Reviews:
demonic hellfire: I'm looking forward to the interaction between them. There's no telling how Casca will react to seeing everyone, but I can't wait to see it happen.
Pyromania101: I'm happy you liked the fights and don't worry, Casca's recovery won't be stretched out. Things will be coming to a head soon for a huge payoff.
Guest204: I based the design of the staff from the Merlin BBC show, and I added what it is made from this chapter.
Greer123: Happy March to you as well. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Celexs Draconia: Thanks. I have some ideas planned for both items and I hope that they'll continue to play out in cool ways.
PrometheusDark: Glad to see the action held up. Its how I hope future fights will play out.
Hairul The Nightrage Beast: I have some stuff planned for both of their items, and I'm looking forward to 355 as well.
Grocamol: The stuff about Gaiseric wasn't in the manga, I based it off of the real historical Gaiseric. Currently, Harry is 14 and I included a few scenes about what is going on in the HP side of things this chapter.
Necrogod: No problem, I hope you enjoy this one too.
EVA-Saiyajin: I certainly have some stuff planned for Puck that will show later on, I also noticed that he began to lose agency in canon.
Guest (chapter 17): I hope it doesn't feel that way for long, I wrote him going on his own journey a few chapters later.
monster646: Thanks. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Guest: Thank you. Enjoy the next chapter.
The campsite for the Band of the Hawk was a hub of activity. Just moments ago, the Hawks had swooped to the aid of a small batch of Midland's resistance fighters against a battle against the invading Kushan. As expected, Griffith defeated that batch of Kushan with his new Band of the Hawk. Among the rescued was the son of a deceased Midland Lord, Mule Wolflame.
Charlotte knew him by name, of course, Mule was a sandy-haired teenager about the same age as the one blonde girl who claimed to be a medium. His name was quite unusual being named Mule and all, but the old Lord Wolflame had been an eccentric man. From the rumors she had heard regarding Mule's name, his father was near-absent when he received word his wife was in labor so he hastened back to his holdfast on the nearest animal he could find; a mule. When Lord Wolflame found out he had been gifted a son, he overindulged on wine and named his boy after the trusty mule that delivered him home.
The story was an outlandish one, and the only reason Charlotte knew of it was because Lord Wolflame told it to her father as he proposed a marriage contract between her and Mule, despite Mule being a few years her junior. Her father refused, of course, but not because he believed Mule would be a poor match, but because he secretly lusted for her.
The memory of what he and Emperor Ganishka tried to do to her made her skin crawl. But now, her father was dead of a heart attack, and Griffith had rescued her and Anna from Ganishka's clutches.
Charlotte was forever grateful toward Griffith for rescuing her, truly, she was. So why wasn't she as happy as she should be?
All around her, the other women and children that had been rescued by Griffith in his campaign against the Kushan helped pull their weight by gathering wood for a fire, cooking meals, and doing laundry. It wasn't the work that bothered her, she had been willing to pull her weight back when members from the original Band of the Hawk rescued Griffith from beneath the Tower of Rebirth, and that was perhaps the problem, there were no others from before.
Griffith had been vague about their demise so it must have been unpleasant; the lake of blood was enough proof of that. Still, it would have been welcoming to see a regular known face within the new Band of the Hawk. Casca, the sole female warrior would have been an inspiration to the women camp followers, the boy with the nice green eyes and glasses could train with Mule and his followers, even the Raiders Captain who had given her a piggyback when rescuing Griffith would be welcoming.
Now, Griffith kept a majority of the Band of the Hawk away from those he had rescued along the way, seemingly out of concern for the people's safety. She pushed such thoughts away for now; she and Anna were preparing a stew for a few orphaned children, or, at least Anna was showing her how to cook.
A tall shadow fell across them. "Pardon my intrusion, Your Highness." It was Sir Locus, the best lance in all the land and the captain of the Hawks' Lancers. The knight bowed his head, his long black curls moved with his head.
"Oh, Sir Locus!" she offered a gracious bow of her head as well. Out of all the new additions to the Band of the Hawk, Sir Locus, Irvine, and Grunbeld seemed the most decent. "What may I do for you?"
"Our leader just asked for a moment of your time. Would you like me to escort you to him?"
"That is kind of you to offer, but I will manage."
Locus nodded in understanding. "Very well. Mmm, could I bother you for a bowl of stew? It may help with Sir Grunbeld's recovery."
It was a tragic sight. The day previous, Grunbeld had returned from a mission badly wounded, clinging to life. Grunbeld was perhaps the biggest person alive; just who or what could wound him so? Anna complied with Locus' request, filling up a bowl for him to take.
Setting out herself, she headed to the one spot where Griffith would frequent to ponder, a grassy hillside. In hindsight, she wished she had accepted Locus' escort. Standing in front of her was Nosferatu Zodd.
His large, muscular arms were crossed across his broad chest and his fierce cat-like eyes gazed down at her with disinterest. It was better than being eyed as a canary by a cat. Or by my father.
Zodd was intimidating enough, but knowing what lies just beneath, that behemoth who had been with Griffith to rescue her from that tower. If he so wanted, he could slaughter all of them. How did Griffith get someone like Zodd to be loyal?
"Erm…" her throat felt very dry. "I was told Griffith wanted to… see me." She found her thumbs to be rather interesting at the moment, any sight that wasn't Zodd held her attention, too fearful to look up and see the hardened gaze of the ferocious warrior.
Zodd wasn't saying anything, still standing there. Was he waiting for her to say something else? He was acting as a bodyguard of sorts right now, positioned a ways from where she suspected Griffith to be. "…Um… is… Griffith here?"
Was this some sort of test? She was probably failing it if it was. Her eyes wandered around, only passing by Zodd's own disinterested gaze briefly before quickly returning to the ground. Zodd began walking away, leaving her standing there confused. When he noticed she was not following he inclined his head to turn to look back at her.
"Well?"
"Oh!" she hiked up the skirt of her dress, following after him, but making sure to keep at a safe distance from those arms of his.
At the top of the hill, Griffith waited, two others standing by him. The one rolling on the balls of her feet was the medium girl, and the second was the short frame of Mule Wolflame, the armor he wore looked a size too big in the chest. When Mule spotted her, he instantly took a knee.
"Your Highness!"
"Hello!" the medium girl waved.
"That is your queen!" Mule hissed at the girl. "Kneel!"
"Queen?" the medium girl tilted her head. "I thought she was the princess. Besides, I don't see a crown."
"How dare you say-!" Mule began, but Griffith put a hand on the boy's shoulder, placating him of his tirade.
"Mule, do mind your words in the presence of a lady. And, Sonia, do be more considerate before you speak. A crown may be lacking, but this land is still here, and every land has a queen."
Queen? It made logical sense. Her father had no other children, only her. But to have someone call her "queen" sounded a bit foreign. She was always "Princess Charlotte" and while the prospect of her bearing the title of the queen was real, it had become less apparent with the occupying Kushan forces.
The girl – Sonia – bit the inside of her mouth, but changed into a more cheerful demeanor soon after. "Alright. I'm sorry, Your Highness. You just don't really look how I thought a queen would look, is all."
Mule hung his head low, clearly embarrassed to bear witness to such a sight. "You're hopeless," he whispered to Sonia.
"Sonia," Griffith spoke, "would you mind giving the Queen and I some time?"
"Can I come back later?" Sonia asked, wonder in her eyes. "I can see my friend when I'm by you."
"A friend, hm?" Griffith touched his chin. "Of course."
"Yes!" Sonia happily skipped off, past Nosferatu Zodd, smiling at him as she did so.
"Zodd," Griffith addressed the warrior next. "Could you also excuse us for a moment?" He gave a silent nod, stalking back to where he had been previous, not looking either excited or bored doing so.
"Would you like me to take my leave as well?" Mule asked, rising from his kneel, prepared to go off and lecture Sonia about her lack of manners.
"If you so wish," Griffith told him. "I take it you have made up your mind about the offer I extended to you?"
"Yes, I have." Mule brought a hand up to his armor-clad chest. "I will join my forces with yours to defeat these Kushan invaders. If you will have me, I pledge my allegiance to your Band of the Hawk!"
"And I humbly accept your allegiance, Mule Wolflame. When the dust settles, your father will have been avenged." Mule gave one last bow to Griffith and Charlotte both before leaving the two alone.
"That was kind of you to take in Sir Mule and his men," Charlotte began, thankful for a chance to be alone with Griffith, and away from the gaze of Zodd.
"This is their land, they fight for a just cause, and their righteous fire is what will inspire more people. And besides, he seems like a nice lad; trusty, dependable, all good traits for a knight."
"Yes, Sir Mule will make his father proud. Many knights should aim to be like that." He is like those who once served under you. Her smile faltered ever so slightly, but it was enough for him to notice.
"Something troubles your mind?" he asked it like a question, but he it was not meant to sound like one.
"Hm? Oh, no, nothing that holds any relevance now. I was just, remembering." That lake of blood, you missing, and everyone else gone.
"The past can be troubling to think about," Griffith said, trying to ease her mind. "All of us, young and old have something in our past that is unpleasant to think about; I've always tried to look to the future, imagining that it would be a better place than the one I saw around me. What is it that troubles you, Your Highness?"
Should she just ask? Griffith was such an understanding man, surely he wouldn't think poorly of her for asking. "… That day, back when that whirlwind touched down, I had no idea where you had disappeared off to. Something in me told me that you weren't dead, I wouldn't believe it, and I just couldn't!" Not after the night, we shared together, the way you made me feel. "But I saw what became of those who followed you. And I saw…" she took a quick look over her shoulder, almost expecting the hulking form of Zodd to be there. "I saw a demonic form of Zodd flying overhead."
Griffith's expression did not falter; it was as if he had been expecting this to come up eventually. "Ah, that day. It is not a pleasant tale, and hardly one to tell a lady of nobility such as yourself, it all seemed a blur to me in reality. Zodd's presence, however, is more easily explained. You might recall during the war with Chuder, my men and I had an encounter with Zodd. During that fight, the Raiders Captain and I managed to wound him. He was impressed, and he swore a temporary debt. He was the one who rescued me that day."
Truly? She had heard of the fight between Zodd and the Raiders Captain, but never thought it would bear any relevance now. "And he… healed your body as well?"
"Alas, no. It wasn't an easy feat, and again, not one befitting a lady of your standing. But, I did not wish to trouble you so because of my decisions. The night we shared, I didn't wish for you to have to suffer because of my choice."
So you acknowledge it? It was hasty but sweet and good. "Will you tell me?"
Griffith pulled something from his pouch. "I can make a promise." He opened his palm to show a flower with the stem bent and twisted to form an O shape. A budding daisy served as the centerpiece for the makeshift jewelry.
Is this…? Is he…? She could only stare, dumbfounded at what she knew was coming.
"It was a dark day back then, and darker days that followed, but living on the battlefield, life can be cut short so soon. I promise that the dark days will come to an end soon; I promise that you will sit on the throne of this land, and I promise to be the one to deliver it to you. And when this is over," he slipped the "ring" on her petite finger, "I promise to tell you the whole story."
The ring was so light, weightless even. In terms of royalty standards, it would be scoffed at, dismissed as childish fantasy and nonsense. But to Charlotte, it felt a hundred times more meaningful, but also much heavier. The way Griffith had dodged a solid answer; did she really want to know?
She received strange looks as she walked through the Band of the Hawks' camp. Sonia wasn't near the other women and children, she was wandering farther out toward the woods where the specified "War Demons" usually resided. She called them that simply because they called themselves that. They sure acted like it though. More than five times, Sonia almost saw a fight break out between a few War Demons over a scrap of meat cooking over a fire, definitely the more rowdy ones, the ones who would under their normal circumstances plunder and rape as they pleased, only being restrained by Griffith's rule and the command of such like Zodd, Grunbeld, Locus, and Irvine.
"What are you doing here, girly?" a frog-faced War Demon asked her, eyeing her up and licking at his lips. "Come here to entertain?"
Sonia smiled. "Should you say that in front of your boss?"
Before the War Demon could respond, Sir Locus walked over, the chatter and banter stopped near instantly. "Is there a problem here?"
"Uh-uh," Sonia shook her head. "Just meeting new people." I really wish I could see her again. "What's new with you?"
"You should go join the other women, medium," Locus advised. "This is no place for a lady."
"A lady?" Sonia looked around. "Where?" Sir Locus did not appear amused. "You can laugh; it's supposed to be funny."
"A sense of humor can light the dark," Locus said, and Sonia smiled up at him. "But too much and you become disillusioned from reality." She frowned. "This is not a place for one as young as yourself. Won't you return to the other women?"
"Welllll… no. I'm not about to join a sewing circle, and that Mule boy would just yell at me. Over here is much more lively; right, guys?"
The frog-faced War Demon sneered. "If you don't plan on taking your clothes off, piss off already."
"See!" Sonia said. "You won't find language like that back in my side of camp." Sir Locus still did not seem amused. "Butttt… I'll head back as soon as I finish my walk, how 'bout that?"
"…Very well, if you insist. But don't linger."
She was already merrily skipping away, throwing a wave over her shoulder and bidding a final, "See ya!"
The further Sonia ventured into the woods, the more the War Demons camp began to dwindle. They were mainly kept on the outskirts, ready to move at a moment's notice. Here, their jesting, jeering, and banter was a faint whisper, drowned out by the natural sounds of the forest and – a lyre?
Through the next batch of trees, a single fire was lit. A lone figure was sitting around it with his legs crossed as he plucked a few strings of his instrument. A black bow and a quiver of arrows rested next to him. He wore a dark purple short cloak and hat, the attire of a hunter.
"I know you!" Sonia made her presence known. "You're Sir Irvine, the Archer Captain."
Irvine looked up, his pale, milky eyes looking where she was. "You're awfully far from your camp."
"Yeah well… you're pretty far from everyone else," Sonia countered. Irvine didn't bother to offer a retort to that, he simply fiddled with his instrument. "Can I join you?"
Irvine briefly regarded her. "If you so choose."
Sonia planted herself down, scooting closer to Irvine's fire. "You like playing music?"
"If I find the right tune," Irvine replied.
"What were you playing?" Sonia further questioned.
"A request," was all Irvine gave.
"Oh? A request for who?" her curiosity taking hold.
Irvine reached for an arrow and used it to point up at one of the trees. Sitting there on one of the branches was a blonde girl like herself. "Hiya! I didn't see you up there!" the other girl look down at her, offering a shy wave, but not making a move to come down. "Why are you up there all by yourself? I'm Sonia, who are you?" Sonia offered a friendly smile, hoping to make the other girl feel more at ease.
At last, she finally answered. "…Rosine."
"Hey, that's a nice name! How'd you get so high up?" to Sonia, Rosine looked human. But she was getting the same feeling she would get whenever she would look at someone like Zodd or any of the other War Demons, Irvine included.
"I climbed."
"Why not come down here and join us by the fire? I promise I won't bite." Another girl out here who isn't afraid to be around the War Demons.
Rosine seemed reluctant, but she eventually yielded and climbed down to sit next to Irvine. "That was a nice song you played, Irvine," Rosine thanked the man. "It reminded me of a friend I once had."
"It was a new tune to hear, I am pleased that it was up to standards." He began adjusting the strings for a more familiar tune.
"So why are the two of you so far away from everyone else?" Sonia asked. "I would think that other girls like me would be back with the main camp."
Rosine shrugged. "I like the woods. It reminds me of a paradise."
"A paradise, huh?" Sonia noted. "Sounds dreamy. What about you, Irvine?"
"I find the forest… serene. Its undisturbed, quiet, a place where one can think, lose oneself to their senses."
Sonia nodded. "You're a hunter; you must spend a lot of time in the woods."
"Less now than I had previous," Irvine leaned back. "With Griffith, I find myself called to the field of battle, my talents used for hunting prey of a much different stock."
"Uh-huh. Rosine, you said this reminds you of paradise, how?"
"I used to live in a valley untouched by humans, it was fun while it lasted, but it wasn't real. This madman came into my valley looking to kill me, but a magic boy let me live." Rosine looked at the embers of the fire as if imagining someone's face. "He was a better friend to her than I was."
"Perhaps you will see this 'Jill' of yours again," Irvine offered the girl some comfort. "From what you've told me, she seems to be understanding."
"I guess," Rosine slouched. "But I put a fairy tale before her, and now… I'm just along for the ride with the rest of the War Demons."
"Say what?!" Sonia exclaimed. "You're a part of the War Demons?! You look so nice, like Irvine. How'd that end up happening?"
"…That madman I mentioned, he hurt me, and it was bad. After the magic boy let me go, I tried to find a good place to die; that was around the time Irvine found me." Sonia looked at Irvine, expecting him to say more; he didn't. He must have preferred his silence speak for itself, however, that would work.
"Well, hey," Sonia offered, "it seems like Griffith is bringing everyone together, he's rescuing new people with every new campaign. Maybe you'll meet your friend again."
Rosine looked if she couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. "You remind me a lot of myself before all this, always looking for a bright side. Even if I did end up seeing Jill again, I doubt she'd want much to do with all of this. I-," she paused. "What about you? Why are you out here?"
"Oh, I got a bit bored." She shrugged, a lame reason compared to theirs, but it was the truth, a shame it couldn't be more colorful. "I was talking with Griffith, but the princess, or, queen showed up and it got cut short. A shame, it interrupted me seeing my friend."
Irvine perked up a bit. "You are friends with Sir Griffith?"
"Well, I mean, I see my friend when I'm around Griffith." That didn't clear anything up. "What I mean is, Griffith has this… quality about him. When I'm near him or looking at him, I see… something, a castle in the distance." Sonia smiled as she recalled the sight that only she could see. "There's a lake and forest outside and a small hut too. There are a bunch of kids our age, Rosine, but only one of them ever sees me. I try to be around Griffith as much as I can so I can talk to her, she's like you and me, blonde and blue-eyed, we'd make a good trio of friends if we ever met."
"Friends?" Rosine asked. "You think of me as a friend already?"
"Sure do! Us blondes have to stick together."
"This girl," Irvine plucked at a string, "what is her name?"
"Luna. She's really nice."
"And does Sir Griffith see this 'Luna' as well?" Irvine questioned.
"No, just me. Although, I suspect he knows something about it. He doesn't think I'm crazy." Not like everyone else usually does. "She can't see or hear me when I'm not around Griffith, so she usually asks a lot of questions about what's going on," Sonia recalled some of the conversations she and Luna had had. "She doesn't seem to trust Griffith too much though, I told her she was a bit crazy, but she wasn't mad. Oh, yeah! She's really interested in Zodd, but I don't know why." She was aware of the skepticism she was receiving. "What do the both of you think?"
"I don't know," Rosine shrugged. "I suppose anything is possible with a being like Griffith."
Irvine contemplated a bit. "Real or not, a friend is a friend. Pursue further if you choose, but do not expect your vision to be a reality. Do not blind yourself to what is real and what is not, you will only disappoint yourself if you do." Sonia got the impression he spoke to both her and Rosine. "Now, shouldn't you be heading back to your campsite, Sonia? Perhaps you will get to see your friend."
"Yeah, I suppose," Sonia made a move to get up but paused. "Hey, Irvine, do you suppose you could play a tune before I go?"
"If you so wish," Irvine monotonously agreed. Sonia rested against a fallen tree as Irvine struck up a chord, playing a tune that he had learned. It was soft, much like the atmosphere of the forest right now, but loud enough to keep her attention. His fingers, which were skilled at handling the bow, worked wonders on each string plucked on his instrument as he played the music that became soothing to the ears. The heat of the fire cast a warm glow across Sonia's face as the music flooded her ears.
I'll have to tell Luna about… this…
Her eyes and head grew heavy, the sound and heat lulling her into an unexpected slumber. She had fallen asleep.
"Irvine," Rosine tugged at his short cloak. "She fell asleep."
"So she did." He set his instrument down. "She's a rather strange one, for a human girl."
"I suppose," Rosine was inclined to agree. "But I meant what I said; she does remind me a bit of myself from when I was human. I – it's a bit strange seeing it from the other side."
"You see how your friend saw you." It was more than a guess, it hit the bulls-eye. Rosine pouted a bit, just like a child. "You are placed in a peculiar situation; you have been given a chance. While your draft into Griffith's army was from lack of direction, you may be able to choose your path after, for yourself and your friend." He took off his short cloak.
"Why?" Rosine asked. "Why does it matter to you? Why take me in after that wizard let me go?"
Irvine draped his cloak around the sleeping Sonia. "We are monsters. It is easy to lose ourselves to our inner beast. But we were human once too."
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"Tell me, class, what spell would be particularly useful against a grindylow?" Lupin wrote the question on the blackboard for the class of third-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Lupin had assumed his teaching career to be over after Severus ousted him as a werewolf last year, but with Moody discovered locked up in his own trunk; a temporary replacement had to be called in. Even if it only was until the end of the term, he was back at Hogwarts.
A Hufflepuff boy raised his hand to answer. "Releshio would get them off if they started swarming you."
"Excellent. Five points to Hufflepuff. Interesting that you said if they began to swarm."
"Oh, well, Cedric mentioned it when he told us about the Second Task at the bottom of the Black Lake," the Hufflepuff boy admitted.
"Mr. Diggory speaks from first-hand experience. No doubt this spell came in handy in his watery trial." It was nice to be back teaching if only temporarily, a fact that that Umbridge woman loved reminding him whenever she sat in on one of his classes. Dumbledore's relations with the Ministry were going sour, hence why Fudge appointed his toady as High Inquisitor.
"So," Lupin clapped his hands together, "before we conclude today's lesson, do any of you have any last minute questions for me?" one hand went up. "Yes, Miss. Lovegood?"
The girl with light blonde hair and dreamy expression asked her question. "Professor, what type of spells would work against humans who turn into creatures?"
"Do you mean animagi, Miss. Lovegood?" Lupin asked, not understanding the nature of the question asked.
"No, I'm not really sure what the proper name is. I haven't seen them, but I know they exist." Lupin saw several Ravenclaw girls all roll their eyes at their housemate.
"Well, in that case, I might advise redirecting your question to Professor Hagrid. He'd know all about magical creatures." The school bell sounded. "And that is all the time that we have for today. Make sure you've completed the reading for next class, you never know when I might quiz you on it."
The students filed out of the classroom and Lupin retired to his adjacent office. It had been a good lesson today, the students this class remembered him fondly enough from last year. A majority of students did not hold his werewolf status against him, but every now and again he would receive a wary side-glance from some of the younger students and many Slytherin students.
The fire in his fireplace hissed at him and he tossed a log on top of it. "Yeow!" the fire yelped. "Watch how you handle your wood, Moony!"
Lupin did a double take as he stared at the face of Sirius Black in his fireplace. "Wh-what, Sirius?!"
The other Marauder grinned slyly. "That's me! I have to say, Moony, you need to add more decorations to your office; I've been looking at the same dull wall for nearly an hour now. It's impolite to keep a guest waiting, you know."
"Y-you've been here while I was teaching?! Dear Merlin, you know Umbridge is monitoring the floo network. She's out for me as it is. If she finds an illegal floo call to my office-,"
"-Moony, this is me we're talking about. Where's your sense of adventure?"
"Back in our glory days," Lupin answered, dryly. "What is it this about, Sirius? I imagine sending an owl would have worked just as fine; unless you wanted to startle me."
"Of course I have something to tell you, Moony. Scaring you is just a bonus."
Leave it to Sirius to make a joke out of it. "Fine, what is it that's so important that you almost made me shat my trousers?"
"Look, I've been digging around in the Black Family Library and I came on something that might be useful in-,"
"-Hold on, let me stop you right there," Lupin raised his hands in protest. "You, Sirius Black, read a book? Voluntarily? Should I contact the press to let them know of this scandalous new development?"
"Very funny."
"I know."
"But in all seriousness," Lupin could tell that it was since Sirius didn't follow that up with a pun about his name. "I think I might have found a way to find Harry."
If Lupin was holding a cup of coffee, he would have dropped it. The look in Sirius' eyes let him know that he really wasn't joking around about this. "What? How?! Who else have you told about this?"
"Calm down, Moony. First off, you're the first person I'm telling, and the only one at that. The rest of the Order is all too loyal to Dumbledore and-,"
"-You're keeping this from Dumbledore? Sirius if you really believe that you've found a way then-,"
"-Let me finish, Moony," Sirius sounded more like Lord Black than the Marauder he had known all his life. "Just so you know, I brought the idea to Dumbledore before, and he basically told me that it would be too risky given my family's dark nature. And if we're to believe what Dumbledore and Snivelles say about Voldemort being back, then Harry is out there somewhere not knowing what's after him."
"Look, Sirius, I'm sure Dumbledore had his reasons for dismissing your suggestion before but-,"
"-I'm sure he had his reasons too, and they're all complete bullocks. Sure my family has its dark history, but is he forgetting that James' mother was Dorothea Black? I'm sure cousin Andromeda is very dark marrying a muggle-born and all."
"I'm not saying your entire house is dark, Sirius, but it sure doesn't have the best reputation with the light orientated side of things. How can you even be sure what you found was reliable?"
Sirius gained that infamous cocky grin. "My family tree goes back a looong way, Moony old friend. This one text dates back to when rituals and runic ceremonies were a common trend among wizard society. One of them was a summoning ritual, for objects and peoples both."
"Runic rituals? Sirius, those were banned in England after the defeat of Grindelwald, Dumbledore himself passed several laws that explicitly ban them from being practiced. You could get a minimum of fifteen years in Azkaban for attempting to perform one. You really want to throw your freedom away based on a hunch you have?"
"I'd risk my life if it meant ensuring that my godson is safe. I messed up before by convincing Lily and James to let Peter be secret-keeper, the least I can do for their memory is to make sure Harry is brought back safely from… well, wherever he is. And before you say anything more on Dumbledore," Sirius saw him about to open his mouth, "Ask yourself this, Remus, what has he been doing? I don't mean with Hogwarts or with the Order, what has he been doing to find Harry?"
"He's been… reading, researching for anything that might be of relevance. The man has access to over a dozen libraries."
"Fair," Sirius admitted as much. "But for how long has he been 'reading?' I reckon longer than I have on account of me being in prison. And in that time, what has he to show for it? What has he shared with you?"
"…" Lupin's lack of response was all Sirius needed.
"Here I am, and I stumble across one single book in one single library, and I'm sharing what I have with you. I know that you want Harry back as much as I do, Remus, and if we want that to become a reality, we're not going to achieve that by blindly following whatever Dumbledore says. We'll be waiting an eternity before he tells us anything concrete."
Damn it! When Sirius wanted to be convincing not for the sake of pranks, he could do it. Lupin trusted Dumbledore, but he trusted Sirius as well, and the man had brought up some very good points. What had Dumbledore shared with him and the Order apart from Voldemort being back and looking into Harry's whereabouts? The answer was not much. The headmaster was a walking moral high ground, not willing to accept the possibility that there might be a way to achieve their means through other methods. Lupin could admire the headmaster on his integrity, but it was not yielding any results for them, and with the Ministry blind to Voldemort's return, nothing was stopping him from pursuing Harry on his own.
A part of Lupin knew that he was being hasty in thinking about going against Dumbledore, but another part of him still had that rebellious Marauder fire inside him, despite being the tamest of the four mischief makers.
"This ritual…" Lupin began, "how ark is it?"
"Surprisingly, not very. Of course, there are requirements to be made, but nothing extreme. The first thing, we'd need a possession of who we are attempting to summon, and it would have to be on a day of high magical energy."
"So, either one of the solstices', the equinoxes', or Halloween," Lupin recalled basic magical knowledge.
"Exactly. Either one of those or a full moon, but I doubt that'd be ideal for you and your furry friend. This ritual does require two people to perform it after all."
"That sounds… doable," Lupin admitted, still a bit hesitant to go along and against Dumbledore's wishes. "But there is an unfortunate snag, Sirius."
"Oh, do tell."
"What exactly do we have of Harry's that we're going to use?"
Sirius' cocky grin didn't even slip a bit. "Oh, don't you worry about that, Moony. We just have to pay a visit to some kindly muggles who just love surprise guests dropping in unannounced. And be sure to wear the shabbiest robes you have, they love it when people wear robes."
The late February air nipped at Neville's nose as he trekked across the Hogwarts grounds back from Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures. His hands, as well as many others, were burnt and seared from those blast-ended skrewts. They had started off nasty, and then grew bigger and angrier, and now they were near murderous. It was a blessing that many of the skrewts had killed each other off, but a curse that the ones that survived were by far the most aggressive of the bunch.
Peeling off his glove, Neville saw that while his skin was burnt in a few spots, it was not as bad as it could have been. He could probably treat it himself with some herbology medicine or even just dipping them in the cold water of the Black Lake. And considering the lake was just a stone's throw away, Neville headed in that direction, stopping under a beach tree and dipping his hands into the cool, dark water.
Not too far from the shore, the Durmstrang ship was anchored, lightly bobbing from the light waves of the partly frozen lake. "Hello there."
"Ah!" Neville quickly pulled his hands from the water. "Who-?! Oh, Luna?"
The blonde girl was just a distance away, her feet bare as she stood to her ankles in the cold water, completely mad, but completely Luna. "It's nice to see you again."
"Uh, nice to see you too, Luna." He put his gloves back on and then pocketed them. She wasn't looking at him when she spoke; rather, her attention was drawn to the other side of the Black Lake. She waved to some unseen individual. "Are you expecting someone, Luna?"
"My friend." She continued waving to no one.
"Is your friend from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons?"
"No. She's not from around here or from either of those places. Her name's Sonia."
An imaginary friend, Neville realized sadly. "Well, is she here now? I don't see her." He didn't want to hurt her feelings; he knew she had it rough from her housemates in Ravenclaw for being what they called "Looney."
"She's there, but only we can see each other. It's kind of like a floo call, but she has the only chimney."
"Uh-huh."
Luna pointed at him. "This is Neville; he's in Gryffindor, the house of the brave. Huh? You see it too?"
"…Is… Sonia, asking about me?"
"Yep. She says you look like you have a lot of hidden bravery. Wait, look at him again, yes, him." There was no one else besides them on that beech. "I feel something when I see him, like a premonition kind of feeling. Will you tell him something for me? Are you afraid of him, Sonia? You're not? Not even a little?"
"Luna… are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine, Neville. Oh, hang on; I have to tell Sonia something to tell to one of them. Tell the Black Lion that he will have to make a choice. A choice to either fight against the sword that wounded him, or with it in a desperate hour. Will you? Thank you, Sonia!"
"Luna, what are you talking about?" Neville had never been more confused while having a conversation with someone, not even that Slytherin girl Tracey Davis.
Luna actually looked at him this time. "I asked Sonia to deliver a message for me; you heard that even if you couldn't see it. Wait-." Luna looked away from him again. "Really, you think so? Alright, I'll tell him." Luna looked at him again. "She said that we might see each other soon, that way you can see for yourself."
In the short time that she had spent out of Azkaban, Bellatrix was making a miraculous recovery, a courtesy of her Lord and Master, of course. Looking at her reflection, she could see just how much her appearance had begun to change.
Her sullen cheeks had filled out quite nicely to match her high cheekbones, a trail all women in the Black family possessed. While her skin remained pale, it was no longer a waxy yellow that made her look like a candle. Her dark, luscious, and curly hair looked as fresh as ever; her sisters would be jealous of it. And then there were her eyes.
Her naturally dark irises seemed to now have a shade of dark purple sprinkled in there. Around her pupils, small veins seemed to pulsate with the great gift the Dark Lord had bestowed upon his most loyal of servants. It was no doubt a side alteration of the new power she now possessed, and it served as a reminder that she was beyond the normal wizard, possibly even beyond that old fool Dumbledore. The old man was losing support within the Ministry as Lucius often reported back to the Dark Lord. Fudge was too blind and too deep in Lucius' pocket to actually believe what the ancient headmaster had to say regarding the Dark Lord.
That was perfectly alright. Both Dumbledore and the Ministry would have their hands full soon enough either through internal conflicts or once the Dark Lord made his move; at that point, no one will be able to deny his power and influence ever again.
Even now, plans were being set for something big. The Dark Lord spent much of his time alone immersed in his thoughts and desires; he took great amounts of time sleeping, actually. He claimed that the five angels were able to speak to him that way. Bellatrix would have been concerned considering the Dark Lord was never a religious man by any means, but she knew better than to question his methods, which, always worked in the past. She smiled at the thought of how many muggles and mudbloods they had killed during the height of his power. This time would be no different, she just had to control her growing bloodlust and be patient.
She was eager to test the height of her new power out, but the Dark Lord assured her the time was very soon at hand. He had said a quote that stuck with her, a perfect summation of power.
"In this world, some people are born like keys that move the world and exist having no connection to the social hierarchy established by man."
If she and the other Death Eaters were the keys, then the Dark Lord was the locksmith. He was the truly gifted one, the one that was unrivaled, unopposed, the supreme of this world. The day was close when she would witness her Master's full power, March 21st, which was the date that was set for their operation to Stonehenge. They were to mark the outlining area with ancient runes to enhance the natural and raw magical energy that surrounded the sacred area. And since the site was a popular spot for muggle tourists, they had full permission to kill the filth on sight.
Snape, the slimy git that he is, was bound to tell Dumbledore of this plan, or at the very least, that they were going to be there that day. The greasy man would go on playing the role of the double-agent until one side came out on top and then he would fully dedicate himself to the cause. Coward, Bellatrix thought ill of the potions professor. Just thinking of any conversation with that man irked her to no end.
"Master," she recalled him droll at one recent meeting, "Dumbledore will come with his Order when the day comes. If they were to bring Ministry officials-,"
Luckily, the Dark Lord had put him in his place. "Crucio! Do you dare to insinuate that those buffoons are above my power? No wizard is above me, Severus. Do well to remember that."
Yes, no wizard was above him. There was no equal.
The salty air brought about a sting to the wounds that had been inflicted from the previous fight. He tried to cover the scar Slan gave him by wrapping some gauze around it, but the sea breeze brought that tinge of salt that really dampened his bandaging. Guts probably had it worse though. That Berserker Armor had taken a toll on him, new wounds adorned his body and that single tuff of white hair really made him look much different already.
Harry had never thought of Guts as being old before, the man was only in his early to mid-twenties, but seeing white hair on him made him look as if he were two decades older. It was the armors doing. The Berserker Armor puts a heavy strain on the wearer's body, pushing them to keep fighting. Enough physical stress had occurred for the protein in his hair to vanish. And the wounds too – he had to get stitched up something fierce, and not stitch the Berserker way, actual healing. There were many times when Harry thought Guts was going to collapse, but he shrugged the concern off and insisted that they keep going. The sight of him walking at a near limp, the white patch on his black head of hair, it was a lot to take in.
Guts was just a man, after all, an incredibly stubborn and resilient man, but a man all the same. He bled just like any other man after a fight, but he always managed to come out on top. This time felt different. Seeing Guts now, it presented the idea that as powerful as the Berserker Armor was, it might just be the thing that Guts couldn't win against. Guts had little recollection of it, but Harry saw that he had been ready to slaughter their band before Schierke managed to pull Guts' conscious od out of the armor's influence.
But Guts wasn't the only one to leave with a powerful relic; Harry had been able to find out a bit more about his new staff from Schierke, or from what she knew of it. It was carved from the wood of an elder rowan tree one that had deep roots in the magical world. Whereas most mages usually had to craft their own staffs to create a bond with it, this one passed on from a sense of worth and merit, but taking a part of the previous users magic every time before being passed, hence why Harry had felt so overwhelmed and dehydrated after using it; there was potentially dozens of previous wielders magic left inside of it.
"Most mages inherited it once they were full adults," Schierke had also explained. "Considering who the last wielder was, it probably will seem a bit unstable at first. Just don't push yourself with it."
Her voice lacked its usual inflections, sounding more downtrodden than anything and it was no secret why that was. Flora had not made it out of that blazing inferno. She and countless other magical items and texts were now gone, just ashes to the wind. The elderly witch had used up her remaining magical strength to create that firewall separating them from the attacking War Demons. The only home and mother figure Schierke had were gone.
Flora had given her life to give them a chance of escape, and even now, Casca's mind was partially healed because of her work. She still had a childlike mentality, laughing as she waded through the shallow sea water, kicking at waves with Isidro and Puck, but she displayed an ability to articulate sentences. If she found a seashell, she would try to sound the word out, trying to speak an actual sentence.
"Seeh sall," Casca plucked another one from the sandy shore, handing it to Farnese as a present of sorts.
"Oh, yes, you found another one." Farnese's hands were filled with various seashells Casca had been collecting to the point where she was about to drop them. "I don't have the room, though."
"Allow me," Serpico took some of the previously gather shells from Farnese and putting them in his travel pouch for later.
"Ah, that fresh sea breeze feels so refreshing," Puck rubbed his blue head of hair after dive-bombing after a hermit crab.
"Speak for yourself," Ivalera chided him. She was taking refuge under Schierke's hat to avoid getting wet.
"If you're not a fan of the sea, I can go scouting ahead to see if I can find us an area of refuge to spend the night," Serpico offered. With the sylph cloak giving him near mastery over the wind, it made sense for him to be able to cover a lot of ground faster.
"I shall go as well," Puck offered his services. "I will call in help from my bird friends if need be." He shot up into the air like a tiny blue rocket.
"Someone's eager," Harry remarked, watching Puck fly off, Serpico heading in his own direction. "You're not going to go after him, Ivalera?"
"Now that things are getting nice and quiet? You must be joking."
"Perhaps it's just the feel of the sea," Schierke suggested with a faint smile. "Mistress would tell me that the sea breathes magic of its own magic near the night." Her smile began to vanish as a sea breeze blew her hat from her head, a look of fear flashed across her eyes before Guts caught it.
"Careful," he put the hat back on her head, "don't you have a spell to keep it on?"
She flushed a bit in embarrassment. "Thank you, Guts."
He gave a small nod, before walking a few paces away. Harry thought he saw Guts' hand shaking slightly as he passed. "It would have been weird seeing you without the hat," Harry told her.
"It would have felt strange without a hat," she agreed. "Mistress Flora made it for me."
Maybe he should have kept shut. He didn't want to bring back memories of Flora so soon after losing her. He would miss the old witch dearly, too, but he had not known her from infancy as Schierke had. "Schierke, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… bring up-,"
"-I know you didn't." she didn't smile. "I was just… remembering, that's all. Having my hat and outfit, it's the last physical connection I have to her. I'm thankful, really, I am."
He didn't quite know what to say to potentially cheer her up. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't crying either. She just seemed somewhere in the middle of it all. "Well, if there's anything I can do, or if you want to hit me over the head a few times for before, just say the word."
She looked to be biting the inside of her cheek. "…Thanks."
From the water, Isidro skipped a stone across the surface. Casca clapped, trying to imitate the same act, but her rock just made a splash. "Put your wrist into it," Isidro instructed.
"Wrss," Casca sounded out. She threw another rock; this one accidentally hit a seagull.
Serpico and Puck returned shortly after, the sun just beginning to set. "Puck and I both managed to stumble across the same thing," Serpico began. "There's an abandoned seaside cottage a short ways away. There are a few structural flaws, but otherwise, it is sound."
"I discovered it when asking for help from a friendly seagull," Puck explained. "It is a popular meeting place for all gull kind."
"A seagull cottage?" Isidro asked.
"It wouldn't hurt to check out," Farnese said, curiously. "After all that has happened recently, it could be an ideal place to rest."
Harry saw what Serpico meant when he said it had "structural flaws." There was a small hole in the roof, and some of the tiles had fallen loose, but otherwise, it was in fine condition. And then there were the seagulls. They scattered when Casca came running, looking to snatch one, but some fell prey to Serpico's wind blade.
"Hm. I might be able to prepare stew from these with some of the fish I managed to catch." He worked on getting a fire going, adding ingredients and enlisting the two elves to help in preparing the stew.
"Ahh!" Isidro planed his feet up on the table that sat in the center of the single room cottage. "We can finally kick our feet up from all that walking."
"Not on the table you won't!" Ivalera flew into his face. "You're feet are all sandy! No one wants to eat off where your feet have been."
"My feet are clean; I washed them in the sea before we came in."
"True, but you still walked back here barefoot," Serpico stirred the stew.
"I still washed them."
"Pardon me, Harry, Schierke," Farnese began, "but there is something that I've been meaning to ask."
"Huh? What is it, Farnese?" Schierke asked.
"Well, I mentioned it briefly to you, Harry, but I was wondering… would it be possible for me to learn magic?" Serpico dropped his ladle into the stew, not believing what his ears just heard. Puck dived in to retrieve the fallen ladle.
"So that's why you were asking," Harry realized. Farnese nodded.
"Yes. Back in Enoch Village, there wasn't much for me to do. If I am to travel with all of you, I don't wish to be a burden. Miss. Schierke, you were able to learn magic, could I do the same?"
"You-you're serious about this, Farnese?" Schierke asked. "Well, I was able to learn, yes. We suspected Harry had magical parents, hence how he was born with the aptitude for it, but most of the time people who study magic do so from a young age when the mind is impressionable." Farnese's smile began to turn. "But, your mind has already undergone a change of perspective. All the indoctrination the Holy See put you through, that has been peeled back, so… it might be possible."
"You believe so?" Farnese smiled eagerly.
"You won't get it on the first try," Harry recalled his own experiences. "But if you really want to learn; if Schierke is up for it, I wouldn't mind teaching as well."
While Farnese beamed, Serpico's brain seemed to have shut down temporarily. "Lady Farnese, studying to become a witch? A witch in the Vandimion family? Oh dear, what will her mother say? Oh, dear, what will her father say?!"
"From witch hunter to witch," Puck smiled. "That's quite the change, Farney."
"Three magic users?" Guts looked at the Berserker Armor he currently wore.
"I still say swords are better," Isidro shrugged. "But-," he quickly added seeing the look he was receiving from Schierke, "light tricks are pretty cool too, I guess."
After getting over his initial shock, Serpico served them the meal he had prepared. "I apologize for my previous reaction, Lady Farnese. It was just a bit startling to hear you express a desire to become a witch. But… if this is the path that you chose for yourself, I cannot stop you from doing so."
"Thank you, Serpico."
After finishing his meal, Harry felt a tug on his sleeve. "Come with me for a moment," Schierke asked, leading him out of the cottage and by the shore of the sea.
"What's this about?" Harry asked, pulling his traveling cloak tighter around himself to protect against the cool sea breeze. The full moon reflected brilliantly against the dark surface of the water.
"Farnese and magic training," Schierke said. "When she brought that up, it got me thinking about how much people can change if they're willing to accept it. She used to be a devout follower of the Holy See Doctrine, now she wants to study magic." He noticed that some of her regular inflections were starting to return, she was on to something.
"That's a nice recap," Harry told her. "What are you thinking about it for?"
"If it was possible for someone like Farnese, do you think maybe other people would feel the same if given the chance?"
"What? You mean like to become mages?"
"Well, maybe not that far, but at least open to the idea of accepting a new reality. Once Casca is fully healed, where do we go from there? Mistress Flora," the tone of longing returned for a brief moment, "she was able to do some of the processes, but even then, once she's healed, I would imagine yours and Guts' goal would be stopping that Griffith man."
Harry half inclined his head. It wasn't spoken out loud as often as it should, but that was always what was assumed. "You're asking about after that is over?" Harry questioned. "Well, the journey now, I guess we all have to question what going to happen after everything is settled. But if you think people might be able to break away from the Holy See, we can do something with that."
"You would be onboard with it?" Schierke asked.
"There has to be something for all of us, doesn't there? It might sound strange, but if enough people are open to the idea, we could maybe even start like an… I don't know, like a magic school or something." It sounded crazy alright, but Schierke didn't interrupt him.
"That's an ambitious goal, you know."
"I know. But after all, Flora did for us, teaching us and everything, it would honor her memory I guess. I don't know how realistic that would be really, but-," he stopped when he felt Schierke press her lips to the side of his mouth before she quickly pulled away.
"Uh…" her cheeks were dusted red as she tried to find the right thing to say. "I think… I think that however unrealistic it sounds… it sounds… nice."
"Uhh…" what does he say?
"Hey." Both of their eyes went wide as the figure of Guts stood a few paces behind them.
"G-guts!" Schierke's face went tomato red and she seemed to try to compress her small frame in on itself, pulling the brim of her hat down as far as it would go to cover her face.
"Umm, hi, Guts," Harry managed not looking the Black Swordsman in the eye. "How long were you…?"
"I just got here." That was a bit of a relief. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
He knows. "Not really…" Schierke was still covering her face. "What brings you out here?" Harry just focused on a spot between Guts and Schierke, not sure where to look to quell his embarrassment.
"Got a bit too noisy with Isidro and Puck. I figured it'd be quieter out here. Was I wrong?"
"Uh, no, we were just talking about… what we would do after everything is all, well, if everything turns out okay."
"Oh. I see." He stared out at the endless expanse of dark ocean, the only source of light coming from the stars and the full moon. "Don't plan too far ahead, you'll be old before your time." The trace of bitterness was present. The white tuff of hair seemed to stand out even more.
You-you're still young, Guts," Schierke slowly put her hat back to its original place.
"Maybe. But I can't exactly call myself the Black Swordsman anymore." His hand shook even though no breeze had passed.
"You feel the aftermath of the armor already." Behind them, the Skull Knight was mounted on his horse, staring down at them with his glowing eye sockets.
"You're here again?" Guts asked. "What's this visit about before you go galloping off again?"
"That armor you wear, you have felt its power once, and it won't be the last. The shape has changed to reveal the shape of your own inner Beast of Darkness. Continual use will see you lose more of yourself."
"You would know all about that, wouldn't you?" Guts rhetorically asked. "You wore this once, didn't you?"
"You know the answer to that, Struggler. Be warned; as powerful as that armor is, you will lose yourself to it. Sight, sound, taste, touch, heat, feeling, all will dull. Even your own sense of self will be consumed if you all it."
"Schierke managed to pull him out of it," Harry offered. "Flora must have done the same for you when you wore it."
"I owed the witch many times for her help. Even now her legacy lives on through teaching and this new armor of mine. But you take heed as well, Wizard. That staff of yours powers itself through the magic of sorcerers past; careful that you are not left drained and drowned by the power inside." Skull Knight tilted his head back to the sea cottage. "Struggler, It would appear that your woman has found something."
Guts looked past him to see the door to the cottage open, and Casca kneeling down in the sand, looking at something. He wasted no time in racing over to her, Harry and/Schierke following as well.
"Casca! What are you doing out here? What is it you-?"
"Bo eh!" Casca was hugging something to her chest as she knealt in the sand. "Bo eh!"
In her arms was a small boy with long black hair and dark eyes, staring at her and then at Guts. The light of the moon shone down on the boy as Casca hugged him closer. Harry thought perhaps that he might be an apostle, or at the very least a spirit of some sort, but his brand didn't react in the slightest to the boy, not even a prickle.
A/N: Not a lot of action this time since the last chapter, but there were a lot of things being set up, and the Harry x Schierke ship has more or less set sail. I didn't go into this with a planned pairing for Harry in mind, I just wanted it to feel natural, and looking back at all the interactions he had with Schierke, the choice was obvious. Thank you for reading.