irritation."
"You think its safe to leave Malfoy in Daray's care for the day?" Moody asked, as if he might be seriously questioning Rahkesh's sanity. He had never met Daray himself, but he had heard enough from Rahkesh and probably knew the type from his own time at Akren.
"No. Not at all. Silas is with them."
"Uh huh. So instead it'll be a three-way and Malfoy will still have no chance." Moody muttered. "They're vampires, addicted to blood and sex, remember?" He pointed out at Rahkesh's annoyed look.
"I don't think Silas would ever go for that, which is why I invited him over. Daray…thinks Malfoy would make a nice pet. Silas is supposed to be drilling Malfoy on what curses he knows while Daray's busy planning with Sierra for most of the day. Perhaps practicing hexes will get Draco to start fighting back the next time Daray rips his throat open."
Moody just hummed and shook his head and Rahkesh went back to work. Was he the only one besides Mariah who thought Draco might actually have a little spine left? It seemed that way.
With Namach's direction Rahkesh began the bloodmagic, drawing a careful set of spirals in his blood on the floor. During an actual working ritual the user's magic flowed out through the runes, the number of runes in part setting the pace for how fast it went while the complexity began forming the interlocking layers that would settle into the cuts on the users skin. Specific runes for different parts. The flow of magic could be speeded up or slowed down depending upon the depth of the cut and whether or not it was a focus point for activating the magic. The flow had to be continuous with no breaks, and tightly contained. The magic's movement through the drawn runes reflected the magic in the body when it was in use and greater complexity allowed for more depth through the mind and soul. Namach directed Rahkesh to deliberately botch some points, making corners sharp when they ought to have been smooth, and changing from a four point form – one for each limb- to a three point like the type used in some soul magics. The pattern was meant for the physical, to allow a necromancer to reach into their soul and measure what the connectivity was between death, life, and the space between. But with the improperly done set it would force a completely loss of the soul through a hole in the magics, like water slipping out of a crack in a bucket. At the same time the remainder would fluctuate between death and life so wildly that it would break down while still attached. The result would be that the soul would completely dissipate into nothing as it slipped out.
The methodology was a joint creation of Xanthius's and Namach's. They had been practicing methods for implanting it into a persons' soul and then activating it years later. Saul had been one of their experiments, and the one that had finally resulted in the break through that allowed a time delay. Long enough for Rahkesh to get out of the chamber and disengage the part of the runes bound to him.
Finishing with the part done in his blood Rahkesh began on the part done with Voldemort's blood. His team had been very clever about this. Remus had called on several werewolf packs and talked them into helping him plant explosives around one of the death eater's safe houses in London. Voldemort's stronghold had been too well protected to attack at that time, but the safe house's wards had been improperly done and a an Akren alumni group in Ireland had sent an expert to help Moody slip through the holes unnoticed. They had then held the wards immobile while the werewolves went in.
Then Xasseri had been sent back to Voldemort with the location of the traitorous Siraka. Faked, but reasonable enough, as the location Voldemort had been given was very close to where he was searching for one of the hidden Potter Estates. During Xasseri's meeting with Voldemort Remus had remote detonated the explosives, setting off alarms in Voldemort's underground stronghold. Voldemort had leaped off his chair at the alarm and Xasseri had bitten himself, letting his blood (altered by a potion) drip onto the focal point for one of the wards. The ward had reacted to Harry's blood in the potion and flared madly, the pain sending Voldemort staggering. Xasseri had bitten him then; his fangs enchanted by Regulus to extend unnaturally long, and had ripped an artery. Voldemort's blood had spilled all over Xasseri, whose scales were altered to act like a sponge. Xasseri had fled after splashing more of his blood across a second ward focus point, disrupting them and stopping Voldemort and everyone else long enough to get away.
Xasseri had returned with enough blood for what they needed. He had then taken up residence at one of Rahkesh's homes, guarding the Dyalnos tree while Rahkesh was away at another property with Draco and Daray.
Moody joined the three elves at the observation window, watching as Rahkesh placed the cup in the center of the patterns and dripped a little of Voldemort's blood into it.
"Ready." He said to Namach, who was levitating Voldemort's blood into the correct runes wandlessly. They had decided Namach should do this part, given that he knew what the magic was supposed to feel like better than Rahkesh did. But already the latent inactive magic in the room was setting Rahkesh's teeth on edge and jarring his mind like a file down a blackboard. Wrong, wrong, wrong, it screamed at him, and a faint pull had begun, like it wasn't connected right and was starting to drain. The air didn't feel right, clammy and thick. His nose was itching and the hairs on the back of his neck on end.
"Place the cup then. Activate it and get out of the pattern, but stay in the chamber, it'll need a living connection for the separation part. Even if you're not the soul's originator." Namach said. Rahkesh put the cup into the center and levitated the ends fo the blood runes to wrap around it. He was a bit worried about what affect this would have on the part of Voldemort's soul he carried. But he wasn't actually doing the destroying, mixed up magic with Voldemort's blood was. This disconnected Rahkesh enough that there shouldn't be a backlash. The reason he'd had a bit of trouble had partially been because he was casting the curse to destroy her. This time Voldemort was effectively doing it to himself, even though he had no control over it.
With the cup in position Namach left to the window as well. Rahkesh knelt in the center beside the cup and placed his left hand palm down over it. With his other hand he picked up a very long very thin knife made of a basilisk fang. It had no venom left, but it had some magic, and it was Voldemort's species of basilisk. This would also help to distance Rahkesh. Rahkesh then closed his eyes and began to meditate. This was the part he'd been worried about the elves interfering with, if they wanted to "watch" telepathically it would disrupt what he was trying to do.
Slowly he caught the flicker of foreign power that encased the piece of Voldemort's soul. Rahkesh had it encased in a metal ball with inward facing spikes, telepathic not physical. And bits of memories of the shock of the Amadan's curse. The soul was slowly being tortured by it; Voldemort had to be feeling a bit ill, wherever he was. But he would be unable to contact this broken piece and find out why. All he'd feel was ill health, no problems with his soul at all. It would make this section of soul easier to remove in the end, but for now it also contained it. Now Rahkesh teased a bit of power form the slimy covering, and locked it apart. His scar hurt horribly, but he ignored it. Drawing the bit of magic out into his palm Rahkesh called up the magics he used to remove poisons, and slit open the exit portal in his wrist.
Rahkesh felt the tiny bit of magic leave his wrist, leaving him double over, holding his arm and nearly screaming in pain. He imagined getting his hand burned off with one of professor Strawlime's creations would hurt less. But finally the last of the magic dripped out into the cup and Rahkesh's wrist closed. Now he quickly levitated the strands of blood from the floor and tossed them into the cup, then turned the knife to dust and added it.
Then he ran, well jumped, aided by magic, out of the runes and to the doorway, just as the runes flared with black fire and the floor turned to ash. The marble was gone, replaced by solid black ash and runes of black fire. The basilisk skeleton trembled above Rahkesh's head. The floor hardened again to solid black.
Then the screaming began, high pitched shrieks, then full out scream as the horcrux was forcibly evicted. Rahkesh felt blood running down his face from his scar, but paid it no mind. Slowly bits of magic and silver sparks were flying out of the cup. Then massive black tendrils, transparent and sickly looking, drifted out, caressing the floor, seeking a new host. But there was none suitable, and now death power to get it into one anyway. The cup glowed grey, and exploded, bits and pieces flying into the air.
Winds began, spinning so fast the runes were ripped off the floor and dragged inwards, into the cup, drawing the fragments of soul and cup with it. A tornado formed in the center of the chamber, Rahkesh closed his eyes against the blats of magic, then began gasping in the vacuum created as the soul was dragged out into death, and dissipated into nothing…along with all the air in the room.
It was cold, so cold, Rahkesh could see his breath. He gasped in great lungfuls of nothing and choked and coughed, his lungs burning. Shutting his mouth he forced himself to calm against the raging torrent of magic drawing him in. He wasn't going to die with this, he was alive. Rahkesh loosed the thunderbird, letting its defiance draw his magic inwards and keep him alive, despite the lack of air, and cloak him in an impenetrable blanket of life.
The vortex was stopping, slowing, the tornado collapsed, bits of magic flashed about as they settled. The runes were gone, burned off the floor. And Rahkesh was shaking and dripping blood, onto his cloak and not the floor fortunately. The thunderbird settled back into his mind. Rahkesh rose and tottered to the door. He stumbled out and collapsed to the bench, summoning enough strength to close it. Then he began gasping, feeling returned to his numb limbs and his eyesight slowly cleared. He was live, and the horcrux was dead.
The door opened and Namach swooped in, Rahkesh flinched and cringed back from the dark magic around the vampire, still ultra-sensitized form his meditation work. Namach reeled in his magic, becoming so null Rahkesh would have mistaken him for muggle. Namach cleaned out the room, of whatever magic remained, and settled the remnant magic of the basilisk. By the time he'd returned Rahkesh was sitting upright, slowly checking all his magic to see if he'd lost anything to the vortex that had tried to suck him dry.
"Still human?" Namach chuckled.
"Yeah. Sorry." Rahkesh grinned back, had he failed to manage to keep enough of himself the only option would have been to turn into a vampire, or die. Which was why he'd been a bit surprised when Namach hadn't insisted on another vampire being present, apparently he was either very confident of Rahkesh's abilities, or didn't mind having an apprentice. Since Rahkesh doubted Namach would have let him die.
Sygra appeared beside him and wrapped herself around his shoulder, hissing reassuringly. Rahkesh felt his familiar call up her own magics and cloak him in them.
We did want to try healing each other with our connection. She pointed out. And when are you going to stop doing stupid stuff like that?
When Voldemort's gone, I'm almost done.
Can I PLEASE kill this Voldemort chap? No one harms my human and he's just asking for it.
No, but would you like some of his minions?
How many?
As many as you can get, next time we have the chance. Sygra eyed him critically for a moment.
Fine. You get him I get his minions. As many as I want.
Deal. Rahkesh chuckled. Oh were the death eaters in for it. Sygra in full wyvern form with all fo her venoms, and those jaws and spiked tail. Plus being a basilisk she was impervius to most curses. He'd have to get pictures.
"Did you get ripped up any by that?" The ancient vampire asked, professional curiosity in whatever connection with death Rahkesh may have formed.
"Only a little. No more than I did by the Amadan's curse. I suppose it'll help with necromancy stuff?"
"Yes it will. Most necromancy student deaths happen while trying to develop such a connection. You're already way ahead. Actually many a necromancer would give an arm to have your kind of connection with death. Three different sources now, you starting a collection?"
"Not intentionally." Rahkesh muttered. He hurt all over, as if he'd been under the cruciatus curse. His lungs burned, his head ached and his hearing seemed to be half of what it normally was. He could hardly control his limbs he was shaking so hard. His gust ached and his heart beat was stuttering painfully. "I really don't feel well. Why do I feel like I'm going to collapse from losing so little?"
"Because so little was lost. Your soul is very strong Rahkesh. It's dragging back whatever you lost, from beyond death. Regrouping the bits that started to dissipate and mixing it back in with your living magic to give it life again. You'll be recovered in a few hours, but a sudden injection of death can have an awful temporary effect. Had you been touching the cup it would have latched onto the hand that was touching it, killing the magic and slowly eating away your life and soul in an unbreakable attachment with the draining magic."
"That explains a lot." Rahkesh sighed, knowing now what had happened to Dumbledore. He'd been touching the ring when he destroyed it, maybe accidentally – if it had flung itself about like the cup and Nagini did. His hand had been caught and the magic had started killing him. He would have died…even if Snape hadn't killed him. Rahkesh realized in a flash of clarity. Now what did that mean? Had Snape and the headmaster seen it as an opportunity? Or had it allowed Snape to do what he did without feeling any guilt? Because he'd reason the headmaster would die anyway? He would have to think about that. It sounded like Snape's messed up reasoning.
"A very interesting display." Ferraidar commented as Rahkesh walked out of the entry hall, Namach following. Moody looked him over like he thought Rahkesh might collapse. Rahkesh shook his head. Not happening in front of the elves.
"Get him home and make sure he rests." Namach told Moody, if he'd had the energy Rahkesh would have complained and glared, he could take care of himself. At the moment he didn't care, but if anyone tried to tuck him in they'd get cursed.
"Come back over the weekend, we'll be around a bit and I'd like to see what that thunderbird can do." Ferraidar said, Ryavar gave him a nasty smirk.
"Yes, and the human, since I hear he's quite handy in a fight." Rahkesh glared briefly at Namach, who shook his head.
"Not me that said something, probably Marluck - I'm not giving these beasts an excuse to go after my students. Pointy-eared parasites think the world is their's to beat up however they like." Rahkesh chuckled as all three elves turned on the vampire with insults. Namach wasn't serious, and the elves knew it, this group got along far too well to be enemies, or even just allies. As the two mortals walked away Rahkesh's hearing finally returned and he caught the friendly tone of the banter. Very weird.
"How dare you! Vampires are predators not parasites!" Namach barked, to anyone who didn't know him he would have sounded enraged, but there was no angry magic tearing about.
"Oh don't get your fangs crossed Tristan, you're the embodiment of parasite." Ferraidar coolly retorted as the two retreating mortals turned the corner and started down the stairs.
"That's not what you were saying last night." Namach grouched softly, almost too softly to hear.
Beside him Moody tripped over his walking stick as he tried to hold back a laugh. Rahkesh waited until they were outside before he started laughing. That explained a lot. The oldest vampire alive and an immortal elf with a death dragon in his soul…that made an odd sort of sense.
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Well that's several major questions of the story answered. I'm trying to wrap up the remaining mysteries before launching into the next major stage. When you leave things dangling for too long people forget them right? But if there are no mysteries or questions then why keep reading. So that's Saul's purpose fulfilled. Yes I wrote him in near the beginning for only this reason, it was an idea I had as soon as I started thinking about bloodmagic before starting ASCaL. And Sygra's identity revealed, some of you guessed that one already, I did give a few clues.
Since someone asked in a review – yes I made up all the bloodmagic, feather magic, stone magic, string magic, soul magic, necromancy, etc. I have a bit of an overactive imagination. And we haven't even gotten started on bloodmetal, soul magic, and the various branches of necromancy yet. Or life magic, but there won't be much of that.
Anyone remember who the Chachapoyaro are? Yes? Good. I had those chapters back in the past for a reaosn relevant to the present, you'll be finding out soon. And Draco WILL get killed or sorted out next chapter. Plus Silas animagus. I was going to put it in here but that seemed like a good place to take a break.