Heroes of Magic and Might
Chapter 19 – The longest night
…
"Is that everyone Hagrid?"
The half-giant gave a final survey of the surroundings, "Aye Professor, that's all of'em."
Rolling overhead, the thunder rumbled threateningly.
"Close the doors."
With the might of ten normal men, Hagrid heaved the great doors of Hogwarts closed.
"Settin up ta be quite a storm," he said.
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Pomona should be pleased. A thorough watering for her fields."
"Juss so long as that wind don't blow'em away firs."
The wizened wizard chuckled, "Well, let us hope for the best," he said with relentless optimism.
It was easy to be optimistic when you had a good solid roof over your head.
Harry found himself lacking in both regards as night closed in and the storm rolled on above them.
"My but it is a blustery evening."
Rosebud, much to his surprise, was in high spirits, despite her aversion to wetness and the constant threat that any moment now they all would be. The wolf certainly wasn't sharing in her stoicism, hiding himself as best he could and whimpering as the wind howled high above.
If only the wind were his only concern. He'd felt his unnamed beast skulking about the back of his subconscious ever since they left the village. He knew it was his own fault for being so naïve, but it was impossible not to be stung by the sudden betrayal.
A three-hour trek through the forest hadn't helped his frame of mind and the 'campsite' they eventually settle on hadn't made things any better.
Something was off. It wasn't anything he could see, just a simple clearing with a bit of a fallen tree and a few rocks on a patch of dead earth. He thought of it as dead earth because nothing was growing on it, unless you counted the rocks.
"Wish we could have found a better place to camp," he thought aloud as he lit their campfire with magical flame, the only kind not likely to go out.
"I rather like it," Rosebud countered, failing to give further detail, why she liked it for example.
It wasn't strictly unfair, since Harry couldn't explain why he didn't like it, he just did. It wasn't something conscious, it went deeper than that, an instinct perhaps, something primal, a throwback to his cave man self.
Now if only Og could learn people speak he might figure out what was bothering him.
"I hope the fairy can find us," he said, staring into the darkness.
"You really should give her a name," said Rosebud, turning the page in her book, unconcerned. "Anyway, she'll be here shortly."
"How do you know."
"My night vision is much better than yours and I saw a tiny glowing ball coming our direction just before I opened this up, thataway," she said, pointing into the inky blackness.
He peered into the murk, waving shadows and thick, deep darkness. He saw nothing. It didn't seem impossible she could be having him on, he was certainly in a mood to believe she would.
He stared into the darkness, daring it to stare back, and by and by he perceived a speck, a glimmer, the tiniest hint of a light in the endless landscape of howling shade.
It bobbed and weaved, growing bigger, stronger as the moments passed. It moved slow, and small wonder, it was fighting the wind who had come in legion, the approach could be nothing but slow.
Standing in defiance of the wind he waited, and after a time she arrived, and she was not alone.
"Someone's been making friends."
The fairy tinkled quietly in his ear, leaning against him as he gently held her. She was exhausted. Her new friend appeared only just less worse for the wear, its feathers ruffled as it tried to hide from the wind in its own down.
It was a barn owl, though not a big one. Its dark eyes stood out like black jewels set in its pale white face. He'd no idea why it was there, sitting on his shoulder. It clearly thought it should be there and so did the fairy who spoke to it in her tinkling voice.
The owl made a series of short screeches, eyeing up her perch before shuffling closer to his head. The way she snuggled up to him was oddly endearing.
"Spose I'll need to find a name for you as well then," he mused aloud.
The owl screeched then hid her head beneath her wing.
Harry chuckled, "Crazy bird," he thought aloud, "I wonder where you came from?"
"Yes, indeed, where did you come from," Dumbledore mused.
He'd just left the library and was heading back to his office when he discovered it, the bird. It was a vibrant blue, reminiscent of a parrot in shape but with long strings of trailing tail feathers with peacock eyes all along them. He'd never seen it's like.
"I suppose I shouldn't wonder why you're in here," the old man thought aloud, paying little mind to the rolling thunder outside.
The bird looked at him when he spoke. It sent a chill running down his spine. It's eyes were like spheres of pure gold, and yet, there was intelligence in them, he could tell; more intelligence than any bird ought to have.
"I wonder, can you understand me?" the wizard queried.
It gave no reply.
"Hmm, perhaps not," but then again, he thought, if it could understand, would it want him to know?
Growing tired of his company the bird took to wing, vanishing down the hall. Dumbledore hesitated a moment before running after it. It wasn't an activity he was well suited for and he found himself winded quickly, but still he ran.
There was something about the bird that upset him, set all his warning bells to clanging. Perhaps he was being paranoid, perhaps not paranoid enough. He'd no way to know for certain and his instincts were screaming danger. His instincts had often been right in the past when logic and reason confounded; he listened now and ran.
It did him little good. The bird was well ahead and vanished from sight at the first turn. Dumbledore came around the corner to find only an empty hall that echoed his wheezing breaths.
"Damn!" he cursed when he was sure he was alone.
Now he knew he was right. Normal birds did not just disappear like cheap magician.
He panted and wheezed till he found his second wind then drew his wand and proceeded down the hall.
"Not right," he mumbled to himself, "Just not right."
Grim determination shadowed his every step. He'd find the damn bird if it took him all night.
"Not right, just not right."
In the inky blackness barely lit by his bluebell campfire Harry was on a similar track. The wrongness that pervaded the place had not lifted, even though the wind had; rising up high to howl threateningly in the clouds.
The fairy slept on the top of his open bag and the owl perched on the log next to it. Both seemed oblivious to what Harry perceived at the edge of his senses. Rosebud just wasn't paying attention, not to him anyway.
He'd seen Hermione get into books before, this was just like that. He could drop a train right next to her and she wouldn't even look up.
Staring into the impenetrable darkness he watched invisible shadows dance and swoon. Something was out there. He had to find out what.
Calmly, he walked away from the fire, marching into the lightless black. The moon could have been full, possibly it was, but down on earth there was no light. Away from the fire his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness but still gave him nothing but outlines.
Pushing more power to the enhancement around his eyes did nothing, but all that magic running through his head must have reached his ears, because over the howl of the wind he heard something else, something lower.
Closing his eyes, he listened intently. The wind drown most of it but there was a notably different pitch being generated, moaning, low and deep. He realized it wasn't so much the sound he was hearing but feeling.
"What could possibly do that?"
"Screee!"
He flinched at the surprise announcement, his ears still hearing better than they ought. He settled a bit when he saw the source.
"Couldn't sleep?" he said to the pale staring face.
"Screee!"
"Yeah, well," why did he keep coming across these highly opinionated 'people' he couldn't understand? "I don't suppose you know what's out there."
The owl screee'ed and flapped about in a way that was probably meant to mean something.
"Well, whatever. I'm going."
The owl screee'ed at him again but he just ignored it. He understood this owl less than he'd understood his own owl, and Hedwig had never been all that chatty, unless there was bacon.
He followed the moaning in a sort of near blind trance. He couldn't see a damn thing and stumbled through the darkness, knowing better than to light his wand and completely blind himself. The darkness was too thick for his little light to be of any help, and the ground leveled out before he had the chance to become too discouraged.
Sand and gravel replaced root and vine, asking questions while providing no answers. Harry continued cautiously, now fearing what he might step into rather than trip over.
After a time, he became aware of a lightening of the darkness; something was glowing. It cast a pall of green that grew stronger as the sound grew louder.
He could make it out now, the moaning. It chilled him because he knew the sound or felt like he did. It was human, humanish at least. The depth seemed too low even for the deepest baritone, but there was something in it he couldn't help associating with man.
"What the bloody hell?" was lost on the wind as he crept closer.
At last the glow became bright enough for him to see, but what he saw…
A great earthen mound, seeping energy like steam. It took strange shapes, bodies, faces; they were the source of the moaning.
He knew it was foolish to approach. Any sane person would have turned back—well, to be fair, any sane person wouldn't have gone needlessly walking into impenetrable darkness. There really was much to be said about his judgement, little of it good.
He crept closer. The mound didn't seem to notice, until it did. The change was almost instantaneous, a single shuffling step.
The wafting steam of energy erupted, a wailing geyser, the low anguished moan becoming a howling scream as dozens of ghosts went sailing into the air, then proceeded to rain down on his head.
He was given no time to plot his retreat, forced to dodge at speeds he'd not before achieved without the assistance of a very fast broom. He felt the spectral hand tear through his sleeve, telling him all he needed to know about the nature of these specters; their temperament already well established.
His wand lit and blasted into the descending crowd with a long stream of flame. It did them no harm that he could see but they appeared unaware of this as they scattered around the attack, coming at him from every direction.
"Shit!"
Reflexes honed by dodging bludgers and Slytherins, enhanced with magic, kept him ducking and weaving around the madly screaming specters as they dove like angry eagles, slashing with vicious spectral claws, horrible twisted faces flashing past the helpless wizard.
One managed to get in a solid hit that sent Harry sprawling to the ground. The horde rallied as he fumbled helpless and they surged to end him.
Not a foot from his prone form, the lot of them were repelled by a shining barrier. Harry was just as surprised as they.
"Can't take my eyes off you for one second can I."
"Rosebud?"
The little vampire stood over him, holding a strip of wood perhaps a foot long. It quickly became evident the shield was being generated from there.
"What is that?"
"Spirit ward," she said, gesturing for him to take it.
"What do I do?"
"Just hold it."
So, he did. The shield continued to glow while the ghosts continued to slam fruitlessly against it.
"Now what?"
"Just keep holding it," she said, attention turned to a bit of old stone she was carving with her fingernail.
Not wishing to distract from what he assumed was something important, he stood quietly holding the ward. He quickly realized it was his magic powering it, as he felt the shock of each impact like a physical blow; weakened as it filtered through the ward, it was enough for him to know he couldn't stand their holding them off indefinitely.
"Any time would be good."
"Almost done."
Walking around in front of him, she instructed him to snap the ward in half. He looked at her like she was mad, but she simply gave a get on with it gesture with her free hand while the other held the bit of stone.
They surged like the tide the moment the shield was down, a great wave of glowing spectral bodies. He wasn't sure if it was fear or bravado that kept him rooted in place, but as it was, he had a front row seat for what came next.
It was like the water sprites, but with angry spirits. The ones at the back must have realized what was happening because they tried to turn back but by that point, they were all caught up in a swirling vortex that drew them into the odd chunk of stone.
Darkness returned as the last of them vanished, the green spectral glow gone now that its source had been sealed.
"It worked."
The tone of surprise nearly made him faint.
"You weren't sure!"
"Course not," she said, "I've never done it before. Went rather well, don't you think."
He didn't know what to think, "How did you know I needed your help."
"I did tell you my senses were better than yours. We aren't all that far from the campsite and besides, I could sense them out here before you even finished setting it up."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't think you'd go wandering in the dark," which showed how little she knew him. "I was so engrossed in what I was doing I didn't even notice when you left. I only realized it when I heard our new friend screeching at you."
"Screee!"
Appearing out of the blackness they white faced bird landed on his shoulder.
"Spose I owe you one then," he said to the owl.
The moon-faced bird preened.
Harry gave a rueful grin which became a pained grimace; he gripped his chest where the ghost had struck to knock him down.
"Come on, I'll need to do something about that," said Rosebud taking him by the hand and leading him through the darkness.
"It's nothing," he lied, "I'm fine."
"My cute little behind you are," she countered, "now come on, don't be difficult."
He would if he wanted to. The thing was, the more time passed, the less he found he wanted to.