Reviews:
PrometheusDark: That it does, that it does.
Greer123: Thank you, I'm happy that you were a fan of the chapter and seeing the HP side of things.
3elizabeth: I have read the manga, and I have seen the anime for Berserk, but I mostly go by the manga side of things. As for your question, I can't give much away without spoiling, but I can say that when Harry goes back he won't be alone. I look forward to more reviews.
Greyjedi449t: I'm happy to see it's interesting. I hope you enjoy the chapter.
Energy-the-hedgehog: Thank you. I have something in mind for Rosine, as well as every side character, later on. And yes, things on the HP side are about to face some changes. And this story could very well be finished before the real Berserk story does, but the ending I have in mind will never be as good as what Miura could write.
ezok: True. The Idea of Evil works in mysterious ways.
dw6fanmanxd: Thanks. I'm glad to see that you enjoyed, and hopefully, I can earn 5 stars.
Necrogod: No problem, enjoy the next one.
demonic hellfire: Yes, that is a wound that cuts deeper than any sword.
greenwings33: Thank you. And new chapters of Berserk is always a treat.
Guest: Thank you, I'm glad you think so.
Hairul The Nightrage Beast: The astral energies will have a part to play, and I can say without major spoilers that Harry won't be alone when he returns.
Emeraldpichu: Thanks, I hope the rest can be as exciting.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
"Guts!" his wings were beating as fast as they could go. "Guuuts!" he was feeling exhaustion, but somehow had the air capacity in his lungs to shout his companions name. "Guuuuutssss!" he appeared more like a blue blur than he did an actual elf, but that didn't matter, what did was telling the swordsman what he had just bore witness to.
It had gone a little something like this; Puck had just been flying around, looking for anything that might further heal Guts' injuries, when all of a sudden he hears this big commotion going on. Being the curious little elf that he is, Puck decided to go and check it out for himself. When he got to the source for the entire hubbub, he was startled to see that Harry was in the center of it. A group of knights had managed to ambush him, and he was putting up a fight against them. Even with the injuries, he sustained during the previous fight, the young wizard was managing to hold his own for the most part. Seeking to end the fight, Harry had made a beeline straight for their leader, a blonde teenager a few years older than him, and he would have gotten her too if he hadn't collapsed within arm's reach of her. And that was the thing; Puck didn't see any of the knights lay a finger on him. A blonde teen that looked similar to the girl had been rushing to her defense, but he hadn't made it in time, and it certainly hadn't been the blonde girl who stopped him; she had been so caught off guard that she hadn't even drawn her sword.
As Harry collapsed, he had been clutching his head, right where that lightning scar was. Something didn't sit right with Puck about that scar, it couldn't have been his imagination, but Puck felt a dark presence become dispersed as Harry writhed in pain. Puck would have been compelled to solve this mystery himself to showcase his true elf insight, but there was no time for that! Harry was being dragged off to who-knows-where, by who-knows-who to do who-knows-what to him. Puck didn't claim to have known the wizard for long, but he didn't have to in order to consider Harry a friend. And the best way of going about getting him back was with – "Guuuuuutttssss! Ow-!"
He had flown down right onto Guts' face. His eye was closed and he was soaking his arm in the stream, letting the water help with the toxin in his system. "Watch where you're flying." Guts barely opened his eye. "It'd be a shame if you crashed into anything."
"Guts!" Puck exclaimed.
"What?" he didn't look amused.
"Well… I went off to find you anything else that could help you, see. And all of a sudden, guess what I stumble across? Knights! A whole bunch of 'em! They came out of the trees like… like… branches! They were everywhere and there was this blonde girl leading them, and a blonde boy too, and then there was this one guy with a really stupid mustache who-,"
"-Slow down." Guts caught Puck in his hand, trapping his head under a thumb. "Now, I'm going to let you go, and when I do, I expect you to say whatever you have to in a way that makes sense; got it?"
"Mmhmm!" muffled Puck. Guts released him from the hold. "Thank you. So, this is what happened…" and Puck began to recite to Guts all that he had seen happen, from Harry fighting the knights to his sudden collapse, and the end of the boy being hauled off in stock and chains. "Make sense now?"
"…Yeah, I see what happened."
"Good, because I sure don't!" yelled Puck. "Just who were those knights anyway? And what did they want with Harry?"
"The insignia on their flags, it was of chains," Guts inferred.
"They were," Puck affirmed.
"Then he got tangled up with the Holy Iron Chain Knights," Guts deduced. "He couldn't have picked a worse group of knights to have been found by."
"Why? What's wrong with them?" Puck asked. "They have 'Holy' in their name."
"You really don't know," Guts said irritated. "The Holy Iron Chain Knights aren't restricted to any one nation; any country that upholds the Holy See Doctrine is fair play for them. And they're zealous to a fault. They're made up of a bunch of nobles' sons; their armor and weapons have never seen true battle, save for maybe a few. All the trials for witch burnings and heretic raids are headed by them."
"I thought I heard something about them making him stand trial," Puck mulled over what he remembered. "They said they would take him to the Tower of Conviction, and about how a Father Mozgus was traveling there to any idea who that is?"
"Just by the name," Guts said. "And if that's true, Harry's as good as dead."
"Huh? Hey! Don't go talking like that! How bad can he be?"
"Because he oversees most of the Holy See's witch hunts. One toe out of line and a fate of torture or being burned at the stake awaits you. No one lives if he decides they're guilty."
"Don't tell me you're giving up on him then!" Puck urged. "You wouldn't really sit here and let him die, would you?" Guts' face was impassive, but Puck could tell that Guts was still angry about before. "Okay, yeah, you two had a disagreement about what should have been done with Rosine, but you've known each other for years, doesn't that mean something to you?"
"You shouldn't go putting words in my mouth," Guts warned.
"Well that's what it sounds like to me," Puck defended. "I know how you are when it comes to your apostle hunting, don't you think it's gotten a bit stale? Before when you first met up with Harry, you seemed interested in heading to this Tower of Conviction when he brought it up. Then Rosine came along and we got sidetracked. If you want my opinion, then I think that-,"
"-I'm not asking for your opinion," Guts cut him off. "And I sure don't need a lecture from you about any of this stuff. I get why he did what he did, doesn't mean that I agree with it."
"So… what are you going to do? You're not actually going to leave him to be tortured and killed, are you?" Puck wanted to believe that Guts wouldn't do that to Harry, but the elf knew of some of the darker things that the Swordsman had done, and leaving someone to fend for themselves was near the bottom of that list. "If you seriously plan on doing nothing, I won't forgive you for that."
"You're giving me an ultimatum?"
"I'm just telling you how I would feel. If you aren't going to do anything to help him out, then I'll go it alone." Puck had no idea how he would go about mounting a rescue of his own, but if push came to shove, he would resort to the ancient technique used by elves of countless generations; improvise.
Guts propped himself up. "Then you're as silly as you look. One elf against a brigade of knights; I'd love to see how that plays out for you. You'd probably die as soon as they spot you; knights aren't too fond of pests." He stood up fully now.
Puck was becoming increasingly more frustrated. "You don't have to go sounding all optimistic about that. At least I'm willing to put in the effort; what are you doing? Standing there not willing to help out a friend – and don't try and say that he isn't. You're just… you're just…" he tried to think of a degrading name. "You're not the Black Swordsman, you're the Bastard Swordsman!"
"That's big talk for a shrimp like you," Guts just seemed annoyed.
Puck put on a stubborn face. "Yeah, well it's true."
"You don't stand up to me often, bug. This might be a first for you." He hefted Dragonslayer. "My sword arm isn't in idle condition, but it'll do if I have to fight some prissy knights who have barely swung a sword in their lives."
Puck's face began to rise. "Wait… do you mean that you're going to-?"
"-Not for the reasons you think. The paths that he and I walked, they seem different, but we each held on to a piece of the past when we left and when we came back. Neither of us really wanted to forget what it was like back then. Now, it seems like we're both headed to that same goal; to rekindle that piece of the past, a piece that just might be at the Tower of Conviction. We've changed since then, but that might be for the best as it stands."
Puck smiled. "We're doing this then?"
"Just so long as it doesn't lead to any more distractions. I don't plan on risking my hide when I have an end goal in mind. If I start a fight, it has to be finished."
"Do I detect enthusiasm?" Puck knew that he was pushing the boundaries, but he was feeling a swelling sense of accomplishment that made him not care all too much.
"You're losing it," Guts told him.
"I haven't lost m sense of direction," Puck tried to see the optimistic side. "Follow me and we can catch up to those knights before sundown!"
So I'm really doing this, Guts internalized. I'm going to use my sword for someone else's benefit but mine. I've done that before… for him! But Harry… he isn't like how Griffith was, not even close. If anything, this is like how it was with Casca when I killed those hundred men, I'm doing this of my own choosing. Why is that? For these past two years, it's been me swinging my sword for my own purpose, never actually caring if I lived, just so long as my enemy wound up dead. Now… it's different. If Harry was right and Casca is at that tower, then I want to live to see her. I want to live. And my sword will be the burden of that desire; to fight on another's behalf.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
The Dark Mark had been burning. For the first time in nearly fourteen years, every Death Eater alive, imprisoned or free felt the call of their master. When Snape had felt his, he nearly spilled his morning drink. Karkaroff was much less fortunate; he fell from his chair in front of the entire assembly of students in the great hall, making himself look the fool. The Durmstrang Headmaster made a lazy excuse to leave, largely ignoring any eyes on him, which were not many. Moody probably would have found this suspicious, but the DADA Professor was absent from the table this morning. The whole school and even the visitors were still buzzing with gossip about the Potter brats name coming out of the Goblet of Fire to care for this matter. Snape was far less concerned about the boy's whereabouts as he was the increasing sensation of burning on his forearm. He knew what it meant as well as Karkaroff had; the Dark Lord had returned once more.
He called off all lesions for the day and made the journey to Hogsmead Village, beyond the protective wards to apparate to the Dark Lord's location. Just so long as a Death Eater focused on the call of the Dark Lord, they could apparate to him without having the destination in mind. This was not a trip Snape was looking forward to, and it would be a sight to behold if Karkaroff actually went as well. There were plenty of other Death Eaters who had made no attempt to search for the Dark Lord after his fall in Godric's Hollow, but Snape was among Dumbledore's inner circle, a turncoat after all that had happened to Lily, not that the Dark Lord was privy to that bit of information though. Dumbledore had never really believed that the Dark Lord was gone and had insisted that he be ready with a cover story when the time came. Snape had thought it over, and while it could pass, he would still likely be subjugated to the torture curse like so many others.
The familiar sensation of being shrunk and squeezed through a tube consumed Snape, and the Village of Hogsmead was left behind, replaced by one far less picturesque. He was outside of a run-down manor overlooking a graveyard and the cloudy overcast did little to help the image and feeling of dread of what lay on the inside. From one of the upstairs windows, a light could be seen. There was loud pop, and a figure materialized beside Snape.
"Lucius," Snape greeted the father of his godson.
The blonde aristocrat straightened, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Severus."
"So, you've felt it as well?" his suspicions were all but confirmed; this was the real thing.
"I have." He looked as if he had been sweating earlier. "This is truly a momentous occasion." His swallowing was a dead giveaway that the image of the proud pureblood was starting to slip. "After you, Severus." He stepped aside to allow Snape to enter the manor first.
Whoever the caretaker was, they had not done a very good job. Everything was in need of a good dusting, it almost caused Snape's allergies to act up. Charming place. Footsteps came pacing down the stairs to the second floor and a very nervous looking Wormtail greeted them. "W-welcome. P-p-please, follow m-me. T-the M-master is waiting, b-best not to keep him."
The buffoon is stuttering worse than Quirrell. Where the former DADA Professor had had a fake stutter, Wormtail's seemed to be the real deal. The marauder had always been a coward, hiding behind more powerful wizards like Black and Potter to protect him; he was a coward in virtually every sense of the word. Had the Dark Lord been that displeased with the rat he had found ways to torture him beyond the cruciatus curse? Wormtail was looking like he had stared into the eyes of a vengeful god and come back a broken man.
Wanting to not go in blind, Snape quickly made eye contact with the traitorous Wormtail and used the power of legilimency, and he quickly wished that he had not. The mental images were a jumbled mess, Wormtail's mind could scarcely process everything and in turn, Snape was feeling that feeling of disorientation. He saw a weakened Dark Lord, frail and sickly. Then he saw sets of disorganized stairs extending in every conceivable direction. There were five figures now, each with their own unique look to them. The mental strain was starting to become very taxing; he could not stay for long in Wormtail's mind. Before retreating, the last image Snape was able to discern was of a great fire surrounding and engulfing the weakened state of the Dark Lord.
Snape was quick to put on his usual poker face; his incursion into Wormtail's mind seemed to have gone unnoticed. Lucius was too occupied with straightening his robes and running a hand through his platinum blonde hair, and Wormtail was too weak-willed to have felt the intrusion of the mind. The servant beckoned them both to follow as he led them to the second floor and allowed them entry to a large study.
"L-lord Malfoy, and P-professor Snape, Master." Wormtail was looking down at his feet. They were not the only ones in attendance. Looking around, Snape saw a few familiar faces. There was Avery, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott Seniors, Karkaroff, and much to Snape's surprise, Barty Crouch Jr. The Sandy-haired man was licking his lips, standing next to an armchair by the fireplace. Snape was under the impression that he had died in Azkaban Prison; it would seem that he was sorely mistaken. Apart from Crouch, these were all the Death Eaters who had walked free. If it was from bribes, lying, or influence, they all had not looked for the Dark Lord after he had disappeared.
The armchair was turned away from all of them, but Snape could see a pair of elbows resting on the armrests. Where is Nagini? Snape wondered the familiar snake was nowhere in sight.
"Close the door, Wormtail." A voice ordered from the overstuffed armchair. Snape instantly recognized the cold tone in which it was spoken, but it didn't seem like he had once remembered. It was lacking a certain… quality, it sounded more human than it did a monster. A much darker could be heard in the voice as well. "Is this all that are in attendance?" Snape noticed Karkaroff bite the inside of his mouth "How many does this make, eight? Nine counting Wormtail." The only sound came from the crackling fire from the hearth. "I confess myself, disappointed. How many loyal followers have felt the burn of the Dark Mark on their arm and are unable to attend because of their imprisonment?"
No one dared to answer; they knew that a jet of green light would steal the breath from their lungs if they dared. It was easy to get a feel for the atmosphere of the room, terror everywhere. Even with what he had planned to say, Snape felt nervous. It was only natural when dealing with the darkest wizard since Grindlewald. The floorboard creaked as the sitting figure stood up to his full height and turned to face the assembled bunch.
It was not the Dark Lord as Snape had remembered him being. The Dark Lord Voldemort of the past had been as white as a sheet with a bald head, slits for nostrils, long pale fingers, a forked tongue, thin lips, and red eyes with slits for pupils. This being standing before them, he looked nothing like that ghastly image. He was pale, but not too unhealthy, and he had a head of full dark hair with only a few touches of grey by his temples, the only signs of aging present on his features. His lips were a natural red, and nowhere near being too thin or too plump, they actually suited his chiseled face quite nicely. When those lips curled into a deceptive smile, his teeth were a pristine white, and his fangs looked sharper than they should have been. But it was his eyes; those red eyes with slit pupils, those were the only indication that the man standing before them was the true Dark Lord. Somehow, he had been reborn.
"Greetings, friends." His voice lacked any trace of camaraderie. "How long has it been since I have seen all of you? Thirteen years, nearly fourteen? Have you forgotten your manners in that time?" Snape followed the crowd as they all bowed before him, taking turns to kiss the hem of his robes as he walked past them. "That is better, much better." He stopped in front of Snape, waiting for him to kiss at his robes like the others and he complied, the Dark Lord moved past. "Of course, I couldn't help but wonder, what have you all been up to since we last convened in a manner such as this? What excuses have you wormed up for why this meeting is being held years after our last?"
Avery crawled forward, kissing the robes to show his devotion. "My Lord," his voice was faltering. "I thought you… I thought that-,"
"Crucio!" Avery began to writhe in pain as the curse worked its effect all over his body. The Dark Lord eventually lifted the torture curse.
"You thought me what, Avery? That I was dead or perhaps you hoped?"
"I would never-,"
"-Do not lie to me." He did not yell, he didn't have to in order to convey the power he had over Avery. "I will know if you lie, I will always know."
"I… tried. I searched where I could…" Avery trembled before the feet of the Dark Lord.
"You should have tried harder then, Avery." His lips curled into a sneer that Snape could admire. "Someone as pathetic as Wormtail was able to find me within a year while you had thirteen and Ministry connections to back it up." He turned his attention to Crabbe and Goyle Sr. "Should I even bother asking why neither of you has searched for me? Neither of you was ever had the brains to think for yourselves. Are your sons as stupid as you are?" he held the both of them under the torture curse as he had done Avery. "And what of our Durmstrang Headmaster?" red eyes sought out Karkaroff.
The man instantly crawled forward, kissing the lord's robes. "Master… forgive me."
"And what is it I should be forgiving you for, Karkaroff?" his red eyes narrowed. "For fleeing the country after your trial; a trial where you ousted a few of your brothers, Crouch among them."
"I believed you dead…" he sounded close to crying.
"You've always been a snake, Karkaroff, just not a very clever one. Only a fool would truly believe me to have been dead at the hands of a toddler. I could not be killed so easily, I, Lord Voldemort who dabbled in the darkest of magic, and have been granted my new form by the Angels of Darkness."
"Angels of Darkness?" Since when was the Dark Lord religious? It had to do with what he saw within Wormtail's mind. Perhaps he had made a contract with devils of some kind, anything that would have restored him to what he was now. Karkaroff was subjected to torture as well.
"What about you, Severus?" Snape lifted his head to see the Dark Lord standing directly in front of him once again. "I'd love to hear why you did not come to find me; your lord and master."
"My Lord."
"Am I still your lord, Severus? Or do you owe your allegiance to someone else?" Snape did not make eye contact; he focused on a piece of wall behind him.
"I am under Dumbledore's employ, that is true, but my loyalty has never faltered since that fateful night. Dumbledore is a man who believes in second chances, even for Death Eaters. It is the reason their side suffered so many casualties during the first war; he had his side shooting off stunners while we threw killing curses around. Getting into the old goat's good books helped to secure a position of trust, Dumbledore fully believes me to be his agent."
"A snake in the grass, eh, Severus?" the Dark Lord's tone lacked any real humor. "Then what information do you have for me, Severus? What secrets can you unfold about the old man?"
"Dumbledore is starting to slip," Snape said, not too eager or too uncaring. "The old fool is driving himself crazy looking for that cursed boy."
"Ah, yes… Harry Potter." The Dark Lord's eyes gleamed a shade deeper. "I thought the boy would have been delivered to participate in the tournament. I had to punish Crouch for that failure." So Crouch was behind that? How had he managed to pull that off within Hogwarts? "But I have assurance the boy will come to me when the time is nigh." Assurance from who? "But that is another topic. We are talking about you, Severus. You claim to be a spy for me, but what of Dumbledore. His talent with the mind arts is astonishing; he will surely weed this information out of you when you return. My return will not be a secret for long, will it?"
"Dumbledore trusts me, this is true, and he will learn of your existence before long. When that happens, he will inform Minister Fudge." He left at that, he knew the Dark Lord was figuring out what that meant.
"Then the old codger has doomed himself." A cruel smile adorned his near flawless features. "A Minister blind to the truth, he will become paranoid to those around him, making our work all the easier." Snape didn't relax; he knew he wasn't getting through this without getting punished. "I almost forgot, crucio!" pain like a thousand knives piercing his body flooded his senses. "Careful. Do not forget where your true loyalties lie, Severus."
"Of… course… My Lord."
Now, the Dark Lord set his sights on Lucius Malfoy. "Lucius, you're looking as pristine as ever. Time spent out of Azkaban would have given you the healthy appearance, wouldn't it?"
"I would have served the time for you, my Lord."
"And yet, here you stand. A free man. You relied on your influence and your family money to buy your way out claiming that you were forced to do all of those atrocities. How would the Minister react if he discovered the ideas to do some of those acts were yours, Lucius? Could you still rely on your money as you have done countless times?"
"I believed I could use the Ministry to detect any sign or whisper of your whereabouts," Lucius was grasping at straws.
"And in thirteen years you have found nothing? No trace? No whispers in the dark or even any leads from your multiple contacts? Not one?" the silts for pupils thinned. "I told you that I know when you are lying."
Lucius was on the verge of whimpering, he knew what torture he was sure to be put under. "My Lord, I beg mercy!"
"You beg this of me, Lucius?" he almost sounded sickly amused. "I am a merciful lord, especially to my most loyal of followers. Once your sister-in-law and her lot are free of Azkaban, they alongside Crouch will receive a blessing of mine. They will experience a power given to me by the Angels; they are the ones who deserve a request of me. But you, Lucius… I will not subject you to the torture curse."
Lucius visibly relaxed. "Thank you, my Lord."
"I wasn't finished," the Dark Lord stared Malfoy down. "Your son, Draco, was it? He could be a valuable player within Hogwarts alongside Severus. On the next Hogsmead visit, send an owl for him to return to your manor. I would like to meet him in person."
"V-very well," Lucius tried not to sound as nervous as he looked. "I will have Narcissa aware that you will be visiting our manor for-,"
"-Visit?" he almost laughed. "But surely you've seen the state of this house, Lucius. If you were as loyal as you claim to be, you'd offer your manor as headquarters, what greater honor than that?"
"I-I… I see no problem with that, my Lord. The manor is big enough to hide should Minister Fudge decide to pay a visit."
"Excellent! I look forward to the change of scenery." His red eyes wandered back over to Snape. "As for you, Severus, return to Hogwarts. Inform Dumbledore if you must, it will make little difference. The Ministry will never believe him, and it matters little if they do. I am more immortal now than I was before."
This behavior from the Dark Lord was not just for boasting, he truly believed he was that powerful. It was arrogant to be sure, but he was so much different from the last time as well. Snape dreaded to believe it, but the Dark Lord was probably right. He bowed in dismissal and made to apparate back to Hogwarts.
Dumbledore placed the memory of all that Severus had told him into his Pensieve. It was most troubling indeed. The idea of a newly reformed Lord Voldemort was a terrifying thought, the terror that he had unleashed on the Wizarding World was still fresh in the minds of nearly every witch and wizard. But they had to be made aware! He had already sent a floo message to Cornelius, and the Minister was expected to arrive any second now. He was not expecting this meeting to go well, there was a high chance that Cornelius would not even believe what he had to say in regards to this latest development, but going out and spreading the word publically would not be idle if a panic were to break out. There was a controlled way to go about handling the situation, he just had to get Cornelius to listen.
The fireplace blazed to life with green flames, and the Minister for Magic stepped out, coughing a bit as he did so. "Good Lord, Dumbledore! The floo connection must be faulty. I've never had that happen to me before. I'll have to have our Head of Magical Transport take a look into this once I return."
"You should, but I'm afraid a faulty floo connection is the least of our worries at the moment."
Fudge nodded his animatedly. "Right you are, Dumbledore, right you are! You've been getting them too, I image; the letters and the howlers? Merlin's Beard, they've been flooding my office ever since Rita Skeeter wrote that article on the Triwizard Champions. Harry Potter! How in the blazes does Harry Potter's name come out of the Goblet of Fire?!"
"It would seem Hogwarts has been playing host to an imposter," Dumbleodre said sadly. "Professor Moody was absent from breakfast this morning."
Fudge look scandalized. "Alastor?! The man's an ex-auror! How could he be an imposter?"
"Our Potions Master has reported missing ingredients from his storage unit; ingredients used to brew polyjuice potion."
"And…? Has the culprit been identified or caught? These problems just keep piling up higher."
"They have," Dumbledore nodded. "It was someone we all thought to be dead, Barty Crouch Junior."
Fudge nearly fell down. "W-what? I don't… how could… explain, Dumbledore!"
"It is also important to note that Igor Karkaroff has left the castle as well."
Fudge wasn't seeing the connection. "Karkaroff? What does Karkaroff have to play into this?! Dumbledore, please start talking sense!"
"Severus Snape was absent for the day as well. They both knew they had to answer the summon. Cornelius, I'm sorry to say this, but the Dark Lord has returned." He allowed Fudge to take that information in, it would be hard to accept, but it had to be done. If an action wasn't taken soon, then Voldemort would gain more and more influence by the day.
After gaping like a fish out of water, Cornelius seemed to find his voice. "Dumbledore… are you feeling quite alright? The stress is getting to me as well, but you're talking nonsense right now. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, back again? Don't be ridiculous!"
"It is the truth, Cornelius. I have assurance from Severus that he is back with an entirely new body. This whole tournament was a ploy to draw Harry back into his grasp."
"Preposterous!" Fudge dismissed. "Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman came up with the idea to bring the tournament back."
"Crouch's son is alive; Barty could be under the imperius curse as we speak."
"And what proof do you have of that?" Fudge demanded. "The word of an ex-Death Eater? That is hardly convincing evidence."
"I thought as much," said Dumbledore. "But if the DMLE were to pay Lucius Malfoy a visit within the upcoming weekend, I am sure they would discover-,"
"Dear Merlin!" exclaimed Fudge. "You want a raid conducted on an upstanding citizen?! Lucius Malfoy is no more a Death Eater than I am. That all came out during his trial."
"Do not make yourself blind to the truth, Cornelius," insisted Dumbledore. "It could very well mean the end for us all."
"You speak of the truth?" Fudge asked. "Well what truth can you offer as a reason how You-Know-Who could have returned from the dead?"
Fudge was in denial, and if Dumbledore gave the answer of what Severus had told him of these "Angels," that would not suffice. "Only that he was never dead to begin with, I've said as much before. Think about it, Cornelius; the events that transpired at the World Cup, the disappearance of a Ministry employee over the summer, it all connects."
The Minister was waving his finger. "No proof, eh? He's back, you say, and yet there is no proof to back up your claim. This isn't like you, Dumbledore, don't think I don't see what you're up to. You're out for my job!"
"Cornelius, that is hardly the-,"
"-How long have you been planning this, hm? Well I won't fall for it, see!" Fudge stormed angrily over to the fireplace. "He is not back, and he will never be back!" he palmed some floo powder. "I see what this is, and mark my words, I will not be intimidated!" green flames consumed the Minister, taking him back to the Ministry.
The wooded landscape that surrounded the Misty Valley became more rugged and dry terrain as the Holy Iron Chain Knights marched Harry along. They had stripped him of his weapons, boots, and even his shirt to add to the humiliation he had dealt them previous. With lack of protection on his feet, Harry quickly found splotches of blood left behind in his wake. The sun was high today, and for an autumn day it almost felt like summer in Midland. The stockade bound his neck and wrists together, and the chain that connected the stock switched on a set schedule and Harry found himself being dragged along by a new knight.
For the most part, these knights didn't put much care into how fast they rode, forcing Harry to have to run to prevent him from being dragged along helplessly; as a result he ended up with more cut along the bottom of his feet. They were clearly hung up over the fact that he had been able to best a few of their companions before and were getting their revenge in a more subdued way instead of just killing him. When he found himself being dragged along behind the one moustache knight – Sir Azan, it was the closest thing he was able to get to normal pacing.
Azan seemed to have a set of honor to him, and recognized Harry's skills from when they briefly crossed weapons. He might despise him for using magic, but he could respect the skills he had with a blade. Of course, it wasn't perfect. Sir Azan talked loudly about how this was an important duty for being a Holy Iron Chain Knight, and that he would follow all tasks through to the very end. He talked with all the bravado a child would expect a knight to talk with.
The walking itself was already taxing enough as it was, and between the blistering heat, the boasting of the knights, and the lingering pain that had come from his scar, it was took awhile before Harry was actually able to think clearly again. When he finally did regain his thoughts, he was instantly assaulted by the mental voice of Schierke.
'Oh thank goodness! You're alive!'
That depends what you define "alive" as being. I feel like my head just got trampled by a horse.
'I felt a part of what that was. The thought transference doesn't work on physical pain, but for something like that… Ivalera found me unconscious after it happened. Whatever it was.'
Are you alright?
'Yes, thanks to Mistress Flora. But it's I who should be asking you that. You felt the full force of that mental strain. I've been reading through some of Mistress' texts trying to find what could have caused it.'
Have you gotten any sleep at all?
'I'll sleep when I have to; but for now, this takes priority.'
Harry was quite thankful for out of all the items that had been confiscated off of him, the hair tied around his finger had been spared perhaps for its seemingly unimportance. Schierke's voice was a welcome one in an uncertain situation he found himself in.
From the front of the formation Farnese raised her hand, signaling for them all to halt. "We make camp here for the night, it wouldn't bode well if we ran into a bunch of Kushan Invaders. Serpico, please see that my tent is constructed. Sirs Azan and Jerome, construct the cage for our prisoner."
They must have kept a portable cage on hand for prisoners, because the two knights had it constructed in less than five minutes. He was ushered inside, having to duck his head and squat as he was too tall for this tiny cage. The stockade was still around his neck and wrists, restricting his movements even further than just being confined to a cage too small for his size. If he wanted to turn to see what was going on inside the camp, he had to roll onto his stomach and use his knees to push back up to a sitting position.
'They're working fast. How long will they keep you locked up?'
Hopefully not too long, it's too small in here. You wouldn't have any problem with it, though.
'I suppose it's a good thing that you still have your sense of humor. But in all seriousness, you being here are only going to complicate things. Once the sun sets, the accursed will come for your brand.'
Yeah, I'd hate to be a burden on this lot.
'You have a right to be angry with how you've been treated; I'm disgusted by it too. But without your weapons, you'll be a sitting duck for accursed attacks.'
Everything that I had would be with that Farnese girl. It won't be like stealing a pot of honey.
'I wouldn't expect so.'
Hours passed, and the knight keeping watch over the cage was instructed to give him a few sips from a wineskin and the end slice from a moldy piece of bread. Harry eagerly drank some water before it was yanked away from him, and he did his best to use his teeth to bite around the mold, his hands unable to move to his mouth to assist. As the day passed, the sun set lower and lower, there was probably only an hour or two left before the sun set completely.
An armored boot kicked against the bars Harry was leaning against, startling him from dozing off. The one attendant – Serpico stood by the watchman. "Commander Farnese is ready to see him now."
The guard fumbled around with the keys for a bit. "Here's hoping that we'll burn this heretic sooner rather than later, eh, Serpico?"
"That decision falls entirely to the Commander. And I am not particularly fond of fire, so I wouldn't much care to watch." Serpico grasped the chain attached to the stockade around Harry. "Follow me."
Serpico dragged him like a dog on a leash to the heart of the campsite; a large tent had been erected for the Holy Iron Chain Knights commander. From behind the canvas, different flickering lights could be seen. "Do try not to be cheeky with the Commander," Serpico advised. "It will not bode well if you do." He opened the flap and led Harry inside.
Farnese had changed out of her armor, but still kept a sword sheathed at her hip. She wore a pink doublet with gold trim on the hems and tucked it into her breeches. Her blonde hair was still styled in buns on either side of her head. In front of her on a small table were all of his confiscated items. They were arranged before a carving of the Holy See insignia; a white bird facing the sky with its wings spread open. It almost resembled a crucifix.
"Tie the chain to the support beam, Serpico." Her attendant did as instructed, before giving a polite bow and making his exit. "Comfortable?" she didn't sound like she meant to sound sincere.
"Well… it's better than crouching in that cage."
Farnese walked around him, like she examining if there was any way he could escape. She walked over to a trunk and pulled out a multi-lashed whip. "Your condition can be rearranged if you respond with cheek again."
Looks like Serpico had been telling the truth. "That won't be necessary." He tried to sound as civil as possible.
"Hm." She stood directly in front of him. "That remains to be seen."
I'm off to a great start.
'Just keep a clear head; a plan will come to you.' Even then he could tell she doubted her own advice.
Farnese pointed her whip toward his gear spread out before the Holy See icon. "These items belong to you, do you deny this?" he shook his head. She saw him use them, there was no use lying to that question. "These items are that of heresy." She picked up his sword. "A blade that seems to glow blue, a satchel filled with ingredients and strange talisman, and lastly, a staff used for witchcraft. All now lay before the holy icon; no power is above the power of God."
"I never claimed that it was."
"Witchcraft is an unholy abomination," Farnese coolly regarded him. "You seek to undermine the miracles God provides us with the power of hell. I saw what you did back at that village; I saw the corpses of all of those children. You, and your cohort – the Black Swordsman, you were responsible for that."
"We didn't know that-," Farnese pushed the whip up against his bare chest.
"-Lying is a sin. Although, I wouldn't expect much from a heretic such as you." She held it there for a brief pause before removing it, and running her fingers through the lashes. "Tell me, what is your name?"
"Harry Potter."
"So your parents were potters? An honest craft for those with skilled hands. And what of your cohort, the Black Swordsman?"
"I don't know where he is, if that's what you're after. We parted ways before your knights came across me." It wasn't even really a lie. With Harry's decision back in the valley, he doubted Guts would even want him around anymore.
Farnese wasn't too convinced. "Such loyalty is admirable, but to defend a man such as the likes of him is beyond despicable. Have you heard the tales about him? How wherever he goes, death is sure to follow. He has destroyed whole villages; countless corpses have been piled high to build his legend throughout Midland. I can't help but wonder how many you have participated in; there were never any rumors of him traveling with a wizard."
"We haven't been traveling together for long." It was harmless information he could give her, and it would fit with what she already knew. "I've only traveled with him for about a week or so." He lied about the period.
"My men seemed to have caught you by surprise the other day," Farnese continued. "If you had been traveling with him for that amount of time, how was it you did not know we would be following you?"
"Neither of us knew he was being followed."
"He did not know?" she sounded more than a bit irked. "Then he does not know of his relevance."
Harry was confused. "Are you talking about something Holy See related? Because I doubt he has anything to do with that."
"Of course I refer to the Holy See!" she snapped. "The Black Swordsman could have a connection to the Hawk of Darkness." She couldn't possibly mean… "The one will bring about the end of this world and lead the flock astray from the light."
"You actually believe that?"
'What are you doing? Don't antagonize her!'
"Where are you getting that idea from?" Harry asked. "I don't know much about your religion, but even I know that that sounds like mad ramblings."
She pressed the whip to him again as a warning. "Don't you insult my faith! I believe that God is on my side, and by the light of his shining wings, I will one day be delivered into his welcoming embrace of heavenly light."
"Oh?" Harry asked. "How much do you know about your Holy See? From what I heard, your founder was pretty misguided in his view. And what you said just now, that was just blind faith talking; it was something that you memorized and thought repeating would have any real meaning."
'What are you doing?!' Schierke worriedly asked. What was he doing? As soon as Farnese had mentioned a Hawk of Darkness, and associated that with Guts, Harry couldn't stomach that idea. He knew who the Hawk of Darkness was, and it sure as hell wasn't Guts.
This time, Farnese did more than just press the whip to him; she lashed it hard across his chest. "Blind faith?! Is that what you said?!" again, the whip lashed across his chest. And again, and again, and again. "Confess! You know where he is!" blood was oozing down Harry's torso. "My faith will prevail! Confess!" the lashes took more skin from his chest, and Harry was breathing hard, careful not to scream from the pain. "Confess! Confess! Confess! Confess…"
Farnese had begun to wear herself out. She dropped the whip that's lashes were now covered in Harry's blood. Her sapphire eyes took in the sight of his bloodied chest. Her hand reached out to touch his blood. "Why do you not… confess?" she moved her finger coated with his blood to her mouth, and for a second, Harry thought she was going to lick it. She instead clenched her fist, a conflicted look on her face. The flap to the tent was thrown open.
"Commander Farnese!" Serpico yelled. "There's been a fire in one of the tents!"
"What?" she didn't seem entirely present. "Oh, lead the way!" she rushed out after her attendant, casting one last distrustful glare in Harry's direction.
'What was that about?! And your chest, are you okay?!'
I've had worse. She seemed pretty half-hearted after the first few whips.
'Don't try and seem tough, you still haven't fully recovered from the Misty Valley. Why did you have to provoke her like that?'
Just something she said I guess. I guess I should be lucky that a fire broke out.
'Don't count your blessings. With what just happened, I wouldn't be surprised if they burn you at that fire.'
Well unless a miracle happens, I'm screwed then.
The flap of the tent shifted a little, but no human came through. It was a tiny blue elf. He smiled brightly when he saw Harry. "Found ya!"
"Puck?"
"The one and only! I told Guts that my plan would work."
"Wait, Guts is here?"
Puck nodded. "You bet. He was being bit of a jerk at first, but he came around. He's the one who started that fire so I could go and find you, and ta-da!"
"That's great, Puck, just find the keys to get me out of this stupid stockade." The sooner he was out, the better.
Puck saluted his new orders. "You got it!" he became a blue blur as he whizzed around the tent, searching every nook and cranny available to him. "Aha!" he came back holding a ring with a pair of keys. "Don't you worry; I'll get you out of there in a jiffy." Puck had some trouble lifting the iron set of keys, but he eventually got it into the lock and turned it to unlock.
Harry wiggled free of the wooden confines and gave Puck a nod of respect. He was quick to retrieve his gear, putting his shirt and boots back on, and strapping his sword to his side. "That's better." He allowed himself a moment of accomplishment.
"Sure looks that way," Puck agreed. "Now c'mon. Guts is close and if we're stealthy, we can meet up with him at the – eep!" The flap of the tent opened again, Farnese had returned and Puck was directly in her line of sight. The elf was exposed. He instantly began to wave his arms in a panicked gesture. "Whoa! You wouldn't hurt an elf, would ya?"
Farnese took no notice of the blue elf hovering right in front of her face, but she did notice Harry free from his restraints. "You!" she drew her sword, but Harry could tell she was inexperienced with it; he was quick to charge her. "Serpico! Sir Azan! The prisoner has-!"
Harry knocked the blade out of her hand with his own. He grabbed the tablecloth, knocking the Holy See icon over as he did so, and shoved the fabric in Farnese's mouth like a gag. "Mmmfffff! Hllllllhpppp!"
"Incarcus finite." Roots began to grow from the ground, and worked to tie themselves around her wrists.
"Mmmmmmmffffffff!" her cry was muffled. Harry put a hand on her shoulder and the tip of his sword to her back.
"Move," he ordered. "You're men won't attack as long as you're a hostage." He urged her along. "We're getting a horse."
As soon as he stepped outside, he could see that the fire had already begun to spread. Guts had lit it at the opposite end of the camp, but the Holy Iron Chain Knights did not have enough resources to put out the flames. Maybe Guts had sabotaged their water supply as well. Those were questions for later, for now, he had to get a horse and get out of this camp. He dragged Farnese in front of him, ready to use her as a human shield if need be. He followed the nervous neighing of horses to find them tied up a few tents away. He had to hoist Farnese up first so she lay across the saddle; it was bit of a challenge since she was a bit taller than him. Harry mounted the saddle and spurred the horse.
Farnese had managed to free her mouth of the makeshift gag and cried out. "Help! The wizard has escaped!" those nearest, instantly rushed to help their commander.
"Commander Farnese!" Serpico seemed to be the one leading a few men to the horses as well. Before they could get there, a barrage of crossbow bolts peppered their ranks. From the shadows of the setting sun, a dark shape moved.
"Ride!" Puck instructed. "Guts'll catch up, just head east and he'll meet up with you."
"Right, hiya!" Harry spurred the steed on, the clomping of hooves drowned out Farnese's cries for help.
The firelight of the camp became less and less vibrant as the horse galloped away. Farnese was still panicked, so Puck took it as his job to try and calm her down. "Hey! I get that this must be scary for you, but Harry isn't going to hurt you. Sure, he kidnapped you just now, but once we're a safe distance away he'll let you go back to all your friends."
"Let me go!" Farnese shrieked like she hadn't just heard Puck.
"Um… you heard me, right?" the elf hovered right in front of her face. She showed no recognition that he was there. "Hey, Harry."
"What?" he kept his eyes forward.
"I don't think that she can see me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Let me go!" Farnese cried again.
"She can't see me. I don't know why, but she can't."
How is that possible?
'It must be her belief. She is a blind follower, but she believes in what the text believes to be real. Things like elves and all of that are just fairy tales to her, only things originally of the physical world are real to her. She doesn't see Puck because she doesn't believe that he's there.'
Harry kept riding until the lights and shouting faded from his line of senses. He dismounted the horse and pulled Farnese down too. She tried making a break for it as soon as her feet touched solid ground. Harry was quick to grab her and hold her in place. "I'm not going to hurt you, alright?"
"Don't touch me, heretic!" she continued to try and fight him.
"I'm going to let you go, but you just have to – ow!" she kicked him in the shin. "Damnit!" she was running, but it was not Harry that stopped her. It was the sound of a feral growl. A quick look to the sky showed that the sun had set. "Damn!"
Glowing pairs of eyes came out from the dark; they belonged to a pack of coyotes now possessed by accursed spirits. Their faces were morphed and twisted to look like a demented humans. Harry quickly grabbed Farnese and began to draw the protective circle around her. He uttered the enchantment and four golden lights surrounded the circle that housed Farnese. "I know that you hate magic, but believe me, stay in this circle or you will die."
Thick, wet beads of saliva dripped from the possessed maw. They began to circle him. The first made a leap, and Harry skewered it through with his sword. Seeing this, the others became more cautious; they circled around behind him, looking for an opening to exploit.
Using magic, Harry created a ring of fire around himself, warding off any attack from the back. He inhaled and with his exhale, he dispersed the fire, spreading it out like the wave of the ocean. The beasts' fur caught fire, and they began to gnaw at it trying to put the flames out. Some of them took less damage from the blow, and circled in on him again.
His sword cut across their muzzles and through their paws, slowing some of them down before outright killing them.
"Aaaaiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!" a shriek of pure terror directed Harry's attention over to Farnese. She was still in the protective circle, but a grisly sight was leering at her from beyond the glowing field of light. The horse that Harry had escaped on appeared possessed as well. Its face was twisted to resemble a human. Its teeth were more pronounced and its eyes glowed will ill intention. Wet saliva dripped from mouth and it was sporting an erection. It was unable to pass through into the circle, but it was still a horrifying sight to behold.
Harry rushed to kill the new possessed, but a sword far too thick had already cleaved its head clean off. His sole eye was blazing with hate as he impaled one of the coyotes through, and with a flick of his wrist split the creature in half.
"I think my injuries are feeling much better. Either that or I just really wanted to kill that thing whatever it was, it worked." In his all black outfit, Guts was barely visible in the dark. "But I suppose I have until daybreak before I know for sure." He rushed past Harry and cut four more down. Wanting to contribute as well, Harry took his half of the remaining possessed, letting none live.
From within the circle, Farnese just watched as the two went at killing those animals, or, could they even be called animals? No coyote or horse she had known ever looked or acted like that. The two of them continued on all through the night, a heap of corpses lay in their wake. This isn't real. None of this can be real.
"God," she spoke. "Please, God, let this all be some night mare. Let me wake up back in my tent." She closed her eyes, believing that all she had seen was just a dream. When she opened them, it was not God she saw.
A tall knight in armor made to resemble bones sitting astride a horse of similar fashion watched as the Black Swordsman and wizard finished putting down the last of the animals. His skull helm stared her down; a pair of glowing eyes regarded her. "Belief has power. Do not be blind to what you follow, or else wind up another soul lost within the current of your corrupt philosophy."
Words were completely lost to Farnese, but the two males were nowhere near as surprised as she was. "Oh, it's you." The Black Swordsman sheathed his blade. "What are you doing here, bonehead?"
"I come with words of caution. The destination you seek, the board is set for events similar to that of the Eclipse. But not is despair, the wrongs that were done then and so long ago do not have to be repeated."
"What wrongs long ago?" Harry asked. "Why don't you ever give a straight answer?"
"A truth told is knowledge gained, but a truth discovered is knowledge understood. If you seek the answers to how of this young woman's religion was founded, you will find your answers at the Tower of Conviction."
The founding of the Holy See? Father Mozgus was traveling to the tower at this moment. Could he possibly know what this all meant, Because Farnese sure didn't.
Harry noticed that Farnese's eyes were glued to the Skull Knight. Schierke, I thought Farnese couldn't see stuff like elves.
'Elves are from another part of the astral layers, this… Skull Knight, at one point he must have been from this world, the physical, it's the only way.'
"Do heed my words, Struggler, Wizard. Our paths will cross again when the stage is set. Your answers and your desire will both be in the same place." His horse was near deathly silent as it galloped away.
Guts' eye watched as he left. "Always… it's always a warning with him."
"Do you think that it's true then?" Harry asked.
"The old bonehead never makes much sense, but he's never been wrong either." Guts scowled a bit.
"So you're going then?"
"If Casca is there, of course. What about you?"
"That's what I planned. If you'd be willing to have me along that is." Harry knew that although Guts was being civil right now, he was still probably mad about what had happened before.
"Bonehead said that it would be like the Eclipse. I'm not the same as I was back then, and neither are you. I don't want what happened before to happen again, not to Casca. If you're magic can help turn that tide… well, you can figure out the rest."
Puck flew between them. "Our team is assembled!"
Farnese was only vaguely aware of what they were talking about, and her eyes were so set in focus that she didn't even see them depart. The image of that Skull Knight burned into her mind. "Blind faith," Harry's words from before echoed in her head.
The Tower of Conviction was close now. All of the refugees from either the plague or the Kushan Invasion, they were all seeking refuge at the tower. For Luca, it was the latter. The Kushan had raided and taken many of the villagers as slaves to appease their emperor who was supposedly leading the invasion himself. Say what you will about the Kushan, at least their leader is willing to take to the field. Too bad all of us have to suffer for it as a result.
Luca made sure that she and the girls under her employ stayed a decent way behind the overly large carriage traveling along with the refugees. Inside was the High Inquisitor for the Holy See, a man named Father Mozgus and his disciples. Luca briefly caught a glimpse of the disciples and she thought they looked more at home in a torture dungeon than they did as holy men. But it was all part of the Holy See protection, the carriage they traveled in contained some old holy texts being moved to the tower's library, as well as a large sum of gold from generous sponsors. God works in mysterious ways I suppose.
Once there, Luca doubted she and her girls would be allowed entry into the town surrounding the tower, they would be herded like cattle outside the wall to fend for themselves. The world can be cruel, and we all have to share it. At least for women in their line of work they could get by alright. There were plenty of men who were in need of a night to forget their troubles. It wasn't an ideal job, but it helped get them by, and all of her girls contributed to earning a share. Well… all except one, but she was a special case.
Elaine, that was her name, well, not really, but to Luca she looked like an Elaine so that was what she was called. Luca had found her one day wandering by the side of the road. She had been in her own little world, seemingly unaware of those glowing eyes that leered at her from the darkness. Whatever they had belonged to, Luca didn't want to know; especially that misshapen thing that would appear sometimes at night. When Luca first saw it, she had almost kicked it away, but Elaine had shielded it with her body, like a mother would a child in need. It was always gone by morning, but Luca had kept Elaine close after that.
Yes, Elaine was a strange girl, but one that Luca found herself protective over. Elaine seemed to have the mind of a child, and needed to be kept under watch. For that, Luca had taken some gauze and wrapped it around Elaine's face to hide her image. It wasn't as if Elaine was ugly, quite the opposite, with her silky black hair and smooth mocha skin, she was quite the beauty. But Luca knew how men could be when they saw a pretty face, not all of them wanted to pay for it.
And then there was that mark on Elaine's collarbone. If someone saw that they might think it the mark of a witch, so Luca had given her peasant clothing that covered her body completely. Elaine wore them like a toddler would, and Luca and the others had to continuously bathe her. It was taxing, but Elaine knew no better; she knew nothing at all.
A/N: That's it for this chapter. Thank you for reading.