A/N: For the record, the concept of the "Word of the Worlds" is my own original concept. It fits in with a magical theory that I was thought up of and I needed something cool for Dumbledore to teach Harry during The Denarian Lord- hence, the Words came into existence. A big thanks to DLP (what else is new) for their help on the chapter. I refined a lot of it so hopefully it reads a little smoother than before. I'm working on the next chapter as I upload this, so hopefully it won't be too long. Enjoy.
Oh, the 'decapitated' error in the last chapter was meant to be 'disipitated'. It's fixed now. Thanks for pointing it to me, guys.
Albus Dumbledore twirled his wand, fending off the vicious assaults of the slim, beautiful Fae. His eyes twinkled as a casual swish of his wand sent one of them spinning wildly through the air in an almost-comedic fashion. At the same time, he deflected a crackling sphere of energy with a loud 'pop' and sent it spiralling away. His movements had slowed and his weariness was showing, but his wand continued to blur in front of him with an almost instinctual ease, parrying and counterattacking with frightening ferocity.
One of the Fae leaped at him, a snarling face resembling that of werewolf, but Albus easily sidestepped and tapped his wand on the creature's flank as it soared past. It yelped, sounding frightened, and never struck the ground as it began to soar wildly through the air, zigzagging and spiralling in a set of aerobatic manoeuvres that would make a Qudditich player envious. Albus smiled rather gently even as his wand flashed up and delivered a scorching bolt of sizzling white energy that sliced through the muscular chest of a brutish centaur and split him in two.
Albus's smile disappeared and he frowned.
His wand was hot in his hand as he whirled round, his cloak billowing behind him- literally. The purple fabric wrapped around a sneering little goblin holding a bone-knife. The goblin squeaked and Albus ignored it, his cloak wrapping around the crumpled form tightly as the aged Headmaster sent a vicious arc of silver magic that split the skull of a green, feminine mermaid-like Fae with ease. The cloak shuddered and unravelled and a lone knife clattered to the ground, its owner gone- never to be seen again.
"Oh dear," Albus murmured and he paused. The Fae were content to leave him alone as they attempted to surround and swarm the Order of Phoenix, wary of the man's unimaginable magical power.
For his part, Albus was keen enough to notice the slight throbbing in forefront of his mind, clear signs of an approaching migraine. His chest heaved as he took in deep breaths, automatically running through a set of calming exercises. His wand began to cool down in his hand and Albus opened his eyes, casually banishing a heap of debris at one Fae brave enough to assault him when he appeared to be helpless. The Headmaster glanced down at his wand and sighed quietly as he noticed tendrils of ominous black light seep back into his wand.
That had been a close. Albus had not taken the field of battle for quite some time and he was beginning to remember why. It was here, in the thick of things, when he was in the most danger- not from his enemies, who were almost certainly to lose, but from himself. Nevertheless, a crooked smile appeared behind the man's large, white beard as he felt the buzz within his body die down. Fatigue brushed the edges of his mind but Albus accepted it, revelled in it, content to know that he was himself once more.
His next spell turned a slender, attractive girl, one who would look perfectly normal wearing Hogwarts robes, into a leather couch. The couch twitched and Albus chuckled as ropes exploded from the tip of his wand, binding several of her kin onto it. A swish, a flick and a tap sent his prisoners off into a deep, enchanted sleep while Albus calmly stepped forward. He brandished his wand and a glittery mist seeped from the tip of his wand, covering the flank of the fortifications of the Order.
A large, lumbering troll surged forward, pushing past its hesitant kin and letting out a giant roar of anger. It stepped into the glittering mist and paused, taking a couple of deep breaths. It cocked its head, seemingly confused, before it gave an abrupt cough. Phlegm and a dark sticky substance flew from its mouth as the massive beast collapsed as the miniscule iron shards ripped through its body. Albus remained emotionless as he strolled towards his next target. The little mewing cat-like Fae moaned in terror and scuttled off when Albus paused, his head shooting towards the other side of the hall.
The atmosphere of the hall felt wrong and Albus shuddered as his skin tingled, otherworldly power drifting across the hall as Harry unleased a powerful Word of the World. His eyes zoomed in on the battle, his eyebrows rising when Harry unleashed a second Word- and then a third, all in quick succession. Not for the first time, Albus couldn't help but feel amazed. Using a Word of the Worlds was a highly difficult process, without a doubt one of the hardest- if not the hardest- applications of wand magic in existence. As far as he knew, only a handful of wizards throughout history had ever managed to produce one without destroying themselves.
Harry had just produced three in quick succession and was still fighting despite the inevitable and terrible backlash that the Words must have caused. Albus's respect- and wariness- for the boy raised a few notches.
Albus quickly surveyed the situation amongst the Order, wincing almost imperceptibly at the still forms of his once loyal and dedicated friends. Then, taking a deep breath, he approached Lady Maeve and Harry Potter and prepared to assist his protégé in any way possible.
Suddenly, his paused and his wand zoomed up. He yelled out an incantation in haste and the force of the spell pushed him backwards, sending him soaring from the immense recoil. At the same time, the very air exploded with flames and a wicked howl went up through the air. Albus landed gracefully and stood back up, his eyes visibly widened. A gigantic storm of fire had filled up the space where Harry and Maeve had previously been. Searing heat brushed against his face and Albus instinctively tried to shield his eyes with his arm as he stared into it. The air was screeching in protest and great winds attempted to push the old man towards the fire as they were sucked into the swirling maelstrom of fire.
It didn't take a genius to discover that the foul, horrible flames were the result of the Fiendfyre Curse. Albus watched on grimly, unable to penetrate the dense mass of flames- he did not have the control that Harry, or even Lord Voldemort, commanded over dark magic such as this. Albus could not tell what was happening beyond the veil of searing heat and, not for the first time that evening, felt the common symptoms of frustration.
His keen senses alerted him to approaching trouble and, in his frustration, his arm snapped up. A shimmering pulse of light lashed out from his wand and struck a gigantic troll, who howled in agony as his limbs began to distort and his skin began to flap uselessly against the muscle. It collapsed but Albus ignored it as it began to thrash on the ground, its body warped and transfigured a mass of flapping skin and melted bone that made a mockery of normal flesh and bone.
"Do I dare?" Albus murmured to himself, regarding the Fiendfyre speculatively. While he could not stroll into the flames, the wizened man knew that he could permanently remove them if he chose to do so. But, if the Fiendfyre storm was essential to Harry's strategy then removing it might endanger the Denarian and possibly cost him the battle
At times like this, Albus wished that he could see into the future. A rather odd vision of being dressed in the misty, sparkling robes of Sybil and muttering about death and tragedy all the while giving off the strong scents of incense that his Divination Professor did disposed of that wish quite quickly.
"Oh dear," Albus chuckled quietly to himself. "I would look ridiculous." He paused and turned around, smiling amiably. "I'm sorry," he apologised to the trio of slender, pale-skinned Fae- who, until recently, had made themselves invisible as they had attempted to sneak up on him. "It's an inside joke, I'm afraid."
"Child of Summer," spoke the lead, a very tall male Sidhe. His electric-blue cat-like eyes surveyed him keenly while his elaborate blue and silver clothes, signs of nobility in the Winter Court, flapped in the winds created by the firestorm behind them. "You trespass on Winter land and bring violence against our court."
"Rather, it is you who have trespassed on my domain," Albus countered politely. He smoothed his beard, looking entirely unconcerned with the level of opposition he was facing even as the Sidhe's two companions circled him, a pair of identical females who looked as if they still hadn't reached puberty. "Your Lady has overstepped her bounds and, as such, I was forced to take immediate action."
"My Lady's will is my life," the Sidhe countered blandly. "She has decreed that you are the enemy." Something malicious flashed through his eyes. "To wield the fire of Summer here in the Court of Winter merely proves her right."
"I- oh, excuse me," Albus apologised. He raised his arm, gave a quick swish and murmured something before the Sidhe before him had even blinked.
The two little girls trying to flank him let out identical cries of surprise and thick ropes exploded from the torn and shattered floor of ice, wrapping around them and binding them together tightly. Albus gave the Sidhe, who had tensed and looked distinctly uncomfortable, a polite smile and, as quickly as it had come, his wand disappeared from his hand.
"Now, where was I?" Albus mused thoughtfully. "Ah, yes. You were just telling me that I was your enemy. I assume that you will take some form of action against me. For your sake- and the sake of your subordinates- I strongly suggest that you do not try." A cold expression flickered briefly on his face. "At this time, I find myself lacking the patience to deal with weaker opponents nicely and, I must say, you are significantly weaker and less skilled than I am."
The Sidhe sneered and Albus felt his lips twitch. With the male's pale hair and aristocratic looks, he could have passed for one of the many vain and pompous Pureblood students that he had been forced to deal with for decades. Power began to coil in the Sidhe's hand and Albus readied himself, his wand tingling beneath his long, baggy sleaves.
Then, something shifted in the air and the High Sidhe before him let out a terrible cry. Albus watched in surprise as the Sidhe clutched his head and shook it frantically, as if clearing a terrible fog off his mind. The two bound girls did the same and Albus allowed their bind to fall as they collapsed to the ground. Nearby, similar reactions were occurring throughout many of the Fae- although just as many continued to fight, albeit more frantically and panicked than ever.
The Sidhe staggered and glanced up at Albus, almost as if he didn't recognise him. Albus narrowed his eyes as his opponent broke off without conjuring a single spell and, with a quick signal to his two subordinates, swiped his hand through the air. A crack appeared through the air, a very rough portal forming to an unknown part of the Nevernever, and the three Fae disappeared. The crack closed up behind them, leaving a strangely confused Headmaster behind.
"Now, now. Isn't this interesting?" Albus murmured as he surveyed the area.
More and more Fae were disappearing in portals of their own or turning tail and fleeing. The ones that remained behind were stricken with something that could only be fear and panic, lashing out more at each other than at the Order of Phoenix- who, encouraged by the sudden disruption in the enemies resolve, pressed forward and broke the siege that had trapped them in their fortifications in a matter of seconds.
Albus turned back to the firestorm of unstable cursed flame and frowned. Such a severe reaction could only mean one thing, or, at least, that was what his somewhat limited knowledge of the Winter Court was telling him. He hesitated for a split moment, internally pondering if he could be wrong, but took a deep breath and raised his wand. His mind stilled for a split second and, using advanced Occulmency and other mental techniques, Albus wrapped himself around the consciousness of an alien being and empathised with it long enough to conjure up a Word of the Worlds.
A loud crack filled the air, easily heard over the raging storm of the fire, and a solid, black ball- no bigger than the size of a marble- shot from the tip of his wand. It arced over the fire and approached the roof, while Dumbledore paused and took a deep breath, feeling his old and withered hand shake slightly as pain boomed in his mind. Albus pressed forward, nothing showing on his face, and concentrated his will upon the Word, which hovered over the Fiendfyre and paused. An incredible hiss filled the air and the massive firestorm drifted up toward the orb, which began tosuck up the flames with incredible force.
For his part, Albus ignored the waves of pain the spread all the way through his old and tired frame as he stood resolute. It was his unyielding will that stopped the Word from absorbing anything else apart from flame into itself, and the strain was almost too much on his body. Despite that, the Fiendfyre was quickly disappearing, spirally up into the air in an awesome display of nature. A final, loud and inhuman roar came from the rapidly vanishing Fiendfyre, almost as if the cursed flame was screaming out in protest, before it disappeared into the orb with a soft 'pop'.
Albus relaxed with a weary sigh and orb, now the colour of molten steel, shuddered once and fell to the ground. It landed in a pile of melted ice and went still, glowing radiantly in the relative darkness that had befallen the hall. The headmaster surveyed the area grimly, noting the large craters that littered the ground. The fire had melted massive amounts of ice and it ran across the ground in a slow stream, falling into trenches and pockmarks and allowing gravity to do the rest. A hole had been blasted into the ceiling at one point and the thick, angry clouds of the Winter court spat down torrents of rain, which drizzled into the suddenly silent hall as Albus approached the edge of the largest crater.
Lying on the ground below, blood dribbling from his mouth and his tattered brown robe frayed and singed in many places was Harry Potter. His emerald eyes were weary and filled with pain yet they focused on Albus easily enough and the boy was able to give him a ghost of his usual satisfied smirk. Cradled in his arms was Amanda Carpenter, who was whimpering slightly, her leg bent in an unnatural way. Dumbledore briefly looked over them and turned to the second thing of interest in the crater.
The slack and fear-filled eyes of Lady Maeve met his own and Dumbledore squared his shoulders grimly. For all her beauty, Maeve's features were ugly and spiteful in death and her fingers were curved into a claw-like position, as if she had attempted to rip into something a moment before her death. Blood polled from a large gouge in her chest, where the remnants of silvery Soulfire continued to burn amidst her torn and bloodied flesh.
There was no denying it.
The Winter Lady was dead.
Harry knew that he should be in an exponential amount of pain at the moment, especially when to evaluated his condition and noted the various wounds and injuries he had sustained. Luckily for him, Meciel had numbed up his entire body as a victory present and all he could feel was a pleasant haze. It did make movement a tad troublesome but Harry didn't care as he glanced up at Dumbledore and tried to smirk.
Fuck, was he tired.
Amanda whimpered in his grip and Harry looked down, noting her broken leg and cut-up body. Had it been any other time, he would have stopped to appreciate the generous amount of cleavage that the blonde girl was showing through her tattered Hogwarts robes. Given the circumstance, Harry only looked a couple of times before he hauled them both up to their feet.
'Oh, my beloved little host,' Meciel murmured and he could feel her happiness, her satisfaction. Invisible hands stroked his hair and leaned against his back. 'You have succeeded, Harry. You are free now. We shall never be apart like that again, do you hear me? Never again.'
"You're so clingy," Harry grumbled under his breath but a smile tugged on his lips. Amanda shivered underneath him and Harry frowned, finally noticing that the both of them were drenched in water, which continued to run over the edge of the large crater in little mini-waterfulls.
That led him to another problem.
The walls of the crater were at least nine metres high, bigger than a two story house, and Harry knew that he wasn't going to be able to jump out of the cavernous hole in his condition. He sighed and, wincing in pain, focussed a slender tendril of Hellfire. His body shivered and Harry shuddered uncomfortably as he extended his large wings of bone from his back. At the moment, it was as if his body couldn't even stand the pressure of channelling magic.
Not that he blamed it. Three words must have done an enormous amount of damage on his relatively fragile body.
Using the wings as leverage, Harry slammed them into the wall of the crater and, holding Amanda tight, began to climb up the vertical wall. Dumbledore had moved away from the edge and disappeared from sight. Amanda murmured something quietly in his arms but otherwise remained still as Harry reached the top and hoisted the both of them onto the ground above. He laid her down gently and then hobbled over to Dumbledore, who was peering down at something.
When he got closer, he could see the Headmaster's object of interest.
Harry came to a stop right next to the old wizard, giving him a quick once over with his eyes. Apart from his torn robes and his blackened hand, the man was without a doubt the one who looked the least affected by the epic battle that had just taken back. Harry then glanced down and kept his face stony as he took in Amaris' still body. The bloodied wound had been partially closed over and Harry frowned, noting something clear- something that looked like ice- over her wound.
"She's still alive," Dumbledore murmured. "Although, the wound still remains fatal."
"Oh," Harry uttered. He cocked his head at that. "Oh."
Amaris was still alive. Amaris was still alive? Harry pondered that and realised that, in his emotionally exhausted state, he couldn't muster up the energy or enthusiasm for any kind of emotion. Using those Words had completely sapped the mental and physical strength from his body.
The two powerful wizards stood side by side, staring down at the delicate features of Harry's daughter. Finally, Harry peered at Dumbledore from the corner of his eyes.
"Thanks for coming for me," he grunted.
"It was no problem," Dumbledore replied politely.
Harry peered over his shoulder and surveyed the Order of Phoenix, only slightly surprised that they were there.
"It looks like it was a problem," Harry noted. He squinted. "Looks like some of them are dead, too."
"I know," Dumbledore replied quietly. "But we could not leave you in the hands of Maeve. You are still needed. The prophecy requires it."
"I'm glad you have your priorities in order," Harry remarked dryly.
Dumbledore made an apologetic noise and smoothed his beard. The Headmaster of Hogwarts seemed to be pondering something and Harry humoured him until, finally, he broke the silence.
"Well, as morbid as this is, gazing at my fatally wounded daughter, don't you think we should-" Harry paused as Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him.
"Wait."
"Wait for what?" Harry demanded, feeling the first signs of annoyance creeping into him.
"To be a Faerie Queen is to be more than title. Rather, it is a mantle- a mantle of power," Dumbledore lectured. "When one queen dies, this mantle is transferred to the nearest available receptacle and that person becomes the new Queen."
Harry took this in and his eyes widened.
"Wait, you mean that...?"
He broke off when a sudden blue flash of light filled his gaze. Something surged past him, an invisible mass of energy that lifted the hairs on his arm and caused his skin to tingle in apprehension. He glanced away, shielding his gaze as the light grew brighter and brighter. He was vaguely aware of Dumbledore standing resolute before his vision was taken from him and all he could see was pure, blue light. Then, it all abruptly disappeared and Harry opened his eyes again. He glanced down and his heart skipped a beat.
Amaris' green eyes, identical to his in every way, stared back at him blankly. Harry started and shifted back a step, shock flooding his system. His heart pounded in his ears as Amaris calmly stood up, regarding her wound carefully. She raised her slim hand and ice crawled across the ground, slithering up to her bloody stomach wound and flash-freezing it in a second. Amaris cocked her head and appeared satisfied as she- slowly- staggered to her feet.
Harry watched her with wide eyes while Dumbledore stood there calmly, his wand in his hand and clasped loosely to his side. The Headmaster appeared to be ready for anything but Harry literally gaped as his daughter brushed off her shoulders and turned towards him.
"Amaris!" Harry breathed.
Amaris opened her mouth to respond, and then paused. She let out a rough, hacking cough and doubled over. Droplets of red liquid stained the ice as Amaris finished her cough. She looked up weakly and Harry winced at the sight of her bloodstained mouth.
"Father," she murmured hoarsely. "I am glad to see that you are safe."
At the sound of her voice, Harry's mind flashbacked to his captivity and he tensed. His emotions were surging through him turbulently. Anger and rage over her treatment of him quarrelled with his reluctant happiness that she was still alive. On the one hand, Harry was glad that he hadn't killed his own flesh and blood, that the little eight-year old girl that he had looked after and had grown fond of at one point was still alive. On the other hand, he could barely stand to look at her, for the urge to cock his fist and break her fucking nose was becoming more and more insistent.
"Lady...Amaris," Dumbledore greeted quietly.
Amaris regarded him for a moment.
"You are nothing to me," she said blandly. "Be gone, and take your servants with you. I grant you this act of mercy from the kindness of my heart."
Harry couldn't help but snort. "Yeah right," he muttered. "Kindness? Where'd you get that from? Your mother was a psychopathic bitch and I'm a sociopathic serial killer. You didn't get it from either of us."
Amaris's lips twitched.
Dumbledore suddenly stiffened. "They are coming," he said in alarm and spun around. Harry followed his gaze.
All around the hallway, long, thin cracks were appearing in the air. Portals from other regions of the Nevernever appeared in the dozens and tall, pale faced and well-dressed Sidhe were stepping out of them. Many of them were dressed in fancy garb but Harry saw that a lot of them wore fine, gleaming armour of black-ice and carried hefty swords or spears of bronze or copper. Dumbledore made a motion to the Order and they must have recognised it because they stood down. Harry wasn't paying any attention to that though as he turned back to Amaris, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
"I ain't gonna go quietly," he promised.
"This is not my doing," Amaris murmured and stepped past him.
Suddenly, the atmosphere of the place shifted and Harry grunted as an overwhelming pressure came across him. His mouth parted in shock and pure, undiluted terror filled his eyes as the wrath of an immense being was focussed upon him. His heart surged, his eyes wide with panic, and he was forced to his knees as the ice cracked around his form. Never before had he felt such power, never!
'Hellfire!' Meciel uncharacteristically cursed within his mind and Hellfire flooded his pained body. Whatever she did, the feelings of terror and panic dimmed until they became a background throb in his head. 'Harry, beloved, we are in trouble.'
'What the hell was that?' Harry demanded, unable to lift his head off the ground.
'A glamour,' Meciel replied grimly. 'An illusion in part, although the sheer power that you felt was undeniably real. Remember how the Winter Court has three queens? Your dealings only extended to the youngest and weakest of them all- the Lady. The one who approaches us, she is the real power of Winter.'
'Can I kick her arse?'
'She is as strong as I am, perhaps stronger,' Meciel replied quietly. 'And that is when I am not bound within the Void. She has the power of an old god and could match an Archangel in strength and skill.'
The presence was coming closer yet Harry was still unable to lift his head off the ground. He gritted his teeth and began to summon the full might of Hellfire to strengthen him.
'I think she's pissed,' Harry thought grimly.
'Maeve was her daughter.'
"Fuck!" Harry cursed.
"Hmm, maybe later, dear," a smooth voice said amusedly. It had an accent that Harry couldn't quite place, somewhat European and somewhat different from anything he had heard before. Abruptly, the pressure on Harry ceased and he quickly jumped to his feet, preparing to launch a devastating Word upon the new enemy- entirely aware that the backlash would probably harm himself more than it would harm her.
Never let it be said that Harry would go without fighting. Not after experiencing Winter's hospitality.
Harry's eyes widened and he paused as he took in the sight before him. Every Winter Sidhe was on his or her knees save one, who stood next to a prostrating Amaris with a superior and almost amused expression on her face. She had white hair, not white-blond or platinum but pure, white as snow hair. Her skin somehow looked paler than her long hair. Her oblique eyes were a deep green that tinted to blue when she tilted her head to look upon Harry, while her features were not old. They were not young either, they just were.
Her blue and silver silken dress breezed around her ankles, hovering above the ground yet never touching it, as if the woman herself refused to be dirtied like that. Harry swallowed hard and glanced away, trying to regain his bearings. Yet, the scent of her perfume washed over him, something wild and rich, heavy and sweet and Harry sighed in annoyance.
"Your glamours are good," Harry praised, avoiding the sight of Faerie Queen before him- for what else could she be. "Really, really good. Perfect, in fact."
Harry could hear the Faerie Queen smile.
"You are mistaken," she replied and her voice was like velvet and honey. "I don't need little tricks like that."
"Queen Mab, Lady of Air and Darkness, Embodiement of Winter, your royal majesty," Dumbledore greeted quietly and Harry saw the old man bow deeply before the woman. Reluctantly, he turned his head and watched. "I am honoured to meet you."
Instantly, Mab's entire demeanour changed. Her face went slack and utterly dead and her eyes glittered with inhuman emotion as she regarded Dumbledore. His back itched as he peered past the woman's face, seeing something so totally inhuman and just so different that it made him want to squirm. All Fae had that particular quality in one way or another, but this woman breathed it.
"Albus Dumbledore," she spoke and Dumbledore rocked at the sound of his name being uttered by this woman. "Child of Summer, Chosen of Phoenix." She smiled at that, cruel and nastily. "I both commend and condemn you attempts to distract me. You, of all people, should not want my eye on you. Yet, it goes to your level of commitment to your little servant that you attempt to shield him from me."
Dumbledore remained quiet, his eyes briefly meeting Harry's. Harry himself had the sinking feeling that the old man had absolutely no idea as what to do. Queen Mab regarded the Headmaster for a moment longer and then strolled past him. She walked to the edge of the large crater and stared down as rain and little bit of debris continued to fall from the gaping hole in the roof. Harry had no doubt what she was looking at and winced. The Queen was silent as Harry and Dumbledore waited in a tense silence. Amaris had risen and was very pale- even more pale than usual. Harry could see a trickle of blood dripping from her wound and frowned.
"I see," Queen Mab eventually said at last, not a hint of emotion revealed in her tone. "My daughter is dead."
After a moment's silence, Amaris stepped forward. "That is true, your majesty," she offered. "Lady Maeve has fallen in battle. Her mantle was passed upon to me, her daughter of flesh and blood. I am Amaris Potter. I am the new Winter Lady."
Queen Mab turned and appraised Amaris carefully. "Granddaughter of my flesh and blood, you are wounded," she observed. "Who did this to you?"
"It is complicated," Amaris hesitated. "I was struck by cold iron."
"And who wielded it?"
"A spell by my father here, Harry Potter, caused this wound," Amaris answered and Harry could have sworn that she sounded reluctant to answer. She was quick to clarify, however. "But..."
She was silenced as Queen Mab raised a hand and her gaze came to rest upon Harry. "Then, who landed the mortal blow against my daughter? Was it you, Child of Summer? Or was it you, Child of the Void?"
The question was so loaded that Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Dumbledore decided to have a fit. He paused and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and stealing himself for what was to come. Meciel buzzed in his mind encouragingly as Harry wrapped his tired and battered body in Hellfire and strengthened himself.
"I heard the question but can I just clarify?" Harry spoke up and his voice sounded as cocky as ever. "Are you asking who killed the vicious and cruel and slutty bitch down there? The one who raised his wand and gladly watched as the life fled from that whore's eyes? If you are, then that'd be me."
Absolute silence hung in the air. Very slowly, Dumbledore turned his head and gazed at Harry with a look of utter incredibility. Amaris too turned to him and quite literally gaped at him. At any other time, Harry would have been satisfied to have finally gotten a strong emotion out of the normally stoic girl but his focus rest entirely on Queen Mab, who was staring at him blankly.
"Brave words," she uttered quietly.
Harry rolled his eyes and stepped forward. "Either way, I killed Maeve and I really, really liked doing it," he answered honestly. "I can either be meek and humble or I can be upfront and bold about it. Either way, if you want to kick my arse then you will and, frankly, I simply cannot be fucked putting up with anymore bullshit on my part. If you hadn't noticed, it's been a really busy day."
Queen Mab continued to stare at him quietly. "What if I take offense at your brutish manner and decide to make an example out of you?"
"Then I'll just have to try to kill you," Harry declared boldly and grinned hopefully at her. "Besides, I'm kind of resting my chances that you like somebody being spunky. You know, that whole cliché and everything."
Queen Mab nodded calmly and then, to Harry's great relief, she smiled in amusement. Human emotion flooded back into her face and Harry exhaled noisily, raking a hand through his hair as the atmosphere abruptly lightened.
"I'm so glad that worked," he muttered to himself.
"You're right, boy," Queen Mab murmured. "I do like spunk. You're not afraid to speak your mind and, in a way, I can respect that."
"You can?" Harry asked in surprise.
"Oh yes," Queen Mab answered and something flashed through her green feline-eyes. "Anybody who is foolish enough to speak their mind in front of the Queen of Air and Darkness must obviously be mentally deficient. For such a creature to survive into adulthood, let alone command the ability to walk, is impressive in itself."
Harry blinked at that and stared at the Queen with an unreadable emotion. Then, a small chuckle escaped his lip. "Man, I gotta remember that one," he said. "Except, you know, I'll do it better."
"I am pleased that you enjoy my wit," Queen Mab said, still smiling as she stood on the ledge above the crater. "Perhaps you will enjoy your time with me when I take you away from here and punish you for murdering my daughter!"
The moment the words had left her lip, Harry reacted. Close enough to the Queen to reach her, a single wing of bone snapped from his back and zoomed through the air. Mab didn't even blink as a sharp blade of bone stopped mere millimetres from her throat. Harry regarded her with a scowl, his eyes beginning to burn with Hellfire as emotion flared through his body. There was no way in hell that Harry was going to let himself get captured again!
"Please," somebody broke in and he recognised his daughter's voice. Harry kept his gaze on Queen Mab, who looked somewhat humoured by his defiance. "My Lady, your majesty, grant me the boon of your ear?"
Queen Mab slowly nodded, bringing her head up and down and almost-but not quite- impaling herself on Harry's wing. Harry heard scuffling feet as Amaris came to stand up by his side and remained still when his daughter bowed her head.
"My Queen, I respectfully request that you allow Harry Potter and his company to go free," Amaris spoke quietly and there was a hint of pleading in her voice that made Harry feel surprised. "I regret to tell you that Lady Maeve was not entirely loyal to you, my Queen. She subverted the will of Winter on many occasions and tapped into power sources not appropriate for one of her station. It is my belief that she intended to attempt to overthrow you and take your position."
"What, Maeve overthrow Mab?" Harry asked in scorn. "Please, she wasn't that good." He finished with a grunt and couldn't help but glance down as Amaris removed her elbow, her eyes never leaving her Queens.
"You're not helping your cause, Father," Amaris muttered underneath her breath.
"Bite me, brat," Harry muttered back.
Queen Mab looked amused at their byplay and pondered Amaris for quite some time. Harry, his body tense and filled to the brim with Hellfire, twitched impatiently as his muscles flexed in preparation. Finally, Queen Mab looked up and nodded her head, her pale skin once again coming only scant millimetres from touching sharp bone.
"Very well, granddaughter of blood and flesh," she murmured. "I grant you your request. Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore," she practically spat out. "are free to go without reprisal. Their servants may leave with them without fear of harm for their action here today."
"I thank you, my Queen," Amaris bowed.
Mab turned her feline-slanted eyes upon Harry. "You know that my kind, small or big, is unable to lie. You can trust my word. I will allow you to leave."
Harry slowly retracted his wing of bone but immediately felt suspicious. "Hang on," he demanded quizzically. "Amaris just alludes to that and we're free to go? Just like that?"
"What can I say? Perhaps I make decisions on a whim," Mab responded dryly. She lifted a hand and Harry tensed as she stroked his cheek. He awaited a host of glamours but strangely enough none came. "You amuse me, boy, and you are my son-in-law. Do I need another reason?"
"Father," Amaris whispered. "Let. It. Drop."
Harry narrowed his eyes but cautiously backed away from the Queen, who seemed more than willing to let him go. He glanced around and saw that Dumbledore was approaching the Order, instructing them in a quiet and firm voice as what to do. He moved to join him when a slender hand clutched and his tattered robes.
"Father," Amaris murmured. "You are leaving now, yes?"
"I am," Harry said curtly. He still wasn't sure how to act around his daughter.
"You are angry with me." It was not a question. "I have hurt you, just like Mother did."
"Yep," Harry answered tightly and between clenched teeth.
Amaris cocked her head. "I do not wish you to be angry with me," she told him and her lips twitched. "Is there anything I can do about it? I will accept any and all of your punishments."
Harry turned and gazed at her furiously. The pent up emotions that he thought he had spent in his fight against Maeve rose up within him until it felt like he would explode. In a remarkable act of self control, Harry gestured at Amaris' wound.
"Will that kill you?" He asked grimly.
"I have quite some time before the wound will prove fatal," Amaris answered calmly. "I have suspended my injuries with my new powers. I shall have it examined and healed later."
Harry nodded. "Good," he muttered darkly. Then, he reared his hand back and slapped Amaris across the cheek with all of his Hellfire-enhanced strength.
Amaris rocked back under the blow but managed to keep her footing. She slowly adjusted herself and turned back to Harry, one of her pale cheeks already beginning to bruise. She said nothing as Harry glared down at her, and did not protest when Harry slapped her again. She righted herself but was unprepared when Harry backhanded her and sent her sprawling to the ground.
"Do you feel better yet?" Amaris asked quietly from her position, her voice giving no indication if she was feeling pain.
"No," Harry replied grimly and watched as Amaris hefted herself up. "You have no idea what I feel, Amaris, absolutely no fucking idea."
Amaris nodded and stood there quietly. She looked meek and timid as Harry raised his hand again. His entire body screamed at him to deliver a square punch to her face but, with a disgusted growl, his lowered his arm and merely flicked her across the nose.
"You're a dumbarse brat for listening to your mother," Harry snapped. "For the record, I did not appreciate the mindfucks you tried to give me. Do you understand?"
Amaris frowned. "You misunderstand me," she said clearly and without emotion. "Everything I told you within those chambers was the truth. Father, I do love you."
"You're a Fae," Harry deadpanned. "You don't love."
"I do," Amaris insisted. She took a step forward, invading his personal space and Harry shifted uncomfortable on his feet. "Father. Stay here with me."
"What?"
"Mother is dead. You have nothing to fear," Amaris reassured him. "I am the new Winter Lady. You are safe in my domain. Here, you can gain power and strength. Here, you can have an army to do your bidding. Here, you can be safe. Here," she paused. "Here, you can be with your family. Do not leave me, Father."
Harry was silent. He regarded his daughter carefully and suddenly felt very, very tired. He was tired of it all, the Fae mind games and the second guessing, but the idea of a safe haven here was appealing to him. But, in the end, he knew that he couldn't and something must have shown on his face because Amaris closed her eyes in defeat and let out a soft sigh.
"You will not stay."
"Nope," Harry answered softly.
"Very well," Amaris conceded and touched Harry gently on the arm. "But remember this, Father. For as long as I am alive, I will always love you. You are my Father and you will always be welcome here in my domain. Remember that for as long as you live."
Harry hesitated as Amaris closed in on him for a hug. He rolled his eyes and sighed but his lips twitched reluctantly as he enclosed his arms around his daughter and returned her affectionate gesture. Her body was cold but Harry could feel heat beneath the surface, the little nugget of humanity buried somewhere down there. He rested his chin on her head and exhaled noisily.
"Amaris?" he said quietly.
"Yes, Father?"
"Don't ever betray me again," he warned and stroked her hair. "Because if you do I will kill you."
"I understand."
"Man," Harry groaned. "You're just lucky I've gone all soft and pathetic on you."
Amaris blinked.
"Harry?"
Harry looked over Amaris and saw Dumbledore waiting patiently beside a glowing portal. The rest of the Order of Phoenix had already gone and the Knights of the Cross were nowhere in sight. Harry took a deep breath and pulled away from Amaris. With a last lingering touch, his daughter stepped back at took one last look at Amaris. Then, he turned his gaze to Mab's superior gaze and smirked.
"I really, really hope that we never meet again," he murmured. He turned around and followed Dumbledore through the portal, away from the Nevernever and back to the mortal world. Mab's reply travelled with him and he couldn't help but shudder when he heard them.
"I promise you- we will."
Amaris stood by her Grandmothers side as the portal to the mortal world vanished and the split in the air sealed up. The two Faerie Queens were silent as Mab turned back to gaze upon the fallen form of her daughter. Amaris cocked her head and looked at her dead mother dispassionately. She could not conjure up an emotion, either good or bad, at the sight of Maeve's dull eyes and bloodied chest. As she analysed herself carefully, she thought that she could detect a hint of relief- but it was a very shaky hypothesis and she discarded it immediately. Finally, Mab turned to Amaris and the slender Fae was shaken out of her musings.
"Well played, dear granddaughter," Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness, murmured. She raised a pale and perfectly manicured hand and tapped Amaris on the head in a awkward display of human affection.
Amaris knew an insult when she saw it but allowed it to slide by. She had no interest in bartering and jibing with a being far more powerful than she is. Blood only runs so far, after all.
"I thank you," Amaris answered instead and Mab may have looked a tad disappointed.
"Has it all been arranged?" Mab asked, gesturing at Maeve. "I do not want any of her conspirators to escape unharmed."
"I have sent out loyal servants to apprehend them, your majesty," Amaris answered blankly. "Mother's treachery will come to an end tonight. They will learn that nobody betrays the Winter Court, no matter what their station."
Mab smiled chillingly and Amaris suppressed a shudder at the fearful sight. "My daughter and her little followers have been dealt with. How wonderful." She cast her gaze down at Amaris, who continued to stare at her dead mother. "Everything has gone exactly as planned. You are the Winter Lady. This treachery has been uprooted. Your...father...is safe."
Mab's hands trailed down her granddaughter's chest but unlike Maeve, there was nothing sexual about as the Faerie Queen carefully examined the wound on Amaris's chest. It was frozen solid, sealed with the power of Winter.
"Your wound is unexpected," she concluded at last. "Nonetheless, it is not fatal. I shall have it examined by my most trusted advisors. I did not expect Maeve to so blatantly sacrifice you as she did. Perhaps she became suspicious when reinforcements did not immediately arrive. Perhaps she saw that your usefulness had come to an end."
Amaris nodded faintly, her expression unreadable even to the Great Queen of Winter. Mab just shook her head and smiled faintly in amusement as her hand dropped back to her side. The two stood side by side until a fast blur of silver zoomed into the room and a little faery dropped onto Amaris' head.
"My Queen," Cessbulby intoned quietly. The usual eagerness and hyperactivity that the little Fae was known for was gone, replaced by a solemn, respectful tone. "My Lady."
"Taking in strays?" Mab asked. She appraised the small, pink-haired being once and then glanced away, as if dismissing her as irrelevant. "How...human...of you."
"She proved useful," Amaris defended herself mildly. "In fact, she was a key instrument here today."
Mab inclined one of her pale eyebrows but said no more on the matter. "I am curious though, how were you so sure that Albus Dumbledore would attempt a rescue attempt for the boy? Yes, he is more powerful than the average wand-wizard but I do not see why the effort was needed."
The glint in her eyes proved that she was very well aware of the facts, leaving Amaris to conclude that it was a test of some kind. She was unsure. Even now, at the end of it all, Fae culture still confused her. Human culture did too, she supposed. Nonetheless, she answered.
"Dumbledore was going to come. He needs Harry Potter," Amaris said quietly. "He had no other choice. It was only a matter of when. I had to ensure that he would arrive safely, hence, I instructed my servant to pass on my directions. It proved adequate."
Mab looked pleased.
"However," Amaris continued and eyed Mab blankly. "It would not be wise to underestimate the powers of my father. Many have done so and none have lived to tell of it. Mother is merely single name of a very large list."
Amaris couldn't decipher Mab's expression as she finished her sentence. Instead, she gave Cess an affectionate pat on the head and silently bowed her head to Mab in an unspoken request to leave. Mab waved her off with a single hand and Amaris departed from her side. As she walked across the deserted warzone, Mab called out after her.
"I am surprised to find that you have befuddled me," the Queen of Air and Darkness admitted. "When you came to me, I first thought that you wanted the mantle of Lady for yourself and your Mother's betrayal was merely an excuse. Now, I cannot determine if you killed your mother for power...or if you killed her because she was going to take away your toy."
Amaris paused in her step. For the first time since Queen Mab had arrived, she felt a stirring of emotion within her chest. It annoyed her.
"My Father is not a toy," she replied quietly.
"Of course not," Mab agreed. "After all, you love him. Or, do you? He is powerful. He would make an excellent ally in the future should you need him and I have no doubt that he would come if you called. Once again, I cannot tell what you really want from him."
"I know you can't," Amaris answered without turning back. She picked up at her pace and her words drifted back to her grandmother with ease. "That is why you and I are very different from each other."
"Oh, I have no doubt," Mab murmured to herself and turned back to her daughter's corpse, almost sadly. "I have no doubt at all about that."
Hogwarts glimmered beautifully in the night and moonlight bounced off the Great Lake, casting an eerie glow around the large grounds. In the Hospital Wing, Harry Potter was awoken from his slumber from the instinctual knowledge that somebody was standing close to him. He slightly edged his head and saw a shadowed, feminine form standing above him.
"I was so worried," Amanda whispered to him. "I didn't know what had happened to you. I almost felt like crying."
Harry was silent as Amanda sat on the edge of his bed. Her hand came forward and he did not resist when she began to stroke his hair.
"You were right, you know," she told him softly. "Meciel, she really does love you. She loves you more than I can comprehend. I could feel it when she was inside of me and, you know, it really got me thinking. What do I feel compared to that?"
The bitterness was easily apparent in her voice and although a dozen blithe and sardonic retorts came to his mind, Harry didn't say a word. Deep within his mind, Meciel stirred and clung to his mental presence tighter, her warm presence basking his consciousness with her affection.
"Do I love you, Harry?" Amanda asked him but she clearly was not expecting an answer. "Or do I have a crush on you? What do I want? What can I do?"
"You could shut up and stop bothering me," Harry murmured sleepily and then frowned when he found himself instantly regretting it.
"I...I could do that," Amanda sounded hesitant and Harry could picture her standing there, biting her lip and looking frazzled in her indecision- although what she was indecisive about Harry had no idea.
He opened his mouth to say something when she shifted and sprawled down next to him, her face just scant centimetres from his. He swallowed, feeling odd, as Amanda's warm body pressed against his. He could smell her and was suddenly very aware of her presence.
"I...um..." Amanda cleared her throat nervously. When she spoke again, she sounded more determined and her voice was firmer. "I don't know what I feel," she confessed. "But...but...I do know what I want?"
Her sentence ended in a question as she slowly placed an arm around his shoulders. Harry stiffened and inclined his head so he was staring at her blurry form from the corner of his eye. Slowly, as if she was still unsure of her own actions, Amanda leaned forward and kissed him hesitantly. Harry returned it eagerly and she broke apart, gasping for breath. Even in the darkness, her blush was evident. Harry reached up and cupped her chin.
"This isn't going to go anywhere," he felt compelled to warn despite himself.
"Just...just shut up and kiss me!"
Harry's eyes widened but he was not one to disagree as she slithered up his body and captured his lips once again. With a sudden growl, Harry rolled over and ignored her sudden squeak as he pressed himself against her curvy body and ran his hands through her thick, golden hair.
Who was he to argue with the brat?