Harry Potter & the Child of Phoenix
Disclaimer: We've discussed this. I don't own anything! Except for the plot and the characters you've never heard of. They're mine. Mine.
-
Warning: Lord Voldemort will be very out of character in the next few chapters. This doesn't mean that there's a new Dark Lord or that our favorite Unnamable Serpentine Freak o' Nature is scared; it just means that, well … he's shocked, quite frankly. Also, this chapter does not entirely embody the deepest meaning of graphic violence and bloodplay, but I'll warn you that someone is having a bit of fun with the 'red water'.
Rated M for violence.
-
Chapter Thirty-Five: Voldemort's Greatest Mistake (aka, Id)
The golden-eyed Golradir chuckled, twirling the fiery-orbed Scepter between his fingers as he glided to the center of the clearing. There was a feline grace in his movements that his alter ego Kaltagonus never possessed. As Harry shifted against his bindings, he noticed the rest of the captives.
The Death Eaters had lost their masks somewhere in the maelstrom and he recognized the Lestrange brothers, jittery Rabastan and thickset, scowling Rodolphus. Harry vaguely remembered they were supposed to be in Azkaban, but didn't remember hearing of a recent breakout. The third gaunt and sallow-skinned follower was unknown to him.
Beside them, the vampires were snarling and wriggling furiously, biting at their ropes, as were the Hybrids, even as the red-haired Being chuckled disparagingly. Ella shot Harry a worried, fearful look, glancing at Golradir with something akin to horror. Voldemort, predictably, was murderous; Mystikos simply looked curious.
Harry froze as Golradir aimed the glowing Ravenstone Scepter at him with a crooked smirk, his clawed hand moving it just a fraction as a white beam fired past his head, ruffling his hair as it rocketed off into the darkness. "I am expecting a few guests," the sinister Being explained cordially. Harry couldn't help but notice the deep pitch with which his spoke, so unlike the fiery-tempered Being. "But I will go on despite their absence. After all: no sense in spoiling the party when we have more than enough guests, yes?" He widely grinned, displaying his somewhat narrowed teeth, reshaped into points.
"Unhand me." Voldemort coldly commanded, his eyes narrowed and swirling with fury.
Golradir theatrically gasped. "And let you miss all the fun? That would be terribly rude me as the host." He replied mock horrified and smirked in the seething Dark Lord's direction. "However, it is awfully foul of me to have you here and not introduce myself. But first I—"
Suddenly, there was a loud snapping sound and a growl and before Harry knew it, Jojo had broken through the bindings and grabbed Golradir by the neck, knocking the Scepter out of his hand. "Dead meat's what yeh are," she hissed, her tongue running up and down his neck. "But not before I have a taste o' your royal blood, m'sweet boy."
Harry was seriously unnerved when Golradir's response was to smile: there was something about his smile that was off, demented almost.
Golden eyes twinkled merrily and were so disturbingly narrowed, there were only pinpricks of black visible. "What are you waiting for?" He urged. "Be the first bloodsucker to taste gold blood and run off to your little neck-nibbling mates to brag about it." Harry felt icy dread grip him as Jojo sniffed and lapped at the madly grinning boy's neck.
"Go on," Golradir repeated. "Bite me."
Jojo replied with a snicker, flashing her fangs, "If you insist." She proudly hissed before her fangs disappeared into the redhead's neck, her jaws clamping down. Harry watched, gaping as Golradir gasped, his eyes fluttering shut and a euphoric smile stretched across his face. From across the glade, Harry could hear Mona's triumphant chuckles.
Jojo pulled back to drink the red and gold blood spilling down Kaltag's neck with a delighted smirk. "Oh," she moaned as she greedily slurped. "Oh, Mona, you've got to taste him! So sweet, it's so sweet!" She licked noisily, her gray eyes dilating and slowly draining into scarlet. "I knew he'd be good, so delicious!" the vampire wiped the dripping gold from her mouth with the back of her sleeve, a manic gleam in her eyes. "We've got to save this one, Mona! He's so sweet! He's…" Jojo abruptly stopped, her wide beam disappearing completely from her face.
The next thing Harry knew the dark creature belted out a bloodcurdling scream, gripping her head between her fists and shaking it violently. She hunched over and shook herself, banging at her head with a balled fist and ripping out tufts of chestnut brown and ran, as if trying to escape something, something possibly haunting her, something in her head.
Before his very eyes, Jojo's unblemished olive skin, rotted; gold blood slopped from her mouth full of decayed teeth and over her cracked lips spilling down her front. Her vibrant hair was now a ball of flame and the scent of the burnt green, slimy skin of her hands filled the air. Harry swallowed the urge to vomit as gold liquid poured from her worm-eaten nose and eye sockets, flying in all directions as she furiously began to shake her head. The once beautiful Jojo was now a decomposing corpse, loping around the clearing on mismatched legs of brass and donkey, an inhuman wail passing her lips.
And while all this happened, Golradir whistled a cheerful tune as he crossed over to Hryczuk and smoothly unsheathed his sword. He looked on, bored, as the Empousa ran by him, howling in anguish as vessels all over her body burst, pouring black and gold blood.
"Silly me: Did I forget to tell you?" He offhandedly began as he polished the sword with the vampire's discarded shirt. Golradir paused to smirk, spearing the suffering creature with a dark look.
"I'm O-poisonous."
As she passed, he swung the blade and her shrieking abruptly stopped, echoing sharply through the forest. Jojo's head made a graceful arc in the air before hitting the ground, rolling to a stop near Harry's feet. Harry's stomach renewed the urge to heave, but he stopped it: just barely.
"Well!" Golradir happily replied, tossing the sword off to the side and cracking his back. "That certainly stung. Been a while: glad to see I haven't lost my old charm." He grabbed a piece of Jojo's shirt and wiped the fluid from the dual punctures in his neck, chucking the soiled cloth at Mona (who shrank away) and tucking the Ravenstone Scepter in his waistband. Golradir paused at the rest of the Empousa's body, threw it an impatient look, and proceeded to kick it, rolling into a nearby ditch.
He loudly sighed, satisfied, before he turned to face the rest of the clearing. "Oh! Hello! Forgot you were all here. Nice of you to wait for me."
"Like we had a choice." Rodolphus Lestrange bitterly seethed, squirming beneath the roots' grip.
"Manners, young man," Golradir crooned. "Oh, I forget: you are, after all, humans." He distastefully replied.
Voldemort and his Death Eaters hissed in protest. "How dare you refer to us as Muggles!" the third Death Eater snarled.
"No," the narrow-eyed Being dangerously whispered as he stared them down. "You're just humans with magic sticks.
"Now, then," he clapped his hands together and smiled winningly, smiled as if he hadn't just killed someone, even if it was a vampire. Harry fought desperately against his restraints: this couldn't be happening!
"Before we commence: any more takers? I promise you your death will be just as quick as hers." The only sound in the clearing was of heavy breathing and gasps. "None? You're not as stupid as you all look, then. Now, first thing's first."
Golradir's sneer gave way to a scowl as he strode up to the livid Dark Lord … and whacked him clear across the cheek. Voldemort's head flew to the side and black spit foamed out of his mouth when he gave the boy a death glare.
"Now, now," Golradir jovially continued, leaning over the dark wizard and grasping his chin between his fingers. He shook the scowling wizard's head from side to side comically with each word. "Let's keep our hands to ourselves, shall we?" Harry would have laughed, especially at the deadly look Voldemort was giving the redhead, had the situation not been so terrifying.
"How dare you treat our lord with such contempt!" Rodolphus shouted, thrashing beneath the fastened roots. Harry could see the Lestrange brothers had their wands in hand.
"Oh, I wouldn't bother. I've blocked your magic." Golradir casually replied, leaning away from the growling Voldemort. "It's mine to control, now." Harry froze, his eyes wide as saucers.
"Impossible!" Rabastan balked.
Golradir's eyebrow arched. "Do you feel anything?" Harry decided against his better judgment to see for himself as Rodolphus shouted various Unforgivables. He whispered the Light Spell under his breath—his wand was just a few feet away—but nothing happened. In fact, Harry felt quite … empty. He had always felt some sort of unexplainable sensation all over his body, and somehow he knew that was his magic. Now, he all he could feel was a nagging tingle throughout his body, but it was deadened enough to ignore. A quick look to Ella a tree down from him confirmed she felt it, too.
"Well?"
At the Lestranges' horror-struck expressions, Golradir dispassionately stated, "I rest my case.
"Now, you will listen up, and you will listen well. I will not repeat myself, so do not interrupt me or else," he paused from his pacing to scowl at each of them in turn. Harry shivered when those sinister eyes fell on him. "I'll have to get nasty, and I don't want to get nasty … yet." Golden eyes shifted to the next person to appraise. "The consequence, should you refuse to comply…"
In a split second, the niggling prickle Harry felt became unbearable as unimaginable pain exploded through his body. Wherever he felt his skin crawling, there was hot pain, and his head felt as if it was cleaved in half and stuck in a pot of boiling oil, much worse than when his scar hurt. His body jerked and writhed against the ropes and Harry knew he was just one in the chorus of screaming voices he could hear throughout the glade. In what seemed liked minutes but was in reality seconds, the blistering pain rivaling the Cruciatus was back to an uncomfortable prickle, heat rising to the surface of his skin.
"That, ladies, was your magic." Golradir gleefully enlightened. "More specifically, the magic in your blood. You see, you've got me under your skin: literally. If I'm in you, then I'm in your magic; if I'm in your magic, I'm in your blood." He calmly smiled as he walked. "And if I'm in your blood, I can get to your mind. And when I'm in your mind, I've got your soul," he stopped dead in front of Voldemort. "And if I've got your soul? I am you. And if I'm you …
"…You're doomed." Harry heard the chilling whisper resonate in his head. An icy grip seized his insides before it vanished. "But enough of that. Now that you know the rules, are we clear?" His response was met with the groans of those still twitching from the pain. Harry gulped when Golradir's eyes reflected annoyance.
"I said, are—we—clear?" The searing pain returned and Harry felt as if his very veins were coursing with liquid fire.
"YES! YESSSS!" The prisoners cried out, quaking between the roots and the tree trunks. The golden-eyed beast let out a breathy chuckle.
"Shall we begin?" He sociably replied to their drawn expressions. "I am so very pleased you all could be here to witness this." Golradir paused to close his eyes and sigh, almost happily, before the demented twinkle returned to his gaze. "I'm sorry; I have to pause and revel in the fact that I have made it. I'm here."
He slowly began to strut about the clearing. "Seventeen years at war, and with whom? A brilliant fool more powerful than he realizes, keeping me dormant for all these years? Inconceivable!" The scowling stranger paused to casually lean on Voldemort's tree again. "Frighteningly powerful, this one, and yet incredibly foolish. 1After all, what good is power if you don't know how to harness it? Right, Voldemort?" Harry could feel Voldemort's rage pulsing in his scar, nearly blinding him in pain; angry couldn't even begin to describe the Dark Lord.
"But I'll get to you later," Golradir mirthlessly chuckled as he chucked the red-eyed sorcerer's chin with a finger. Something told Harry that there was more than just conviction in the Being's tone. "For those of you unfamiliar with this body, allow me to introduce my witless host: Kaltagonus … Lucien … Kataibates … Smythe, the Child of Phoenix." He haltingly announced.
From his right, Ella gasped in disbelief. "You're … you're supposed to be—you're supposed to be—"
"I wha…? Wha, huh, wha?" Golradir mocked as he glided in her direction. He leaned in close and gave the witch a charming smile. "Say again, my little morsel?"
Ella's face scrunched up and she replied, "You—you're supposed to be good! You're supposed to be—"
"All I am supposed to be, sweet girl," the gold-eyed Being interrupted, his lips hovering near the red-haired witch's ear, "Is the last face you see before you die. I am to put you and the rest of your frail-minded race out of their misery until my task is complete. I would have done this already, but Kaltagonus," he spat the Celestial's name as if it were a curse, and Harry saw the witch flinch at his harsh tone, "had not yet yielded to me and given me reign over his body so I can use it for my discretion. Now, why can't that silly little boy just do as he's told for once?
"Silly, though he may be," Golradir pulled away from Ella's decidedly pink face, "but extraordinary: a strong, beautiful," his hand moved to brush against her cheek. Harry could tell Ella was barely containing her shudder of fear. "Deadly individual. Gods and goddesses of all ages swoon for him, but he's as naïve as they come. Incredibly, I had met my match … in a human. A cursed one, at that." Golradir simpered, curling his stroking fingers into a fist and lowering it. He moved away from Ella and Harry saw her quiet sigh of relief.
"But no more. I intend to remain in control; he's had his entertainment, but his body now belongs to me. Anyone who disagrees," he motioned to the discarded blade, "will debate their rebuttal with that sword.
"Where to start, where to start," the golden-eyed Being paced, his hands settled on his bare waist as his shirt billowed in the soft breeze. He paused in front of Voldemort with a brightening expression. "Ah! Voldemort?" Golradir motioned to himself as the red-eyed sorcerer scowled. "Meet your greatest mistake: me."
Voldemort's expression was inscrutable, but Golradir continued anyway. "Oh, how soon you forget. Come on, let's jog that memory. Think back, some eighteen years ago. Nighttime … tavern … me nearly choking the life out of you before I even left the womb? Any of this ringing a bell?"
If Voldemort was surprised, he hid it well. His face remained a calm, frightening mask of indifference, but when he spoke, his voice was low and rasping. "I destroyed you."
The golden-eyed Being sneered, "No. You displaced me. Disregarded me as a botched job." His lip stuck out in a disdainful pout. "I resent that, really."
Harry's scar gave a sharp twinge as Voldemort's crimson gaze briefly flicked in his direction. "What do you want?"
"We can offer you plenty of blood if you are so inclined," Mystikos added, looking upon the ginger-haired beast in something akin to wonder. "The three of us together would be a force no one would dare oppose. Join our side, the right side."
Golradir snorted in the Dark Prince's direction. "It's not blood I want. I may have been out of commission for centuries but that doesn't mean I've forgotten how to kill." He inclined his head toward the ditch where Jojo's body lay.
"Then release us and I give you my word you can slaughter as many was you want. You do not want to displease me." Voldemort threatened, squaring his shoulders even beneath the thick, secure straps.
"You say that as if your word means something to me." The Celestial quietly replied as he steadily held the Dark Lord's gaze and moved away. "Promises are for those with something to lose. You are a great manipulator, Serpent Tongue, but not nearly good enough." The affronted look on Voldemort's face spoke volumes.
Harry fought the urge to recoil when the Celestial abruptly stopped before him and smirked. "You really are as dense as the dark-eyed one says, Potter. Dreams that were not your own, precious gems that glowed when I was in proximity, mood swings. As my disinclined host would say, you're a regular bloodhound, aren't you?" He grinned his feral grin as Harry inwardly seethed. Mystikos openly chuckled as Golradir continued his stride.
"But yes, Potter, your precocious little witch friend was right: I am a Bellotaur, and as nasty as they come. The last of its kind, a gesture made certain by yours truly … nearly 4000 years ago when I came to be, but one can never be too confident in his work. But I promise I'll get to you later, Voldemort." His eyes gleamed and his teeth seemed to become sharper as his mouth stretched into a sarcastic grin. The sharp pang in Harry's scar meant Voldemort was boiling beneath the surface at such offense.
"4000 years … that was ages ago. An age where power was seized without compromise, where humans feared us — the very same white-knuckled fear gripping you now; an age when Celestials," he mockingly spat, "were still called gods. The gods had their attention turned to the war, which left me free to devastate the homes of the soldiers. There would be no Greece by the time the Great War would be over with, not if I could help it. It was a golden age, an era that rivaled even the magnificence of the Great Kingdoms of the Hellas," Harry swallowed as the fanatical expression on the Bellotaur's face fell flat into a scowl. Bright eyes drifted over the forest floor, vaguely unseeing as Golradir paused to visibly hark back to times' passed. His eyes glistened with bitterness. "Kingdoms I could have taken, had I not been imprisoned in that stupid Seer's ball.
"They thought they could control me." Golradir nodded to himself; Harry noticed he was too far-gone to realize he was rambling. "Lock me away in some ridiculous orb to keep me out of trouble. You fools. No orb — nor any council can bind me, the greatest warrior never mentioned! No man can control me!"
An obsessive laughter bubbled up from his throat and Harry was alarmed to realize he'd only ever heard Voldemort laugh in that same way. And apparently, the red-eyed sorcerer wasn't too keen on being out-chuckled. He threw the Being a look of utmost loathing, which, naturally, continued to go unnoticed.
"They thought the punishment of locking me away in an orb for all eternity was condign enough. They never once thought rebuking me to solitary confinement would force me to think," Golradir paused to stare at Mona and furiously rap his finger to her temple, "of other means of escape. Those fools allowed me to plot my revenge: my flight. Oh, they should have been more careful: they left me to think over all the pain and anguish and sorrow I caused." Golradir scorned.
"Oh, I thought, all right. I thought of how to fill that ache in me, that sharp panging that longed for the thrill of the kill, the sound of my sword, so sharp, that it whistled through the air when I wielded it. I thought of all of these things: and I thought of ways to escape. Of signals, signs to get your weak lot to notice me, to free me. But I had to wait for the opportune moment, waiting long-sufferingly in my little white orb, waiting to be reborn into a new world, fresh for the slaughter.
"Now it's true I could have taken control of a man, but my urges would have made me seek out a stronger one and another and another; the deaths were sure to gain attention, attention I did not need at the moment. And thus, my brilliant plan," Golradir smirked chillingly, leaving Harry feeling ice-cold and anxious. "I could not take hold of a man, but I could of a woman. The drawback: I would be born a fetus, with little to no control over her depending on her magical ability, but nonetheless, I would be formed with only the capacity to influence the mare to protect her fetus by any means necessary.
"Thankfully, your lot was exceptionally ignorant of the warning on the Unfathomable. It was by pure chance I slipped through her fingers; and then, I was made. My plan was perfect," his triumphant grin dissolved into a frown. "Until you came along and screwed it to the high heavens." He aimed at the snarling Dark Lord, the trees crackling from his annoyance. "Nevertheless, you fell for it. You really are a stupid race."
"You like hearing yourself talk, don't you?"
All eyes glided over to the foolish soul that spoke these words. Harry's eyes immediately darted to Golradir, who instead of attacking as he assumed, gave Rodolphus a tiny smile. Slowly, Golradir moved across the clearing to the tree holding the frowning Death Eater, Rodolphus' fist still tight around his useless wand. He slowly nodded. "Indeed. And you're like me, aren't you?"
Rodolphus cringed as the soft-spoken Bellotaur leaned in to sniff at the blood caked in his dark wispy beard and tangled hair. Harry craned his neck to watch Golradir's nose graze the dark wizard's whiskers and the golden eyes fall shut as they inhaled deeply. A smile unfolded across the ginger-haired Being's face.
"Mm…" he all but purred as his hands slid up the Death Eater's robes to grip them tightly. "More than one scent pervades yours. You have…" Golradir paused to make a quivering gasp as he breathed in the pleased Lestrange's arms down to his hands. "The lives of others saturate your very being! I bet you've killed dozens, haven't you? You're just like me." Harry felt a sudden chill at the Bellotaur's bizarre behavior. Golradir tilted his head to the side and cracked the eager, agreeing Death Eater a sweet smile.
In a split second Golradir's pleasant grin shifted into a nasty sneer as a root exploded from the soil, whipping Hryczuk's sword from the ground and into Golradir's outstretched hand.
Rodolphus had just enough time to convey his shock as Golradir's golden eyes blazed deadly, pulsing scarlet and he gruffly snarled, "I don't like competition."
The blade glinted briefly in the moonlight before it fell on Rodolphus, rending his head from his shoulders. Gasps and cries of horror and protest rang throughout the group as the roots loosened around the fallen Death Eater's body, dropping it to the forest floor with a listless 'thud'.
Harry's wide eyes moved from the thickset wizard's remains to the growling Bellotaur. Golradir wiped the dark smear—obviously Rodolphus' blood—from his face with his sleeve. Harry felt his stomach turn when Golradir licked a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth and his once again gold eyes winked at the ashen Rabastan. Though he never did care much about the Lestranges, Harry would never have wished that kind of death on anyone.
He came back to the present when Golradir once again tossed the sword aside and mopped the line of blood off his chest with the corner of his shirt. "I do hate being interrupted," he casually mentioned as if he were commenting on the weather. He gave the still corpse of Rodolphus a disapproving look as he wiped his torso. "Nevertheless, our headless friend is correct: enough about me," Golradir's golden eyes flashed menacingly and another chilling smile made its way to his face. "Let's hear about you. After all, it's not everyday I get to play with my toys before I break them. So who's first?"
The light rustling of leaves by the wind answered his inquiry. No one dared to speak, and Harry thought it was because they either feared that nastily unpleasant feeling of their blood set afire or losing their head. He shivered at the mere thought of either of those.
Golradir's expectant expression turned foul. "I've waited thousands of years for this moment." He softly admitted, his voice building with intensity. "Been waiting for this since I was stuck, jailed in that orb. Waiting since incubation in my host-witch, waiting for the moment until I drew breath again, until I had strength to wield my sword once more! Too long have I been without the feel of warm, cleansing, telling blood; I yearn for the taste of copper on my tongue! Now again … who shall be first?"
The harsh-faced Being pulled the Ravenstone Scepter from his waistband and held it aloft, threateningly. "Is it you?" He pointed toward one of the Hybrids. "You, Potter? Or you? Hm?" He asked, stepping lightly, like a predator stalking its prey. "Consider it an honor, for you would be recorded as the first soul taken upon Golradir's second uprising. Who," Harry flinched as the Bellotaur roared, "shall be first?"
Not one sound was made by the mixed assembly. Golradir straightened his hunched poise and narrowed his eyes at them. "No volunteers? Very well."
The sharp whistle of wind cutting through air was all the warning they received before an incisive invisible force swept through the bedraggled group. Harry gasped aloud as the wind nipped by, and his head snapped to the side as he felt the distinct sensation of blood trickling down onto his face from a sizeable laceration on his forehead.
Golradir moaned from his center spot in the clearing. A quick glance at the remaining Death Eaters and Voldemort showed that they'd been nicked, too. "So many familiar scents, so enticing!" The Bellotaur shut his eyes and pressed fingertips to his temple. "My Mind's Eye Sees so much pain amongst this group. Betrayal, lies, deceit, sacrifice, prophecy, stupidity; death, murder, anguish … riveting. All the more reason to do you in, save you from this wretched, wretched world." He paused, his gleaming eyes darting from the canopy to the forest floor as his nostrils flared, "But first: come out, come out, sword-bearer!"
Within moments more roots sprang from the earth but dashed into the darkness of the trees this time. Seconds later, the long coils returned, dragging a bulky, resisting mass along. With the same brutality shown himself and the others, Harry watched as the ropes lashed the captive forward and flung them back with a sickening 'crack' against the only vacant tree, finally wrapping themselves tightly around them. The new prisoner groaned, their head lolling forward.
"Professor Kenward," Golradir dourly greeted. Harry could see beneath the dead leaves clinging to his woolly robes and the dirt on his face that it was indeed Kenward. "Been waiting for you all day."
Without skipping a beat Kenward quickly answered, "Well, I got here as fast as I could."
"Witty one, eh?" Golradir sneered and mimed cuffing the professor across the face. Kenward harshly inhaled and clenched his fists as a gash suddenly appeared on his cheek. "There. More where that came from, I promise. Oh, and before I forget…" The Bellotaur extended his hand and Harry watched as Kenward, whose hands were balled into such tight fists they were sweating, exhaled in defeat as his hand snapped open and a yellow beam shot into Golradir's hand. Harry could see the amber glow of Amenophus dimming in the dark Celestial's palm. With a satisfied smirk, Golradir closed his fist around the gem.
"Now: where to begin? You all smell so fascinating, I find myself hard-pressed to choose. Then again," Golradir's eyes glittered wickedly in the moonlight as his gaze landed on Harry. The Gryffindor swallowed.
Golradir was on him in a minute, punting the head of Jojo Six into the thick of trees and sniffing at the stinging wound across Harry's forehead. "Let us begin with Pitiful Potter, the berk-who-lived." Harry abandoned his caution in favor of scowling at the Bellotaur. "Although, you can't be held entirely responsible for that; I can't blame you solely for the supreme botch-up. That honor goes to you, Voldemort," the ginger-haired Bellotaur sent a pointed glance at the Dark Lord. "After all, what moron can't kill a toddler? Ah, that's right: you can't."
The pasty-faced sorcerer growled in umbrage, struggling so fiercely against his bindings that a few roots snapped. But Golradir settled his hands on either side of Harry's head, sighing as Voldemort snarled in a bestial manner. He blinked his golden eyes and shook his head lightly, amused. "You'll just have wait your turn, O Fearsome One. I'm doing Potter, first."
Eyes swimming with spite and wickedness speared his own green eyes in place. A feral smirk slowly unfolded across his face and Harry could hear the faintest of sniffles coming from the Bellotaur, the killer leaning but an inch from his face. "So, Potter," he casually began. Harry warily eyed the hand that inched ever closer to him and mentally braced himself for the strike. It never came. Instead, Golradir chuckled knowingly and fingered a pitch-black lock of his hair, almost affectionately.
Harry was more nervous than ever before as he studied the Being right in front of him. He was so close, Kaltagonus was right there: it was his face lined with malice and cruelty; it was his gentle hand playing with Harry's messy mop of hair; it was his lips smirking that demented smirk and chuckling menacingly at Harry's discomfort; it was his chest rising and falling from the air in his lungs through his narrow, very Lily-like nose. It was Kaltagonus; everything physical about this person screamed Kaltagonus Smythe back at him.
But he wasn't. God, he wasn't. Harry saw harsh lines in Kaltag's handsome face that weren't there before tonight; he saw slightly pointed teeth every time his mouth moved, that weren't present all year; he saw Rodolphus Lestrange's blood smeared down the side of Kaltag's face and clothes. And worst of all, those brilliant blue eyes that conveyed so much: intellect, cleverness, carefully concealed pain … were replaced by the ever-glowing harshness of gold malice.
None of it was Kaltagonus, and Harry feared that it never would be, again.
"Ah, that modicum of intelligence you possess is bubbling through your blood, I … I can smell it. I barely have to put in much effort; your blood just screams everything you don't want me to know." Eyelids flapped shut, shielding the intense golden eyes from view. Harry shied away, wary as Golradir pressed Kaltag's nose to Harry's head wound. A deep, shuddering inhale set the Bellotaur's chest vibrating against Harry's. "You've had a difficult childhood: bitterness dots your blood. Neglect," he sniffed, "envy from your relatives," Harry's eyes widened at that. "Let's have a closer reading, shall we?"
Harry gave a startled yell as Golradir's finger traced his scar, scratching deep enough to bring blood to the surface. He struggled against the roots' ties, but they quivered and tightened at Golradir's raised brow. "Mm, you're a serpent speaker. Intelligence? Questionable, at best. And fear, you have lots of fear," Harry glared through his eyelashes at Golradir's pensive tone. "But not of me, young wizard. Oh yes, you have a fear, dear boy, that not even you are aware of. But your blood: why, it's a storybook.
"You fear loss," the Bellotaur resumed, his quiet breath moistening Harry's temple. "More loss, to be precise. First your parents," Harry tensed at their mention, "then your innocence at the hands of your family … useless lot, humans. Now you fear the future: of losing, missing your mark, failing so terribly in the capricious eyes of your adoring public, a public you don't even like."
Harry forced himself not to tremble when Golradir carded his fingers through his hair in a fatherly fashion. He had to remind himself over and over that it wasn't Kaltagonus, no matter how much the voice and mannerisms resembled the Being. "You fear you will be the destruction of the wizard world. But … why?" Harry's breath hitched as Golradir threw him a questioning glance before those gentle hands tensed into claws and painfully wrenched Harry's head to his nose where he took a deep, expanding breath.
"Ohh, Potter." He quietly intoned in a singsong fashion. Harry wished he could see the beast's face, but his sight was full of a pale expanse of neck. Golradir briefly lowered his gaze to Harry's, his eyes dancing as his mouth breathed cold dread into Harry's ear.
"I know your little secret … Prophecy-Protected," the last words echoed in his mind.
Harry's eyes widened. "Can you—?"
"Kill you? Yes, yes I can," Golradir brightly replied, much to Harry's alarm. "However, it would be unwise to tempt the Fates after this second chance." Harry couldn't hold back his relieved sigh. "But that doesn't mean I can't make you hurt a little."
Green eyes widened in shock just before white-hot pain lanced through the Gryffindor's body. His vision swam before his eyes as he felt his body coursing liquid fire and his head felt as if someone were pounding it with an incredibly heavy mallet. The twine around him seemed to cut tighter into his body as he thrashed about, vaguely aware of the screams echoing throughout the clearing.
"Stop it! STOP IT!" the shrill plea boomed in Harry's ears. Quite suddenly, the pain eased from his body leaving a dull, niggling ache. Harry sagged into the ropes and shivered, trying to wrap his mind around what was going on. His shakily turned to the tree on his right where Kenward stared at him in shock and concern.
But it was Ella's screams for mercy that registered in Harry's mind, stopping the Bellotaur from making Harry officially insane. Harry made a mental note to thank her if they ever survived this. But now, Harry could only stand by and watch helplessly as Golradir zeroed in on Ella. Harry watched her shiver as Golradir graced her with his impenitent grin. "You only get one free pass, darling. And that was it." Harry sighed in relief as Golradir turned away from her. When Ella glanced at him, he shakily smiled in thanks.
"And where to begin with you?" Golradir unpleasantly stated to Kenward. "There's nothing remotely remarkable about you. Just a meek, shabby little traveler carrying around his great-granddaddy's science project as if he were Atlas with the world on his shoulders." The Bellotaur paused to eye the brightly gleaming jewel sitting on his palm. "I guess I should — albeit grudgingly — thank you for keeping the sword for me. Saved me a hell of a lot of time from going after it myself." Harry noted the hungry glimmer in the Dark Lord's eyes at seeing both of Youngblood's weapons right before his eyes.
Kenward narrowed his eyes. "Don't mention it."
Golradir scoffed, backing away from Kenward's death glare to edge over to the equally peeved Dark Lord. "Ah, see here: the man who let the boy live." He sardonically greeted, chuckling as the Dark Lord-creature growled in caution. "Though I could be wrong about the man part; your scent tells me you are less man than you appear."
"Release me." Voldemort seriously demanded.
"No, that wouldn't work," Golradir dismissively waved. "You'd probably throw promises at me until I came around and then you'd probably try to kill me the first chance you get, or get your partner-in-crime here," he said with a nod to the riveted Mystikos, "to do it for you. Or, I seem to recall you saying something earlier about disgracing me? Breaking me?" The ginger-haired Being acidly sniggered. "Sucks when the tables have turned, doesn't it? I am no fool, Lord Voldemort; do not take me for one."
The Bellotaur's staid expression twitched as he leaned forward to nose at the long black slash across Voldemort's cheek. "The very air around you is … ripe with evil. The quintessence of malevolence," Harry didn't know if Voldemort was pleased with the compliment or livid. "Yet, your blood is colored with arrogance and foolhardiness." Golradir shifted quickly as the dark wizard lunged to strike. "Case in point."
Golradir's questing fingers toyed with the collar of Voldemort's robes. "I'd heard of you, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," the creature mockingly whispered. "I have turned an ear to your wicked excursions while I sat confined to my orb. Yes, I remember. I remember everything. The whispers of this great power, the terror you single-handedly inflicted upon the world of magic. Intriguing. Very intriguing; but not impressive." Voldemort's crimson eyes glittered with hatred. "I know all about you. It's because of you that I'm here now and not eighteen years ago. I knew it was you. You think I didn't, but I did." Golradir solemnly nodded as he ran his fingers down the crease of Voldemort's cloak. "And I'm not very happy, Voldemort.
"You set back my rebirth and recapture. I would've had control over the stupid boy by now if you hadn't come after the witch so hastily. Instead, because of you, Mr. Wizard of Terror, I was moved into a womb of resilience, a child already formed for the taking. But he would not have my voice inside his head. Only when he recedes to breaking point would he need me, want me … and have me—or I, him, and he would have no choice but to surrender to my will. It took a tremendous amount of unnecessary toil to reprogram the child, breaking my power over him, leaving me weak, in the far recesses of one's mind that no one dare speak about. For that … I am extremely displeased with you."
The Being's eyebrows lowered dangerously over his goldenrod eyes as his hand twisted in the Dark Lord's robes. "I waited nearly two decades for my chance to come again. And you almost ruined it again tonight. I long to kill you where you stand, pinned beneath my wisp of mercy."
The Bellotaur leered in the face of Voldemort's glower, thumbing a line of blood and bring it to his nose. Harry's brow furrowed as the golden-eyed Being paused, his face bemused as his sniffed again. When his eyes flicked to Harry, the Gryffindor felt a growing sense of apprehension as those wicked eyes flashed red for a moment.
"You're shitting me," the Bellotaur tonelessly replied, scowling. "You're lucky your pathetic excuse for a life is guarded by Prophecy." A bully for Voldemort, Harry humorously mused. He never thought he'd see the day. However, Voldemort grinned triumphantly at the divulgence, silently daring the Bellotaur to cross him again. "This is turning out to be very disappointing night. I'm supposed to kill everyone I come in contact with."
A second later Golradir pounced forward at Mona, but hovered an inch before her with a manic grin plastered on his face. "Of course, that is my choice."
"Who are you to decide who gets to live and who dies?"
"Silence, Professor. You've had your turn." Golradir dismissed as he strode over Rodolphus' body to Kenward's right and a smile broke over his face. "Now, it's Weeping Beauty's turn."
The Bellotaur's stroked his knuckles over the redheaded witch's cheek slowly and reverently, the glow of Amenophus lighting up her cautious face and gleaming in her brown eyes. "I couldn't mar such beauty; that would be barbaric." Harry watched intently as the roots slithered from around Ella and released her arm, which Golradir immediately grabbed upon its liberation. A sudden draft circled the clearing and Ella gasped. Harry noticed a fresh stripe on her forearm bleeding freely.
Before she had a chance to pull her arm free Golradir's nose was sliding down the pale skin of her arm, his eyes locked on hers. "Ha. How poetic: you are prophecy. And might I say, your blood smells as sweet as you, my tender morsel." Harry's respect for the witch grew ten times when he saw her give the Being a withering look.
When Ella tried to yank her arm back he warningly advised, "Ah! I could just as easily slice your neck, darling. Hold still: I don't bite."
"As if I believe you."
Golradir clutched her arm delicately, his eyes fixedly studying the shiny blood. "That stings, really." His eyes fell closed as he breathed in whatever scent he caught on to. "Interesting. You're an Oracle, a Seer…" he sniffed again. "Apollo-blessed."
Something stirred in Harry at Golradir's words. It wasn't his scar, even though Voldemort listened attentively and narrowed his eyes when Golradir mentioned Ella was an Oracle. He'd already known that from the prophecy back a few months ago. No, there was something definitely off in his opinion, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Blessed by Apollo," Golradir continued, blood smearing on his nose and chin from smelling so extensively, "before birth? Peculiar. Your parents must have done something exceptionally admirable to be in Apollo's favor. My," he airily chuckled. "Not even out of the womb and already you are Blessed, and a tandem-gift, too. Impressive, little morsel." The revolted look on Ella's face for some reason reminded Harry strongly of Mrs. Weasley when Fred and George's pranks usually. . . .
Harry's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Wait a tick …
"And, my, you're keeping a monster of a secret, aren't you?" The Bellotaur replied, snickering. "All this time, and you haven't even told him yet? Naughty little flower, aren't you?"
When Ella's gaze met Harry's across the distance, Harry knew his suspicions were right. "Oh my God…" he faintly moaned, visibly stunned. Ella's eyes widened and suddenly she knew that he knew, and she gave him a hard look and dimly shook her head. A strangled noise sounded and Harry vaguely realized it had come from him. "Oh my God. . . ."
"Not as dumb as he looks, that one." Golradir chortled, holding Ella's arm as if it were a frail object that needed full attention.
Harry unexpectedly felt sick to his stomach. She had known all this time and never said a word? She had known that she shared the same Weasley-red hair, laidback casualness and the same legendary Weasley temper and hadn't said one word? "You really had it in for babies, didn't you?" Golradir's question to Voldemort broke through Harry's thoughts. "Kicked me out of the womb, couldn't kill another and fouled up the kidnapping on this one? Thank the gods you're sterile.
"But not all roses for you, I see," Golradir resumed. "Pain, fatigue, sorrow, and death, always death. Oh, morsel, before I snuff you out, is there anything I can do to make it all better?" He gave her a charismatic, cynical smile that was met head on with a fierce glare.
"Yeah: bring Kaltagonus back."
Harry scowled as the Bellotaur invading his brother's body laughed, amused. "I'm afraid not."
But Ella pursed her lips determinedly then burst out, "Kaltagonus?"
"No use, morsel. I told you, he's dead."
"Kaltagonus, I know you're in there—"
"You're wasting your time."
"No!" Ella refused. "He's not dead!"
"It's my body: I would know if he was dead, don't you think?" The Bellotaur tartly replied, his fingers curling over the witch's wrist threateningly.
Harry searched Ella's fraught expression as she yelled out once again, "Kaltagonus! It's me, Ella: please come back! Tell him he's wrong, tell him he's dead wrong—"
"You've got the 'dead' part right."
"—Come back, Kaltag! You have to!" The red-haired witch shouted at the Being's face. "You have to come back, you owe me a date!"
"You—" Harry's heart leapt in his chest as the golden-eyed Celestial paused, just for a second before he scowled at Ella. "He's dead."
"We were supposed to go to Hogsmeade, remember?" Ella continued to talk, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears.
"Shut up." The Bellotaur hissed.
"And pretend we were stowaways from Beauxbatons," she continued, sniffling. "D-do you remember what you said your name would be?"
Golradir's eyes were hard and furious. "If you know what's good for you girl, you'll shut up right now."
"It was Balzac," her voice grew louder. "And when I asked you why, y-you said because you were feeling a bit nutty today."
Golradir opened his mouth to say something but stopped and shook his head dazedly. Suddenly bubbling with courage at knowing Kaltag wasn't completely gone, Harry belted out, "Yeah, you were a bit nutty today, remember?" Ella nodded at him encouragingly. "Remember what you told me in the greenhouse, about not hiding?" Golradir exhaled through his nose and jerked his head. "You've got to stop hiding now."
"Shut up, Potter."
"Listen to me, Kaltag: you wouldn't do this." Harry wriggled against the roots restraining him. "He's controlling you."
"You've got to overthrow him," Ella added. "You're stronger than him, I know you are!"
The Bellotaur's face contorted in a painful look and Harry chuckled madly as he saw a glimmer of blue break through the golden eyes for a split second. "You can do it Kaltag! If you can talk bloody Snape down in Potions and survive, this bloke should be no match!"
"Yeah," Ella nodded, trying to shuffle closer to him despite being held back. "Come back. Come back and we…" she choked, shaking her head vehemently to remain in control, "we could fly horses. You promised me we'd fly horses!"
Golradir's brow was creased, anger and confusion evident from his features. He was breathing heavily and gripping Ella's arm so tightly, her hand was turning blue from loss of circulation. He was wearing down. Harry felt the insane urge to laugh and pump his fists in the air victoriously. Only a few more minutes of this and Golradir would be gone! It couldn't have been easier!
Seconds later, Harry wanted to kick himself for being so naïve.
Pain blossomed through his body as Golradir roared, the flickering blue and gold eyes returning to solid gold. Harry's muscles seized and he felt the heat pouring through his body as the Bellotaur set his magic ablaze. "Fools!" He roared.
Through the agony, Harry forced his brain to kick in and work his mouth. "You're … you're good!" He rasped between screams. "Wouldn't … do … this! Not … kill!" He gasped as the pain spiked.
"Oh yeah, Potter?" The Bellotaur spat. Harry could feel long fingers wrapping around his tensing neck, squeezing. "And why should I listen to you?" The harsh words dripping with cruelty were growled lowly into his ear.
Harry could see the edge of his vision swimming, the pain was unbearable and his head thudding against the tree again and again while Golradir choked him wasn't making it any better. But still he persevered, ever the Gryffindor, as his green eyes rolling violently around in their sockets, caught and held on to Golradir's furious gaze. Parting his trembling lips, Harry fought to stop his teeth from clacking for but a minute to utter these words.
"Because … I know … you're … my brother."
And with that whispered admission, the excruciating pain grinded to an immediate halt. Harry sucked in breath after breath of precious air, or as much as he could with the roots pressing down on his chest. He coughed and shook his head to clear away the cobwebs of his mind, hearing the relieved breaths of the others, and he immediately glanced around the clearing to look for the Bellotaur.
He stood a few feet away from him, shock befalling his expression. But it wasn't exactly Golradir; bright azure eyes edged in gold stared back at Harry, stunned beyond words. Kaltag stood with his mouth hanging open, his fists clenched and looking very much lost in the poised, posture-perfect body of Golradir, staring at Harry. It dawned on Harry that he might've been waiting for him to say something.
"You … know?"
The Gryffindor swallowed, wincing at the tolerable pain he experienced. With a crooked grin that he knew resembled a grimace, Harry replied, "I know. Everything." He suddenly didn't care who knew, despite the Quintessence's request. "I know you're my brother."
A brief stitch of pain bristled from his scar, and Harry noticed the uncharacteristic brightness behind the Dark Lord's eyes. "Kaltag?"
The Being started at his name and faced Ella, his eyes still wide and a mixture of blue and gold. "Ella."
"Yeah." She nodded, sniffling as she clutched her arm to her chest. She was covered with sweat and grime, and Harry couldn't tell whether she was crying or just perspiring. "Yeah."
His large eyes were fixed on her and the state that she was in. The Being then looked around the clearing as if seeing everything for the first time. And, Harry mused, it seemed as if he were seeing everything for the first time; when his gaze rested on the sword a good distance away, his round eyes suddenly seemed to notice the tattered clothing beside it. From there, it followed the long trench made by the root of Rodolphus' tree … and finally the decapitated body beside it. The Paraffin's fists suddenly slackened and the Amenophus jewel fell to the dirt with a muted 'plop'. Harry could see Kaltagonus was about to shut down.
"Don't," he cleared his throat to get rid of the raspy quality. "Don't look at that," he drew the Being's attention to him.
"It wasn't your fault," Ella put in.
"The hell it was!" Rabastan fumed.
"Shut up! We'll just go to Dumbledore," Harry continued, "And sort this all out, all right? You just…" Harry's eyes threw a fleeting look to the dark wizards and creatures, some of which amazingly still had a grip on their wands. "You just have to let us go, okay? Concentrate on letting the three of us," he nodded to Ella and the strangely subdued Kenward, "go."
As if on cue, Kenward throatily replied, "Yes. Just—just focus, Mr. Smythe. If you could control him before, you can control him now." The pale-faced, astonished Being nodded distractedly, staring at the grass near Kenward's boots.
It was a few minutes before Harry felt the burst of energy loosening the binds around him and his feet touched the floor. Kenward and Ella followed suit and Kenward bent to retrieve the amber-stoned necklace. All in all, Harry felt drained, both emotionally and physically, but he would worry about that later. Now, he had to concern himself with more pressing matters.
Like, for instance, how he could feel his elemental ability returning, and how his body was suddenly flooded with his magic again.
Not to mention how Voldemort and everyone else now had their bindings undone and their magic back.
Harry felt the pain sear in his scar as Rabastan cried, "You beast!" He turned to see Voldemort raising his wand at Kaltagonus, who had his back turned to him.
"NO!" Harry yelled.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Kaltag whipped around as the green light sped across the clearing, heading at breakneck speed for him.
"Harry!" The Gryffindor tore his eyes away from the Being as Kenward urgently called his name and hurled something at him before diving toward Kaltagonus. Harry reflexively caught the glowing Amenophus and turned toward the Defense professor just in time to see the Killing Curse crash into Kenward. He went down with a final thud, dead.
Harry looked up at Kaltag, but instead of finding the shocked boy he expected, he felt the dread surge through him once more as blue eyes were now blood red.
Golradir was back. And he was pissed.
His face had completely transformed into something out of one's wildest nightmares. His cheeks had hard plates like arrow points leading up to his eyes, and the skin above his eyebrows looked as if someone tried to push their knuckles through his skin. Golden symbols of glyphs and runes glittered ethereally down his arms, flashing every time he cracked his whip. Finally, Harry noted the sharp cone-like structures stretching out the skin at the Bellotaur's hairline, and when the wind lashed around his shirt, Harry could see sharp protrusions in succession down his spine. This was the beast he'd been expecting. He could have easily lived with what had happened if it had been this … demonic Golradir that had killed Rodolphus.
The Bellotaur dogded the spell sent by Rabastan and Harry ducked, jumping away as the curse crashed into the trees and sent exploding wood raining down on them. He watched Golradir yank out the Ravenstone Scepter, but a Disarming Spell from the third Death Eater sent it flying into the bushes. As another hex rocketed in his direction, Harry quickly pocketed Amenophus and dropped to his hands and knees, elbowing his way to Ella.
He paused to cover his head as a whip of fire suddenly materialized in Golradir's hand and with a grunt, he cracked it over Hryczuk's snout. At the Hybrid's distracted squeal, Harry scuttled over to the witch crouched protectively behind a tree as Mona transformed into an as much unattractive creature as Jojo had, but with a serpentine tail in place of legs.
"We've got to get out of here and get help!" Harry yelled over the mêlée and the sudden appearance of lightning and turbulent winds nearly bending the trees in half.
Ella frantically shook her head. "No! We have to help him! We have to get through to him again!" They gave startled yells as a red-eyed Golradir slaughtered Csotzt with Hryczuk's discarded sword and the rank creature dropped beside them.
Pulling the witch away from the corpse, Harry looked over his shoulder and groaned as he saw the third Death Eater spouting a mouthful of blood all over the ground. "Look El—"
Sudden pain flared in his head and body and felt the stirrings of the forest around them. When the roots resurfaced and began to grab at his ankles, Harry grabbed his wand and was ecstatic to feel his elemental magic thrumming. He pulled Ella close as she wrestled with a twine of root.
"Away!" He commanded, though his voice was drowned out by the screams, snarls and roars of the many beasts locked in battle. They were fighting so fast and efficiently, Harry couldn't tell where one ended and another began. "Away! Away!" The roots obediently complied, slithering back into the ground. "C'mon!" He motioned the witch to follow him to the next tree, desperately trying to force his mind to come up with a plan to both help Kaltagonus and keep them alive this time around.
Harry grimaced as the Death Eaters' body parts littered the clearing and the stench of the dead Hybrid was making his eyes water. As Mona's tail thrashed at the ground, Harry couldn't help but notice Kenward's body lying face up a few feet away from him, a peaceful expression on his face. He briefly wondered why that was, the Killing Curse usually left its victims with a blank face. When the young wizard felt a scratchy claw creeping up his leg, Harry ordered, "Away! Away! Aw—"
Harry's eyes widened as he felt the cap on his magic again. "No, no, NO!" he protested as the roots wrapped around his legs and yanked him and Ella apart. His fingers scrabbled for purchase on the ground but the roots were too strong for him. Harry found himself pinned to the ground, the roots crisscrossing over his body, immobilizing him and covering his mouth with a muddy gag. He struggled against the restraints but the tight compression nearly cracking his ribs made him think better of it. Finally, there was quiet.
Harry could see Ella fidgeting beside him in the edge of his vision before sudden footfalls drew his attention to the dark face looming over him upside down. The beastly Golradir scowled furiously down at the Gryffindors, his scarlet eyes cutting through them like a knife. Somehow Harry knew this side of him was much worse than his golden-eyed counterpart. Harry swallowed a mouthful of dirt.
Golradir quietly turned to Ella, his croaky voice growling, "That was a very nasty trick, Seer." As Harry made sure his wand was firmly in hand, the red-eyed Bellotaur stabbed them with his gaze, freezing the young wizard in place. Harry was almost relieved when those malicious orbs dissolved into vengeful gold, his transformation dissipating. "And you, Potter; you were in on it, too."
The red-haired Being crouched over the bespectacled wizard, bending his weary face to his. Harry closed his eyes and swallowed nervously as a blood-spattered hand idly rolled an inky lock of hair around his fingers. "So you know what I'm going to do?" Golradir casually inquired, toying with his hair. "Hm? You don't?" Harry jerkily shook his head negative.
He hissed in pain as Golradir's hand tightened in his hair, yanking him close to his face. "I am going to kill you," the Bellotaur slowly confessed, his voice dripping with assurance. "Screw the Fates; to hell with the prophecy."
Harry grunted as his head was abruptly released, smashing back onto the ground as the evil Celestial rose to his feet. He absently heard the ground rustling as he tried to writhe free, and watched as a root carried Hryczuk's bloodstained sword to Golradir.
By this time, Harry was in full-blown panic, desperately trying to get some hold over his elemental ability to undo the twine around him. He blinked when blood dripped onto his face as the sword was raised and tried to drown out Ella's muffled screams of protest.
Harry refused to lose hope even though it seemed the roots tightened around him to keep him still. He still fought the bindings even as a stern-faced Golradir raised the sword and whispered quietly into the night, his golden eyes sparkling with animosity.
"So long … brother."
Harry bit hard into his gag as Golradir let the blade drop.
Without warning, a blast of blue light collided with the Bellotaur. A stunned but relieved Harry watched as he was thrown like a rag doll across the clearing and heard him crash against a tree. The Bellotaur's raspy, mirthless chuckle sent shivers down Harry's spine; he could hear Golradir clambering gracefully to his feet and popping his bones.
"Well, well, better late than never." The Bellotaur began. "I've been expecting you, Spardonosos."
Harry twisted his head sharply in the direction of the blast's origin, stunned to find the lustrous Ravenstone Scepter being brandished by none other than the one who started this all: Spiridon Smythe.
oooooooooo
A/N: One chapter left! I'm so psyched! Please review!
A/N 2: I'll be out of town for a few days, so if you don't get an immediate response to your review, just know that I'm not ignoring you.