Phoenix Tears Rising
An Alternate Year Six Book
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.
Chapter Twenty Eight. Saladin's Vengence. Tristian's Strength.
The Valley, 19th January 1061: 08:59pm
Tristian stood slowly as if expecting another confrontation. The battle was all but over. Gingerly touching his bruised cheekbone he hissed violently and spat out a little bit of blood. Now that the heat of battle was over he felt suddenly very weak at the knees. His skull felt like it had been packed with a multitude of foam stuffing. He sank to the ground and let the dizziness warp around him like a long woollen cloak.
Axcel shaking also sunk to his knees by his brother and placed what he meant to be a comforting hand on Tristian's knees. "I think I'm going to be sick," Tristian muttered and Axcel noticed that his skin was flushed and burning.
"I have been sick brother," Axcel confessed patting Tristian's leg. "But I think it was the blood boiling curse that is affecting you at the moment."
"Blood boiling curse?" Tristian parroted. "Bloody brilliant."
Axcel laughed lightly and shook his head. The two brothers didn't have time to continue there banter. They were abruptly cut off by two strong arms embracing them in a wild bear hug.
"I don't know whether to be proud or angry," Tristian heard Godric's voice as his nose was pressed firmly against his father's burly chest. He let out a sigh of relief that one of his father's was still living before joining Axcel in protest to be let go.
"My boys have grown from boys to men and I have not the wits about me to realise it," Godric murmured and held his sons at arms length glancing at them in awe.
Tristian found himself blushing in embarrassment and pride. Never before had another adult he admired so praised him so highly. He vaguely wondered when Godric's good opinion meant so much to him.
Tristian didn't have any time to contemplate his changing attidudes towards his medieval family as Axcel broke out into sniggers. He craned his neck around to see what his brother was trying valiantly to mask his laughter over and saw Salazar Slytherin actually running without any thought of his dignity. Silas followed at what he surely felt was a more respectful and elegant pace. Salazar had no such qualms, Tristian noted, feeling somewhat flattered.
"Drink this," Salazar said falling to his knees quickly and shoving a vial of baby blue liquid into Tristian's hands.
Tristian sighed heavily and eyed the vial with an expression of disgust. No matter how many potions he was forced to swallow he would never become accustomed to the horrible taste. Salazar's raised eyebrow and the thin white lips convinced Tristian that he better down the horrid liquid.
Surprisingly the potion was cool on his tongue and sent shivers down his spine as he tipped it into his mouth. It was cold! He sighed heavily and leant his forehead on Salazar's chest.
"I thought I saw Godric die," Tristian sighed heavily in way of explanation thinking that Salazar required one.
Salazar's head shot up and he glared at Godric. "Tristian somehow was able to warn me only moments before Malic's troops attacked. He only saw the beginning."
"Only your blood…" Tristian muttered feebly feeling suddenly ill. A part of him was certain Godric had been decapitated.
"You're hurt," Salazar said accusingly over Tristian's head.
Godric smiled thinly. "Only a little bit."
Tristian sighed and pulled himself together and leant back to assure himself that Silas was indeed standing over him, smirking and in one piece.
"Where is Grandfather?" Tristian inquired and watched in trepedition as both Godric and Salazar exchanged worried glances.
"Malic!" Vladimir cried pointing. Tristian jumped unaware that his older cousin had also joined them. He turned briskly to where the elder wizard was pointing with his shaking hand.
Troops annilated and finding himself friendless on the field of battle, Malic was trying to make a quick escape. Tristian's heart thumped with wild exhalation as a familiar black bicorn gave chase. Long graceful neck bowed and two razor sharp horns plucked Malic's form from the ground and tossed him into the air.
Tristian fought the urge to giggle at Malic flailing body soaring through the air like a deposed of rag doll. He was vaguely aware of Godric's firm hand holding his sweating palms as he watched red droplets fly from Malic's battered body in what seemed to be slow motion.
As the evil werewolf's body hit the ground the bicorn turned back into the regal figure of Saladin Slytherin. Malic turned to face his foe and Tristian was sure the vile creature was trying to face his current situation with courage and honour. He failed magnificently. Saladin lifted his heavy sword and brought in down on a screaming Malic's head with a fury and intensity that surprised and terrified Tristian.
"The wolf is dead," Vladimir murmured shocked.
"I hope that will never be my head," Silas muttered uncomfortably still staring unblinkingly at Malic's corpse and Saladin's elegant figure.
Tristian sighed heavily surprise that his body didn't feel so flushed and warm anymore. His eyes were sliding closed despite his brain telling him he had to stay awake.
"Dreamless sleep… you tinted the potion with dreamless sleep."
Salazar smiled indulgently down into Tristian's sleepy face. "Just for you, my son," Tristian heard the soft reply before he tumbled into oblivion.
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The Valley, 21st January 1061: 07: 21pm
Tristian shifted uneasily in his chair. Salazar's special blend of dreamless sleep and coolent had him unconscious the whole journey back from the Valley to Hogwarts. He stretched his shoulders again feeling the tight knot of muscle and sent a disgusted look at the two twins Gretchen and Georgina.
Seeing Tristian's annoyed glare, Georgina cheekily blew him a kiss. Gretchen raised her eyebrows in true Saladin Slytherin fashion, before turning back to her sister and chatting about Tristian's new 'love affair' with Marguerite.
Cheeks flaming in humiliation at Saladin surprisingly good natured amusement and the shining light of pride in Godric's eyes, Tristian turned back to his meal remember Ulrich's threat to shove it down his throat if he didn't comply and eat everything. Silas was busy piling Tristian's plate on his left side and Axcel on the right when they thought Tristian wasn't looking.
Tristian gave a long suffering sigh and glanced at his plate. "Why is there another piece of roast beef on my plate?" Tristian eyed Axcel accusingly. His Gryffindor brother grinned guiltly back and when back to his plate placidly.
Taking a spoonful of peas Tristian dumped them on Silas' plate while he continued a lively discussion with Madam Hufflepuff. Silas and Axcel didn't seem to realise that Tristian was piling the food right back onto their plates when they were watching.
"Are we going to try tonight?" Axcel's voice broke Tristian's revery and a dozen peas spilled from his fork as he jolted. Tristian blinked stupidly at the peas trying to figure out what Axcel's excited question was pertaining to.
"Taking a few people to the future," Silas said impatiently glancing up from his exchanged with Madam Hufflepuff. He refrained from making any other remark instead he glanced at his plate. "Why are there more peas on my plate?"
Tristian shrugged innocently at his brother's irrated stare and nodded his head. "I thought maybe only a few years, say twenty years first."
"That ought to be interesting. I wonder if I will have a beard," Axcel muttered between his roast beef. Silas rolled his eyes.
Tristian folded his napkin neatly and set his plate to the side. "I'm going to set up."
Axcel and Silas exchanged grins. "We're coming too!"
The three boys left the Great Hall with three spefic 'be carefuls' following them.
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Twenty minutes later saw Tristian lying on his bed wedged between Axcel and Silas, with Marguerite watching apprenhensively. He shifted uncomfortably and closed his eyes and swallowed the hellbore in one gulp.
Tristian was instantly aware that he wasn't alone in drifting. Axcel and Silas were also with him. Concentrating on his destination and not his brothers Tristian soon found himself standing in the middle of an unknown room. He jumped when he heard a strange cry.
Moving away from his brother's presence Axcel approached a large oval cot. Tristian glanced at Silas and they withdrew their hands from each other's grip. As long as their hands did not stop touching in the present time the brother's weren't in danger: hence Margurerite's boring job.
"It's a… it's a baby!" Axcel said peering over the rim of the cot.
Silas rolled his eyes. "Truly?"
Not catching Silas' sarcasm Axcel nodded much to Tristian's amusement.
The door opened swiftly as the baby began to wail in earnst. A man of medium height, dark hair and a goatie entered and swiftly picked up the baby. "Oh you have a will of iron, Princess Isa," the man said to the babe holding her above his head as if to appraise the child.
The babe giggled and jiggled about happily. "Yes and you have woken Papa from his nap. Something your older sisters have been trying for the last half an hour."
The baby gurgled at him seemingly unconcerned by her father's triad. The man sighed heavily and sat down with the baby girl bouncing on his knee.
Tristian blinked realising suddenly who exactly he was seeing… himself. Silas was already eye Tristian appraisingly.
"Papa! Papa!"
The older Tristian raised his eyes heavenward and turned the baby to face him. "It seems Princess one and two have realised that you have vanquished me and I am awake."
Two little girls one dressed in crimson the other in emerald burst into the room. The littlest one a child of about four, with long read hair like a mane, stood on her tip toes to whisper in her father's ear. "'sanders is chasing us!"
"Truly," older Tristian said pinching the bridge of his nose. "And what does Uncle Axcel say of this, Liona?"
"That we should bother you with our shrill female voices," the older girl answered for her sister. She regarded her father with large innocent eyes and flipped her long black hair from her face. Tristian would have guessed she was eight. "Lysander is horrid."
"And what makes your cousin so horrid, Giselle my dear?" older Tristian asked seeing a pouting blonde toddler at the door. All but the child's button nose, large grey eyes and deep blonde curls disappeared from behind the door.
"He's only a boy, Papa!" Liona cried throwing her hands up in the air excited. "And we are girls. And he has frog spawn in his pockets."
"Papa is a boy. And he only has frog spawn?"
Giselle regarded her father seriously. "But… but… you're Papa, of course you are a boy," she said looking somewhat confused.
"And one day a boy will tell you my Princesses that you are only a girl," Tristian told them gravely.
"Then I will have to punch their lights out," Giselle pointed out firmly as if her answer was obvious.
Older Tristian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose again. "Lysander is only a small child," he pointed out. "Don't you think you could let him join in with your games?"
Giselle looked put out. "You like him better than us because he is a boy," she told her father accusingly.
"I wonder how you are going to get out of this one," Silas muttered in Tristian's ear, making his brother groan.
Older Tristian shifted the baby over and indicated for the two girls to sit next to him. The children complied with long suffering sighs of indignation. "Did Papa ever tell you that when I was a little lad I had a cousin that made me feel awful?"
The two girls shook their heads. "Cousin Ladimir?" Liona asked seriously with her fingers wedged in her mouth.
"No. Another cousin, dear." The older wizard extracted his daughter's fingers from her mouth and glanced down at her tenderly. "You see I was only a wizard, a freak of nature. He hated me and wouldn't let me play with him."
"Aw… poor Papa." Liona tapped Tristian's cheek sympathetically. Older Tristian smiled on the little girl indulgently.
"Moral of the story is you want us to play with him and leave you in peace," Giselle muttered crossing her arms against her chest.
"Purhaps for a little while you can all do something Lysander can do with you."
"Story?" came a little hopeful voice from the end of the room. Tristian sighed pinched the bridge of his nose and refused to look anywhere at his nephew whom he couldn't deny anything. He nodded curtly and a moment later the patter of small feet hurtled across the room and onto his lap.
"Story?" Lysander reinterated hopefully blinking innocently and held up a book in his grubby hands. Apparently Lysander had come prepared.
Sighing Tristian opened the book at the first page, rearranged the baby, the small boy and his two daughters so that he was somewhat comfortable. "Once upon a time…"
