Chapter 24
The Last Challenge
The garden was just as Hermione remembered it to be in the last days of winter. Green interspersed with brown and black of plants that would have to be replaced. Right next to the garden, underneath the window was the drive with one car outside and the other parked inside the garage. Both parents frequently needed to go on appointments so they took each a car. The sky today was a gun metal gray with clouds accumulating at a rapid pace, preparing for rain. Hermione flinched as a cold sharp wind went across her body, the vest she wore hardly enough to ward off the still very present cold.
If the situation wasn't as it was, Hermione would have rushed home, but she couldn't just walk in as if she was never gone. They most certainly had to be aware of what has happened in this past month. She stepped carefully on the cobblestone path leading to the white door of her childhood home.
In the end Hermione had no explanation to give them except admit that she lost her head in the moment and barely had any coherent thought about the future. She won't even try to defend herself and felt that she deserved to be scolded. What she did was cause them unimaginable grief and worry of where their daughter might be when they suddenly disappeared along with Harry Potter from St. Mungo's.
Her every step felt like a leap closer to the awkward situation she was about to enter. When she stopped at the door, she felt like a stranger that had come to tell the parents inside their daughter was gone and someone took her place. Mom and Dad took her being a witch rather well, so being a Pristi shouldn't be a problem, Hermione hoped.
Still feeling like a stranger, Hermione rang the bell and heard the familiar scrape of a chair as dad always did when he sat up from his reading to go open the door. The door opened and a long-faced brown-haired man stood on the doorstep. First came confusion, then worry and finally relief. In an uncharacteristic act, Hermione's father pulled his daughter into the house and slammed the door, locking it tightly.
"Oh, Hermione! You are alright." William hugged a stiff Hermione, holding her as if he feared he might break her. Lisa stepped into the foyer, wondering who was at the door when she saw her daughter that she had been worrying over for the last week. "Hermione!" was all she said before joining in the embrace.
"When we heard from Molly you disappeared after visiting the Potter boy, we were worried sick."
"I know mom," Hermione mumbled against her father's chest. "I should have come back sooner."
William and Lisa released their daughter who now looked frazzled and ashamed. "Let's get you some tea." Lisa said and went into the kitchen. Hermione nodded weakly and followed with her father at her side. They sat at the table while Lisa put the kettle on. William sat right next to Hermione and put his hand over her's.
"Where have you been?" the question Hermione expected but found herself lost for words.
"I-" she wanted to start when she saw a shadow pass by the window. Mom and Dad seemed to not have noticed it. "What is it, love?" William asked, worry evident in his voice. Hermione stood up, remembering what Draco had said recently. He said that those hunters had attacked the Weasley's because of their connections to Harry. They probably knew of her parents, too. She rose up immediately and went for the backdoor that led into the yard.
William followed her, asking what was going on. Hermione focused on the door and snapped every single ward she knew on the top of her head and put some custom wards in her flurry of spells. Now she could feel the burning dots of contained magic stop at the door on either side. "Dad, get mom into the basement, now!"
William looked at his daughter like he had never seen her like this, then nodded and ran into the kitchen where the kettle whistled. Hermione went around, sending wards all over the house without a thought. If she wasn't in acute dread, she would have been happy to fling spells with such ease. After every wall, window and door had been warded, she descended down into the basement where her parents stood, more worry than fear in their expressions.
"What is happening, Hermione? Why are we in the basement?" Lisa asked, looking back and forth between her daughter and husband. "I agree, what is going on, love?"
"There are people that are hunting Harry and everyone that knows him." Hermione said breathlessly as she flung spells at the door. When she looked back she saw realisation dawn on their faces. "But why? Is it the Death Eaters?" William asked, his voice careful.
"I wish," Hermione murmured to herself. "No. They hunt Pristi, but don't have many reservations killing muggles and wizards all the same." she said scathingly. She heard her mother gasp. "Sorry,"
"There is nothing to be sorry about," William said as comfortingly a person could be while hiding from an unknown threat. "But who are these Pristi?"
"It will take too long to explain, we need to get out of here fast." Hermione said, cursing at the time it will take for the Crucible to send a portal here. Five minutes. Hopefully her wards would last long enough until then.
The acute feeling of shattered magic came like a wave in the direction of the back door, and soon a cascade effect in five second intervals hammered at her then a long pause of half a minute. The balls of energy wandered through the house. In her mind, Hermione could sense three wizards or witches first check the ground floor then go upstairs with meticulous precision. The distinct lack of wards upstairs must've tipped them off nobody was upstairs. The very presence of wards let them know a Pristi was in the house. Perhaps warding wasn't such a bright idea, after all.
Barely a minute passed when the three orbs congregated at the basement door, probing the wards with unknown instruments. Hermione latched onto the wards on the door and fed power into them. Then a great jolt ran down her tendril and slammed into her core as something detonated against the wards. Hermione couldn't keep out the surprised and hurt yelp from escaping. William was instantly at her side.
"What's happening?"
"Stay back," Hermione pushed her father away and glared at the door. Yet another detonation shook her and her core let out a very unharmonious vibration through her body. She wondered if the explosions will break her core.
The detonations were going off for a whole minute when Hermione was on her last legs. She could feel the magic around her dwindle as she consumed it and concentrated it into the door that the hunters were so stubbornly trying to bring down. Hermione counted down the last minute to arrival, preparing the wards into a deadly explosive that would be released the moment the connection to her was severed.
A dozen more tremors slammed into her, her core groaning in her ears like a sinking ship being steadily crushed by the pressure of the depths. Her eyes were full of spots. She vaguely felt somebody hold her when finally a plate rose out of the floor from underneath her and she finally felt the comforting sensation of being one with the world.
To have power of a god at his fingertips, Rex expected to feel empowered, confident and proud. But he was none of those things. He felt no different than before, even when he grasped the physical link to his power. It was a power that he had never truly desired when he had come to the realisation that what motivated him during his tenure as Overlord was vengeance, vengeance for being left to rot by his former comrades who turned into the very things they once fought against. As each fell, less and less driven Rex became. In the end he was a grey eminence when it came to business of state, if he could call it that.
The world where Rex grew up was barren of any proper civilisation. The village of Spree and its castle were the closest to something like that. As far as Rex knew, or remembered, that settlement and his tower where the only structures of living civilisation on the entire continent. The elves, dwarves and hobbits could be called a civilisation, too if Rex hadn't destroyed the latter and former, while additionally defacing what remained of the foolish dwarves. As he now looked at it, Rex suspected that that world might be dying. Everything was falling apart at the seams if one looked close enough.
Indeed, Rex had no idea what to do with the world he had abandoned by mere mishap. He supposed that he would have retired early on and let Rose handle the affairs, perhaps even go with her to discover the world and its secrets. But that was a long time ago that never happened. The only reason he still held this power was because of Havoc. If it werent for the boy's such shattered but bright light, Rex figured he would have ended his life at this point from grief and absolute loss of purpose, a fate of every manipulated tool without an anchor. Yes, Rex was aware Gnarl had deceived him for the Second Overlord, but still he had cared for the minion master.
Rip and Krin were an interesting pair of minions that Rex had never met before. Rip was very much like Gnarl, but a lot younger and inexperienced, though he did compensate it with sharp wit and hot blood of still remaining youth. Krin was a commander's dream; an obedient and professional officer that always knew what the right course of action was. Both minions were incredible assets that Rex would miss incredibly should they perish. Such loyalty was beyond what he could find in any friend.
He brought the bow to the four strings that were capable of purest music that he had heard come into being, apart from the crystalline harmonics he had frequently heard while walking through the elven ruins, but they were tinged with sorrow and suffering. As he ran the bow over the strings did a knock come from the door of his and Havoc's chamber. He gently placed the instrument into its case and opened the door.
"Sire, there are urgent matters to attend to." Rip said as the door opened. Rex stepped out and closed the door behind. He could hear a commotion coming farther down the hall. Rip was already in the midst of the long rows of knights and Rex followed. They came to a small group. Rex recognized Jorgen, Russell's wife and her children around two strangers who were obviously bemused by the group.
"Mrs. and Mr. Granger? You must be the parents of the girl." said Maria. "What is going on?" Rex asked as he stopped to look at the arrivals. Vigil's eye floated past Rex and stopped beside Jorgen and they started conversing in hushed tones. Rex had expected the dwarf to remain at Zoran's side, he must be healing very well, though not the same could be said for the lad's left hand.
"Where is Hermione?" Mrs. Granger asked, her tone on the verge of panic. Rex approached and saw that his red eyes and stature were intimidating the two strangers so he put on a less regal posture. "Has your daughter brought you here?"
"Y-yes, somebody attacked us, Hermione said they hunt Pristi, whoever they are." Mr. Granger said, obviously lost in this situation completely. "Can we see our daughter?"
Rex turned to look at Rip. "Make the arrangements for them, I suspect they will stay here until the hunters are dealt with." Rip nodded and managed to persuade the two to follow him despite looking like a dreadful thing with wicked teeth. Rex rubbed his forehead. The Crucible was now more like an inn than a vault from some ancient family of Pristi. When he removed his arm, he saw Maria and her children start for their room. "Maria," he called. The woman stopped, slightly shocked that he had called her by her first name.
"Sorry, but we have never met properly." Rex said and gave a shallow bow. Maria gave a courtsey that didn't really work in jeans and cotton vest. Lisa and Jason gave a courtsey and bow, respectively. Rex gave them both a smile, there is no reason to intimidate the children further than the hunters had.
"Rex, I presume." Maria said with a small smile. "My reputation precedes me, I see."
"My name Jason." Jason introduced himself. "My name is Lisa." Lisa joined in. "A pleasure to meet you," Rex nodded at each of them. "Go back to the room and I will call you when lunch is ready."
The children disappeared behind a door where the Russell family had been settled, leaving Rex and Maria alone. "How has your stay been here? Comfortable?" Rex now really felt like an innkeeper. Maria nodded. "The room is very extravagant. Young immortal has quite the home."
"Might I ask, where has Russell gone?" her question was innocent, but the way she asked bellied something negative.
"He is investigating the lead Zoran and Jorgen brought from their mission," Rex answered. Maria frowned. "I believe that you have no right to order my husband around, understand? Just because he foolishly swore fealty to your lover doesn't mean you can do with him whatever you please." her tone was harsh and accusatory. Rex wondered from where did that come from, perhaps from Zoran's mother and the latest events.
"Neither I, nor Havoc, ask of him what he is not willing to do. As far as I understand your husband, he won't do what he thinks is wrong." Rex rebutted. "And some advice, do not antagonize the hand that feeds you,"
Silence fell, Rex's and Maria's eyes locked until the woman relented and stiffly walked away. Rex watched her disappear behind the door the children had gone through just a minute ago before frowning. The woman was headstrong, and her gaze passionate. At one moment Rex had feared he would be the one to relent.
He started down the long hall and stopped at the door into Zoran's room. For all the lad had risked and lost, he deserved to face the person who had ordered him into danger in the first place. The room was like all the others, except the main bedroom he and Havoc shared. A bed with a carved wooden frame, sheets of velvet and cotton dyed navy blue and Rex noted each room had the colour different. A rich and heavy closet for clothes, two chests on either side and a small dining table beside a wall. One of the chairs was missing, as it was taken by Zoran's mother to stay at her son's side.
Vedrana looked at the door, her youthful face creased with worry, but her eyes shone with hope. The glow dimmed when she realized it was Rex. He wasn't that popular with them, was he. Rex stopped at the foot of the bed in five long strides, his hands behind his back that he had the habit of holding while out of armor.
"To be honest, I never thought that either of us would get hurt," Vedrana began, lovingly gazing at her sleeping son. "Foolish of me to have thought to stay out of this and just sit it out. Us mothers really become reckless when our children are at stake. I just want you to know that I don't blame you for what happened to Zoran, If anything, we should be the ones sacrificing everything we have for this cause since we started it."
Rex was stunned. He expected the fires of a mother scorned to burn him to a crisp. If not that, he expected at least somekind of fury. The sight of a woman realizing what she had done was shattering. "You are not to blame, without you Havoc and I wouldn't have probably never stood a chance alone. I am deeply sorry for not taking better care of your son while he risked his life for us."
Vedrana shook her head. "What is done is done. In the end we must all give something for what is right. I am glad that Zoran only had to give his hand, while others will give their lives. Blaming the person who gave the orders without knowing who he's fghting against is only going to make things worse. We are in this together, Rex, and we might as well trudge through it."
"It wasn't our right to ask something like that from your son-" Rex continued but stopped when Vedrana whipped him with an angry look. "Enough," she said. "Enough of this topic."
Rex took the signal to leave, and felt annoyed by his careless manners as he left the room. Zoran's crippling injury hung grimly in his mind. Unlike the absolute devotion of the minions that sacrificed themselves if he wanted them to, the people he and Havoc lead have their own desires and motives for joining the cause and can't be tossed like tools. Neither Havoc nor Rex had thought about the possible danger the dwarf and Pristi were being sent into.
Havoc...Rex hadn't connected to Havoc in quite some time and hasn't been in the loop of the tournament. He opened himself to the bond and only felt the unconscious static of emotional void. The emptiness was unnerving, as if he was looking into the farthest reaches of space where no starlight had ever reached. In the void, he sensed an underlying ebb and flow of life that was Havoc's, and there was yet another, a lot weaker than Havoc's but still there, like a parasite latching onto his lover's tie to this world. It was something Rex hadn't felt at all until now. Worry seeped into him and a great number of different scenarios swept him off his feet.
He rushed back to his room and put on a jacket before calling his portal to the Alps. Twenty minutes until it connected, but Rex couldn't wait that long without something distracting him. He stepped out of the room and found Rip waddling with scrolls in his claws. The minion stopped when he saw Rex come to him in a flurry of large legs.
"Is something the matter, Sire?" Rip recognized discomfort on his lord's face and knew something had gone wrong with Havoc. Captured? Hurt? Did he lose the tournament?
"Havoc's emotions are absent in the bond we share, and all I can feel is something living that doesn't belong there," Rex grumbled, but Rip could see the panicked concern. "As if some parasite has latched onto him. I fear that it might be the cause."
Rip frowned. In his mind the pieces were starting to put together that were left alone until now. The picture remained skewed to make anything out of it, but the frame was almost complete to give him a general idea of his former master's plans. He looked at Rex and continued waddling to his study with the scrolls. Rex's heavy footfalls from behind were loud in the empty hall. "Are you heading to the tournament, then?"
"I am," Rex's response was curt, to the point. "But I want you to continue to search for the hives, especially the blue ones as we cannot interrogate the two prisoners we have without them."
"I am well aware of that, Sire. And these scrolls might hold the answers. I will handle matters here, you needn't worry." Rip disguised his own worry expertly thanks to the experience he had acquired while living in the courts for most of his five-centuries-long life. It could be paranoia or just simple concern for the cause of finally saving the Pristi race from extinction that made Rip worry about his masters. They were kind, passionate and just; qualities he hadn't expected to appreciate until now. He still harbored the darkness inherent to his kind, listened to its counsel, but found the words sometimes harsh and unwelcoming.
Whether these changes were good or bad for the future, Rip couldn't say. But he hoped they were right and strong enough to weather the rising storm they themselves had stirred into motion. Rip felt that spark of unswerving loyalty flare up inside him. "Go, my lord. The Sire needs you."
The flesh pulsed painfully as sluggish blood flowed under the bruised skin. The purple expanse covered the entirety of the silky smooth skin of its body. Reformed bones ached and cracked as they sprung to life under the tightening of burning muscle. A purple arm rose and grabbed hold of the nearest chair, wrapping fingers the thickness of a spider's legs around its back. Narrow shoulders and long neck followed. On the neck was perched a chiseled face, also purple from the one massive bruise that encompassed its body. Long locks of snow-white hair curled around the neck, eyes and cheeks, setting a stark contrast between the deep purple and pure white. Purple lips opened and shivered as it inhaled its first breath after a long time of absence.
It settled itself into the chair like a broken marionette with jerky movements and spasms. Long time since it moved a corporeal body. The randomly shooting nerves weren't easing the acclimation at all. They were unnerving and uncomfortable, sending almost drowning sensations through its body like lightning bolts. It couldn't even remember how long it has been dead. Only an acute sense of a long time vaguely gave that information.
Its eyelids were heavy, moving its eyes was an effort on its own. Sparks and flashes lit up its vision as the eyes started to function properly after being restructured and changed from the ground up. Its hearing slowly turned sharp and it could hear a low wind whistle from somewhere farther away. Next was the nose, smells of mold and paper filled its nose and lungs with every shaky breath. Chest hurt, lungs hurt, everything hurt. Frustration flared up and the sudden energy was enough for it to open its eyes.
A familiar darkness surrounded it. It was so alike the darkness one experienced in death, but lacked the distinct quality of hopeless isolation. Isolated from its love for an eternity. This darkness was cold and its bruised skin tightened. Painfully so. it cried and it didn't recognize its voice. It was thin, slightly high-pitched, so unlike the voice it once had; a deep baritone and a soft mezzo-soprano. It wanted to hear itself again but couldn't muster up the strength to raise it any higher than a hoarse moan.
Is this body so weak, it worriedly thought. Fear and worry was quickly stamped into oblivion by cold hard logic. The body is still repairing itself and doesn't have the energy to spare for something useless as speaking right now. But maybe it could give a bit for something else, then.
A small light sprang to life on top of a small candlestick on the table in front of it. It cast its meek light over the table but was too weak to go any farther from the tables borders. it could only stare at the flickering light, remembering the horrible imprisonment of the cold abyss of death. It raised its hands and moved them over to the candle, cupping it in its purple palms. In a way, the pain was reassuring. It consistently reminded it that the plan had worked and it is back with its love in tow.
A small smile crossed the bruised lips.
Havoc opened his eyes to a battlefield.
Men and women lay dead or dying, dressed in armor or robes, with steel or wands at their sides. Among them were humanoid shapes of what look to be werewolves, giants and other horrible creatures, and they lay in heaps of flesh while wizards and Pristi fight like rabid animals. Havoc's view shifted on its own just as a long, thin gush of arterial blood fly past his face. He wasn't in control of what he saw and he watched as the person through whose eyes he watched turned to face the direction the blood came from.
It was a garrish sight. A man was being bodily torn apart by a hulking werewolf by both claw and maw. Just then an arm came off despite the almost seamless quality to the armor that made Havoc think it would never be able to be ripped apart, and it flew into the air and landed somewhere in the huge battle. The beast let go of what remained of its adversary and lunged at Havoc. The person easily dodged the werewolf with unnatural speed and brought down a war hammer of immense weight onto its head. A sickening crack could still be heard despite the clamor of swords and spells. It died instantly and the person paid no more heed to it.
He, or she, moved with purpose through the fighting, frequently slewing mage and monster with cold precision and brutal effectiveness. Many soldiers were caught in a helpless situation that this powerful person rectified with a powerful spell that disintegrated enemies at the flick of a wrist. Havoc hoped he would never meet a person such as this. The almost casual walk lasted for five minutes, during which so many men, women and creature were slain that Havoc lost count.
Havoc supposed it was at the center of the raging battle, did the person stop to look at a figure currently burning several Pristi soldiers to ashes with formidable fireballs that Havoc felt to be so powerful that they were undrainable to an amount someone could handle. The person raised the hammer and held it pointed towards the wizard. The wizard's heavy robes didn't even move as bursts of wicked energy left the two gnarled wands in his hands. His face was hidden behind a mask Havoc had seen the Pristi hunters wear. Their eyes locked and the person was the first to react.
The hammer glowed bright and a bolt of solid light lanced out at the wizard. With a swipe of his hand, the wizard batted away the bolt with a loud crackle of shield magic and initiated a counter-attack of his own. Like projectiles shot from a gun, swords, shields and spears shot towards Havoc. The Person ducked and slammed his hammer into the ground. A dense wall of energy sprouted from the hammer head and sent the weapons flying into the air. The wizard didn't wait for him to recuperate and sent bolts and rays of varying colours. They all slammed into the dense field around Havoc, sounding like a incessant war drum in his ears. The barrage was immense and blinding, but the Person stared at the lightshow as if entranced. Havoc hadn't noticed any shift in the barrage when the shield collapsed on its own.
The next second was a blur, but Havoc saw that they were running through a tunnel of blurred space towards the wizard. He also saw in his peripheral vision that the hammer was spinning.
The next moment Havoc's ears and eyes hurt in protest as the battle resumed in all its glory and horror. Spells and explosions were everywhere. Someone had screamed so loudly that Havoc thought that they died right beside him. But he focused more on the wizard.
The hammer struck him in the chest just as a spell left the wizard's lips. Havoc knew that the blow had turned the man's heart and chest cavity into mush. But the spell still issued from the wands. Havoc's vision blurred as his view spinned two times and finally fell onto the blood-soaked ground. Blood filled Havoc's vision and the last thing he saw was Russell in his maroon armor fighting his way towards them.
Suddenly Havoc found himself staring at a cavern ceiling, veins and cracks of mineral winding all over the surface and stalactites. The ground beneath him was solid rock as well. He ran his hands over his body, felt and heard the metal scrape against the malformed surface where Adair's blade had run him through. The inside of his armor was all sticky with congealed blood from the stomach down. There was no pain or sense of losing blood, so Havoc felt confident in standing up. His healing skills were improving quickly.
Despite lifting himself gingerly off the ground, a bout of nausea attacked him. His vision swam and he lost his balance. He fell flat on the ground and groaned when his chest, arms and knees flared with pain.
"Your powers may be considerable, but your body is still not accustomed to using it."
Havoc pushed himself off the floor high enough to put himself into a sitting position and looked in the direction the voice came from. A towering figure in black and gold armor looked at him with bright golden lights for eyes. A very familiar handle rose over the figure's right shoulder. Havoc realised that this was the person whose last moments he had witnessed. The pieces fell together on their own.
"Victor..."
The figure shook his head. "Alas, only a shadow to his power. For I am Remember, and have served that function since the beginning of time."
Havoc raised an eyebrow. "Remember?"
"I attain the forms of every leader of the Creation's Children when they die, and as you have witnessed, Victor Immortal was the last of the leaders to die in centuries. Once again the Ritus has come to its peak, and the last challenge awaits you, Harry Potter."
Havoc stood up in a whirl of movement. "I am not Harry Potter!" He shouted in anger. "I am not that weakling that had let himself be used and thrown away, do you understand me?"
Victor looked at him with no expression what-so-ever, just like a shadow of a person would that was only programmed to repeat itself every Ritus. "You are not yet ready to face me in melee combat. Thus I will test you only in mind and spirit, but should you neglect your prowess in warfare, I will not spare you next time."
Havoc's anger quickly deflated because of the utterly dejected tone. There was no point in raging or screaming at an apparition. His thoughts shifted to the tests at hand. "Shall we begin?"
Havoc didn't even get to answer when he felt the entire cavern shift. Victor reappeared a dozen metres away across the shifting expanse. The cavern was gone and in its place appeared a small patch of grass surrounded by nothing. By the strange quality, Havoc figured that he was unconscious again.
"Prepare yourself, Havoc Immortal."
"This is not good," Krin murmured as the healers levitated the blade out of Adair's chest and placed it onto the table beside the bed before sliding the man into his own slice of the rejuvenation pool. Adair sunk into the pool and floated beside Razz Kota who also had a chest wound, along with a long horizontal gash on his side. Krin was saddened to see the lizardman be the first to come back, he had expected the young warrior to last a lot longer.
The sword, however, was more important right now. His overlord is without a weapon in the tournament and two more opponents remained. Krin had witnessed Havoc's impressive skill in using spells, but he feared that the two remaining were very dangerous. Havoc will need all the skill and ingenuity to beat them. He took the sword and ventured into the noon blizzard that whipped about the deceptively crumbling bathhouse/infirmary.
As he walked through the blizzard, he thought he heard someone whisper into his ear. He continued to fight the scathing wind, trudging through snow already at his hips with the aid of his rather simple warming spell. Water splashed his metal-capped boots when the snow melted in a small path in front of him. The whisper came again, more forceful then before.
Only after the third one did Krin realize it was coming from his lord's sword. He was aware that Havoc had entrapped a soul inside it, inadvertently giving it the quality of incredible sharpness, but he wasn't aware that Havoc would have been so foolish as to trap a human soul. A human soul on its own isn't dangerous, but if the soul was once a powerful warlock, as Krin suspected this might be Voldemort himself after thinking for a bit, the blade had a will of its own and shouldn't be trusted.
"I've been pleasantly surprised by the strange amount of intelligent beings that surround my prison. What is your name, minion?" A slithering voice came on the wind. Krin continued walking but looked at the wrapped sword in his hand every now and again. "Krin, yours?"
"You may call me Voldemort. I sense apprehension from you..."
Krin's top lip lifted to reveal sharp teeth. If this wasn't the lord's weapon, he would have smelted it into a ingot this very moment. Before he could respond, the snow before him melted away as a wave of heat passed him by. In the wake of rising steam trod Rex, the leather jacket and heavy leather boots only made him look even more intimidating. Krin lowered the offending sword as Rex approached.
"Krin... the sword... is Havoc hurt?" Rex started for the pool house but Krin caught the man's hand. "He is still in the tournament, the latest contestant has returned with the sword lodged inside him. Louise and Yukasa are the last two."
"But I can't feel Havoc, the only thing I can feel is something latched onto him like a parasite, could it be the cause of the disconnection?"
Krin couldn't fathom what his lord was feeling right now, and wished he would never feel something like it. "The hole through which they went closed itself, perhaps its the ancient magics that are causing the disturbance?"
Rex didn't look convinced. After a moment he took the sword and glared at it. "You will tell me everything you now, is that understood?"
Krin grinned when Voldemort responded in an obedient tone.
Ryan woke up to someone's musings. A languid but gnarled voice cooed beside him.
"Interesting, very interesting. Such ingenuity is rather refreshing." The musings stopped suddenly. "Mr. Ryan, so good to see you finally awake, although I wish I could say so for your friend here."
Ryan couldn't see anything. A sack was tied around his head. The tie loosened and the sack came off. The chamber was dark, lit up by a single chandelier. He lied on a stone slab just like the one beside him where Jacob's body was covered by a sheet. He looked away the moment he noticed his dead eyes.
"What did you do to him?! You monster!" seeing his friend dead at the table like some experiment shattered any calm Ryan had and left only hurt outrage on the surface. He wished he could tear of the bindings and strangle whatever evil creature had done this. As if to goad him further, the owner of the gnarled voice appeared in his vision. The rough scaly skin was darkish brown like weathered parchment with two huge globes of yellow stitched into it for eyes.
"Rather ingenious from your sorcerers to actually grow magical artifacts inside you as hidden tools. How they managed to hide their magical aura with the rather obvious binding spell that was ingrained in you is also impressive. I could only find them after cutting into the flesh."
Ryan glared at the minion with unadulterated hatred and the minion's smile looked like it was growing ever wider. "I overestimated the strength of you humans, wizards are much more resilient. I understand asking you for any information won't get us anywhere, so I believe the only use I can get from you is do some tests and keep you alive before we find a way to get the information out of you." the horrifying thing was that the minion said those horrible things with a smile on its face like this was an everyday chat.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I must get the tools. Don't go anywhere."
The minion disappeared in the adjoining chamber behind a thick door. Ryan closed his eyes in frustration and let his head fall back onto the stone table. They were right, he was fighting monsters, these Pristi. Just seeing with what creatures they made company was enough to join the cause. He heard a door open.
"What in Merlin's beard is going on here?"
Ryan opened his eyes and saw a hulking man step into the room. He had never seen such a large man in his life, though he had seen giants and other tall humanoids during training, but never a tall human such as this man. The man rushed over to him and started unbuckling the leather restraints. "Ye alright? They didn't hurt ya or anythin'?"
Ryan sat up and rubbed his sore wrists and neck. "I know a way out, we're gettin' outta here." the giant man said and promptly took Ryan by the hands and pulled him out of the room in only his briefs. Ryan pulled his hand out of the giant's grip. "I need to get something..." and rushed back into the room to the table beside the stone slab where Jacob lay. He took the insignia and ran back outside.
Together, Ryan and the giant ran down the hall made of marble and stone lit up by crystal globes of light. Ryan hoped the other man knew where they were going. Right now, he felt ashamed of not being able to help his men survive, scared of being cut open like some lab animal and getting caught and furious at the Pristi. If he wasn't in just his briefs, he would stay here and take as many with him as he could. He wondered who this giant was and what was he doing here.
Suddenly the giant turned his bulk into another deserted corridor and Ryan almost slammed into him. Only his trained dexterity prevented it from happening. They didn't run far down this particular corridor as the giant stopped at a single door and pushed himself in. Ryan followed and shivered, the temperature in the room lower for several degrees than the hall. Into his hands was thrust a fur coat.
"Put it on, and these, too." the giant said and offered a pair of old clothes that looked to be from the eighteenth century. A pair of crisp black slacks, slick, heeled shoes and a white button-up shirt.
"Why are you helping me?"
The giant rummaged through a crate. The room looked to be a storeroom of somekind. Crates upon crates were stockpilled, all full of clothes and other random objects. The cold itself seemed to be here to preserve the quality of the things stored. "It's the right thing to do, I am not here because I like it here, either. The name's Rubeus Hagrid."
"Ryan Glass."
Hagrid took something out of the crate he was digging through and showed it to Ryan. It was a brass globe with strange runes scrawled all over its surface. It looked small compared to the giant's large hand. "What's that supposed to be?"
Hagrid looked at him in mild confusion. "Er...I think it's a portkey. I know some of these runes. See this line? It says portkey." his giant finger ran down a lenghty section of rune across the globe's surface.
"So how do we use it?"
At that Hagrid frowned. He didn't know. Ryan took the globe and turned it over in his hands. An idea came to him.
"Do you have a dagger or something sharp? I've got an idea."
"Maybe we shouldn't try anything that will break it..."
Ryan shook his head."Nothing like that. Do you have anything?"
Hagrid gave him a huntsman's knife. Ryan took it and pulled up his sleeve on his left arm. He pressed the smooth blade of the knife on his forearm and dragged it down to the wrist from the elbow. He saw the giant cringe and barely stop himself from taking the knife back, but it was obvious he thought cutting himself was a bad idea. Ryan ignored him and put the knife down. He found this rather painful process immensely satisfying when he thought he was going to use the very tools that minion had found to escape under his nose.
He dug his fingers into the wound and felt for the Cracker housed amidst the muscle. It burned and hurt like hell, but now was not the time to be squeamish about being in pain. His training wouldn't allow it, too. Through the muscle he finally found the bulge he really rarely had to use. He grabbed hold of it and pulled. A stubby cylinder covered in blood and lymph came out in between his fingers. It was a proper small cylinder, but it looked like it was made out of bone and sinew.
The giant cringed and quickly cast a healing spell to close the wound on Ryan's forearm. Ryan pressed the cylinder to the brass ball and felt it work its magic. The Cracker was essentially an artifact that forced another artifact to do what it's supposed to do without the need for a specific user or incantation. Thus far it worked every time, though Ryan never used it against old Pristi magic.
A moment later the brass ball opened to reveal a small cluster of handles that were large enough only for holding onto with his fingers. Ryan and Hagrid looked at each other and smiled like idiots. "Let's get out of here."
"You don't have to tell me twice," Ryan said.
Updated and revised, 07.18.2018