I'm updating, yay! Isn't that nice? According to me, this is my longest chapter yet. I apologize if I made the coming up of last chapter sound... sinister because the ending of this chapter is anything but sinister. Enjoy! And thanks to those who reviewed! You guys are the best!
kisara: Harry is NOT going to be light! Seriously, people. Never in the entire Chronicles trilogy will Harry be light. Just wanted to clarify.
anonymous: I love Marric and Mela! So another clarification: they are NOT more powerful than Harry! I can't even imagine that... My apologies if it seemed like that in the previous chapter. I've somewhat toned it down in succeeding chapters. I hope.
Disclaimer: Really now, if I owned Harry Potter I wouldn't be in this website.
THE DARK CHRONICLES
Chapter Thirteen: Stained Soul
"I have not yet been able to obtain the information you desire, my Lord," Snape humbly bowed before Voldemort.
"Crucio." Snape fell to the floor screaming and twitching in pain as the Cruciatus racked through his body. Voldemort stood over him, a displeased expression on his face.
"I expected better from you, Severus," the Dark Lord spoke softly. "My patience is running thin. I want the Sorcerer's Stone!"
Snape winced as Voldemort lifted the Cruciatus curse. "You shall have it, my Lord! Please, give me time! The fool Dumbledore has hidden it somewhere in Gringotts. I need more time to discover which vault it was placed in."
"Very well," the Dark Lord conceded. "You shall have your time. But bear in mind not to make me wait for long, Severus. My patience has its limits. There will be no more next time for you if you fail this."
Snape paled but kept his composure. "Yes, my Lord, I understand. I am heading over to the Eveleigh manor now, my Lord. Dumbledore is certain to be there. Today is, after all, his Golden Boy's birthday."
Voldemort's features darkened even more. "That Eveleigh child? We must wait for another chance to catch him vulnerable again. He must be killed as soon as possible. The power the prophecy says he has is a threat to me in the hands of the Order."
"Of course, my Lord," Snape agreed.
"Very well, Snape. Leave." The Death Eater was only too glad to leave the Dark Lord's presence.
Voldemort frowned. Something was niggling the back of his mind. He couldn't quite put his finger to what it was, though. He sat back silently, thinking. Snape's voice floated in his mind again. Today is, after all, his Golden Boy's birthday… Voldemort sat up quite suddenly. Today was Francis Eveleigh's birthday. Today was also Stephen's birthday. In fact just before his meeting with Snape, Voldemort had left Stephen with Marric, Mela and his elementals. His young protégé had been opening the gifts everyone had given him.
Voldemort recalled the words of the prophecy that Snape had told him. The One with the power immeasurable approaches/ Born as the Seventh Month wanes/ Born of the blood of light and dark… Snape had told him that at first, there were three babies who the Order had thought the prophecy meant but Dumbledore had declared the Eveleigh boy the prophecy child. The Dark Lord knitted his brows. What had Dumbledore's basis for that been? Why Francis Eveleigh? Why not Neville Longbottom or… Voldemort paled for a second. Harry Potter. Of course. How could he have forgotten? The boy had been one of the candidates as the prophecy child.
So far as the Dark Lord knew, Francis Eveleigh had never remotely demonstrated that he had "power immeasurable". Stephen on the other hand… The Dark Lord flashed back to the first lesson he had had with Stephen when the boy had released some of his magic. Power immeasurable was an apt enough phrase to describe the strength of the boy's powers.
Could it be possible… that Stephen and not Francis Eveleigh was the prophecy child?
A couple of weeks later…
"Master, three of the prisoners have escaped from the dungeon," Rudolphus Lestrange reported, bowing before the Dark Lord.
"Who?"
"The Auror Simon Shacklebolt, Martinson Gallagher and Channah Gallagher, my Lord. We have two squads of Death Eaters after them right now but it appears they have run for cover into the forest. We are in pursuit of them now, my Lord."
The forest. Stephen, Mela and Marric were outside flying on their brooms in the forest right now. Voldemort bit back an oath. Why did those three always have to make things complicated?
"Call off your squads, Lestrange," the Dark Lord ordered.
"My Lord?" the Death Eater looked up, not quite believing what he was hearing. "You want me to call back the squads?"
"Do it. I will take care of this matter myself," Voldemort hissed as he strode quickly out of the huge room. A very confused Rudolphus Lestrange was left in his wake, extremely thankful that the Dark Lord had not punished him for the prisoners' escape.
Stephen stopped his broom in mid-air. Marric and Mela immediately noticed and flew over to join him.
"Something wrong?" Marric asked at the unusually alert expression on Stephen's face.
"Someone's here. In the forest," Stephen intoned quietly. "Not a Death Eater. I think they're outsiders. Let's get down."
They flew down and dismounted from their brooms. Casting Concealment Charms on themselves, the three of them immediately set off to the direction where the intruders were. Stephen, Marric and Mela hid behind a tree as two men and a woman burst into the clearing. They were obviously not Death Eaters. Mela pointed out their clothes to Stephen and Marric. The tattered rags and wounds showed that they were prisoners. Escaped prisoners.
"We must keep moving," the tall, black man barked at his other two companions. "We're too close to that blasted manor for comfort and they'll have Death Eaters out for us already."
"For pity's sake Simon, give Channah a chance to catch her breath!" the other man cried out.
"Well unless you want to be thrown back in the dungeons Martin, I suggest we start moving now. Come, we'll help her. Lift her left arm and I'll take the right. Don't move, Channah, Martin and I can carry you the rest of the way," the one called Simon told the woman. The woman only had the strength to nod in agreement.
They were from the Light side that much Stephen knew. The instant hatred he felt for them was like poison coursing his veins. His grip on his wand instinctively tightened. On either side of him, he felt Marric and Mela draw their own wands.
"Don't," he whispered. "I'll take care of this. I've been wanting to practice something for some time now." He felt Marric and Mela nod then back off.
Stephen raised his wand. He hadn't gotten to very advanced wandless magic yet. He still needed his wand when it came to powerful spells and charms. "Arcessere Caligo."
Simon, Martin and Channah stopped dead in their tracks when in the blink of an eye, fog suddenly appeared all around them. It was thick, white fog and visibility, even from a few feet away, was nearly impossible. Simon cursed.
"This is magic. They've found us," he spat out. "Let's make a run for it."
The three of them went faster and even Channah made an effort to run but weighted down with the injured woman, they couldn't get very far. Especially as they did not know where they were going and kept bumping into bushes and trees or tripping over large tree roots. It was futile and the three of them knew it.
Stephen smiled grimly. This was fun. "Arcessere Fulmen," he cast the next spell.
The three escaped prisoners narrowly avoided running headlong into another tree when their surroundings turned a shade darker. Simon saw that the sky was teeming with black stormclouds. He was so shocked he just stood stock still for a second. This was impossible. There was no spell that could control the weather! …Was there? Before he, Martin and Channah could begin running again, lightning flashed from the sky and struck the tree directly in front of them. The tree's branches burst into flame.
"Simon, let's move!" Martin's voice shook him out of his reverie.
"Move where?" Channah sobbed. "They've found us! They'll kill us now!"
Simon gritted his teeth. "I'll be damned if I escaped that prison only to be thrown back there again. We're escaping from this hellhole and that's that!" They ran once more through the thick mist.
Marric chuckled as his eyes followed them. "Impressive spellwork," he told Stephen.
"Thanks," Stephen smirked as he slapped Marric's hand in a high five.
Mela rolled her eyes. Boys. "They're getting away," she pointed out drolly. "And I don't really think Master will be very pleased if you set fire to the entire forest."
Stephen raised his wand again. "Arcessere Imber."
Channah was gasping for breath. Her legs felt like lead. Her arms that were being supported by Martin and Simon ached and the pain from her many wounds stabbed at her. She raised her head and was surprised when a small drop of water landed on her cheek. Another bolt of lightning struck down in front of them and this time it was followed by pouring rain that immediately drenched them.
How funny, Channah thought dreamily. She wasn't even completely lucid anymore. If the Death Eaters had caught them… If death was their fate… so be it. She had no desire to live anyway. She and Martin had been tortured over and over again for information the Dark Lord wanted. She would welcome death now gladly. So would Martin she knew. But Simon? Channah knew he had a younger brother who was all he had left in the world. No. Simon would not want to die. But he didn't have a choice really. Channah giggled madly. None of them did.
The spell that Marric had done deflected the rain from them so they were quite dry. The rain had also put out the flames. Mela was silent beside Stephen who looked at the escaped prisoners still running about with utter contempt. Mela didn't know why Stephen hated them so much but if he did, then Mela decided they were worth her hatred too.
"What about one last spell?" Marric asked lazily.
Stephen smirked. "The coup de grace." He raised his wand.
Before he could speak another word, another voice beat him to it. "Finite Incantatem." Immediately, the fog dissipated, the thunderclouds rolled away, the lightning stopped flashing and the rain stopped pouring.
Stephen groaned. He knew that voice. His suspicions were confirmed when Thran walked over to them the next moment, an expression of anger on his features. Marric and Mela immediately bowed down before him. Why they did that confused Stephen, but he himself remained standing.
"What do you think you're doing?" Thran hissed.
"Er… practicing?" Stephen grinned weakly. The Dark Lord's eyes flashed. "Come on, Thran! We were just trying to help you catch those prisoners!"
"I have Death Eaters to do that, boy! I do not need three children!"
"Oh, are we talking about the same Death Eaters who let the said prisoners escape in the first place?" Stephen asked innocently. Mela had to suppress the urge to laugh.
Voldemort growled. "Vectura homines," he drawled out and waved his wand. Suddenly, the three escaped prisoners appeared in a heap before them in a flash of light. Stephen gaped. How had Thran done that?
"Stupefy." Voldemort followed up and the three were soon lying unconscious.
It was only then that Voldemort looked up to them again. "Stand up you two," he hissed then turned his attention to Stephen as Mela and Marric stopped bowing. "Practicing, eh? That was a good bit of weather magic you did. I don't remember teaching you to do it."
Stephen grinned. "Nah. I found some weather magic books and decided it'd be fun to learn. Although it did take me a few years before I could even start to perform some of the spells. I'd never really had the chance to practice it before."
Thran smirked. "Well if you wish to practice your magic, get those prisoners and follow me." The Dark Lord began to walk back to the manor.
Stephen shrugged. "Mobilicorpus." Simon's unconscious body floated in the air, directed by Stephen's wand. Marric and Mela did the same to Martin and Channah and the three of them followed the Dark Lord back inside the manor.
"Ennervate."
Simon groggily came to. He felt himself lying on cold hard stone and for a moment wondered how he had gotten there. Then it came to him. The escape, the mists, the magic-controlled weather… He frowned. Things began to blur from there. He faintly remembered three children and the Dark Lord peering down at him before he lost consciousness but that could've just been his imagination. Three children with the Dark Lord. Simon nearly laughed at the absurdity of the thought. Or he did until he turned over on the floor and saw the Dark Lord peering down at him. With three children. Then Simon was convinced he had lost his sanity.
Stephen rolled his eyes after he probed Simon's mind using Legilimency. "He thinks he's insane because you're with kids, Thran," the young boy grinned.
A groan indicated that Channah and Martin were beginning to wake too. Mela looked them over with a baleful eye. "How pathetic they look."
"W-what's going on?" Martin croaked out but stopped short when he saw what had stunned Simon into silence. Were those children with Voldemort? Channah rubbed her eyes, unsure if she was dreaming.
"The three of you," Voldemort addressed Stephen, Marric and Mela. "Are very strong. And you will grow stronger still. Unfortunately, my Death Eaters have an obvious advantage over you yet."
Stephen bristled. "Which is?"
"Experience," Voldemort shot back. "It can't be learned, it has to be lived. Doing the Killing Curse on a tarantula is eons different from doing it on an actual human being."
"So what exactly are you saying Thran?" Stephen asked, exasperatedly.
Voldemort fixed him with a penetrating look. "I thought you wanted practice," the Dark Lord replied softly.
Then Stephen understood. One glance at Marric and Mela told him that they understood too.
Was it worth it? Stephen pondered. Was all the power in the world worth killing these people? The answer came to him in the form of memories. A small boy of three tortured with the Cruciatus. A son starved for his parents' affection and love. A child terrified out of his wits, not understanding what the tingling power within him was. Then finally being accepted and taken in by the least likely person in the entire world. Stephen narrowed his eyes and all doubts in his heart fled away as he raised his wand and pointed it at a terrified looking Channah.
"Crucio!"
To accomplish the Cruciatus, you must have the will in you to truly wish another person pain. Aithinne's voice seemed to float in the air, mingling with the woman's screams.
Marric and Mela had been brought up as proper purebloods should be. To do one's duty. To be seen and not heard. To live for honor. They did not know friendship, they did not know affection. Until a messy-haired boy had stepped up just when they thought their lives were to end and had saved them. Their rooms were across the hallway from Stephen and it was impossible for them not to hear the other boy's screams while he was in the throes of a nightmare. Stephen never knew but whenever he had nightmares and screamed like there was no tomorrow, Marric and Mela would quietly enter his room and stay there, sometimes trying to comfort him. Sometimes Mela would play a bit of music on the flute Gal had given her. It seemed to soothe Stephen. From the nightmares, they'd gleaned a bit about Stephen's past, enough to understand. And they had vowed that never again would those nightmares happen.
You have but to ask me… and I will give you my life.
Marric and Mela raised their own wands to Simon and Martin. "Crucio."
Funny, how even screams raised a discordant melody all their own.
It was three hours of on and off Cruciatus curses then Thran told them to stop. Voldemort ran a critical eye over the bodies of Simon, Channah and Martin, shivering from prolonged torture.
"That is enough. You have done an excellent job. Finish them off," the Dark Lord ordered.
Three voices rose as one in the air. "Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green light later and Simon, Channah and Martin were no more. For the first time in their ten years, Stephen, Marric and Mela had killed. And looking back afterwards, they would never shed a tear for those first souls whose lives they took.
They say that killing another person stains the soul. That for some reason… you will never be completely whole again, Aithinne told him. Stephen had laughed. What rubbish.
Months later…
Stephen grinned. "So, are we agreed then?"
"Sure thing!" Marric replied and Mela grinned back. Then the three of them went off.
The mission: to wreak as much havoc as possible. Especially with Thran away, negotiating with giants. The day: April first. Mela and Marric had educated Stephen as to what April first meant to the outside world. After which – with the typical mischievous grin on his face – Stephen had proposed that the three have a contest to find out who could pull the most ingenious pranks. Unfortunately as Mela had pointed out, there were really not that much people to prank in the headquarters of the Dark Order. Stephen had said he would take care of it.
Which was why when the Death Eaters arrived in the manor, they had no idea what lay in store for them.
"I don't understand why Master had to owl us to come here," Travers wondered in his nasal voice. "He could have let us know via the Dark Mark…"
"It is not our place, fool, to question what Master does," Dolohov coldly replied.
From the small, circular window of the secret passageway, Stephen, Marric and Mela watched all the Death Eaters milling around.
"Well what're we waiting for?" Stephen whispered. "Ignis Pluvia."
Karkaroff shrieked and jumped out of the way as a ball of fire fell from the ceiling. The low chatter of the Death Eaters was halted when more fireballs fell like rain all over the room. Pandemonium ensued when their cloaks caught fire. And still fire fell. Some of the Death Eaters had formed shields around themselves. Some were running around crazed. Still some were helping their companions by trying to douse those whose cloaks had caught fire with water, but only accomplished half drowning the people they were trying to help.
"Oh, Merlin!" Mela could hardly speak from laughing out loud. Beside her, her twin and Stephen were doubled up laughing. She managed to halt giggling and smirked. "That's nothing compared to this. Turbo ventus."
Little tornadoes began to pop up around the room. Chaos was now complete. Stephen noted with interest that the fireballs were getting sucked into the tornadoes, creating a whirling vortex of flame. Nearly all the Death Eaters had caught fire now and smoke was beginning to choke the air. One of the Death Eaters finally had the brains to throw open one of the many doors that surrounded the room and run outside screaming. The rest of the doors were thrown open and in five minutes, the room was empty.
"Finite Incantatem. That was fast," Stephen smirked. "Better get this room fixed before Thran finds out. Ordinatus." The scorch marks vanished and everything was neat and tidy and clean again.
"They split up. They're all around the manor," Marric told him.
"Well let's hunt them down."
Lucius Malfoy was having a very bad day. Today was his mother-in-law's birthday and he, Narcissa and Draco had been lunching with the Blacks when the owl arrived, requesting his presence at the manor at once. He had excused himself and hurried here still in his dress robes because he of all people knew how displeased the Dark Lord was with latecomers. Now instead of the meeting with Voldemort, he had nearly been burned to death, blown apart by those mini-tornadoes and his dress robes were ruined. Oh, and of course there was the fact that he was lost in this godforsaken humongous manor (larger even than Malfoy Manor, Lucius couldn't help but notice). What more could possibly go wrong?
"Crustum!" he heard someone say behind him. Grasping his wand, Lucius Malfoy spun around.
SPLAT! The Death Eater stood motionless for one second before raising a hand and wiping it over his face. He stared at the substance that was now splattered all over his face, his robes, his everything. It was –
"Pies!" Marric chortled. "Cream pies! That was the best you could do? Not very imaginative, sister dearest."
Mela sniffed and scowled at Marric. "He's a finicky sort, Lucius Malfoy. I'd like to see you do better!"
Peter Pettigrew was out of breath and deathly terrified. He had run away from the room as fast as he could. Was the Dark Lord going to kill them all now? Because surely that was what the fire rain was for? The Marauder was close to tears. He did not know where he was in the manor. And he did not know where the other Death Eaters were either.
In the shadows at the end of the hallway, Peter thought he saw something move. He squinted. Was it just him or were those silhouettes human? Too small to be Death Eaters though… He began to back off slowly. Then he heard a voice saying what sounded like a spell. He was about to turn and run when figures started popping up around him.
Peter blinked. They were clowns. Brightly dressed, bright-haired clowns with big noses. And were those… Peter felt a bolt of fear as he recognized the objects the clowns were clutching. They were muggle machine guns. And at the moment, they were pointed at him. One of the clowns gave a honking laugh and fired.
Peter shrieked and ran for his life.
"Little rat," Stephen commented maliciously.
"That wasn't better than my spell, Mar," Mela smirked. "Muggle weapons, I tell you."
Severus Snape stared. And stared. And stared. He could have sworn that door had not been there a moment ago. And he could also have sworn that there was a hallway behind him a moment ago. Blinking, Snape decided that he didn't really have a choice. Turning the doorknob, he entered the room.
And blinked again. The room was blinding. Everything was a shocking pink. The rugs, the armchairs, the table, the floor, the walls, the ceilings. A shocking, vibrant, neon pink. A muscle near his face twitched. In slow, measured steps he walked to the pink-rimmed mirror that hung on one wall.
And bit back a scream. His robes and hair had also turned a shocking pink. With tremendous effort, Severus Snape managed to keep himself from fainting.
Stephen couldn't stop laughing. "I've always wanted to try that on him," he confessed.
Regulus Black kept twitching nervously and it was getting on Rudolphus Lestrange and Evan Rosier's nerves. Lestrange saw Rosier's hand twitching and knew he was eager to curse the Black into nothingness. Lestrange rolled his eyes. Regulus' brother may have been a blood-traitor, but he at least had guts. Unlike his cowardly excuse of a sibling.
Something soft and slightly wet hit Rosier on the neck. He raised his hand to his neck and stared at the thing. Furious, he rounded on Regulus.
"So, you think throwing dung at me is funny, eh Black?" he growled angrily, raising his wand.
"Oy, peabrain! Not him. Over here!" a small, high-pitched voice yelled.
Rosier raised his head to see who had spoken when another handful of dung hit him smack on the face. Lestrange stifled a laugh while Black looked, if possible, even more scared than ever. The thing that had thrown it was a poltergeist. With a wicked smile, the poltergeist then proceeded to pelt all three of them with dung, singing and laughing in glee.
"Where'd you get the poltergeist?" Stephen asked.
"I have my ways," Mela preened.
"Impedimenta!" Augustus Rookwood aimed behind him, hoping it would be enough to stop them. By the sound and chattering, he guessed not.
He had no idea where the pixies had come from but he didn't intend to stay there and let them harm him more. He was running from pixies. Rookwood did not even want to ponder how wrong that statement sounded. He turned a corridor, wrenched open a random door and ran inside. Locking the door with his wand, he breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, the pixies wouldn't find him in here.
He turned around to examine the room and wished he hadn't. A fully grown Norwegian Ridgeback was slumbering in the middle of the room. Rookwood felt himself break out in a cold sweat. The Ridgeback cracked open one eye and Rookwood unlocked the door and ran back outside to the pixies, screaming like a girl.
Marric rolled his eyes. "And to think that wasn't even a real dragon."
"This is a very strange room," William Carrows commented trying to hide his anxiety. Bellatrix Lestrange rolled her eyes. As if the statement wasn't obvious enough. The room was filled with mirrors. Wavy mirrors, mirrors that made you look taller, mirrors that made you look fatter and even more than Bella cared to name. It was quite amusing if they could figure out how to get out of here.
Bella paused in front of one of the mirrors, wanting to see her reflection. The person who looked back at her also had heavy-lidded black eyes and black hair but instead being a woman the person was…
"A man?" Bellatrix asked blankly. Behind her, Carrows screamed. She turned quickly and was shocked speechless. William had turned into a girl. Carrows took one look at her and screamed again.
"What? What is it?" she asked Carrows impatiently. He (or she as the case was now) merely pointed. Bellatrix looked down and examined her own body. The reflection hadn't lied, she realized shocked. Instead of her woman's curves down there she saw…
The three of them couldn't stop laughing. "Brilliant spell!" Marric managed to choke out to Stephen when they heard Bellatrix Lestrange's scream.
Stephen, Marric and Mela were chortling and walking down the corridor, trying to find more Death Eaters. Stephen grinned. They should've done this earlier. It really was fun to play with Thran's Death Eaters.
Stephen smirked as he saw Mulciber and Crabbe from a distance. "Damage time, guys," he declared and raised his wand.
"What do we have here?" a voice coldly asked.
Stephen, Marric and Mela spun around. It was Lavinia Yaxley, one of the Death Eaters. She was one of the rather talented ones, Stephen thought and cursed himself for not feeling her approaching.
"I do believe I've found the culprits to all that's been happening around here," Yaxley called out. Behind her came up Malfoy, Snape, Rabastan Lestrange, Macnair, Karkaroff and Dolohov. They all looked livid.
"Kids?" Dolohov spat out. "They're who've been doing this? I didn't happen to find it funny!"
Stephen scowled. Grasping Mela and Marric's hand, he muttered a spell and before Yaxley could even raise her wand to stop him, he, Marric and Mela had disappeared.
"Did they just Apparate?" Snape asked incredulously.
"Impossible!" Malfoy growled. "You can't Apparate or Disapparate anywhere here!"
"Well they went somewhere! And we need to find them!"
Lord Voldemort rather thought his meeting with the giants had gone rather productively. But as usual, he had a lot on his mind. For a few weeks now, he had been toying with the idea of introducing Stephen to his Death Eaters. The boy was fast mastering his Darkness and he was more than capable to take on any of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters and beat the pulp out of them now.
Voldemort's only problem was that he didn't know how to go about doing it and when. He wondered how Stephen would take the news as he appeared in front of the manor's front doors. Throwing open the doors, he strode inside to find his elementals waiting for him. He frowned.
Gal and Braon were laughing like there was no tomorrow. Aithinne's mouth was twitching and even Scraithin looked like he was smiling faintly.
"What is it?" the Dark Lord asked.
"M-master," Aithinne couldn't suppress a chortle. "I'm afraid Stephen, Marric and Mela have been… up to something, while you were away."
TBC
How will Voldie take it? Miracle he hasn't had a heart attack yet. This chapter was so much fun to write!
Coming up: Stephen, Marric and Mela meet the Death Eaters