Disclaimer: Blargh.
Warnings: Oh no, look out...
A/N:
- Ha, I finished this one quickly, didn't I? On an off-note, I'm trying to keep a stock of chapters so that I'll be able to update even if I can't write. If you don't hear from me in a while, then that's probably what I've decided on.
Chapter25: The Dormant Serpent
Harry sat slopped over his bowl of boiling porridge, mouth hanging open and eyes hazy as he pondered the recent happenings. It had been funny, racing down to the common room to beat Ron and Hermione to the portrait hole. He must've looked mad, holding them back from going to breakfast and waiting for an empty room.
Hermione and Ron had given him the 'are you okay?' look when he gibbered on about how Kurama was really a fox demon, and how he had accidentally attacked him, Yusuke, and Kuwabara that very morning. He chattered like a monkey about how they were all really an investigation squad sent over from Japan.
He blabbed about how they had come to the realization that a Hogwarts student was at the center of the plot of Voldemort's scheme, how she was the central piece. His words began to mash together before Hermione cut across him.
"Harry, what you're saying makes no sense," she reasoned. "You're telling me that Kurama's a demon, here, at Hogwarts, and no one else has figured that out yet? That this girl, what was her name–?"
"Raven," Ron supplied through sleepy eyes and a yawn.
"Right," Hermione said, "that this Raven girl is under Voldemort's–"
"'Mione, please!" Ron squawked. She ignored him.
"–control and Dumbledore hasn't done anything, and that she's some sort of human sacrifice–"
"Medium," Harry corrected.
"–fine, medium, that's imperative to his plot and she's here?"
"She's a point, Harry," Ron offered. "It sounds a bit nutty." His stomach growled. "Mmm, nuts. Can we go now? I'm starving."
"You're always starving Ron, and no! I'm serious," Harry said, exasperated. "What will it take to make you two believe me?" Ron and Hermione exchanged questioning glances, before turning on the spot to discuss the issue out of Harry's earshot.
"Someone to back up your crazy story," Hermione said simply.
"We want to here the same story straight from the demon's mouth," Ron added.
"From Kurama?" Harry said. "He's at breakfast. If you–"
"Great!" Ron exclaimed happily. Before Harry had finished his sentence, Ron had sprinted out the portrait hole and down the hall. Hermione threw Harry a helpless look, shrugged, and followed him.
And now he was back over his bowl of porridge, which had become stone cold in his absent-mindedness, and Ron was wolfing down his second helping of eggs. Harry glanced across the Great Hall to get a glimpse of Kurama at the Ravenclaw table, who sat with his head bent conversing with Botan.
His vision fell back to the view before him: Hermione was already buried behind a thick book, and Ron was beginning to slow down. They would be done soon, and then they could confront Kurama. His appetite restored, Harry pushed his cold bowl of porridge away and reached for the platter of hot bacon and pancakes that had just appeared.
And then an owl fell into the platter.
He yelped, taken aback by it's attention-grabbing entrance, before it recovered itself from the platter and unruffled its feathers with a shake. It threw Harry a reproachful look, as if it were his fault the platter was there, before hopping over to Hermione and seizing its pay. Harry was frightened dung would land on him as it took flight and flew away.
Hermione took one look at The Prophet's title, frowned, and cast her book aside.
"What?" Harry murmured. Her expression screamed bad news. Silently, she flopped the paper down in the middle of the table, so that only her, Ron, and Harry could see. Harry grimaced at the title: Malfoys Slaughtered in Home. A picture of the Malfoy Manor, surrounded by snow with its rooftop charred, accompanied the caption. The Dark Mark glimmered back at them from above the mansion.
"You don't think–?" Harry whispered breathlessly. Hermione shushed him.
"I don't want the whole table crowding around us!" she hissed. "Just read it to yourself." Harry's eyes fell to the leaflet.
Malfoys Slaughtered in Home
Barely a week after alleged Death Eater Lucius Malfoy's gruesome death at the hands of his apparent fellow Death Eaters, his wife and son followed him into death. Early this morning, Ministry Aurors and officials scrambled to the Malfoy Manor after the appearance of the Dark Mark.
Though all of the Aurors declined to talk to this reporter (as Alastor Moody put it: "Get that damn Quick-notes Quill away from me, woman!"), that didn't stop me from doing some snooping of my own.
Article continues on page 4c.
"'Mione," Ron murmured, "turn the page already!"
"Oh, be patient," she snapped back. Hermione threw Ron a crossed look before tapping The Prophet with her wand so that it flipped its pages and spread itself open upon the table. "There," Hermione said, pointing the remainder of the article out. Her guidance wasn't needed, as the article covered the span of the entire page, accompanied by the occasional picture of the wreckage of the house or an ariel view of the mansion's roof.
It was clear as I stepped into the wrecked home that the Malfoy's had not gone without a struggle. Furniture lay strewn across the house, broken tables, vases, chairs, shelves, and the occasional broken window and scorched curtain. The real give away was the roof, where the entire structure remained charred black, obviously a result of Pullus Ignitis.
Odd metal scrapes marked the towers and rooftop. As for its inhabitants, it's safe to say that both Narcissa Malfoy (41), wife to Lucius Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy (16), their only son, were both killed in the ensuing scuffle. Though their method of death (or time, for that matter) is currently unknown, it's painfully obvious that the Death Eaters were certainly their makers.
This reporter was able to catch a glimpse of the bodies as Aurors carried them out; due to their explicit nature, The Prophet refused to print the photographs, and I can completely understand. After viewing the gruesome scene, I was eager myself to get far away from the Malfoy Manor.
One thing's been made clear to this journalist: You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters don't care who they take out, a greater testament to their lowliness.
-Article by P.B. Smellington.
"She really let You-Know-Who have it," Ron whistled. "Must have guts to do that and print her name in a paper."
"No one's that stupid," Hermione said. "P.B. Smellington is just a pseudonym to hide behind. There's isn't even proof that the author's a woman."
Harry nodded in agreement. "It's still brave. Most people wouldn't dare to do it from beyond the grave."
"It's just awful, though." Hermione sniffed, her eyes teary.
"Are you crying Hermione?" Ron quirked an eyebrow. "This is the bloke who tried to kill Harry last week, a Death Eater!" She hissed at him as a signal for him to quiet down.
"I know that Ron," she shot back, "but I can still feel pity for someone who's died, let alone by Death Eaters."
"I s'pose," Ron relented, looking away in thought, "I can understand. I didn't love Malfoy or nuffin', but..." He trailed off.
"Smellington-or-whatever has got a point," Harry seethed. He balled his fists in his lap. "This is the lowest of the low. First Voldemort kills his own right-hand man, then he kills his wife and son? Doesn't he have standards for war?"
Hermione looked as though she were about to respond, but was cut short by Pansy Parkinson's shriek from across the hall. Harry winced as it crashed haphazardly against his ears.
"It's not true!" she sobbed. Harry cast a glance over his shoulder and saw her slumped against the table, her black hair splayed against her face and concealing it. She was surrounded by several Slytherins, who seemed gravely solemn as they attempted to comfort her. "It's a LIE! A DIRTY LIE!"
"Think she's seen The Prophet?" Ron asked weakly.
"Yeah," Harry murmured. "It's safe to say." His head was spinning. First the night before, and now this? Was Malfoy really...? What had happened? How could it have happened when Hiei–
"Odd metal scrapes marked the towers..."
Had Hiei been involved in the confrontation? "I'll be back," Harry said urgently, before rising from his seat and crossing the Great Hall to the Ravenclaw table. He took a seat besides Kurama and Botan, both of who looked pleasantly surprised.
"I assume you've seen the paper?" Kurama inquired.
"I have," Harry replied. He lowered his voice. "Kurama you said Hiei followed Malfoy, and those 'odd metal scrapes' in the picture look like sword marks to me. You don't think–?"
"Hey!" Botan squeaked, cutting across his sentence. "Hiei's certainly a lot of things, like a jerk, a loner, and a complainer, but he's certainly no murd–"
Kurama waved a hand to quiet her down, and her bubbly expression was replaced by one of disappointment at being shushed. "What Botan means," Kurama chuckled, "is that Hiei isn't the sort of person to do something of this nature, disregarding the fact that he can't, less he face incarceration."
"Incarceration?" Harry repeated.
"Of course," Kurama murmured, reaching for a goblet of tea. "Demons are not allowed to kill humans. Doing so ensures them death or eternal imprisonment." He stated the matter as if it were obvious, common knowledge. Harry was prepared to respond, but Kurama interjected.
"Look Harry," he said, "while I can't assume what really happened, I can tell you that Hiei didn't kill the Malfoys. If anything, he was probably forced to fight his way out from among Death Eaters." Harry's lips twitched, but–
"Besides," Botan chirped, "whether he'll admit to it or not, being around humans has turned Hiei into a better demon, and a good person."
"That's lovely," Harry said, slightly irked, "but I was just going to suggest that maybe he was attacked by the same person who killed Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy had sword markings on him too, so I thought it made sense."
"Or at least, had some sort of help from him," Botan supplied.
"Yeah, something along those lines." He rose to leave.
"Harry," Kurama said, as he walked away," after breakfast, we'll meet in the library. Be sure to tell Yusuke for me, will you?" Harry nodded and trekked back to Gryffindor table. He had calmly withstood Ron and Hermione's skeptical and quirky comments and glances.
Waiting a bit longer couldn't possibly make it more painful than it already was.
-
Harry sat at the end of the table, Ron and Hermione on either side of him. At the other end sat Kurama, with Botan and Kuwabara on either side of him. Yusuke took his place on the bookshelf opposite Kuwarabra, leaning against it and mouthing the occasional insult. Botan had done them the generous favor of casting Muffliato so that they would not be overheard. Now all that was left was for them to actually talk.
"Well," Kurama began slowly, "I assume that Harry's told you what happened, what I am?"
"So it's true then?" Ron gaped, look at Harry as if his hanging mouth would apologize for him. "You're a–"
"Demon," Hermione said breathlessly. "Harry," she said, turning to him with an apologetic look, "I'm sorry I didn't believe you, but it was morning, and I was brain-fogged, and tired, and you sounded absolutely insane, and–"
"I get it," Harry said cheerfully.
She turned back to Kurama, eyeing him as if he were some fascinating creature that enthralled her with his presence. "It makes sense, though, now that I think about it. For you to be a demon, I mean."
"Please," Kurama said, "I'd prefer it if you addressed me as a kitsune."
Harry saw something click in Hermione's mind as her eyes flashed with dawning comprehension. "That would explain why you were so touchy on the subject when Professor Hizaruki brought it up! It made you uncomfortable to have it discussed by us. Which means, of course, that Hiei must be a demon–"
"Yokai," Botan corrected.
" –too, given how unsettled he looked about the whole business." It was evident that Hermione was eager to shed more light on all the minute, confusing occurrences of the school year, but Kurama beat her to the speaking platform.
"Yes, well, you were correct in your finding, Ms. Granger–"
"Hermione, please."
"Very well, Hermione, but that isn't the reason we're here. I should hope that Harry also explain to you Raven's Obversin apparent role in the plot?"
"As the Stone of Flesh, yeah," Ron muttered. Kurama nodded, as if satisfied, and gestured for Botan to undertake the task of finishing.
"Well, we've decided to the best and most effective move would be a separation of the remaining important pieces," she said. "The black parchment, the white stone, and Raven's history. Kurama and I will be taking that one, while Kuwabara and Yusuke take the whit stone. That leaves the black parchment for you three." She pointed at each as she said their names.
"Well, that isn't fair," Ron griped. "You've the easiest bit. The rest of us have to search by description and appearance."
Kuwabara snorted. "That isn't even the worse part," he offered. "Urameshi"–he nodded in Yusuke's direction–"and I put our heads together and thought of something' pretty decent but..."
"But Malfoy's sudden death has squashed the idea like a bug," Yusuke groaned. "Because of his gruesome ending, most of the students are reluctant to go home for the holidays. I heard plenty of 'em yappin' about it on the way here. They'll stay at Hogwarts as long as they believe it'll offer them protection." He ran his fingers through his slicked hair and sighed. "Which it will."
"But what was the plan?" Harry urged. "We might be able to build on it."
"Well," Kuwabara began, "we automatically struck the library off the list of possible resources. It took you guys weeks to find out what the Stone of Mordrid was, and that was with help." Hermione looked as if she were going to interrupt with a question, but Harry waved it away reassuringly. "That's time we don't have."
"So we figured," Yusuke interjected, "you've got a girl from the human plane, and a stone that messes with your mind and spirit. Thought it only logical to assume the white stone is something demonic."
A flash of surprise curled its way onto Kurama's lips. "That hadn't occurred to me."
"Beat ya to it, eh Kurama?" Yusuke grinned smugly. "I know," he sighed, pleased with himself, "we're friggin' geniuses."
"'Course we are, Urameshi," Kuwabara chided, "always have been." He grinned. "See, that conclusion led us to think that the parchment was some kind of unifying scroll. Since it has runes"–he motioned to Hermione–"all we'd have to do would be look for ancient scriptures about unity of three worlds and stuff."
"But that's brilliant!" Hermione beamed. "How's Malfoy's, um, passing changed anything?"
"The castle would be too full for us to do all that research and have no one notice," Yusuke sighed.
"Actually," Botan mused, "that's probably better than an emptier castle."
"How?" Ron probed.
"Because, Ron," Hermione said, "the emptier the castle, the more attention the teachers give to the students still around. With a fuller Hogwarts–"
"It'll be easier for us to move around without any of the staff realizing what we're doing!" Harry said, eyes widening.
"Exactly."
There was a wave of relief that passed over them. What had seemed a daunting task had suddenly become much less complicated. It could be done, and maybe sooner than they had thought possible.
Hermione gathered her things and rose.
"Well, I'm off," she said simply.
"To where?" Ron bellowed after her, incredulously.
"To see my Ancient Runes professor!" she called back.
"On a Saturday!?" Ron flashed the remaining five people a wry smile, as if the thought of doing any sort of self-assigned work was completely insane and reserved for nutters.
"Gotta admire that girl," he said. "She doesn't waste time when it comes to research."
-
The day flew by. It was late in the evening now, and Harry had observed the whole day as students argued and debated as to whether or not it was safer to remain at Hogwarts or risk the journey home.
"There's nothing wrong with going home."
"Are you mental? Didn't you hear about what happened to Draco Malfoy?"
"But his case is different, flobberworms-for-brains!"
"Different how!?"
"I dunno, maybe because his daddy was a Death Eater who screwed up big time and made You-Know-Who angry!"
"That's doesn't count!"
And all conversations reflected that format. It was beginning to become tedious, and Harry's head was already pounding. Hermione had come back without any answers from Professor Babbling, who apparently had no idea if a rune manuscript that documented interdimensional unity existed. She had, however, given Hermione a hefty stack of books to research from.
Which of course, had resulted in the three of them spending the day cooped up in the common room, immersed in confusing scriptures and texts. Hermione had thrown books she deemed potentially useful into one pile, while those that offered no assistance were dumped into the return pile.
Harry blinked. His eyes seared as a reminder than he need to do the task more frequently.
Hiei had come back only a few hours earlier, the lone passenger of a single horseless carriage that wheeled him to the castle with his things. Pestering questions by other students as to why he had returned from his own early Holiday Break were met with comments like, "My parents read The Prophet," and "I didn't want to repeat Malfoy's mistake."
He had come straight to the common room, nodded curtly to the three of them, and ascended the staircase. A thought of amusement crossed Harry's mind: he wondered how Yusuke would break the news to him. But Yusuke was probably busy with something else.
Like sleeping.
He and Kurama had both said that they would be contacting their headquarters for the documents and information needed to carry out their segment of the research. In the mean time, they were simply lounging about.
Which, of course, brought him back to Unraveling Runes. But he wondered: whether or not it had been an intentional effect of Malfoy's death, Voldemort had managed to spook the entire student body into staying here, at Hogwarts, right under Raven's–and Voldemort's–eyes.
It was a discomforting thought.
"Hey, 'Mione," Ron said, breaking the silence. "How many students do you think are gonna leave for the holidays?" It was obvious that Ron was drained from an entire day of reading and clearly wanted to strike up a conversation to distract himself.
"I hear the Patil twins and Lavender Brown are still going," she replied.
"Well, 'least they've the moxy to do it." He scratched his nose. "I think Ginny wants to stay though."
Hearing Ginny's name made Harry's stomach swoop in an odd manner. But... he had spent the majority of the day cooped up in a room with a pile of books and a sparse supply of food. That was probably the reason. "Why isn't she going?" he said, out of pure curiosity.
"Dunno. Apparently to help keep the younger kids' heads on right."
"Er, why does she have to do that?"
"'Cause," Ron snorted, "the twins are using their 'generous contacts to provide Hogwarts' students with essential emotional and psychological support'."
"Meaning they're going to take advantage of their anxiety," Hermione sniffed disapprovingly.
"Not so much taking advantage of them," Ron said, in his brothers' defense, "just supplying them with quality merchandise to make them feel more secure, prepared, and protected."
"Did you rehearse that with them?" Hermione said coolly.
Ron's ears flood with red as he disappeared behind his book.
They spent the rest of the night in silence as they browsed the thick books for mentions of 'three worlds' or 'unity'. It was well past eleven when Harry decided to relinquish his search and retire for the night. Ron followed him shortly.
Harry crept past the (thunderously) snoring Yusuke, squeezed past Hiei, who was lost in the coverings of his four-poster, and languidly plopped down onto his own bed. With a change into pajamas and a slip of his glasses, he drifted into sleep.
-
He was dancing, twirling and jumping with the giant squid of the lake. It was spinning him by its suction cups, and throwing him gracefully into the air. It threw him high, out of the water and into Grawp's arms. Only Grawp was flying, his giant thestral wings flapping ferociously as he soared over Number Four Privet Drive.
Harry chuckled uncontrollably as he imagined they looks of horror as a giant flew over their home. And then Grawp had dropped him, and he had fallen into the Room of Requirement, and Cho Chang was trying to kiss him again, with her teary eyes...
He turned away so that she kissed her cheek, and was unexplainably horrified and disappointed when he realized it was Ginny who he had refused a kiss. His heart was lying on the floor, and as he tried to chase after her, he stepped on it, and his chest panged. He loved her, he loved her... in a platonic sense.
He rushed after her as she bolted out the door and into the starry night sky–
–Only to stumble upon the Department of Mysteries.
He shivered; he didn't want to be here, not even in his wildest dreams. He turned and ran back out the door, but did not find himself in the Room of Requirement, but a dimly lit, small, circular room. The roof was lost in darkness as it ascended into the unknown.
Harry squinted. He couldn't possibly see a thing in this murky darkness, and wondered if there was a larger candle to shed more light.
And the room exploded with light.
Harry gasped painfully in shock. The room was bold with color, overflowing with vibrant red and gold. A large, red lantern hung at the top of the room, shedding the room in warm light, and a plinth was placed in the center of the room, as if left there to be a platform for anyone who entered.
A pack of opened Exploding Snap cards lay untouched on a table, surrounded by deserted bean bag chairs. Harry was overtaken with surprise as he admired the room... and then he saw it.
There, mounted on the wall, was the Mirror of Erised. It was cracked slightly, but his parents and Sirius were clearly on the other side, waving to him. He wanted to reach out and touch them, to hug them, to–
He felt another chill. He veered around to find Dementors, trying desperately to claw their way to him with their scabbed hands. But he was safe, because they were contained by white light, by his Patronus. They couldn't–
Harry paused and looked about the room. Something about it seemed odd. It was warm, comforting, familiar, and, and–
And it was obviously his mind.
He pictured Ron and Hermione and their faces were squeezed onto the black expanse of vacant mural that stretched about the room. He wanted it bigger, it grew. He wanted it green, and it was green.
He wanted Ginny, and she was by his side.
She disappeared when Harry blinked. Was this really his mind, so colorful and simple? Wasn't there more to him? Shouldn't some type of door appear and lead him to his memories, or inner thoughts, or qualities?
And seventy doors crowded the walls of the circular chamber.
Harry winced. There were names above each door, scrawled hastily in his own handwriting, like 'Bravery', 'Curiosity', 'Courage', 'Anger', 'Impatience', 'Naiveté', 'Determination', 'Stubbornness', 'Stupidity', 'Selflessness', and even 'Exodus'.
Exodus?
Harry crossed the room and stood before the door. It was different from the rest; while they were all sparkling, rippling colors, it was black and lay still. He touched its handle, and immediately felt all senses of comfort and familiarity flee from him. Whatever was on the other side of the door, it didn't belong. It was foreign, frightening, and cold. But what was it?
Harry hovered before the door tentatively for a moment, and swung it open. He could see nothing. It was darkness as far as the eye could see, and a chill grasped him from the other side.
But he was curious.
Why was this door here? What purpose did it have? Harry gulped, preparing himself for the unexpected, and walked through the door. Almost before he realized it, the piercing hissing of snakes filled his ears. The room was still cold, but the darkness had vanished.
He was on a long, winding, velvet black road with no end, which snaked its way between two halves of a dead and barren forest. It was devoid of life, and the sky was dark and stormy. Harry stepped forward, and the bare branches cracked, as if screaming at him. Each footstep seemed to send a searing jolt of pain up his legs. But he was determined; he would walk it to the end.
Not that he had the chance.
The black velvet enveloped him, and he was falling into bleak darkness. It was crushing him, constricting his ribs, his lungs. He felt like he was being squeezed out of a tube of toothpaste. His breath rattled as he struggled to breathe.
Harry clenched his jaw.
Looking back at him out of the endless black abyss were two piercing amethyst eyes. They were snake-like in a sense, but seemed oddly human. The hissing in his ears grew louder as he saw the flick of a forked tongue. Harry realized what the crushing sensation was.
It was the result of the snake's coils, wrapped about him so tightly that it was nearly impossible to discern where Harry began and the snake ended. Its scales were a pale gray, lined with small, curved, black patterns.
Its eyes remained fixated on Harry as he examined it. Their eyes locked, and Harry felt as if his own would burst into smouldering flames and fall out of his skull. He looked away. The snake gave an amused, laugh-like hiss that was obviously meant to be a jeer. "Sssoon," it hissed.
"What?" Harry said through the searing pain of his eyes.
"Ssso sssoon," it hissed again, "ssso clossse."
"What are you?" Harry shouted. No answer; it merely flicked its tongue. "What do you want?" Its amethyst eyes glinted malevolently as its lipless maw work its way into a grim smile.
"You."
Its mouth opened, and Harry saw the lethal fangs, and beyond them, nothingness. The forked tongue ran along his neck, and the nothingness swallowed him whole.
And then he was in Gryffindor Tower, on the floor and tangled in his bed sheets. He was breathing heavily, as if his lungs had been squeezed. He untangled himself and stood, only to stoop in intense pain at the sharp jolt in his side. Harry pulled his shirt up and glanced down. Even in the bleary darkness, without his glasses, he could see the cause.
His ribs were bruised.
-End Chapter-
A/N:
- Pullus Ignits: My own terribly put together and sorry excuse for a spell. It comes from the Latin words pullus, -i (meaning blackish) + ignis, ignes (meaning fire). Hence, the only change in the words is ignis to ignitis.
- I'm fairly certain of Draco's and Narcissa's ages. According to HP-Lexicon, their years of birth are 1980 and 1955, respectively. By 1996, Draco should be sixteen and Narcissa should be forty-one.
- Bathsheba Babbling: The name of the Ancient Runes professor was never actually revealed in the books, but according to HP-Lexicon, J.K. Rowling had tentatively named her as such.
- I actually couldn't find moxy in a proper dictionary, so I had to use an urban one to be sure. Moxy is guts, courage, or balls, for those of you who don't know.
- I'm doing my best to roll out with the revelations and such, because it's about that time that I set up for the story's ending. I'm probably more excited than you are. :B Expect the next chapter up soon. In the mean time, feel free to use that nifty review button. Criticism, advice, whatever's on your mind. :D