Phantasmagoria

A feeling of warmth enveloped the twins. Their minds were filled with moonstruck clouds, swirling around as if in an endless tunnel. Comfort braced their bodies lovingly. Their breaths were relaxed yet shallow. They were finally in peace. Three figures gazed down upon them, waiting for the world's saviors to awaken. They were in a small, cozy shack. The children were placed on the giant sofa, while the older man was in the bed.

"Are you sure they're alright?" asked Tonks, her arm in a sling, nervously wringing her hands,

Mad-Eye turned his grizzled head towards her. "I'm positive," he growled. The witch looked back at the twins, the worried look in her eyes not leaving.

"What about Remus?" Kingsley inquired to Mad-Eye. "He wasn't looking too good when we brought him back."

"Again," Mad-Eye snapped. "He, too, is fine! Madame Pomfrey has done everything she could for these three! They will be okay!"

Tonks scurried over to Remus's bedside, sitting on a chair beside him. The werewolf's chest rose, slow and shallow, his tired face like a mask. He was pale, his face covered with scratches. One of these marks would eventually become a scar when healed. It went across his cheek like an ugly line of red paint. He had transformed back into his human self at dawn. The Order hoped this would restore his consciousness. It was now midmorning, and he had not yet aroused from his slumber.

In the next room, Artemis and Apollo were all patched up since their battle with Lycaon only hours before. Apollo's arm was in a sling. Artemis had a large bandage wrapped around the back of her neck. They were lying peacefully underneath three thick, woolen blankets.

Kingsley paced nervously back and forth, his hands clutched behind his back in a fretful embrace. "I really don't like how long this is taking," he confessed softly. Mad-Eye glared at him.

"THEY WILL WAKE UP WHEN THEY ARE READY!" he roared, slamming his clenched fist upon a wayworn coffee table. "Why can't you nitwits understand that?"

Tonks looked up from her vigil by Lupin. Kingsley didn't reply to Mad-Eye's shriek of annoyance. He just stopped pacing and gazed down at the ground.

"Kingsley . . ." Tonks began, but her voice trailed off. The wizard wasn't listening. A small moan manifested from a stranger's lips, and the source, as Kingsley found, was Apollo.

"Mad-Eye!" yelled Kingsley, jumping to the sofa's side. Mad-Eye spun around at the twins, his eyes glinting.

The twins were stirring. Their eyes moved wildly behind the lids. Their noses twitched, and soft cooing sounds were heard purring from their throats. Deep breathes rushed in and out of their noses as their chests rose with more effort.

"Ehhh," Artemis moaned, her eyes still shut.

"Tonks!" Kingsley cried, placing his hands on Apollo's shoulder. "They're waking up!"

The witch hesitated, made a quick glance of worry towards her beloved, and glided over to the sofa. "You're sure?"

Mad-Eye nodded. "Aye," he replied. "They're on their way."

Tonks and Kingsley frowned. "From where?" the witch asked.

Mad-Eye just shook his head.

Deep within the depths of the shared mind of the twins, a dark and gloomy prison stood in the center of a morbid tarn. The black waters were smooth as glass, and so beautiful that an unsuspecting soul would go to marvel at it's exquisiteness, then be sucked into a timeless void and devoured by the bottomless pit of water. So terrible was the splendor and beauty of the tarn that all glamorous life had been stolen from it's banks, leaving nothing but withered plants and ugly black weeds.

The prison that stood in the tarn's center was of one single cell. The prison was, in all truthfulness and sincerity, a cage. It was a small iron cell, the bars cold and a tad bit rusty, the floor scarred and moldy. It stood upon a small mound of land, which had been killed an unknown time ago by the magnificent loveliness of the tarn. The cage was tall, the floor covered with bones. Inside this macabre cell were two children. Their curious eyes wandered around, observing their surroundings. They clutched the iron bars loosely, the moribund demeanors of the cage and the tarn becoming clear to them. The Warwicks shivered.

"Where are we?" Artemis asked her brother.

Apollo shook his head. "I dunno."

"Can we get out?"

"We should try."

The twins took out their wands and pointed them towards the nearest wall of bars. A single thought racketed their brains. Taking deep breaths, they yelled. "Bombarda!"

A powerful blast erupted from their wands and took hold of the bars. The twins covered their heads as little bits of iron flew upon them. When all was done, they removed their organic and makeshift shields and looked upon the damage. Their spirits fell. The bars, although missing chips in some areas, had not budged. They defiantly stood in front of the twins.

"Damn!" Artemis growled, kicking the bars. "How did that not work?"

Apollo shrugged, examining the bars closely. "I dunno," he said. "They've definitely weakened, but I don't know why they weren't blasted to bits."

"Maybe we should give it another go," Artemis suggested.

"It wouldn't hurt," her brother agreed.

Once more pointing their wands at the decrepit bars, the twins again roared, "Bombarda!"

Success manifested itself into a rain of iron chips, crashing over the twins in a fantastic display. They covered their ears and heads as the torrential storm of iron swept over them. The sound echoed throughout the black abyss surrounding them, resonating until finally, it was silenced. The ironfall ceased, and when the twins checked to make sure the spell had worked, they noticed that the bars were no more.

"Ha!" Apollo laughed, marveling at the giant hole in their cage. "It worked!"

"Thank God," Artemis sighed in relief. "Now lets get the bloody hell out of here."

Suddenly, a wave of dread swept over the twins. The tarn glared menacingly at them, a glimmer of victory in its dark waters. Indeed, the tarn was bottomless, so the Drought Charm would be useless. The small body of water was hungry, longing for the sustenance it needed to thrive. The spirit of the tarn knew it had won.

"How're we gonna get across?" Artemis inquired, her silver eyes scanning the shoreline that seemed so far away.

"We don't have brooms," Apollo said, furrowing his brow in an inquisitive manner. "And we don't know any spells to raise stepping stones . . ."

Artemis placed her hands on her hips. Apollo paced around in the cage, his fingers stroking his chin. All of the sudden, an idea struck him. It nearly slapped him in the face. He snapped his fingers.

"I got it!" he declared, a smiling spreading across his lips. "D'you still know that spell you made up?"

Artemis frowned. "Which one? Incognatius? Propellus?"

"That last one! Propellus!"

"Yeah, I do . . ." Artemis smacked her forehead. "Of course! Why did I not think of that?"

Apollo returned to her side. "S'alright," he said. He looped his arm into the crook of hers. "Shall we?"

His sister smirked. "O' course. Hold on!" She extended her arm behind them and shouted, "Propellus!"

At once, the twins were shot forward, their heads snapping back. Apollo whooped. Sparks spewed out of Artemis's wand, fueling their flight. The lackluster shore was getting closer.

"We're nearly there!" Artemis yelled happily.

Without warning, something big and black manifested in front of them. The twins screamed, and drove headfirst into the wall. They smacked their crowns hard, a shock of pain twisting through their bodies and rendering them unconscious. The dark waters of the tarn were there to catch them as they fell limply into the depths. The tarn cradled them, dragging them closer to its bosom, and ultimately their deaths. They twins' limbs, hung, suspended, under the water; few air bubbles escaped from their nostrils. They were at a cold and deathly peace. The tarn's hunger would soon be whetted. It had won.

Apollo's mind was screaming for him to wake up. It stomped. It punched. It shrieked. It tore. Yet, the boy refused to arouse. His mind, out of desperation, resorted to one last reserve.

It projected images of Artemis and Lupin into his brain.

Artemis was laughing, her arm around Apollo's shoulder. Lupin was slightly grinning, an aura of happiness and belonging surrounding him. Their images sent warmth throughout the boy's body. He twitched, jerking ever so slightly. His limbs slowly woke up. In a final triumphant move, Apollo's golden eyes snapped open. They twinkled brightly in the black depths. He waved his arms, able to swim away from the evil spirit of the tarn. He began to swim back, when he remembered Artemis. He swerved around. His sister was being dragged deeper into the oblivion. He'd never reach her in time! He pointed his wand at her.

"Accio Artemis!" he yelled, a cloud of bubbles blanketing his vision. Although the bubbles rendered him blind, Apollo was still able to tell he had his sister by the sudden crash into his arm and the new pressure felt there. She hung limply in his grasp, her limbs floating carelessly in the water. Suddenly, a crash exploded into Apollo's brain; his eyes bulged from his bluish head.

Air.

Quickly, Apollo pointed his wand towards the bottom of the tarn and mentally screamed, PROPELLUS!

Before he knew it, he and Artemis were being shot forward towards salvation. The sparks that whipped out of the wand became wickedly hot bubbles and spouts of steam. They made the twins fly.

Suddenly, the water became . . . thicker. Apollo could feel his lungs burning. No! The tarn was becoming tar-like. It refused to give up the life forces it so desperately needed to survive! Apollo could feel his strength fading, the spell wearing off, and the life being sucked out of him. A black tunnel surrounded his vision. No.

MAXIMUS PROPELLUS!

Apollo's brain simultaneously belted out the spell in an orotund, booming voice. Without warning, the sparks turned into a huge tail of fire, shooting the twins through the tarry substance and, finally, into the air and onto the shore. They flopped onto the cold ground, Apollo gasping for air and coughing. The merciful element filled his burning lungs, cooling them significantly. Once his breathing had returned to normal, Apollo turned to his sister. Artemis was laying unnervingly still, her skin pale and waxen. He crawled over to her side.

"Artemis?" he breathed. He shook her shoulder. "Artemis?"

Nothing.

He pointed his wand towards her mouth, his lips quivering. "Anapneo," he whispered. A large ball of black, tar-like liquid from Artemis's throat was lifted into the air and set down by her head. At once, air gushed into her lungs. Her eyes opened with a jolt. She gasped for air and jerked up.

"Wha----what happened?" she croaked, rubbing her throat.

"The tarn," Apollo replied softly. "It tried to kill us."

Artemis's eyes drifted to the black tarn. She gulped. "Oh."

"Come on," her brother said, helping her up. "We have to go."

She frowned. "Go? Go where?"

Apollo frowned. "Home."

And with that, the two linked arms and began walking into the oblivion.