AN: Thanks once again to PassingGirl, FSL and deeps who reviewed. I can't update too frequently as I have many exams coming up, but I could be… motivated to do otherwise if there is a larger number of reviews…
Chapter Nine
And So It Begins…
He was, once again, at the bottom of the ocean, heading toward that strange and yet fascinating dimming light that had, in its blaze of glory just mere moments ago, chased away all creatures from these depths. He was, of course, not afraid of the light, for he knew what it was, unlike the fleeing creatures around him, which lived and died without ever seeing any radiance.
A fissure had been opened at the bottom of the world, pouring the incandescent light of burning flames into the oceanic depths. Still a fair distance away, he miraculously recalled teachings from his tormented childhood. Was this magma from the burning core, about to erupt? As if responding to his thoughts, the fissure burst open.
What was spewing out amazed him.
A pair of demonic figures, glowing with the undead blaze of horror stories, sprung forth, the stench of death and decay foreshadowing them. In their wake, giant, mansion-sized, masses of shimmering light followed…
Looking closer, he noticed that the demonic figures were not gloriously charging into a conquest, as he had first thought, but seemed to be frantically fleeing away from the glowing orbs trailing them.
It was all in vain.
The demonic figures, though radiating with abundance of power in their own right, were struck. They immediately crumbled into charred and unrecognizable masses, drifting slowly back to the bottom of the ocean. After a brief period of hesitation, as if trying to make sure all was all right with the world again, the fissure was sealed, from the other side.
He slowly approached the sealed fissure, for his condition had allowed him to see what others could not. There, within the burned mark of the newly closed scar, was the tiniest of openings. It was not even an opening that a normal, physical body would have been able to pass through. Only he no longer had a physical body. With only the slightest of hesitations, he jammed what was left of his essence through the minuscule crack…
…And emerged into the midst of chaos.
He had seen many hectic and gruesome battles in his life, having started and starred in quite a few of them. But the scale and grandeur of the battle within which he found himself in was simply mind-blowing.
Thousands of dragons, the sheer size of which dwarfed any he had ever before seen in his life, flew every which way amidst a crimson sky, with some charging at their foes on foot, running swiftly across dried plains of dirt, the color of which had an uncanny resemblance to dried blood. Titanic balls of fire, ice, lightning, and many other substances he couldn't even start to recognize, were spewing from the strangely colored dragons' mouths, heading inexorably toward the demonic army that the dragons seemed to be battling against.
The hellish host was no less imposing in its might: giant hulks of pitch black mists, clad only in glistening armors that formed vague humanoid shapes, advanced without hesitation upon the proud dragon ranks, mighty shield and sickening sword at the ready. Long, snakelike serpents that stretched over half a mile coiled their way through the sky, trying to ensnare the great dragons within their scale and poison clad body, their violet eyes shining with malice. Huge monstrosities, formed out of nothing but bones and magic, hovered slightly above ground, their skeleton wings seemingly still beating to keep them in flight as they lorded over countless hosts of more human looking skeleton warriors that strode toward the mighty dragon armies as one. Horned creatures of all sizes and shapes still poured in, seemingly without end, from over the horizon.
The battle stretched as far as he could see, in every single direction he could face.
Fighting his initial impulse to flee back within the relative safer confines of his own, earthly realm, he scouted across the battlefield, silently observing and glad to notice that he could not be seen. The dragons fascinated him, for not only were they so colossal in size, their eyes also shimmered with an intelligence that he had no doubt could rival his own. As he raced across the monumental clash, he started to gain a slight understanding of what the armies were fighting for.
The dragons seemed intent on preventing the hellish creatures from opening fissures to god knew where, though random but familiar sights of his own world could be viewed across every single opening he stumbled upon. And the infernal armies seemed bent on successfully opening such a fissure. Their failure so far to accomplish that task was due, as he came to understand, to the fact that they seemed to need to be within a certain distance from a central, colossal monolith, fiercely guarded by the dragons, before being able to open a fissure. He pondered on the reasons behind that need as he leisurely flew above the carnage.
How long the battle lasted, he did not know, for there was no way for him to keep track of time.
Nearing the end of the conflict, and with the outcome very much determined, he flew toward the only battle line still active. It was not hard to find, for all dragons were converging on it. Soon, he came upon the sight of a very imposing host of devilish creatures surrounded utterly by a sea of dragon warriors, who seemed content to circle the obvious leadership of their defeated foes for the time being. In the middle of the hopeless demon host stood a figure that defied all imaginations, radiating evil so pure that it seemed to destroy the light of the world.
Suddenly, as one, the dragons pounced, sending an incredible assortment of deadly attacks upon their prey. He almost felt sorry for the hellish creatures, for they were, after all, fellow evil beings. To his astonishment, some of the daunting demon warriors withstood the attack, and lashed back at the dragons with their own. Several of the proud, great wyrms fell from the sky as they were struck. He had seen lesser dragons absorbing seemingly worse attacks without a shrug. Obviously, these demons were the mightiest of their race, and the figure they were protecting must be an even mightier foe.
A second attack from the circling dragons vaporized what was left of the cursed army, with only the ominous figure left standing. The figure appeared to be saying some kind of parting words to the dragons circling it. Then, the figure spread its arms and swiftly clasped its hands together, muttering some kind of unknown, but obviously extremely powerful incantation…
The figure exploded in a giant, pitch-black ball of energy that expanded to encompass several miles around it.
He mentally blinked. What just happened? Looking around, he saw that he was the only sentient thing, no the only thing left for several miles around. A few dragons hovered very high in the sky, seemingly having escaped a fate that their braver (or just more foolhardy, he thought) companions, closer to the final battle, had been caught up in.
Wandering into the several miles deep pit, he eventually came upon the remains of the figure that caused the horrible explosion.
It was still alive!
Not alive in the physical sense. But it would seem that the figure had became a bodiless essence as well, an essence that could eventually be reborn, mightier and more terrible than before its demise… An essence that was very, very weak at the moment, he couldn't help but observe.
Could he do it? Most likely. Should he do it? Why not? He had just witnessed what it was capable of. The thought of all that knowledge and power within his own grasp was too tempting an opportunity to pass on. And this was the perfect, no, the only chance he had, for the figure's essence was weak and confused at the moment.
He swooped in, eagerly absorbing the essence of a once mighty leader of demonic armies into himself.
He was not prepared against the sheer willpower arrayed against him. He briefly wondered if this would be the end of him, as he was foolishly trying to subjugate a mind that had been, whilst in a physical form, far more powerful than he. He shook away the thoughts of his own demise, for he was Lord Voldemort, and he had come too far to lose now.
Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity of struggle, he won through. Though it was not without loss, as part of him had be pulverized forever in the titanic clash of mind and will. A small price to pay for such great knowledge, he thought…
'My lord! All of our allies have reported in. We are ready to proceed at your command.' Voldemort was drawn away from his dreamy recollections by the somewhat confident voice of a bowing Wormtail.
'Very well. Let us show the world the true might of Lord Voldemort.' The Dark Lord bellowed as he stood up from his throne. Insane cackling soon followed.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
'They had what?' Asked an incredulous Molly. Besides her, the Grangers and Arthur Weasley were also in shock, albeit with a bit less noise.
'Here, read it for yourself.' Said Remus Lupin, handing her the hastily scratched piece of parchment. Molly read it out loud for the benefit of her fellow parents:
'Mum and Dad, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley:
Ron and I were ambushed by death eaters on our way out from great auntie Helen's place. We fought them off, and we are all fine. We then ran into a bottle genie that insisted on bringing us somewhere (which the genie assured us is very safe) due to a thoughtless wish Ron made. We should be back in a couple of days, don't worry.
Love,
Hermione
PS: Professor Snape apparated out of nowhere, and he was already unconscious. We have no idea what is going on with him.
PPS: Mum, dad, please collect my over-the-mail summer courses' homework for me while I'm gone, thanks.' Molly finished reading.
'Rather brief and short on details.' Remarked Mr. Granger. 'That doesn't sound like our Hermione very much…'
'Unless she was lying about something.' Continued Mrs. Granger. 'In that case, she'd give out as few details as possible so we can't piece together that something is wrong…'
'…and not running the risk of contradicting herself.' Finished Mr. Granger. 'She's a very clever little girl, you know. She knows she's not good at lying, so she's trying to not give us the chance to notice that she's lying at all.'
'But we are pretty sure she's lying this time.' Added Mrs. Granger. 'She'd normally have written at least a full, very descriptive page in situations like this.'
'So… What are you saying?' Asked a pretty confused Mr. Weasley. The Grangers, in his opinion, must have spent way too much time together. He was all for loving and caring about his family, but had he spent as much time with his own family as the Grangers must have done, he'd probably be crazy by now.
'We don't know.' Admitted a defeated Mr. Granger. 'But Hermione's a responsible girl. She would never have lied to us unless there is a good reason.'
'So what should we do?' Interjected a slightly annoyed Mrs. Weasley. All this talk for absolutely no action, talk about wasting time! She was very worried for both of the children, especially after what happened to Harry. Thus sitting there, in Grimmauld Place's kitchen, doing nothing but talking wasn't to her liking at all.
'We've already sent out the normal search parties, Molly.' Said Remus, trying to placate the fiery woman. 'But if they truly met a genie, then they could have been taken anywhere. Genies are beings that live through centuries, and know about places that have passed far beyond our knowledge. They are also really, really rare. I really wonder how they could possibly have gotten their hands on one…'
'What about… You-Know-Who's place?' Asked Mrs. Weasley, not appeased at all. 'What if they've been taken there and are being tortured right now?'
Nobody could come up with a suitable answer to that question, thus all present remained silent, each contemplating about their next course of action…
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Somewhere, in the tranquil countryside of a state known only for its sweeping dragon reserves, a giant, contorted, vaguely rectangular frame of dark obsidian stone materialized out of thin air. Moments later, an eerie, green light started to shimmer on its event-horizon, forming an obvious portal of some sort.
And then, they came. By the thousands, corpses of all kinds, be it human or animal, or even those of the bigger creatures from the sea, crawled out from the gate. Behind them came legions of basilisks and other lesser snakes of all sorts. Black, misty hulks of walking armor soon followed. Every single creature had a glowing, ghastly green symbol etched into its forehead: the dreaded dark mark of Lord Voldemort.
By sheer luck, a redheaded dragon handler, patrolling his reserve for injured or stray dragons, stumbled upon the horrific sight (fortunately for him, the basilisks didn't have any reason to look up at that time). He immediately flew back to report on his findings. Though it would be of little help.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
'Bill! Fleur! Wake up now!' Came the urgent voice of a panicked Charlie through the thin fabric of the tent to Bill and Fleur's private rooms. They had decided to take a vacation, around various parts of the world together, and stopped by Romania to visit Bill's brother.
'What is it?' Yelled the Gringotts curse-breaker, a bit irritated at his younger brother for the obvious lack of tact. Not only was it four in the morning, but he and Fleur were both stark naked as well.
'It's V… You-Know-Who! His armies are here! Hurry! We need to get away from this place!' Charlie silently berated himself for still not being able to say the name.
His response, though, had the desired effect as a flurry of movements could be heard inside the tent. Faster than Charlie thought it was possible, his brother and the French beauty hurried out of the tent, all things packed. Bill's robes were inside out and looked to have been put on by a one year old. In contrast, Fleur was, somehow, impeccably dressed and as graceful as ever.
'Here! Take my emergency portkey.' Charlie said, offering Bill a patented, handmade Weasley sweater. 'The activation word is Norbert. It should take you to Jezvi. That's the closest all magical community. The Romanian aurors are headquartered there as well, so it should be still safe. You can take the floo or get a better portkey from them.'
'But what about you?' Bill asked, concerned. 'Tell me you're coming with us.'
'I have friends around here still.' Charlie replied, very resolute. 'I need to make sure they are all ok first. See you back at the Order.' And then, seeing the still worried look etched on his brother's face, Charlie added: 'Don't worry, Bill. I'll be on my broom. And there's only one person I know who can out fly me on it.'
And with that, Charlie mounted his broom and zoomed away into the night.
'Lez go, Beel.' Fleur said, giving his hand a squeeze. 'I think zey are coming zis way.' Fleur added, indicating the greenish hue above the forest that seemed to be worming toward them.
'Right. Here, take a hold of this.' Bill offered her the woolen sweater with a big 'C' in the front. 'Norbert!'
And with that, the two lovers winked out from their campsite.
And reappeared into what's left of a once prosperous village. The sight that greeted them would haunt their dreams for years to come: bodies, clad in the deep blue uniform of Romanian aurors, were strewn, like leafs on a windy autumn night, everywhere they looked, their blood painting the once cheerfully decorated town in a morbid crimson. The dark mark hovered above the central building in the village, obviously the auror's headquarters. Burnt corpses of creatures they did not recognize lay amidst those of the fallen aurors, a grotesque smell of death and decay desecrating the final resting place of those who fell defending a just cause. Here and there, a pile of glistening suit of armor, fit for an oversized giant, could be seen crumbled in a heap, surrounded by a ring of blue clad bodies.
'Zis is 'orrible!' Fleur muttered, almost tears in her eyes, though her expression was one of anger and determination.
'What happened here…' Bill couldn't help but murmur, holding Fleur close to him. It wasn't really clear to him at that moment if it was he or Fleur who was being comforted.
'Hey, you!' Came the authoritative voice of a middle-aged, red clad man as he rushed toward them, wand drawn. Bill immediately recognized him.
'Kingsley?' Bill asked, a bit shocked to find the British auror in the middle of Romania. 'What are British aurors doing here?'
'Bill? Weasley?' Shacklebolt replied, equally surprised. But he recovered quickly. 'We came at the request of the Romanian ministry… I guess they need all the help they can get… Especially after this. What are you doing here?'
'I was visiting my brother, Charlie. You know, the dragon handler?' Bill explained. 'He gave us a portkey to here before taking off to warn his friends. He thought that this would be a safe place for us to come… What happened here?'
'We don't know. We just got here ourselves.' Kingsley said gravely. Nodding toward the dark mark hovering in the air, he continued: 'But this is obviously of the dark lord's doing. (Heavy sigh) I'm afraid that this so called second war will be fought on a scale far greater than we had anticipated…'
After a pause, the auror added: 'Perhaps you and the young lady should head for a less… stressful place. Whatever did this might decide to come back to slaughter any survivors. We have a floo connection up and running in one of the local's homes. This way…'
A short while later, Bill and Fleur were standing in front of a tiny fireplace, debating on where they should go next. After a while, Bill finally succumbed to his girlfriend's pleading, puppy-dog eyes. Or maybe she used her Veela charm on me! Bill couldn't help but suspect good-naturedly as Fleur shouted, in an unaccented English (probably for Bill's benefit): 'Delacour Mansion!'
Bill soon followed her into the green flames, grateful that he didn't have to pronounce his destination in French, knowing that he'd probably end up in China had he done so.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
'Dead?' Asked Harry, once again incredulous. He seemed to do a lot of incredulous exclamations lately. 'The person we were suppose to meet is dead?'
'Yeap, has been for the last fourteen hundred years.' Said the genie evenly, as if nothing's wrong with the world.
Hermione swore that she could see steam coming out of Harry's ears.
'Well…' Started Harry in a quiet tone. 'If he's already dead, HOW IN HELL WAS HE SUPPOSE TO HELP CELESTE?'
'Eh… See…' the genie was slightly taken aback by the usually meek boy's anger. 'He left a portrait behind to impart his great knowledge to whoever is worthy enough to reach him… well, the portrait of him, that is.'
'You made me gamble Celeste's life on some thousand years old portrait?'
'Not JUST his portrait!' Declared the genie quickly, trying to appease Harry. 'There's a bunch of powerful magical artifacts lying around his portrait too. So I'm sure that if anyone could heal the young lady, it would be this person… 's portrait.'
'Harry…' Called out Celeste weakly before coughing a bit. 'I'm sure the genie knows what he's doing… He's bound by strong magic to fulfill a wish to the best of his abilities… (cough) If he thinks a portrait is the best there is, then it probably means that there's no healer left in the world that can heal me. (cough, cough) Please trust him…'
Harry looked slightly confused at Celeste's words, and was momentarily puzzled into silence. Ron decided to take over for him, as he was also getting annoyed at the genie's evasiveness: 'Mind telling us who, bloody hell, is this person? That his mere portrait can know enough to heal people that even a genie couldn't?'
'Why, Merlin, of course!' The genie said, as if that knowledge was obvious.
AN: If you like, please REVIEW. In fact, let's make a deal. I'll post the next chapter as soon as I get 55 reviews, instead of next weekend. I can tell you right nowthat a great deal of plot will be unveiledin the next two chapters!
Feel free to comment on things like: Was the part about Voldemort's 'dreams' too confusing? Was the armies descriptions to vague? Too detailed? Too grotesque? Was it too offensive to have added scenes of nudity? And anything else you feel like commenting on.
