Harry Potter and the Pattern of Fate Redue by Sadsack's newAccnt

by SadSackII

Book 1 The Serpent's Truth: Truth about one founder is not what is taught. Did he see more and be more than taught? Harry and Co. are about to find out that the universe and magic is not what they've learned. Will they survive? Can they grow and return in time to save the school, world, and all they love? pro OOC Ginny(non-fanon or canon) Harry/Multi read AN for more warnings.

31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I am not J K Rowling or Robert Jordan and their worlds of Harry Potter and the Wheel of Time. These two created the fun little worlds I have decided to play in with no thought of profit to myself. So I promise that if I did own these I wouldn't have had Hermione with Ron, though I would have been happy to see her be married to Rand al'Thor if ever the two worlds should meet.

Author's Note: I've finally got a computer that is not two feet in the grave and the time to work freely on this story. Please bear with me as I am a man with little time of his own alone. Family and my own ill health are enemies to my spare hours, though I love all of you who've read and enjoyed this trip so far. I can safely say it is far from over.

And a second thought to address, for those that are a bit disturbed by the lesbianism of the Circle. They are drawn to one another by their nearness, friendships, and that they are all "born this way" by the Pattern. As for Harry being nothing to them, that is not true just a bit out of time and place. Do you think anyone in the Tower would ever allow their little girl Novices and Accepted freely have the time to fraternize with any man, let alone an attractive young teenaged one? A little yes but far from enough to properly keep up a relationship at full boil. Babies are born that way and the Sisters then will be having kittens by the bucketfuls. Don't any of you realize how hard it is for somebody to find homes for so many tiny mewing furry balls of fluff?

Chapter Thirty: Storms of Broken Lives

Staggering u to above decks with her Circle in response to the wild ringing bells of alarm, Ginny wishes nothing more than to tear the misbegotten Wheel apart in afire eyed fit of Saidar birthed flames. A satisfaction she knows is ludicrous in total, but no less a burning desire in her as her fingers frantically re-lace up the front of her bland brown dress. It would not do for the Aes Sedai to catch wind of the misadventures her and her lovers were up to. The Sisters may wish for some of it to all go too far but they would likely try to manipulate it in disturbing power plays in the Tower.

They have no business in her bedroom or in whom she allows in there with her. Things are proving more precarious in there as it is without some old besom tossing brownie into the mix for chaos' sake. Her Circle are just now getting things set straight with their wizard and their own places in their sextuple. Outsiders are not welcome, no matter whom they are or what supposed rank they hold above them.

Thankfully in her estimation of things, her love life was improving. She had thought for a moment or two down below decks they may have royally ut their foot in it. The miracle of miracles her less I the know lovers shown how foolish it were to hide it all so long. Luna and Daph had no wish to be separate and apart from the Circle. In fact they were looking forward to or now Par, Ione, and Gin's lovers in full, and their gorgeous wizard Harry... His sad but tender eyes spoke more than his words ever did.

He was unabashed in his visually devouring the Circle in their half dressed states, and was free of any jealousy as he merely gazed on them with an all consuming needful love. Her wizard clearly hungers for her and their girlfriends as madly as she has desired him. Yes those longing looks give her a thrill as it lit a fire of hope for the future. Hopes that things were just this side of being set in stone charge up her will to stay their course in learning with the White Tower. It does give her a reason to smile wide in pride that they were their own singular group whom could be as out and open as those of the more traditional couples that make up the rest of their family.

The simple thought of that freedom and right has her tingling, and not just from the residual feel of Daph's worshipful touches or Harjit's fiery hunger for them in their embrace. They have as great a right to their love as those of any other soul alive in this Age or their birth one. To Shayol Ghol for any tosspot or snooty besom that dares try deny them that.

For that matter the same can be said of this ruddy Sea of Storms and its inclement temper tantrums popping up every bloody time they have barely got over the last blow up. How bloody dare this ruddy great pool of misbegotten salt water dare try toss a gremlin in the works of her lovers' personal lives right about when they are a few wand swishes away from settling every heart aching bit of misunderstandings the slag heap White Tower dumped on their heads.

To shut away her more destructive tendencies she has to grab hold of the hopes born in the shared love they were opening themselves up to below. Soon they may well be free and open to the whole bloody world and damn the consequences.

Trailing behind Par and Daphne, Gin is torn between enjoying the nearness of her loves and frustration that they were having to still play pretend for the world at large they were not out and proud. Not even in the permissive White Tower can witches like them be free to be out.

Soft thin fingers lead a hand in slipping into hers before intwining themselves with her own. He open intimate act startles her back to the here and now by its daring openess Turning her head she is a little surprised by her brave lover being Luna. The tiny blonde's wide blue eyes are staring into hers with an imploring reproval.

When she is seen by her first friend and now newest girlfriend to be a bit lost in what the small witch wishes, she is given a sad little smile. Luna's thumb brushing circle's in her hand's knuckles accompany a quirked eyebrow followed by a nod towards a burning lamp swing in the wild bucking of the ship in the brutal storm's grip.

A light of dawning understanding bursts in her tumultuous thouht, urging her to reply in a hurried assurance, "I'll not burn this glorified tub of tar till after we make landfall, I promise."

"I know you won't normally, Ginevra, and refraining is preferential." Luna's eyes were awash in worry and hints of terror.

Fearing it was from their entwined hands, Ginny starts to let go while asking with care, "Luna, what-?" Her tiny girlfriend grips all the tighter stopping her cold.

"Please stay by me Gin." begs her Circlemate in a tiny trembling voice, "This storm is... I Don't think it is natural. I smell something dead or wrong in the wind and it scares me."

Frowning in mounting concern from this, Ginny shoots a glance out across the wide normally flat horizon of the ocean. Rough waves and lashing rains seem nothing that different to what all else the Sea of Storms has flung at the Fair Eyed Lad thusfar on this trip. That is untill she saw how impenetrably dark the roiling incoming cloud walls were as they stretch for leagues in all direction. Their swirling blue black mass is wrapping around them as if they were an impossibly enormous serpent constricting upon its prey. Where these clouds were settling if a storm could be said to that, the light is vanishing even if it is midmorning. What it felt more like in this storm's coils is that it is coming on late evening to a moonless night.

Unnerving as that sight it is, it did not hold a candle as what she sees when her eyes involuntarily seek out her family and lovers. Most were like her in studying the evil storm cast sky, but not her beloved wizard. In his case he was weaving and staggering with his hands both clutching hold of his head. When he reaches the side railing he catches the polished wood in one hand to teady himself while his other presses against is scar as if it hurt worse than it normally does.

Anyone who knows and has spent countless hours studying her treasured boyfriend like she has will recognize the danger. Frightened into gobsmacked silence momentarily by the sight, Ginny embraces Saidar in the blink of an eye. If her Harry's scar hits him like this, evil is near at hand and is seeking the lives of those near and dear to him.

Terrified to her core, she finds mutual security in Luna's hand in her own.

Unaware of this dire sign of darkest dangers at hand, Corilta Sedai is taking charge of the witches on board the ship, "Children, to usnow. No dawdling about in a frightened dither. We have work to do that will take us all to see done proper."

The Circle is slow to respond as they are watching Harry in fear of what is out there. Ginny's brothers and Neville too are watching with stoic dread. Blaise, the lone wizard not observing Harjit's staggering about is also showing signs of something wrong. Tracey's wizard is at the rail beside Ginny's, throwing up a dry retching heave with a long thin streamer of blood.

"Hurry now girls. There is no time for silliness." Corilta is clucking to no use in distracting Gin.

Tracey's taking up station beside Luna, opposite her does shake some of the fear born cobwebs for Ginny and Luna. The Girl was a bit of a wild child Gin's mum would have called some rather unflattering names. Sadly that realization of how narrow her mum views others stings her to the quick. Mostly for the fact that Tracey has reputation bac in their birth Age as a loose living slattern, which the girl earned solely by being made into toy for men and boys from Slytherin to use and abuse. A fate Ginny carries as well if not for Dumbledore intervening simply because her Pimp had been Voldimort compared to Tracey's Snape.

Luna's tightening grip reminds her to be calm and gentle even if she yearns to set some well deserved fiery deaths for a slew of tossers.

"Luna," Tracey cautiously speaks to the newest member of their unwished for club. "Gin- Gin and I are not going to ever let anyone hurt you again. I know that you and her have bonds that are special and I hope what both of you truly want. However I love you as deeply if not in the same ways. You're my baby sister, or as good as. I know how hard it is to trust after what has occurred to you. I've lived through my own hell, just a Gin and Emmatilde have had theirs. That being the case, I've come to take up guarding you tonight as the Aes Sedai want us all to join a link. That's all well and good but they are afraid we may crack up in what is coming and so to keep us united we're to hold hands I a circle. We have to save the ship, crew, and ourselves so we must do what we can. I know the sick feeling of touches, but I promise I will not touch you as that filthy bitch did to you. Others, namely the Sisters, may not realie what has taken place with you. So please let me join Ginny in protecting you."

A flickering sick pallor drains Luna's already too pale cheeks. There is nothing said for a time while Gin's girlfriend takes a few struggling breaths and gazes out across the scary dark sea and sky. The in a terrified little girl voice Luna murmurs inaudibly.

Pulling in a deeper if still unsteady breath, the tiny witch takes Tracey's offered hand. Letting out a choked sob, Luna prays to the Pattern, "What wrong have I done? Tracey, I- she took so much... I've barely began to accept my Circle's nearness."

Feeling heartsick for her love's difficult predicament, Gin takes a step to kneel down before her piie sized Circlemate, offering up her own reassurances, "Luna Love, I know you're trying to be strong. I am so proud of you for it. What that cow did to you... I know you're being brave in just accepting my touch because of the Red Hag. If not for my own having to learn to trust my father and brothers were not the men who used me, I'd be lost about how you feel. I had an epiphany though, those who have taken my trust were no longer able to contineu to do so beause of my army of wizards. Let us eight girls who came here with you be your own wall against Eliada. I'll never ever let any one hurt you again, nor will Tracey and our other Hogwarts sisters allow such to take place. You are protected by our Circle, our Warder trained brothers, our rather determined Harjit, and our spirit sisters from ol' Hoggy Hogarts."

"I know that Gin..." Luna is gazing on her as if she were a rock to cling to in storm more frightening than that of the one threatening the ship. "I know but then- Then I seem to forget when I'm put to the test. I feel... Oh, Gin I feel her and my own... Some of it made me feel... I couldn't stop my body's reaction. I'm... I'm trying Ginny, I really am."

A burning pain in her chest from hearing the anguish a witch like them has to forever haunt them in the background of their lives for as long as they live, Gin takes both of her little love's hands in her own. The girl was older than her by a few months but right here and now her sweet girlfriend is ges younger in a war against ghosts and self recriminations that seem insurmountable. A war Gin thought she alone had to face as a freakish secret whore till Tracey here cornered her one night on the road to Caemlyn. What her Slytherin friend made her confess and what the girl taught her changed her life. Now together they have to be there for another, their tiny airy Ravenclaw.

"Luna," she focused all her love and devotion onto her small frightened and broken witch, "we're not filthy because of what our bodies do when touched in some ways. The ruddy things are geared towards responding to some physical inputs. Nor are we wicked when we are trying to survive what is or has happened to us. Luna, you, me and Tracey here are survivors. We are warrior witches that have to do battle against ghosts in our own souls while also staying alive in defiance of those tossers that did such evil to us. I wish you never had been forced to join our ranks but it has taken place, now we must find our way to live on and spit our defiance in the filthy cow's eyes. Luna, me and Trace will be here to protect you and to help light a path for you in darkness. And never forget that I absolutely love you. You're my witch, my first true friend, and my Circlemate that will one day be mine, our Circle's, and Harry's cherished little Ravenclaw wife."

"And as Daphne's cousin, that will officially make us family." Tracey cheerfully ads to that.

Luna swallows a hrd lump before asking, "I know you love me, but can you- how can I... Does the fear and sensations ever die... Just die?"

Tracey answers in a bluntness that hurts, but then again heals as well for its cleansing truth, "Never girl. There are times I can't even stand my own skin, let alone allow Blaise near me. He worhips me, but... but some shadows are hard to banish. Shadowy images that can eclipse even his gorgeous self and hs absolutely adorable adoration."

Tears were at the edges o Luna's eyes upon hearing this grim truth.

"Girls, I said stop dawdling." Corilta Sedai's sharpening voise broke in on them with a cutting reminder that they have a physical storm to battle as well as their own inner private ones.

Resisting the urge to give the older witch a withering warning glare, Ginny continues to keep her Luna's eyes locked with hers, Luna my love, I promise to not willingly ever leave your side."

"Gin-Gin..." Luna visibly forces down a growing lump of bile to pull her nearer. Overweening fear, longing, and timidity color the witch's normally airy care free voice, "I will be a good girlfriend... I-I-I will be Ginevra."

Leaning her forehead in to press lightly against her Circlemate's, she whispers with whole hearted devotion, "To us in the Circle, you're nothing but the very best."

This has Luna let out a tiny long suppressed criggle as Gin has decided to dub all teary giggles. Sharing one herself she feels her heart burning in her chest from her love nd worry for her Luna.

"Girls!" Kinerial Sedai tries to speed them on.

Ignoring that with a sniff, Tracey offers a hand out to Luna, "I'm not into witchly love, but to all of us in our hodgepodge family, you're a real treasure."

Saying noting, Luna takes the proffered hand with a suppressed shiver. "She will not beat me.. I am not her whore anymore. I- I am alive and free. I will survive."

"We all are girl. We live and one day will see to it no one else joins our unwanted club." Tracey assures them all, "I tell myself this everyday, to remind me I'm not what they tried to make me."

Walking hand in hand like this was a neat trick with the hard swaying spin the ship was doing in its impersonating a muggle floaty toy. Pitching this way and that, it was a rather mad ride in an eve madder world. They succeed though by aiding each other balance and counter pull against the tilting wave tossed ship. Receiving a hard questioning glare from Corilta Sedai, they join the rest of the witches in a swaying circle on the Captain's Deck behind the Wheel which the sea salted woman is commanding the Warders, wizards, and sailors from with language to make a dead man blush crimson.

"Ginevra," Luna leans up into her to whisper, "I love you. I wish I'd have been stronger and wiser to figure out what was happening to you and to save you. You deserved a better frind than I turned out to be." Her gentle lover's wide blue eyes were awash in unshed sorrow as their eyes met, "How can you love me? How am I worth it?"

"As our broody beau once told me," Ginny answers in a rushed hush, "I didn't know then, but now I know what I'm fighting for. You couldn't have saved me back then, nor could I save you in the Tower. We both just have to hold each other and pray for a better day to come."

Cheering some, Luna smiles wanly, "You and our other loves were worth all I gave and more. When I'm less afraid I do so want to kiss you all, all over."

Tracey suppresses a gagging shiver rom over hearing that admission, and turns a touch green around the gills when Luna ads, "Maybe it will be fun if we get Harjit to love us while we have fun? I do hope to be explored by the Circle and Harry."

"I think I just got a whole new fantasy to keep me awake at night." Ginny giggles with a wink for her lovely Luna.

"You and our loves all make me glad I survived... Being loved is rather nice I think." Luna's heartfelt confession touches Ginny to the core, burning indelibly into her heart and soul the memory of her tiny lover's wide blue ocean like eyes staring up at her with pure honest adoration. Confirmation of the girl's statement as totally true for her too.

Joining the rest of the witches, the trio of survivors stand united against life and the thefts of their innocence. They were still fighting on and were not going to let their fears rule them. Living is a victory, even if it hurts to do so.

This devil storm is just one more tosspot wanker in dire need to be given what for, and they were three women up to that task.

Leveling them with a hard eyed Aes Sedai stare, Corilta takes a deep steadying breath while the witches get settled in. All thirteen of them, including the flat terrified Emmatilde were united and ready to fight however they can. Seeing this in them Coilta Sedai peremptorily commands them like field general going into battle with a superior foe.

"Ladies, I see no path to safety for us if we sit by the side while Cora, our men, and the sailors face this beastly storm without the aid of the One Power. Listen carefully for we are going to be linking ourselves to lend all our power to the fight. I know some of you girls have been taught how to do this but we will show you still nevertheless. Do not fear for it is an easy action to accomplish. However I warn you all now, I will lead while all you should focus on is keeping an unwavering grip on Saidar. I don't care a whit if it is the bare little breeze of Emmatilde or the raging hurricanes of Hermione and Daphne, or where ever the rest of us fall in between them. What I care and need is your best and steadiest level of control. Yo must not yield or sky off on your own while we face down what ever the Sea of Storms hurls at us. For all our sakes remain together in the link, alight with what is at the higher end of safe for you. Every once is needed but so is an unwavering continuos supply for me to weald."

Howling wind seeking to blow all of them down and off the wave splashed side gives the Aes Sedai's admonishment emphasis. Freezing sea spray lashing them pointedly drives the lecture home or the gathered witches Thankfully it was dead simple for each and every one of them to open themselves to Saidar, including Emmatilde, from the near constant drilling of it into them. So when they all dig in to their souls and open themselves as one to link, the storm darkened sky is burned away. Standing in this group of witches all afire with Saidar's sublime light, it was brilliant to see and feel. Without the fear of drawing too much of this glorious well it could be so easy for Ginny to reach out and dive headfirst into the sweet eternal well of Power.

In spite of the darkness of the raging storm all around her the light of their link is blinding. What with each witch there drawing on nearly every little once they can safely touch, to their eyes the ship might well have been sailing in the clear skies of a mid summer's day. Having this darkness banishing light enfolding them in opulent glory, hope ets fire in their hearts. Even Emmatilde shakes off her blinding terror.

They were thirteen witches of the Light and the world will not die with them standing the gap against death and despair.

"Light..." the trio of Aes Sedai whisper in near unison from this mighty exhibition of the Creator's gift of power to women.

Shaking herself, Corilta guides them in properly linking, which is only needed in Emm's case. However the final order she gives them before fully engaging the storm's fury is rather frightful, "We are going into battle ladies, and in such a dire pass of the Pattern, it is not too far a stretch to foresee that some of us if not all of us will be returned to its eternal weave. If that is the cost to protect those whom are unable to do as we can, then so be it. Stand, unite, and never give any of our foes, man or nature, a moments reprieve as it is simply us or them."

Home in her proper Age, at the Burrow or Hogwarts, Gin doubts those words would ever be uttered to her. Life there and here are two paths that do not travel in parallels with one another. Back, or is it foreword, there everything is hide and seek a peaceful agreement above all costs. As a fighter she has never been at ease doing such, never mind its noble seeming virtues. To her it is ultimately hollow when facing unspeakable evil as the cost of peace can truly be too high for the innocents caught in the conflagration. Though this path is intimidating and not for a coward, she has too many and too much depending on her to just roll over and die.

Parvati's hand entwining with her own free one helps to anchor her with Luna's in her other. Sharing a love with the two witches along with Ione and Daphne, she is ready and willing to go into battle. She is not doing it as an act of hate as Dumbledore and her birth family treats fighting, but this is an act of her deepest love. Those whom her Circle loves were in need of her best, and she could manage a smidge more, so she pulls in that much more. Her family, her Sisters here, did likewise, even Emmatild. The young Ghealdaner's contribution was normally like a match flame against Hermione and Daphne's dual pair of sun's, now it was more a lamp in the dack night. As for her two lovers, they were afire with so much of Saidar it hurt her eyes to glimpse them standing hand in hand on Par's other side.

Her brothers Fred and George standing nearby in aid of the sailors hauling on lines, were beginning to shiver violently when she glimpses them beyond her majestic Circlemates. In her hold of Saidar though the temperature is nothing to be concerned with. It is nowhere a dire distraction, unlike the thrill it gives her to be openly holding her lovers' hands without fear.

Her ponytail bound hair whips and tugs on her scalp, completely ignoring its drenching in sea water that is soaking her to the bone. Ripping in from the wind screaming through the rigging ropes in a bid to cut the feet right out from beneath her. Images of her Harry an Circle being free and open to each other in defiance of what the world thinks proper gives her courage in spades. It also twitches a longing secret smile to her salt stung lips. Buoying herself in this special bond of love, she hardly notices when Corilta Sedai truly begins delving deep into the well of power that is in the link. The pull was easy and yet to have the One Power river out from her to be knit into a series of beautiful weaves steals her breath more than this wicked life stealing wind.

"Light and love...", she gasps in her family's pidgin of English and Common. Her heart's loves, Luna and Par gripping tight her hands hold her steady against the euphoric draw of so much Saidar flowing out of the thirteen witches.

She has been linked many times before, however the sensations of this time were unexpected in the full reality of the weight so much power being drew forth. A hurried or passing warning carries little meaning till paired with actual experience. Things like feeling each others heartbeats, breaths, or senses in a passive second thought was an odd event but nothing like the rest hitting her here. Having access to each others Talents in the One Power was a mind shattering discovery to feel infusing with in oneself. Without a warning she and the others are sent to their knees by an inner storm on par with this external one seeking to kill them. In shocking explosive bursts they are awash in Daphne's Weather Speaking screaming inside their very own blood, coupling with the otherworldly sight of Luna's Foretelling Sight and Visions a dark doom is seen and felt by them all. Add in the rest of their unique gifts, it all threatens to crumble the mental barriers the White Tower has instilled in them all.

She now understands her four witch lovers to a deeper insight than she ever imagined possible. She wanted to scream out in dread of the abysmal cold this storm feels like to Daphne. Her head is full with a maelstrom of confusing images over laying reality as her sweet airy Luna sees life. Par's empathy with the life of those around her has Ginny wish to cry in horror. Her Hermione's connection to the elements of all that touches her along with the ability to unite mentally with those she loves makes Gin feel as if she were drowning in to much input from this world. All she can do to stay her course is to dig ever more into her will to unleash her rage at any enemy attempting to destroy her family. She will never kneel or cower again to any sodding monster.

A primal scream of defiance erupts from her as she stands once more. With her are the others in a wave of determination. They are Aes Sedai, not simple frightened geese unsure of their gifts or worth.

The storm hammering them has her Daphne near to tears, but at a look for Gin a will to hold strong bursts afire in those depths less sloe black eyes of her Serpent. Luna's airy confusion and inner anguish is muted in a glance at Ginny's hardening burning denial of defeat. The empathic seeming Par and sensitive Ione both take shaky deep breaths in time with Gin's own angry inhalations. And it was not just her Circle taking strength from her, all in the link were regaining their composure, including Corilta whom was now glaring with fury out upon the wicked seas raging all around them.

However Ginny is the one in awe of these twelve other women she is linked with. Daphne's ability to stay sane with this unholy storm freezing her cold from the inside out is humbling. Luna's depth of wisdom and patience eases her own impatient explosive nature. Par's motherly care and empathy is a warm blanket for the aches and fear ripping away at Gin's sanity. Then there is Hermione, the rock solid intuitive nature of her studious witch reminds her that life and reality are bigger than the moment she is living through. The Creator and Pattern have a plan and she is one part of it with these incredible women.

Being loved and accepted as an equal to these magnificent witches is a humbling honor she is never going to take for granted. For them, for their brave Harry out on the rails fighting to help the muggle sailors, and for her five spirit sisters aiding her, she will not give in to her flightier heart tugging her in a thousand directions.

Wind from straight out of the bowels of an icy hell replaces the already harsh gusts driving Fair Eyed Lad off course. Corilta reacts by erecting shields of Air to deflect the winds from the already too full sails above. Holding five to seven up there in the sky in a moving rotation was a brilliant move that is noticeably beginning to work. Luna's other major Talent with Air is felt and used, making it easier for the link to combat the elements. Even if Air is considered a natural province of Aes Sedai women, Luna's gifts in it are beyond any quantify able standards.

Sadly, even with all of these unbelievable gifts in power, will, and skill the link comes up short. The unholy demonic winds only seem to grow in force and scope, bypassing the witches' works as if they were not even there. Timbers of questionable sturdiness are unprepared for this amplified gale force over whelming the worn sail cloth billowing from the heavily patched masts. Ripping canvas and creaking wood gives the alarm before the mortal men and women can recognize the full threat tearing into them.

"The Main!" she hears a sailor's half panic laced bellow of warning cut the air.

"Never you min-" another tries to counter but is broken off as some of the rope work rigging snaps apart in thunderous reports twanging like claps of lightening.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Great waves thirty or more feet in height toss, buck, and batter the creaking tar clad scow that is too majestically mis named the Fair Eyed Lad. Sledge hammer hard blows from bone chilling rain, sea spray, and the none too welcome hailstones bash about the crew and Tower refugees valiantly fighting to keep their small hunk of lumber afloat as the might of a storm some of the se dogs are swearing is a Shadow wrought curse sent to devour them all. A few of these men were also muttering it was from the witches onboard the ship whom has brought this doom on them. Though it is a real trick to hear any of them with the wind's shrieking through the rigging with enough strength to hurl ull grown men from their feet. Adding whips of lashing rain slashing them raw and it is understandable how panic is spreading through the ill fated souls struggling against nature itself to keep alive.

Ripping away most f his badly needed air to breath Neville turns his head face into the murderous squall to let it tear away his sodden long golden mane and beard from his eyes and mouth. When it does he is forced to duck his head in hopes of a momentary repreave and breath for his staving lungs. Salt in the wicked sharp gale torments his eyes as he dares catch sight of his progress against his arduous task's striving to keep hold of the shredded remains of the rigging. The lack of measurable success has him almost laugh in pain induced tears. Screaming at him in rebuke is his tiring muscles in their labour to haul on a guide line that is near to flying free in the cruel winds. If he fails to hold fast this rope may finish dragging along with it more of the ragged rope work on the port side of the beleaguered ship.

Cursing sulphurously as his hands peel and tear from the already too taught tarred ropes being yanked by a strengthening wind gust, he can hardly think coherently in this fight to survive. He'd be gibbering insanely if it were not for his ever serine Pad's calming presence in his skull. Her own war to remain calm and collected to use the One Power has yielded an odd side effect inside their bond he was glad to uncover. If she were in the appropriate state of mind to embrace Saidar, then he too found himself at a calmer state of being. Today this was all that may be keeping him sane and able to hold fast.

In his awareness and grip on the vast empty Oneness, he is very well positive that this awful mess means to kill them, thus he must stay the course. Life or death for themselves, a Warder's first and last thought is to the care and safety of his Aes Sedai.

White knuckled, he pulls with all his might in time with his chanting ship mates on this particular rope. A selfish personal pride in his heart is giving him a silent thankfulness he isn't a slight little bugger like his best mate Harry and a couple other poor sods up in the rigging above. That lot of human fleas were manfully waging a desperate war on the tangled mass that once was the ship's main sails and the dead men who had been up trimming it.

It terrifies him to imagine what his best mate is facing up there, yet he's never been a quick agile bugger either. Harjit on the other hand is close to perfect for that scary duty, well him and another with the short wizard. Having the help of the miss fortunately named Flin the Flea, Neville's conscience is partially assuaged of his guilty feelings of not being up there with his near brother. If only he didn't have to cringe at the knowledge those up above were working without safety lines out of necessity for free movement. His own waist is secured tight with one as he stands tall on the deck where he is the anchoring man of this team on this line.

Distracting him from his concern for Harry is the rush of prickling determination and fear from his bonded love. Her emotional turmoil is plucking neatly at his will to stay and hold this line tight. As much as her need for his protection burns in their bond, he feels her yearning for him to anchor her own will as surely as he was this escaping length of misbegotten hemp. So he crushes his own fears and misgivings for her to draw on his strength for hers and everyone's sakes. This was one of his personal theories on why Aes Sedai do better when bonded with a sturdy, stoat hearted Warder. Stalwart allies are harder to best than loners with greater gifts.

"Bugger me Frank!" Blaise groans behind him, "I was about ready to quit this ruddy ship the last go around doing this. Now I know I am. I'm bloody well done in already from yesterday, now we get this. This nasty little surprise sprinkle isn't welcome at all. Did you or any other sodding bastard you know of invite it to play with us? I only ask as it bloody well isn't a guest we needed to join our jolly holiday at sea. Not one bloody buggering single bit, you her me Frank?"

Snorting in amusement at that inadvertently invites another unwanted guest to his own hungry lungs. Sea spray is a far cry from oxygen his body rightfully longs for. Coughing and spitting up the briny breath, he shoats, "Ruddy great timing in mentioning it now. What ever plonker asked it to come over and say hi needed your warning a touch earlier don't you think mate?"

Hours have passed since its unexpected arrival in his estimate, then again time gets funny in dire situations like this. Hours he humbly finds as ample evidence that the Pattern can be a bit exuberant in showing a bloke how tiny and insignificant mankind can be when compared to the mind blowing might of nature.

When they had answered the call to arms before the full force of the terrible gale slammed into them, Neville and Padma's main worry was the interminable wait for learning how well or ill Harry's learning of the Circle's unnatural ways would turn out. Holding his witch tight so tat she knew his love of her is readily available to her if she needs comfort, he begged the Pattern to be kind. Parvati was breaking his Pad's heart by out and out rejecting tradition and the laws of home for the love of Circle and Harry.

Seeing this storm rolling inexorably in, his native ancient bred in human horror that gods were aiming to strike down the lot was mirrored in his Pad's by a thousand fold. Her logical mind was having a difficult time banishing such superstitious imaginings. It did nothing good in his own head either for that matter as he suspects Harry has abundant enough power to create something like this mad weather.

What steadied the pair came from the determined and protective stony visage of Harry when his best mate saw the storm then looked on the Circle. In those agate hard emerald eyes of his brother's they witnessed a softening of need and joy that Neville suspects his own eyes tell of for his love of Padma. It was startlingly clear that there is no dimming of adoration for those five crazy girls and their unnatural gaggle of love for the man and each other.

Scarlet rivers were forming lakes on the rope beneath his tormented hands while he put his full might into working the traitorous line. Its baulking to remain in place has double in from the treacherous sea spinning the ship with a huge wave hitting the foredeck. This devious blow has the tar bucket Fair Eyed Lad crashing into a countering wave causing the floating imber island below his feet to jerk and buck violently. On one bouncing leap against a new wave he staggers some, but not as badly as he does a second or two later. In one of those odd slow motion type moments a person comes across during dangerous events, the sea seems to suck back with its bitter cold passing of the giant waves. Almost negligently the sea yanks free the rest of the rigging in a series of deafening snaps as the hemp netting tears loose from the wood work. One line flips up to entangle the already mangled main, mizzen, and a few more of the poor sodding blighters sent to cut away the rotten mess. Two more gruesome bags of meat join te frst set of dead men in the lines, all of them hanging up there like demented marionettes, a third was lost overboard, and the forth was hung noosed by his foot, just out of reach of Harry or Flea.

Scrambling and slipping about on the wet decking under his booted feet, Neville curses his inattention along with the line mocking him. Losing one's focus out in this can get deadly faster than a fellow can react. For his own sake and those still alive this nightmarish day, he can not allow his old way of thinking, or more the lack thereof, take hold of him again.

Seeing that his best mate and Flea are in a right pickle if he doesn't do something to stablize their wild swinging rope footings, Neville looks around for a hold to grab of the wrecked rigging. Seeing a still partially attached webbing of the rope work caught on some of the shattered mainsail's support cross beams, he dives to catch hold of it. The slip sliding leap he makes comes perilously close in dumping him in the drink.

"Blimey..." he half weeps in a cry of pain when his left hand pinky breaks in the straining netting rope work. Fighting to gain some measurable control, he wants to pull away and see to his fractured digits.

While not a life threatening injury, it was less than amusing to feel happen. Nor is it some great joy when his straining back is hit square on with some unseen heavy object, winding him rather well. That is the last of his worries though as he feels an onslaught of chills chasing through him just under his skin that take to flaying his concentration. Accompanying these is an ominous, disconcerting burst of helplessness from his Aes Sedai and her own war with Saidar and he hateful sea. More and more, pulses of icy waves reinforce the freezing crawlies running rampant below his skin in a seeming counterpoint to what the stormy sea is physically lashing him with. Traces of anger, regret, and unyielding determination from his lover coalesce with momentary reprieves from the squall trying to sink them but always renewing the chilly rushes making him want nothing more than to shiver and shake out frigid worms worming around inside him.

Behind him with another hold on the ropes, Blaise lets out a moan before throwing up.

Taking a quick glance back at his Slytherin brother in arms in concern, he misses when Harry is near tugged off the rigging. The choral screams of pure anguish cutting the air as the Circle cry out almost as one tells him that his best mate is in danger. Meanwhile in his mind he his about floored by the intense terror and pain Padma is being torn apart by. His normally cool level headed witch is about broken by these emotions moments after the five girls begin thier wails of despair. Tormenting him is the dueling need to aid Harry and to protect his Padma.

"Focus! Keep focus girls. He's alright, but if you don't rejoin us, we're all dead." Corilta commands in a near begging straining voice for the five frightened witches.

Ange's Quidditch Pitch voice barks so very like that of a drill master it causes him to jump as well, "Get back in the link or so help me I'll drown the lot of you before I go myself."

Joining in the pleas to return to what ever the witches are doing, Tracey's sharp hiss cuts through the stormy wind howling around them. "Its bloody Potter you thick headed ninnies, he'sbloody damn well near unkillable and has the Dark One's own luck to boot. Please Daphne!"

Pad's own plea was less of this Age and more of their birth one, "If he can survive falling from a few hundred yards up with dementors trying to eat his soul, he's not like to snuff it in this. Please for the love of all that stand in the Light reoin us. We're getting crushed here."

Most of their words meant little to him about hat they are facing, but the need to keep fighting on gives him the will to shove aside his discomfort and fears to stand stronger in his stabilizing Harry's rope perch. Plus Harry proved them right by twisting around in an acrobatic move to both catch his footingand set back to work as if the short bugger was half monkey or chimpanzee. A sight confirming to Neville that he is no where as agile as his best mate.

Cheering at this good turn, He laughs out loud in spite of the choking rain, "Bloody wicked mate. Now please remember to bleedin' hold on tighter next time will you."

From up in tangles of rope, Harry barks back in a forced cheer, "Try to. Ruddy bit of fun to do this. Care to toodle on up here and join me and Flea here. I promise it's a right brilliant riot."

"He bloody well better not mate!" Blaise sickly wheezes in a tense chuckle, "If he does it'll be me dagling free in the ruddy breeze down here."

Harry's wide impish smile while indicating his not catching a word of that has the slender Snake rumbling some rather unwholesome things. If the Aes Sedai heard any of this they may skin all the men alive from how his Pad's emotions were rather spikey.

Creaking of the decking however freezes any further banter or thoughts dead in their throats. Under his feet, Neville is aware of a vibration carrying the more unwholesome message that the ship is giving in if they don't get shot of the still partly billowing sails on the double quick.

Bile rises in his throat by his dead certainty that this is going to turn far uglier than it all ready is. A feeling he found mirroring Padma hasn't stopped beating into him from their bond since Harry's lot of witches taking to choral screaming.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Can you make it lad?" Flea hollers over the howling wind tearing at them.

"If I ruddy well don't get smacked in the head by anything else." he yells in reply.

"You could've ducked boyo. That fish probably as not been just as happy if yer did." their compatriot on the starboard side rope work netting laughs.

"And miss a quick bite of breakfast so nicely delivered up to me?" Harry returns with a bit more humor than is normal for him, his lovely five witches and their discussions below decks has him flying high without the aid of his lost broom. What he saw has him buoyed right and true to find it easy to take a bit of ribbing and this insane storm all at once. Bloody hard not to be floating among the stars when five drop dead gorgeous women want to share a bloke and each other along with.

Plus his Luna was smiling somewhat more than she has been for a long time. A right brilliant turn that if he were allowed to judge things.

"Blood and ashes you lot of nodcocks. This do not be a fine time fer a bit of a laugh. If yer be thar one a swung up like I do be, yer'd be a wantin' less a jappin' an'a sight more workin'." came the bleating of their hung up ship mate in reminder of what they were up in this for.

Knowing the man has a point does nothing to blunt the still buoyant images of Harjit's angelic Light given girlfriends snogging it out in front of him. That and having anylucky turn in his life is a rare thing, seeing that and learning they wholeheartedly want him to join in tops the lot of his better times in life.

"Alright Jeb, hang on a second more will you." he jests while swinging himself closer to the tangle of sail cloth, rigging, dead men, and busted timbers. Snatching a hold with his right arm, Harjit returns to hewing away some of the snarled mess with his ax that he was sent up with. Saying silent prayers for the men lost though he hardly knew them.

Swaying and rocking in the heavy wind he enters the Void. Any demanding physical chore he has these days has been a chance for him to practice the mental feat of singular focus. It also shunts aside the confusing mix of emotions roiling inside his heart and head. Thoughts or feelings about the slain men near torn limb from limb by the ropes was banished alongside the less disturbing ones tied to witnessing his witches' bare breasts, kisses, and groping one another. Distractions of either sides' sorts were why he came a hair's breadth from being swallowed by the sea when that air bourne salmon brained him.

Hard, focused hacks from his war trained arm guide his ax in severing the knots gripping hold of one man's torso and head. A few more carve free the lost ship mate's mangled left arm. If the Sea of Storms was a wee bit quieter, they may have been more careful to save the corpses for burial. However the ship itself was likely as not to die with these poor blighters if they did.

Using his power wrought blade would be speedier all things considered, however he fears to lose it or his mace in the storm's madness so he has both tucked safely into his extendable bag attached to his belt. Nor would it do to use Saidin by his wand or tenuous skill at channeling. Men whipping out weaves in this rotten weather can only draw unwanted attention where Third Agers are concerned. So his ax was his lone option aside from scrounging up a good knife.

A pitching roll to the starboard side changes the ship's current pattern him and the other men in the remnant rigging have become accustomed to. Locking himself in the Void saves him by its cool dispassionate focus, but even this only blunts the sickening realization his last swing removes the right arm of one dead man he's rolled bones with just the day before. One bumping spin from the twisting sea and his workman's blow to the ropes gets sent awry, cleaving the limb off just below the elbow in a bone cringing wet smack. If he were out of the Oneness and his empty state of being he'd be hurling up his breakfast he missed this morning as his gut takes a twisting jerk of its own in reaction to the violation of an innocent acquaintance.

In a fight with other men trying to murder those he loves or whatnot, Harry can be unmoved by violence or death. Just having a go at butchering the corpse of some Light cursed poor sod is a whole other horse of a different colour. Thank the Light he'd been in the Void so his guilt carried self revulsion can be passed on for the now, later it will hit but he has work to do yet. That later will be rather rougher for its fermenting till his guard is down, however lives he loves are in danger and so he can't be a babe in the crib crying like his mummy will come and fix everything.

As a hard old veteran Warder in the White Tower once told him,"Brats in bibs bawl in battle, men at war knuckle down and beat their foes into jelly to stay alive for mates and the innocent."

Howling ice laden wind catches the still hot blood streaming out of the corpse, painting him in accusation of defiling a condemned soul's remains. Spitting out some he shakes his head and goes on manfully working his ax on the ropes. Unuttered prayers that they all don't end as bad as this poor sodding sea salt swirl around in his mind only to be also soundly throttled by the Void. Nothing must gain a foothold in his conscious thoughts while he embraced his nothingness. Even if his heart was gibbering in dread for those he cares for below.

Having to wipe his eyes free of sea salted blood and sweat trying to blind him, he catches sight some of those he is fighting for. Down and out at the very edge of his peripheral vision are his lovers in their own battles using Saidar to help guide, slow, or banish the worst of this right wicked storm. What all they were using must be helping blunt the blasted sea's assault on the Fair Eyed Lad as he and the other men were beginning to be able to move around. The furious storm's might was not completely banished, but even the men can proceed at half speed it is more than moments before. Without the Aes Sedai's efforts the story was growing grimmer by the minute because most up in the rigging like himself could do little more than cling to the ropes and pray, or cry in many cases.

Pushing aside the focus breaking thoughts for now, he is sorely tempted to make a grab for Saidin to add his own might in the efforts to save all their lives. Hanging out in the emptiness of his treasured Void is the world shaking male half of the One Power. Beautiful as a raging inferno and as seductive as the hungry love burning in his witches' eyes. Ruthlessly tamping down his own mad desires to rule this unfathomable torrent taunts his self control.

"Light and love its too bleedin' beautiful." he growls in disgusted self derision through his gritted teeth. Using his building frustration, he whacks savagely away on the rotten unholy mangled mess of ropes and more. "Just for once do as you're supposed to. Just for once in your miserable misbegotten bloody Light forsaken life- Just- Bloody- Don't- Screw- Your- Miserable- Arse- Over!"

Every last word of that is delivered with an ax blow to the filthy lot of wrecked and ruined mess of the sails and rigging. Some of these set free the mangled corpse he'd already hewn the arm from, in his ruthless zeal he manages to both free the dead man and a bit of wooden tackle. Flopping free it tumbles loose to catch Flea by surprise, to nearly send his ship mate plummeting to the buckling deck spinning below them.

Glad for his quick reflexes he snatches hold of his compatriot by a ragged sail cloth sleeve, avoiding a new disaster. Dropping a panicked sailor on the heads of those below was a sure fire way to ruin a lot of people's day, including the unhappy sailor's.

Grunting in exertion to heave Flea back up to somewhat safety, Harjit thanks whatever lucky stars he has that the hardening of his muscles under the tutelage of the Warders came in handy for more than brute warfare. A scrawny specky git as he once was would've like as not joined in the sailor's header into the decking rather than saving the man's life. As it is the swaying and bucking of the ship may yet send them both for such a deadly tumble.

Out of need and mounting, if blunted, fear he catches himself a glimpse of his loves and friends watching him with naked fear. Concerned at this mute look of mutual dread he looks about for why they were all so upset. At first he only sees more of the frightening giant waves and wicked raining clouds blackening the skies, dangerous as they have proven to be he isn't alarmed by any of it more than he already is. They've been managing to keep abreast of it thus far haven't they?

"Mother's bloody milk in'er a ruddy cup lad! We do be a needin' ter put wind ter sail here!" Flea yells in pure horror.

"I know, so get your feet already." he snaps back so he can return to chopping some more on the awful mass of ruined sail and rope. "I bloody can't do this all my self alone you know!"

"Ferget thar bleedin' ropes me boyo! We be needin' ter get down an thar double quick. We're gonna run keel over the Lightless rocks!" Flea hollers while making a swinging leap to make mad scramble down the wretched ruin of rig ropes for the sea soaked deck twisting and buckling below. Same as the other set of ax welding men on the other side we're already doing.

Harry however witnesses in a lightening flash that lit the dark sky in a near still photo like perfection a sight that freezes his soul to the quick. Illuminated in this blinding snapshot is the Fair Eyed Lad's masts seeming to take on life and starting to uproot themselves from the ship in a twisting wrench of deck timbers. Seeing this he whips his head to find out why and is left momentarily transfixed in his own horror to note that even though the sails were mostly limp torn ruins, they still have enough to catch the evil gale in a demented parody of enormous kites lifting and jerking on the dodgy vessel's weakening wood work. Amply proving the hurricane strength wind's ability to rip free the heart of the ship in a negligent coup'de'gras.

Frustration and more than a little fear puts paid to his reticence in seizing hold of Saidin to salvage the ship and his odd family trapped on the glorified tar bucket. He also could not simply take to his heels and stop hewing away the massive kite of sails to save his own worthless hide. Doing both tasks at the same time may be nigh on impossible, but he has no choice as no one else is in a place or willing enough to even try. So with a snarl of rage against the storm and the filthy Taint, he makes a bid for a desperate grab on the slippery One Power which was forever taunting him from the edges of the Emptiness.

Below he hears the Captain bellowing at her men, "Cut'r loose boys, don'ye be fer a runnin' scard of a wee bit'a trouble. Drop'em or we be fer thar bloody deep. Garm, put yer back in'ter helpin' me keep'er off them thar rocks a comin'!"

A few were trying to do their parts, fighting off the fugue of oncoming doom. However some were yielding to a wild native panic for self preservation. A handful were even falling into superstitious raisings and crying out panic bourne declarations "to give them murderin' Aes Sedai witches the heave!"

Those were not the sole sods to give in to fear and do the absolute worst. A few were taking to heart the Captain's leather lunged commands to Harjit and Flea to cut away the sails, unfortunately they were whacking away at the few remaining rope lines the men up in the rig work were using as footings. When they attacked the ones Flea and Harry were upon the wind took the opening to play the devil with them.

For the unfortunate fleeing Flea, it ends with the brine crusted soul being hurled far and wide in a wind whipped slinging over the rough seas to be lost in the waves roiling beyond Harry's sight. The same occurs to another sailor on the other team when the ropes holding him are slashed loose so that the violent winds can snatch up the tattered rig ropes like a ribbon in a summer breeze. This second man doesn't even get the chance to swim for it as he is slammed bodily into the breaking railing with a sickening crunch of shattering bones before being swept overboard in the next sloshing pass of the sea. In Harjit's case, he is bashed back and forth against main mast, rigging, and parts of the busted mizzen hung in the mass of ropes he'd been sent up to cut away.

Years of playing Quidditch against rough rotters such as the Slytherins and enduring endless beatings by his Uncle Vernon strangely turn into advantageous blessings as he is able to keep his wits about him even while his head is dashed side on by the large swaying mainmast. Dazed but not out of it, he manages to get a hand hold on the cross beams for the wrecked mainsail, giving him a chance to use his ax to hatchet in another in the tree like mast that just brained him. On the negative side, his left foot is caught in a rung of the wide netting like rigging the devious wind is tugging from the ship like a huge banner.

Suspended as is he is, he is left agog of the enormity of the vast storm seeking the death sentence for the Fair Eyed Lad and all aboard its wallow sided timbers. It stretches for as far as the eye can see, with a sea alive with waves that could be capable of washing away whole fleets of ships in a single pass let alone drown one misnamed scow made up of more tar than timber. In the periphery of his terror struck eyes is one such monster bearing down on them. At the very minimum the brute dwarfs any of the ones to have hit them so far by half again as big if not the thrice. Whereas those below Harry are watching in justifiable dread of the rocks behind his hanging perch, he is witness to this massive giant reaching ever upward to blot out the already storm darkened sky. On the decks below, he sees his best mate Neville is clinging hold of the railing and Blaise's lifeline simultaneously, allowing the Slytherin on the other hand to struggle with a storm crazed sailor whose ax welding arms were bulging in an effort to cleave the main safety rope those below were tied to. Fred, George, and the first mate have their own hands full trying to drag in the only other surviving rig runner from the hungry sea sucking the fellow into its endless deeps. Two other more sturdier seasoned sailors are in a life or death duel with the witch burning minded sods as the latter lot seek to cast nets over the Saidar focused women doing battle with the sea. Same for the other Warders whom are in a deadly dance with blokes Harry reckons to be seasoned pirates in the main till Captain Nerman hired them on. Up on the aft deck, next to the straining Captain and bosun's mate fighting the wheel, the gathered witches are standing hand in hand in a ring with stone cold visages save the Blue Sister, Corilta, whose own ageless face is home to a rictus snarl as the ship slows its drift towards the rocks. In an odd slow motion moment of clarity he notices that not a one of the witches wore a safety line.

Turning his head in a molasses slow glance back behind him and the tilting mainmast, he sees the evil appearing rocks clawing their way out of the ship killing waves like the savage paws of a titan of myth or legend. Returning his gaze to the rear of the ship, he is again left gobsmacked at the behemoth wave rolling inexorably closer to them, growing larger and larger with each passing second.

Gripping as tight a hold on the ax and broken cross beam as he can, Harry's weary limbs tremble under the strain to keep himself from becoming another casualty. Slick with sweat, salt water, and blood, his ax's haft starts to pull free from his clenching handgrip. On the other front, the rope snaring his foot is steadily noosing itself tighter as the wind rips and tears at it, cinching it as if planning to rip him out to dangle as a bait offering to the rocky monster clawing out for the ship. It is getting so tight that his booted foot is tingling from blood loss.

Proceeding the oncoming ship slaying wave is an ever heightening surge that turns the Fair Eyed Lad aft end up, perfectly tilting to try and tumble the battle locked Aes Sedai and witches from their precarious footings. Once down, if they even remain aboard, the lot will be in for a rough game of human pinball or billiards.

Biting down hard on his mind blanking fear, wear worn tiredness, and well founded outrage at the cruelty the Pattern was exhibiting, Harjit fought his way back into the vast calm of the Void. Tears of pain and dread stream rivers down his salt burned cheeks, hardly noticeable by him when they mix so easily with the storm tossed water drowning him twenty or more feet above the hateful sea. None of his mates or the Warders could aid the women, as they were in their various battles raging below just keeping insane men from slaughtering the linked witches. Not even the Captain would be able to lend a hand as she kept the tiller more or less aimed away from the craggy outcropping of ship shredding rocks. Nor can he see the few level headed sailors to come to the witches rescue as they too were dancing blades and billhooks with their insane mates.

Snarling in wordless hate dampened by the Void, he throws himself into the torrential Saidin. An act that turns out useless by the devilish male half of the One Power ably dodging his attempt. Not taking no for an answer he gathers himself once more, he dives for it. And yet again he is rejected without an inkling of success.

Some of the sea water is now over topping the aft decks rim to swirl and eddy about the slippered feet of the unwary witches. They were totally committed to their struggle with the sea to save the Fair Eyed Lad. With a splash of ice cold sea water, Emmatilde becomes the lone exception to the obliviousness of the other women. Her cries of alarm are drowned out by the sound of the breakers striking in terrible chorus against the stony reef ahead of them. She even begins to scream in a vain attempt to rouse the rest to no avail as these too are washed out to sea with the horrendous gale and waves crashing. To Harry's unwanted witness perch above where he is wrestling with Saidin, both him and the young Ghealdaner's efforts are proving to be thin and next to fruitless.

Elsewhere one panicking sailor manages to kill his more sane ship mate protecting some of the last lines keeping Harry from taking a dive into sea or decking. A sight to affirm in Harjit's mind the deadly effects a billhook can have on a fellow. Hearing the dying man's scream of agony is blood chilling even in the hollow Void's depths. The sound does put fire to the fight in all those below the worn out wizard dangling high above like some grim living prize trophy.

Freezing his heart cold is the victor's triumphant bellow of war, "Kill them thar witches or they be fer drownin' us one'n all!"

Iron hard determination sends Harry flying full tilt into yet one more attempt to subdue the wily Saidin. Visions of billhook, cutlas, or short hafted ax cutting down any of the women down there lights a feverish chill in his guts. Partnering with his certainty the lot are heartbeats away from drowning, the nightmarish mixture drives a stake through his aching chest.

A deep long held quiet panic of his own breaks its bonds and leads a mad surge of adrenalin to his beat and battered body that masks the moment his soul initially passes through the unholy oily muck that is the Taint. Spreading over his inner self in a swelling surge equal to that of the storm flaying him on the outside, the Taint eats at his soul and sanity. Gasping at the enormity of the unholy muck, he strives to hang tight to his sanity against the unquantifiable magnitude shredding away what makes him, him. Slithering through the cracks of his broken soul, absorbing into the fiber of his flesh, and soaking up into his mind the Doom of Slytherin ravenously gnaws upon his entire being. Luck was with him however as well because he still found a hard won grip on the illusive Saidin's magnificent might.

Filling him to the brim, to where it almost physically hurts while still thrilling his whole essence, Saidin's glory is his to command. Power to depopulate nations, uproot mountains, crack open sea floors, or alter the very trajectory of the Earth's orbit are his to unleash or let burn him to wispy ash. It is a bright unstoppable glory too intoxicating for mortal words, that not even the soul killing Taint can terrify him from craving the tiniest of tastes. Harry James Potter was a god among men. Harjit Truhart is a titan that none can match or bring low.

His gibbering sanity with all its unwanted voices scream out to the heavens in joy, but it is the cry of dread from the insignificant Emmatilde that brings stark reality crashing back into his burning soul, sharpening his focus down on to what truly grounds his miserable soul.

That life vanquishing wave is seconds away from slamming full into the Fair Eyed Lad to devour the now staggering and struggling witches from the impossible angle the ship now sits swaying in the wild sea. Mere seconds left till that mountain of angry water reaches its peak and over the top of the ship to then sweep its decks clean of all those Harry loves in a single evil rush of darkness. As they are turning and rolling away from the insupportable angle, some long dormant hidden knowledge or secreted away instinct in his essence as a channelor takes charge of his conscious thoughts and willpower to hurl out from his now terror infused voice tearing from his ragged edged throat and lungs.

True words or simple mad bellowing, it didn't matter as the wave's enormous weight and size strikes down to be met by a glorious band of multi-hued light that all the wizards flinch back from in its brilliance, blinding Harry for a time as his salt drowned eyes take the full radiance of Saidin erupting from him to defy the unimaginable power of nature itself. When his eyes adjust some to the amazing show of the very source of reality, he catches out of the corner of his ill used eyes a miracle made real by his will. Witnessing it in full aside from himself, a gobsmacked Neville, Blaise, and the Weasley Twins stop dead in their own plights to look up and full into the life shaping majesty of Saidin with longing fear. At the aft end the sea inverts and washes out in a bowl shape to then envelope the ship, harmlessly passing over the embattled ship. Wrapping the Fair Eyed Lad in a cocoon of water for what felt like an eternity. The Sea of Storms now is shielding them from its very own storm it spawned to slay the daring invaders bobbing upon its immeasurable surface.

Shielded from the rain soaked wind tearing at them moments ago, Harry is left to hang free from his tiring grip on ax and cross beam. Dragging him inexorably from his impromptu hand holds, the rest of the tangled mass of tarred ropes and sodden sail cloth is seeking the sanctuary of the decking below. Giving out a cry of wear worn agony, he tries to keep his life saving hold on ax and wood. When he is about sure he is going to lose and plummet to his own death he is hit with a chilly blast about the time the rope noosing his leg is severed neatly by an invisible knife. Unfortunately the frigid rush passing through hm also slices deep into his Saidin burning existence.

Cackles of pure madness erupt from his salt stained lips in the insane Lews Therin's voice, "Mine! It is mine you miserable treasonous whores! Mine to burn them all!"

Pain the likes of which Harry has rarely felt before hits him square as he is forced to fight the Taint born insanity seeking to steal Saidin from him. Involuntarily letting go of his hold on his ax to clutch his fiery scar searing his brain, he is embroiled in a war as dire as the one he is fighting against the hungry ocean.

Barely aware of life outside his own skull, he roars out to the universe in defiance, "No you bloody well don't get to have it! You will never have it, you thrice damned kinslaying bastard!"

Thankfully before he may possibly lose the battle inside him the terrible sea hits the ship amidship, rolling it half into the icy waters with no invisible barrier to interdict the flooding sea.. In his weakened state he is pulled from the cross beam by gravity and the vengeful resurgent winds shrieking in outrage at their momentary abatement. Plummeting to the deck, he is rescued by the out stretched hands of the man, Jeb, whom he'd originally been sent up to rescue in the first place. The irony of it didn't sink into his embattled brain as he was too busy making peace with his on rushing end and denial of the Kinslayer's power grab.

"Come on lad, we can make it iffen' yer be a helpin' me." the desperate Jeb begs.

Feeling the very fabric of reality surrounding him, Harry notices the rocks were once more drawing the ship in. Lews Therin though is standing in his way of saving their lives as the madness born Mad Man claws at the One Power.

Digging deep, he shoves back the Taint crafted invader to fling his will full on against the incoming rocky reefs. Not sure entirely what he is doing, he is nevertheless rewarded as the Fair Eyed Lad bucks and jumps before reversing course, aft first back up the pummeling waves shoving the scow to its doom.

Vague thoughts of self preservation has him fumble for one of his many knives. Using weakened fingers, his hand has the barest grips on the hilt. It was all he could manage to draw it out of his calf strapped sheaths where he carries two others of a matching set. Though once in his hand he forms a plan and swings himself and Jeb carefully out over the leaning wreck of the nearby mizzen when he and his trapped rescuer pass over it. Stabbing the long sturdy Tearin steel blade home into the wood, they stop their free wind lashed journey.

Biting down on his inner cheek muscle from the effort to not cry out in exhaustion, Harjit fights his trembling free arm into seeking a second blade secured in a thigh sheath for his compatriot to cut them loose from the heavy ropes dragging on them in the wind. While on the inside he was feeling himself begin to break and crack apart at the molecular level by all the Power he is pouring into liberating the ship from the current shoving it into the gaping maw of rocks awaiting a fine feast of fools and their dying tar bucket scow.

Fate plays him a fool however as a man screams out in time with a cracking thunder of deck planking snaps like an explosion of automatic gunfire causing him to look up from his own struggle to live. When he does his throat tightens from the sight of the weary witches staggering or clinging to the breaking up deck with cries of shocked alarm. Their struggles worsen as the Fair Eyed Lad is tossed into a hard list to port in a blow from a rogue counter wave catching them fore starboard. Elsewhere the Captain and her men at the wheel fly bodily apart from the large wooden tool being sheered away from the ship in a deafening explosion of splinters and metal rivets. Both events jerk Harry loose from the dangling Jeb whom is smashed hard upon the buckling mainmast, the light of life vanishing from the poor blighter is extinguished in a sickening dull thumping crunch of skull striking oak.

Tumbling to the buckling wooden deck Harry senses through the hot burning Saidin that the rudder has spun them all back into a headlong course right into the frothing maw of the reef. As for his weary body, it is caught up in a resurgent gush of the angry sea swirling and washing over the ship's sides and rail. Flung in a crazy swishing swirl eddy, he is bashed back first across the free floating expanse f a loose floating rain barrel.

Wordless as well as breathless, he almost lets go of Saidin. Stopping that is the floundering around of the witches in the frothy wash of ocean water rushing and surging over the fractured decking. He'd die to save them, especially his five true loves.

A tired mad thought has him seeking with the One Power the busted rudder hidden below the dark blue killer waves. It was a disorienting walleyed run over the dying ship then out into the deep ignoring the lack of light as everything appeared as if on dry land more or less. Thus finding it was easier a trick than what he began to plan in a running silent prayer that he can pull it off and in time to do any good.

Flashing stars and bursting coloured lights pop in spectacular fashion in his growing hazy eyesight as he forces the long wooden flap to a direction away from the rocks. Red Blood from a cut in his scalp mixes with the oily black brackish stuff oozing from his scar, blinds him while he draws ever more Saidin to unleash a freezing blast over the recalcitrant rudder. At first it isn't enough to freeze the roiling waters so he pulls on his will to refocus it to a coldness that can kill if a body is exposed to it directly. Still it is not quite there so weepingly he forces his control to add even more cold to the work. This time it takes as the sea starts to freeze mid wave around the wooden timbers. It now is so cold it can and will kill in moments just by being near it. The water as cold as it feels is so hot that this forming ice cracks and bursts at the same time it spreads farther in a deadly freezing wave. However the rudder and ship are now aimed away to safety.

Sodden to the bone and puking up bloody phlegm, Harjit feels his control of Saidin evaporate within him. The come down crash from it has his Taint poisoned euphoria turn his world into a carnival fun house mirror. Any movement dizzies him, bestowing a crooked watery wobble to his attempts at gaining his feet to continue aiding in the ongoing battle for their lies.

A creaking in the torn up deck planking alarms him but he has very little letf to give. Standing was a no go, thus he half slithers snake like over the wrecked wood to grab a hand hold of the central safety line. His aim is to get himself secured in order to do likewise for his loves and anyone else not tied on. He wasn't ready to die, nor was he up to seeing any more die either in some twisted sacrifice to this dark cruel ocean.

Groaning he hoists himself up against the hard rushing current of the ocean sloshing across the top deck. It was deafening but nowhere able to silence the chilling sounds of the mainmast continuing to seek freedom from the rest of the ship.

"Harry!" he ears a cry for help struggling to be heard over the roaring waters. It wasn't far and his mind understood it was one of his family by choice to have cried out his birth Age's name. "Harry ov-"

A wave overtopping the rails washes over his head muting anymore than that. Drowning him some as he swallows a few mouthfuls of sea water inadvertently. Refusing to fail anyone else, he battles down his weakening limbs back into obeying him to surface above the torrent. Coughing and spluttering he spits up the offending sea water.

A Pair of strong feminine arms finishs hauling him up. In the blinding deluge of the mad storm and his Taint poisoning he can't truly identify his helper. Her ruined dress was of little help as all the girls were wearing plain brown wool to avoid notice in the flight to Salidar. Nor was her voice recognizable because of the raving cackles from Lews Therin mixing in perfectly with the shrieks of breaking timbers. He was just glad to find someone still alive.

That joy shatters abruptly. The ship lurches with a heart stopping scream as its tar slathered timbers smash violently on the rocks in spite of his best efforts to avoid that occurring. A fatal blow that tumbles the girl aiding him into bashing her side on the same rain barrel to have near done for him moments ago. Her head flops wildly to be struck upon the gangway entry to below decks.

Knowing he is at his last bits of strength as Saidin's fleeing him earlier took a lot with it in the offing. His choices are dwindling to nonexistent, so he takes a gamble to save this last girl, his last chosen sister alive maybe. Blearily he uses a loose length of rope to lash her to the bobbing barrel before blackness takes him into exhausted nothingness.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Having to gaze up into the stormy sky where her beloved wizard scrabbles around spider like with ax in hand to cut free men, sails, and knotted rope, Parvati is a hair's-breadth from screaming in fury at the thrice cursed Pattern. Some may be sorely mistaken in the myth Hindi, Punjabi, or Singhalese women were all soft spoken mice willing only to let life run them over. Those who think such are bloody blind fools in need of a good violent shaking.

Women of her line are strong, determined individuals willing and able to fight for those they love. Sitting half idle as a living battery felt flat out wrong when her man apes an ape to play among the clouds to actively do his bit to save them all. She has just now got him back into where he belongs, her arms. Now though he's off and putting himself perilously close to offing himself because of a bad run in with some nasty weather.

However it is abundantly clear the witches are needed to hold back the fury of the storm Daphne has been feeling coming in for days if not weeks now. Hopes that it wouldn't be this bad was the first victim of the rotten thing's war on the Fair Eyed Lad when they came out to see the supposed early morning sky near solid blue black above a roiling black sea. The roaring incoming torrent is close to invisible in the lightless morning greeting them. Next came the men trimming the sails whom had been hauling in the mainsail, till a horrific mishap of snapping loose ropes fly free to reach up and ensnare man and sail in a vicious gust that tore the ropes from their moorings.

This Shadowborn wind wasn't finished with them there though as it began scooping up the sea and all it held to hurl at them with wicked glee. Literally as a storm of fish starts to pelt them' one a good three to four feet long manages to bypass Corilta's shifting Air shields to smash her Harjit square on.

A funny sight if it didn't knock him loose of his precarious position on the web worked rigging running up the ships sides to the maze of sails and masts above. Back at Hogwarts, when she was a dimmer silly chit of a schoolgirl, watching him astride a broom speedily defying gravity she felt it a thrill to behold. Now, with the seasoning of real life, where brutal deaths haunt them just around the next turn of the Wheel, this was a less amusing trick by the Pattern.

Unable to wrench control of her own hold of the One Power back from Corilta's furious weavings to save the wretched Fair Eyed Lad, Par loses it as a scream tears open her lips while her Harry tumbles downward and she is powerless to save him. She wasn't alone either by how suddenly her Circle's connections to Saidar all start going dark in a mass collapse of the link's most powerful members lose their calm repose needed for embracing the One Power. Her girlfriends each were coming apart visibly in different ways. Gin-Gin was trying in vain to tear free of Ange's lunged grab to try running to their wizard's aid. Pale little Luna was close to becoming a living marble statue from an all consuming catatonia. Daph's parseltongue screams were harder to hear over Par's own anguished keening Hindi ones, but were nonetheless as terrible to those that do hear them. Hermione though was the more telling in her reaction as the normally prim conservative witch's salty language wasn't fit for mixed company as the girl was clawing at Corilta's iron grip of the link with tears streaming long rivers from those soft chocolate brown eyes Par loves.

A veritable avalanche of all the languages the brilliant witch is fluent in colour the air a mere trilingual girl such as Par can never truly match. The sentiments were the same though as their lone wizard falls a short ways before managing to catch himself in an athletic twisting lunge to snatch a rope blowing past, then calm as you please, zips back up into the fray on an only slightly less perilous footing.

He was living but her heart was unwilling to beat, nor her lungs to breath in the aftermath of seeing that terrible, if averted event. For a scant few seconds her world and heart had faced its shattering end. Losing any single member of their hexuple was unthinkable. Seeing it firsthand, powerless in spite of her considerable talents in Saidar, has her stuck in a warped haze of semi-reality.

Logic and empirical evidence says her Harjit lives still. She can simply look up and find the too chipper git going on as if unfazed or thinking himself impervious to death. The flip side of that equation is her over strained anxiety blinding her to reality and immersing her in a living nightmare where he did not catch that stray free rope swishing past on the whims of a lessening wind gust.

Flashes of that fate give rise to a choking sob erupting from her lips.

Vague voices calling to her to shake it off or forget it happened are muted by the cackling screams of victory in the villainous wind.

Bodily shaking her is her wild eyed twin sister. Words she should know fight the horror fogging her brain. Visions of her Harry in his dress robes at the Yule Ball overlay everything in her sight. The taste of his lips on hers as they shared their first kisses, tease her lips as they burn from the sea spray assaulting them. Feeling his gentle manly strength taking her into his arms contrast with the panicky attack by her sister to rouse her from this downward spiraling fugue.

It is an odd event... She was falling in love with him all over again, or maybe it was that she is realizing again how deep her need of him ran in her being.

A large hunk of ruined broken cross beam and loose tackle is caught on the unnatural wind to be lifted and hurled at his unaware back. From the pit of her most secreted places in her soul, she reacts with a blind fury at the impudent projectile, lashing out with the full force of her talent in Air and Earth to blast it all into a billion splinters the wind carries away save a stray length of rope four feet or so long. That fragment falls into one of the rain barrels tied in a secure circle around the mainmast's base. Out of the corner of her enraged eyes is the swell of a wave tugging at her beloved Luna's feet, with a snarling hiss it was fried away in the intense heat of a weave Ginny unleashes while still trying to escape Angelina. Hermione's wild mane is flying freely on the gusting wind while the brunette is sending weave after weave of a bewildering variety to fix or stop a thousand different troubles bedeviling the ship and crew. Many were aied at anything coming near their man working high above. As for Daphne, glowing like a sun, the parselmouth was hissing and spitting with every weave aimed at denying the storm a meal of the ship and people thereon. The powerful witch's weaves even break a large wide hole open towards where the Captain has been struggling to guide the creaking rotten scow to.

Poor sweet Luna sadly was still transfixed in horror with rare tears flying unrestrained away in the wind. Ghostly pale, the tiny witch's visage is coming close to as broken as the day of their escape from Tar Valon. Having her tender hearted lover regressing freezes Par's own heart that much solider.

"Par!" Pads is begging her, "Harry is fine. We need you. I need you. Without the Circle, we're dead, and as your practically its heart. If you don't help us, we won't be able settle the rest down. If you do help us, they will follow you. You sissy are their heart. Not Hermione, Luna, Gin, or Daph have as much strength of heart to face this killer storm and keep the rest united. Ginny may have the fire but not the empathy. Come on sis, please hear me. If we don't all unite again and try going it alone we'll all die. With the Circle shattering those of us left in the link are nowhere near enough."

Harjit's adoring face in a thousand moments she didn't realize were so strongly etched into her heart swirl amongst more and more of her Circle. Each of her five loves meant life to her. The Sea of Storms screaming hard wind and towering waves bashing the ship about infuriates her. A rage similar to her fire souled Gin's takes shape in her core, but not like the red heads as well. Par's was protective and not seeking vengeance but instead more that of a woman safe guarding those she loves more than her own life.

Snapping to focus, she hisses in twin for her sister, "You need me and mine even if we're monestrous abominations? Fine. We'll kill the storm, but don't you dare forget we did it for our loathsome love."

Jerking a bit at that, Pads is crying before pulling her into a hug, "You're not a monster Par. You're my sweet firebrand other me. I love you... I'll always love you."

Fearing to get hurt again by the rejection of her sister for a breath of time, she then gives in to return the hug. After a tight squeeze of mutual joy only sisters can ever understand, she drags her sister along behind her to go gather her Circle of soul mates. They have a war to wage. No bloody bit of ill tempered weather can have any of her family.

"Ione, Daph stop it you two. We're a team remember. We're together in everything and as such lets act it for a change instead of a bunch of half wit wizards." she barks in reprimand of her two smarter and power fuller peices. The pair take a second or two to return from their own personal struggles with sheepish blushes. Finding Gin, with Ange and Ali in tow, guarding their Luna, she merely has to meet her fellow fire eater witch and lover's eyes to get the red head onboard.

It is Luna, dear sweet gentle tender hearted Luna, she and the others were afraid for.

With a cautious wind staggering step or two she kneels before her first open and true girlfriend. Seeing how hurt her angel is, Par reaches out to take Luna's hands. At first a knee jerk back step has her afraid she's made a terrible misstep till her blonde pixie sized girlfriend falls into her weeping a torrent of tears.

"I can't lose him... I can't." the tiny girl says what all the Circle feels quite poignantly. Par knew she is struggling to not crumble again from the dread possibility.

Clutching hold of her to weep openly in Par's arms Luna sobs, "I- He- I had no way to- I was trapped- no way to catch him..."

"Shh baby... Shh... We all felt it." she gathers her girl up tighter into a tender protective embrace.

It helps when Pads joins to hug them both, "It hurts to watch our boys being men. Luna, please help us protect them."

Raging nearly unchecked around them is the storm, and yet it is the far too long held strains of their lives seeking to vanquish them Par discovers in the chaos.

Luna's hot tears join her own, but her trembling angel answers, "This Storm... It's not normal, and I can't see... I can't tell... Can we best it, Par? I'm so scared."

"We can try." Parvati nuzzles her broken angel's cheek in consolation.

Shivering Luna begs, "If I can't say it later... I love you Parvati. I was a bit silly for not saying it sooner... I love you all."

Daphne nods firmly with her own whole body quaking shivers, "She's right. This isn't natural or right feeling for a storm. I don't like it."

"Well I'm not letting it bloody well having us. And I want you all to know I love you all too, too much to say it properly or let anything take you. So lets get our heads back on straight and get back to work, ladies." she declares with a shake of her head and body to rid herself of her childishness of earlier. Girls in pigtails and nappies while chasing rubber balls can stand about full of silliness. Big girls have to pull on their big girl knickers and go to work even if it hurts on occasion. Her Circle and Harry need a wife not a tot in braids.

Wobbly kneed, Luna lets Ginny and Par guide her back to the link. Meanwhile Ione and Daph put up Air Shields to deflect the wind and rain for them all to reach the other witches.

Chaos was the rule of the day for the ship in her view asx the Captain, as capable as the woman is, the crew was fracturing into three splintering groups that seemed to going counter to one another. In the largest camp are the mostly level headed fellows too busy doing their parts for the greater good of the ship to become totally unhinged. Another bunch were the normally gold bricking slug abouts too scared to even think straight enough to try changing their stripes. The last lot however are the true enemies of the whole ship for they have to a man leapt over the twist and straight into the nut hatch. Mentally unhinged by the never ending string of foul weather and even worse luck, they fail to stay focused and grounded under the barrage of troubles the Sea of Storms has gifted them. This bigger than should be possible storm's arrival was the proverbial straw on the camels back that snaps any little modicum of sense they had if any. This lot of loobies were running about with absolute fear and absolutely positive they're own personal wild eyed conspiracy theories or plots are the sole solutions available to them. More so when there is a new cry of warning from the fore deck.

Wailing in despair, one of these latter lets loose a cry to freeze her soul while he points and gibbers, "Rocks! We do have Rocks!"