Reviews:
Quatermass: Thanks, some things did come up while I was writing, but they seem all good now for the most part and I hope to get back to my usual pace of writing.
Tero7323: Yup, Malfoy saw no other option than to come clean, and Luna has always seemed to be that one character who call tell a lot about someone from not even meeting them before.
Necrogod: Sure, not a problem. Hope you enjoy this one as well.
Greer123: If there's a sure way to earn the respect of Guts, it would be through a fight for sure.
kaxipoptos: Glad to see you liked the conversation between them. Voldemort has to keep his snark in line or else and needs to also know the full limit of his new power before taking on someone like Harry or Guts. I like both Sonia and Charlotte as well and the both of them are finally starting to realize there might be more to Griffith than what they see and that could be a pretty costly thing coming up soon. By this point, Umbridge is just a pesky fly compared to the larger threat at hand. Draco is taking on the family tradition of jumping ship if possible though and Lucius won't be able to bribe his way out of trouble with all the evidence against him this time.
Hairul The Nightrage Beast: The raid on the manor happens this time around and they'll be back in Falconia soon enough. Sorry about the wait between chapters, some things came up that had to be dealt with but I hope to get back to my usual speed of writing.
Guest: Yeah, Draco knows a sinking ship when he sees one and doesn't want to be on board when it goes down.
erica Pheonix 16: Thanks! Sorry for the wait, but I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
"Are you nervous?" the long, curly strands of midnight black-hair partly obscured the side profile of the one in silvery armor reminiscent of the moon that was the one who was known as Sir Locus.
Voldemort followed a bit behind the tall "knight" as it was a word he would use very sparingly when he knew full well exactly what kind of being Locus truly was. As human as he appeared on the outside, there was no denying the beastly and demonic side that was hidden just beneath the skin level. It was the same with Voldemort as well, he had that side to him long before accepting the deal made by the Godhand; it was a side to him that had existed since he had been attending Hogwarts. If he did not possess such a side, he would not have set his basilisk on the mudbloods that polluted the school of his ancestor. And now he was being asked if he was nervous.
"There is no place for nervousness for beings such as you and I," Voldemort said with a bit of curl of his lip as a sign of his slight displeasure.
Locus might have raised a brow, but it was obscured by his long locks of hair. "There are few things in this world that can actually do us harm," Locus continued on as if Voldemort's answer held no trace of negative connotation towards the question asked prior. "But, even so, with all of our power, we can be killed."
"And has the White Hawk commanded that you kill me?" Voldemort asked this time, but he knew the answer to his own question. After his meeting with Femto, he was not on his way to any sort of executioners block.
"No," Locus simply answered. "But even you should know that as apostles, even we have mortality." The scar above Voldemort's eye seemed to itch with pain but he refused to bring a hand up to cover or scratch at it. Locus regarded him from the corner of his eye. "You know this already. You've had an encounter with him, the one who has killed so many of our kin in the past. The one who is known as the Black Swordsman."
"How much did the White Hawk tell you?" Voldemort demanded of the taller apostle as they walked.
"I am but a humble servant to the White Hawk, he tells me naught but is required of me to know," Locus brought a mailed hand to his breastplate as a sign of respect. "I have only guessed as to how you've acquired such a unique injury such as that." Voldemort's brow furrowed as his eyes narrowed at the back of Locus' head. He briefly imagined how Locus would look with a permanent haircut that started at the neck. Severus' sectumsempra or even a basic cutting jinx should work just well given his magical strength.
"And what do you know of him?" Voldemort asked. Better to know the true enemy than just focus on the lapdog of one who was, so far, untouchable.
"I have heard many stories about him," Locus began, "I heard that he fights like a demon out of the abyss and all the rest that you yourself have no doubt been informed of. I have not had the chance to cross blades with the man, but from yours and Grunbeld's injuries, even I would be hardpressed to do any real damage."
"Even he would fall before the full might of an apostle army even with that sword and armor of his. He may fight like a true demon, but he is human at his core." All humans could die, it was just a matter of finding out how to make it happen. And the Black Swordsman would suffer for humiliating him in such a way. If he could not be the one to kill the pest of a man, Voldemort hoped that the moral would see anyone he called a friend dead. He might even kill Potter in front of him if fate graced him with such an opportunity.
"To that, I can offer no counterpoint," Locus seemed to agree with his argument in reasoning. "As powerful as that armor may be, the story goes that the last user died while bleeding out inside of it." So there was a way to kill him. "And if he would be fool enough to come here, we have the Hawk of Light on our side who will no doubt lead us to victory."
"Your faith in your leader is absolute," Voldemort said with little disdain, just more of an observation on his end.
"As yours should be as well," Locus said with a firm tone.
The corner of Voldemort's mouth curled into a sneer at his tone which he found to be a bit too brazen. "I am well aware of how strong the Hawk of Light is. He is the absolute in this world." But not in my world.
Locus seemed to relax his shoulder posture. "Indeed he is. He recognizes the usefulness of your goals. To eliminate one who fights like a demon, you must know how demons fight."
That had been one of, if not the main point they had discussed back in the solar. As disinterested as the Godhand seemed to be in his pursuit of Potter, Voldemort had argued the case that we would be doing them a service by eliminating the Black Swordsman who accompanied him. What was the loss of one life anyway if Potter still wound up dead. Femto had seemed extremely skeptical that he would even be able to accomplish the feat to begin with. Come to think of it, the Godhand seemed unconcerned with what happened with anything happening outside of Falconia. But that was just foolish on Femto's end of things. As loathe as Voldemort was to admit it, he knew the cost of underestimating one's foes. He had done it the night he killed Potter's parents, he had done it again in his fight with the Black Swordsman. God or not, too much hubris could bring anyone down a peg or two.
Voldemort's red, slit eyes traveled ahead on the bridge the two of them were walking on. "So is that it, the place where the demons go to fight?"
They were approaching a giant spherical shape that was directly behind the main palace of Falconia. He had seen it when first entering the city to meet with the Godhand as it was quite impossible not to notice. It was like a giant black sun behind the horizon that was the palace that never quite made it to the zenith and was stuck in a state of suspended animation. The peasants of this city probably found the sight to be rather ambiguous and grand, completely unaware as to what its purpose was or what it actually held inside.
Locus gave a nod of his head causing his black curls to sway with the movement. "Indeed. That is Pandemonium, the Coliseum for us War Demons to unleash any aggression that we hold. Many apostles maintained a diet of human flesh before being united under the Hawk of Light and some old habits die hard." So they were also kept here away from the mundane crowd.
"Yet you and that brute seem comfortable enough to walk about the palace," Voldemort recalled.
"Yes, there are some who do not partake in some of the more repulsive acts as our brethren. Irvine, Zodd, Rosine, Grunbeld, Rakshas, and I are a few to be listed. That is why we hold the rank of captain for our respective squad."
"How quaint," Voldemort said as a misty fog started to follow in their wake as they neared the dark sphere.
They passed through no door, rather, they continued on the bridge as the layer of fog got increasingly denser with every step that they took. And when the fog did clear, they were inside a massive circular stand that overlooked a pit below. The stands were especially crowded as War Demons, in both human and apostle form alike, cheered on the spectacle that was happening below in the ring. Spittle flew from their maws as the two combatants faced off. One was a magical creature of some kind with a long snout pointed in the air with a set of tusks protruding out from the side. The arms and legs were covered in shaggy fur that reminded Voldemort of a type of ogre back in his own world.
The other was a giant of a man, perhaps even taller than that mindless oaf of a gamekeeper at Hogwarts. He was clad in silver armor that would be impossible for any man not of his size to move around in and a helm that was like a snarling dragon. His left arm was completely covered by a massive shield that was constructed to resemble an armored dragon head. In his right hand, he held a warhammer that was even taller than he was.
It was clear that the armored warrior was the fan favorite to win as the spectating War Demons shouted out his name. "Go, Grunbeld! For the glory of the Titan division!" a War Demon nearly as big as this Grunbeld cheered out.
"Let us watch," Locus said softly, but loud enough for Voldemort to hear as he led him over to the edge of the stands to observe the match. When other War Demons saw Locus coming, they cleared a path for him as a sign of his status and strength. It was none too different than how some of his Death Eaters acted on occasion, especially where Bellatrix or Greyback was concerned. The ones who follow value strength, Voldemort knew that to be true and strength seemed to be something this Grunbeld character held in abundance.
His battle cry was like hearing a dragon roar and it even seemed to be enough to terrify the giant ogre that had been pitted against him down in that pit. Grunbeld began his attack not with his mighty hammer, but a bash from his heavy shield to the beasts upturned maw. The impact was like a clap of thunder and the cheering like rain as the War Demons laughed at seeing the first blood be spilled out on the sand floor of the pit.
Feeling cornered, the ogre got down on all fours and charged at Grunbeld with its tusks pointed forward. But the giant warrior stood his ground, lifting a single leg as the ogre neared and then bringing it crashing down of its long snout once it was within the range of his long leg. Voldemort could barely hear the muted whimper escape from the side of its mouth as Grunbeld pressed his weight down upon it. Voldemort suspected that the creatures head might just explode from the pressure, but Grunbeld seemed to know when enough was enough.
"A pitiful creature," Grunbeld disdainfully scolded as he raised his hammer high above his head. "This is unbecoming of my hammer, but so be it!"
He drove the hammer down with the spiked end impaling itself through the ogre's torso and splattering more blood on the sand and on the walls as well. That elicited an even larger laugh from the War Demon audience, but it didn't seem like Grunbeld was quite done yet. With the ogre still impaled through the back by his hammer, Grunbeld raised it once more into the air like it weighed nothing more than a twig in his hand.
"Fall before my hammer!" Grunbeld yelled above all others as he brought his hammer with the skewered ogre back down to the ground. There was a sickening crack of bones as Voldemort suspected that the entire skeleton must have dust been reduced to dust; and that seemed much cleaner than the mess of blood, organs, and fur that was now splattered over the entirety of the fighting pit.
"Grunbeld!" War Demons cried out the name of the victor and his complete domination of his opponent.
"The Great Flame Dragon triumphs!" more cheers were thrown into the air.
But for all of the praise being sent his way, Grunbeld didn't appear the least bit satisfied down there. "It was not enough," the giant of a man could be heard speaking. "This was yet another mindless mess. Give me something larger! I wish to test my mettle further! The Black Swordsman will fall the next I see of him!"
Voldemort's narrowed eyes widened a bit in the interest of what Grunbeld had just said. "Curious?" Locus asked, noticing his change in expression.
"He too survived an encounter with the Black Swordsman?" Voldemort asked.
"Yes, a witch intervened to separate the two before the fight could continue," Locus explained. "Had she not, Grunbeld might not be standing here."
"So there is a witch on your side as well," Voldemort pressed the other apostle for more information. How many mages were living in this realm? Could he possibly gain more followers out of them?
"No," Locus said much to his surprise. "Grunbeld and a few others were there to exterminate the witch in question. The Archangel told Femto that she might prove troublesome in the future and told him where she might be hiding."
"Hm. I see." Voldemort curled his fingers. If a witch was trouble for the Godhand, she would have been useful to conscript into his ranks even if she was not a pure-blood. It would have been especially useful considering that he had lost a good chunk of his followers during the battle and only a few handfuls remained from that night and currently awaited his return back in Malfoy Manor.
He continued to ponder over his remaining loyalists as the next creature was dragged by chains into the pit. It was a black and purple firedrake, a lesser form of a dragon as it lacked wings, but still a mighty foe on its own. As if to prove its own ferocity, the drake fought against the chains and those pulling it to rear its head back and bite one of the War Demons on the arm, pulling the limb from the socket as it thrashed its head away.
Seeing trouble, the second War Demon attempted to transform into his apostle form, but the drake moved fast and flattened him under his leg. A series of boos and hisses escaped from the assembled War Demons as two of their own were mauled. It wasn't due to any sense of camaraderie they had, rather, they just wanted to see it play out a bit longer.
"Your attention should be on your foe," Grunbeld growled as he went to oppose the drake. This time, Grunbeld discarded his hammer and shield as his eyes seemed to become aglow with flame as his already massive frame began to get even larger than before. His heavy, silver armor was gone, replaced with glowing crystals that covered his scaled hide and ran down his legs and tail like spikes. The helm seemed to become the face of a tusked dragon as well, or more a drake as he lacked wings. The largest crystal lay at his forehead with a design of Grunbeld's face resting there.
"Prepare for my full apostle might!" Grunbeld yelled in defiance as his massive apostle form lumbered over to the actual drake. The spiked crystal on the top of Grunbeld's head acted as a horn as he barreled straight into the side of the drake to knock it over on its side. The War Demons cheered the fight on.
The drake did manage to swing its tail around and land a blow on Grunbeld's thick neck. The force was enough to push the apostle away but nowhere near strong enough to actually break or scratch the crystals that coated his already thick hide. Grunbeld, in turn, raised a leg once more and smashed it down on the hind leg of the drake, causing it to buckle and hit hard enough to shatter a bone which broke the surface of the skin.
"Do you see what it takes?" Locus asked as the crowd around them erupted in cheer once more. "See how demons fight?"
"Brutality?" Voldemort was unimpressed. "I know plenty about the art of brutality and even more about torturing one's opponent." Locus insulted him just by asking that question. He did not earn a title of Dark Lord without knowing how to brutalize an enemy.
"Not just brutality," Locus went on, sounding only a little perturbed. "It is about knowing where and how to use what power you have. Not all opponents warrant your full power; but those that do-," down below, the drake had headbutted Grunbeld off and was ready to unleash a torrent of flame from its maw. "-Those that do require a special hand at play. You surely understand this, but what of your servants? Have their abilities made them lax in any capacity?"
Voldemort would watch his words. He would not tolerate if Locus spoke down to him about his Death Eaters. "They follow my command and still learn to grasp their power. They have had little training in fighting anyone outside of other wizards."
"Then the White Hawk is wise to allow them access to this place. That is one of the things he discussed with you, is it not?" Locus seemed to know already.
"You're awfully well informed," Voldemort could have applauded him on his insight - could have, but wouldn't. "I have come to the realization myself that my forces were ill-prepared for the battle that befell us. With your leader's permission, I will be moving my forces here to strengthen them."
Locus gave a nod of his head. "The Hawk of Light will see his end of the bargain through to the end." He had been assured that, but it didn't make it true. Locus was but a pawn compared to a Godhand. The silver knight looked past Voldemort as the crowd of War Demons further dissipated around them. "It isn't every day you stop by." Voldemort turned his head to see whom Locus was addressing.
There were three altogether, two he recognized as the ones to escort him to the city when he arrived; the hunter and girl who partly resembled a bug or fairy in her apostle form. She stood close to the hunter and lightly kicked her feet across the floor almost to express boredom while the hunter gave a nod of acknowledgment to Locus. The third was one Voldemort knew by name already and already despised at that, the supposed strongest apostle in the Godhand's army.
"Pardon the intrusion," the hunter - Irvine, said. "Rosine wanted to see the fight."
Rosine looked up at Irvine with a slight pout as she kicked her foot again. "I thought this one would be different, but Grunbeld's basically already won." Down in the pit, Grunbeld had clamped his jaws around the top and bottom of the drake's maw and clamped them shut before the beast could spit out the fire and thus damaging its own insides.
"We met with Captain Zodd on our way here," Irvine explained. The two of them were clearly not a very social lot and probably had a certain understanding about that.
"Do you intend to go down there and fight?" Voldemort asked of the large apostle.
"Fighting for sport ruins the art, the outcome is as the girl said, the match is decided before it has begun."
"You've said as much before," Locus added. "You would draw quite a crowd, same for when the lord brings his followers over."
"More wizards?" Rosine asked next to Irvine.
"I'll be sure to keep a lookout for them when they arrive," the hunter told him.
"No need for that." Your help is unwanted anyway. "I'll be bringing them myself."
"And you would offer them as snacks to what lies in the pit," Zodd offhandedly said. Voldemort sneered at the implication.
"You doubt the power of magic?"
"I doubt lack of prowess."
"But is it not all for sport? Has it not all been decided beforehand?" Voldemort used his previous words to his advantage. "Why concern yourself at all if you look down upon it? Unless you worry that they have a chance to become stronger than when you saw them last." Locus was eyeing him warily like he was stepping on eggshells, Rosine was lightly glaring in his direction and Irvine did nothing but discretely look over in Zodd's direction.
"Let them grow stronger," the larger apostle said. "Maybe they will be worth killing the next time."
Voldemort lightly sneered. "I'm sure they'll be more than sufficient for the Black Swordsman, Potter, and whomever else might doubt them." He left the scene, heading the way he and Locus had entered, the silver knight following a few paces behind to escort him out. Rosine's eyes followed his form as the two of them exited Pandemonium.
"More wizards will be coming here?" she asked Irvine who looked down at her.
"It would appear that way," the archer answered the young girl apostle. "Does that make you anxious?"
"He wants to kill the one mage who let me live, doesn't he?" Rosine asked. "He was talking about the Black Swordsman and I know he has a wizard following him. They won't kill him."
"Be mindful of how you say that," Irvine bend to whisper to her above the cheer of the crowd. "It wouldn't bode well to have apostles thinking you might be wavering." They both knew many of the apostles' attention was drawn down below, but Zodd was still close by, carefully regarding them from the corner of his eye. If he suspected Rosine of harboring doubt about the Hawk's army, he made no mention of it; he seemed entirely indifferent.
She looked away bashfully. "Fine. Can we go back to the woods? This place is getting boring."
Irvine gave a silent nod of approval as he departed with the younger apostle. Down below, Grunbeld had ripped the head of the drake clean off. Planting his mighty foot atop the headless carcass, he sent a torrent of flame down to further char and smolder what remained of a once ferocious beast.
"Mr. Malfoy?" the professor known as McGonagall repeated the name of the platinum-haired student that had been escorted in the office. "What is it you just said about You-Know-Who?"
Looking more sullen that the greasy-haired professor behind him, the young Malfoy boy repeated what he had said previously. "I know where the Dark Lord is staying."
Guts had seen plenty of people tortured in a war long before he had joined up with the Band of the Hawk, he knew the usual look they usually had on their face afterward, especially when they gave information away there was always a certain look they had about them. It was the same look behind this boy's eyes; utter defeat as if he had just given up.
"My family manor," Malfoy continued on. "That's where he's staying."
The color seemed to be draining out of Fudge's face with every word the Malfoy boy was saying. "Well... ahem... that certainly is a grave bit of news to be dropped so suddenly, Mr. Malfoy. Has Madam Pomfrey looked you over yet? I know that seeing such a gruesome sight as a battle might have you a bit rattled."
"Oh, posh!" McGonagall loudly exclaimed. "Mr. Malfoy isn't suffering from confusion. The only thing he suffers from is an inflated ego, which I do believe is finally making sense for once."
Amelia Bones was quick to join in on her assessment. "And I seem to recall seeing Lucius Malfoy down in the great hall dressed in Death Eater robes."
Fudge looked like he was starting to get choked up. "Yes, well, be that as it may, even if the Dark Lord is indeed at Malfoy Manor, Lucius could be under the imperious curse the same as-,"
"-Don't even say 'the same as last time.'" McGonagall said in a defiant tone against Fudge. "Imperious curse or not, Malfoy Manor is where you should be focusing your attention. Leave the justice to Madam Bones."
The other witch nodded curtly. "She is right, Minister. Let us focus on assembling a team of Aurors to go and deal with the situation at hand. In the meantime, I'll be sure to document all captured Death Eaters and supply them with a dose of veritserum for good measure to clear up any notion of them being cursed into doing You-Know-Who's bidding." She looked over at Snape who stood behind the Malfoy boy like a bat. "You do have a supply of the potion, don't you?"
The potions master gave a slow nod. "Indeed. Always useful to have on hand when the time arises."
Guts noticed Isidro getting a bit restless. "So... are we out of here or what?" He was actually in full support of just leaving as well. They had done all they had here anyways and any longer would just mean he would have to stare at the toady woman who was barely keeping her frustration behind her sweet mask.
"Anything else you wanted to tell us, old man?" Guts addressed the headmaster one last time.
A faint smile could almost be seen through his white, silvery beard. "No. I do believe that concludes all I wanted to say. Sirius, Minerva, would you be so kind as to lead them out. And young Mr. Malfoy as well. I believe he has shared all he wanted to with us."
"B-but, Dumbledore-!" Fudge was stuttering. "This is all-!"
Dumbledore raised his blackened hand, silencing the minister with its sickly appearance. "Please, Cornelius, any further inquiries may be sent in my direction." His blue eyes had regained a faint twinkle to them as he looked past the minister toward Guts who sent the smallest of nods toward the aged wizard. Doing so, he didn't miss the unblinking glare coming from the Umbridge woman as she saw Casca leave with that Sword of Gryffindor. Guts almost wished that she would make a move to try and stop them, it would give him a reason to break more than just her nose like last time. But, like a true lapdog, she stayed in place beside her boss.
McGonagall followed them out, closing the door to the office as they left down the spiral staircase. Draco stuck more toward the back, not having his head of house there with him anymore, he felt like an outsider, the only familiar faces being the Gryffindor head of house, and his mother's cousin, Sirius Black, but Draco had never met the man before, only hearing about him by name. The only other recognizable face here was, of course, Harry Potter.
He looked exactly how all the stories and books described him to be with messy dark-hair like his father and that oh-so-famous lightning bolt scar on his forehead. And aside from that, the sword sheathed at his hip, a lithe physique probably as a result of having to use his sword, and the staff made from elder wood by the looks of it; Potter seemed to be an incarnation of Merlin if he knew it or not. And with all of that, he didn't seem out of place compared to some of these others.
There was a scrawny, rusty-haired youth that seemed he could pass as a long-lost Weasley sibling or something, a metamorphagus witch with short, green hair and purple robes and hat, a young, attractive blonde woman who seemed a year or two above a Hogwarts seventh year who seemed to have an air of nobility to her and another blonde man who stuck close to her side. Were they related or something? Then the intimidating swordsman who had actually wounded the Dark Lord. Draco could see the outline of the sword from under the black cloak as he trailed behind. And then there was the woman with Gryffindor's Sword. If Draco was an ignorant theorist, he would have said that she was a descendant of Godric Gryffindor himself; but that would have been outlandish. If she was from Gryffindor's line, she would have to be a witch and he saw no wand on her person and he doubted that the sword would reveal itself to a squib. Come to think of it, she had even looked surprised when the sword materialized inside of the hat; even if she were a squib, she should have known about her heritage.
Merlin, why was he even thinking so much about who she could be? She was just some woman with Gryffindor's sword, stranger things have happened around Hogwarts. If others found out about it, they would make a rumor of it and it would be forgotten about in just a few months time anyway. He wanted to keep that train of thought going, that she was just some nobody from nowhere.
And if that were true, then he had been saved by some nobody from nowhere. The great name of Malfoy that would soon be in shambles once his father was arrested, there was the shame of being saved by a stranger. It would probably be used as an insult against him by any other students of the school if they found out about it. Maybe it would be a fitting retribution for all the times he had lorded his own status above the rest of them. He knew exactly what he did even if he wasn't necessarily sorry about it. But he found that he didn't exactly care about that right now.
Now, he was still trying to piece it together. If she really was some nobody muggle from Merlin knows where with no connection to Hogwarts, why bother to stick around to help someone like him, a person she had never met and knew nothing about? She must have felt him staring once the spiral staircase ended and the level ground floor brought them all to equal footing. Her head turned to look at him with a blank yet expressive look.
He could handle looks thrown his way, people on the Gryffindor Quidditch team usually threw some unflattering ones in his direction and he brushed it aside as he normally would. But as she stared at him, the man with the large sword also stopped walking and glanced at him as well when he noticed - his wife? stop. Draco didn't actually see any rings, he was assuming from what he observed. The look he got from this swordsman might have only been a sideways glance, but something about it managed to frighten him more than anyone in the school could accomplish. It may have to do with the fact that the man actually managed to beat the Dark Lord in combat, after all.
"Why did you do that?" she asked him after a moment's pause. Why did you? Draco wanted to ask as well. "Back in the office, what made you come clean and confess like that?"
It wasn't just the two of them staring at him now, the rest and even Black and McGonagall as well. How ironic; attention I don't want. "I don't like to lose." That was really what it came down to. Malfoy's were supposed to be the best at whatever, no exceptions. Yet he had been a cowering mess during the battle and his father was crippled and soon to be arrested. Mother meanwhile... she was still stuck back at the manor among what remained of the Dark Lord's followers. "And I'm sure my mother doesn't like entertaining larger amounts of guests."
Black seemed intrigued by the mention of his cousin. Draco had no idea how close he and mother were before he was cast out of the family, but Aunt Bellatrix had nothing but contempt for blood traitor of a cousin. "Huh, I imagine Cissa would be like that. She ever only cared about keeping a stable home. Too many guests and even she has her limits." So perhaps they had been close.
"So how long until something happens then?" Potter asked. It was also a prime opportunity for Draco to go and speak to the one person the whole wizarding world wouldn't shut up about. He had a chance to finally see how well Potter was versed in their cultural ways; an opportunity many would envious of. But Draco didn't answer. It had to do to him wanting to know the answer to the same question Potter had asked.
"You did just meet Fudge a few moments ago, didn't you?" Black asked in a dry humor sort of way. "By all of your guesses, how long would you say?"
The implication seemed to deeply trouble the green-haired metamorphagus girl. "He wouldn't actually put it off, would he? What else does he need as proof to act? He just confessed and his father is back in the great hall wounded from the fight." She seemed to realize that while he had played his part, his father was still very much at fault and he was still in their presence. She looked over to him with her large eyes and seemed to offer some sort of silent consolation. Draco averted his own gaze as she did so; he didn't need her pity, he didn't want it.
Potter seemed in thought. "Based on the impression I got, he just might. He doesn't seem to want to do hard jobs himself and he has a female version of Foss advising him."
The tall blonde seemed to recognize the name. "You compare her to the advisor from Windham? Well, maybe in looks I could see a resemblance."
"Who cares about any of that?" the rusty-haired youth practically yelled. Yeah, he could definitely pass for a Weasley. "If the minister guy and the toad are just gonna sit on their hands and wait for someone else to handle the problem, why don't we just do it?"
"What?" Draco found himself asking that question along with several others.
"That is a rather rash decision to come to," the blonde man told the younger boy. "We are still but foreigners to this land and only acted in defense before."
McGonagall, ever the lioness, seemed ready to delve into one of her infamous scoldings, only being restrained by the fact this boy was not a student. "I would heavily agree with that statement, young man. No one, no matter how skilled, should ever go out looking for a fight without knowing what they may be getting into."
The Weasley imposter gave a bored sigh at the mini-lecture he just received. "Worked out well so far," he muttered as he crossed his arms behind his head. The blue pixie floated over to him.
"Indeed," the pixie spoke, "confidence is key." Did pixies normally speak? Draco wondered. They hadn't when that idiot Lockhart brought them to class two years ago.
McGonagall shook her head in indignation at the boy's clear ignorance and arrogance. "Sirius, you have spoken with them longer than I have. Maybe help this one see reason?"
Black looked amused. "Actually, he seems to be making sense to me."
McGonagall looked surprised but expected at the same time. "You as well, Sirius?"
"I'm surprised you aren't," Black said to her. "Of all the staff, I was sure you would agree to that. You hate it when people are incompetent at their jobs and you just met with one. He's wounded from the fight and we know exactly where he is now. You don't want him recovering and coming back to attack, do you?" Black asked more persistently.
"Of course not!" McGonagall denied. "I would sooner this end, but I would be obliged to report back to Dumbledore on what you are planning."
"Not saying you wouldn't," Black countered. "But I think we both know what he would have to say about it."
After that, it was one of the few times Draco ever saw McGonagall's stiff lips actually twitch up for a fraction of a second. "Be that as it may, you'd have to leave castle grounds before setting up what I presume will be a portkey if you actually intend to go through with this foolhardy plan."
The Weasley imposter scratched the back of his head. "Hey," he whispered over to the metamorphagus, "what's a portkey?" What an idiot.
"Not now," the green-haired whispered back sounding irate. She could pass for a Ravenclaw if she had school robes on.
Not getting an answer, he tried it with Potter. "Hey, what's a portkey?"
"Not now," Potter repeated the same answer as before. Wait - did Potter not even know?
The swordsman seemed to be getting impatient. "Whatever we're doing, let's just do it then. When we see that Voldemort guy-," Draco involuntarily winced at hearing the name spoken so brazenly, "-just let me handle him. He won't slither away like before."
"And what about the rest of us?" the woman beside him asked. "You don't just expect us to sit around while you do everything, do you?" given the size difference between the two of them, Draco was a bit amazed she was actually talking back to the man.
"Harry and Schierke, can track down any od and hold their own in a magic fight, same with Sirius. You, Farnese, Serpico, and Isidro could work as a group." Now he at least had names to put to faces.
Black smirked like an excited schoolboy. "Diving into danger with a hastily thought out plan - this brings back a lot of memories." Yeah, no way he ever would have fit in with a Slytherin crowd.
The blonde - Serpico, if he put the name correctly offered, "That does seem to be the usual method. Quite frankly I'm surprised it keeps working out the way it does."
"Whatever," the swordsman began to walk off, the others promptly following after save for him and McGonagall as well. "Let's just hurry and get this done already, no reason to stand around while that Voldemort guy is probably getting stronger and healing."
They started to walk off, leaving him and McGonagall behind. She would probably take him back to the great hall with the rest of the school or just back down to the dungeons where his common room resided. It didn't really matter, either way, he supposed. But, there still was one thing left nagging at him that he did not have an answer to.
"Hey!" he called out getting them to halt their pace and turn to look back at him. He never specified who he was addressing, but from the one person he was staring at, it was obvious.
"What?" she - Casca, asked sounding only a bit miffed that they were being held up. He noticed her expression was more in her eyes than her voice.
"...Why'd you risk your life last night?" he asked. "You didn't know me. I was just as scared and confused as anyone else, why try risking your life for someone like that?" Really, it was no different than what she had asked him before.
"That's what you want to know?" she asked. "I was just as scared then as you were." Draco wanted to doubt that, but-, "I was scared for a long time. And I don't want to feel like that ever again."
You-Know-Who Defeated and Lost Heir Found?!
By Rita Skeeter
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the most feared dark wizard in the century has perhaps met his match? For those of you who haven't heard, allow me to be the first to bring you all the good news. As you've no doubt heard, Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry came under heavy attack the previous night while hosting the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. The event was rumored to feature the long-lost Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, but was cut short as You-Know-Who attacked with his band of Death Eaters, a few giants, and even two dragons.
Yes, that is a handful, but just as things seemed at their bleakest, a ray of hope was given to those present as multiple eye-witness accounts say that Harry Potter himself emerged to turn the tide of battle. Our Savior was seen to take down a dragon and slay a giant while also keeping on par with spellwork with wizards much more experienced than himself.
But young Mr. Potter was not alone, no sir! Again, from multiple eyewitness accounts also list multiple other individuals following Mr. Potter into battle as well. Most notably was a man in full muggle armor with a sword that was far too big to even be called as such. As unbelievable as that may sound, this "Black Swordsman" did battle with You-Know-Who, forcing the dark wizard to take to the defensive with the help of Albus Dumbledore.
People say that this man fought like a demon in human flesh and even managed to wound You-Know-Who to warrant a full retreat. And if you aren't amazed yet, another amazing discovery could further make good news great.
Among the people traveling with Mr. Potter, one woman was seen to have been wielding the one and only Sword of Godric Gryffindor. Could this have been what our savior has been doing in his time away from Hogwarts, assembling the heirs of all four founders for a moment such as this? Either way, we can rest assured that Mr. Potter is here to stay!
After reading that, Narcissa decided she had enough. She was frankly surprised the papers were running today, but when Skeeter smelled a story she wouldn't rest until she got it. And it was nothing that Narcissa hadn't already known anyway. The Dark Lord had been in a right fit when he returned back sooner than expected. It was quite evident that he had lost the battle as he started throwing around cruciatus curses to anyone and everyone, herself included.
Dobby had treated her afterward once the Dark Lord had disappeared down to the cellar where that rune arch was and she had not seen him since. He must be wherever it led to on the other side and taking his time about it as well. That was perfectly fine by her; the less she saw of him the better. It had not escaped her eye that of all the people to come back alive, her husband was not among them. She didn't want to dismiss Lucius as being dead, the paper probably had a column of all those who had died or were captured, but she didn't want to look at it in fear of what she may actually find.
Sure, her marriage had been contracted to begin with, but Lucius had always been a curtious husband to her and never raised a hand or wand to her. He could be annoyed with her at times, but she could feel the same about him as well. And then there was Draco. She knew she might spoil him but it countered Lucius' usual distant yet attentive being. She above all else wanted to know that Draco had made it out safe and unscathed.
The door to her bedroom creaked open. "Cissy," she heard the still weak voice of Bellatrix leaning from the doorframe.
She tossed the paper from the desk as she greeted her sister. "Yes, what is it, Bella?"
Her sister had seen better days to be sure. Before they left, Bellatrix had been energetic and bloodthirsty as ever, and now; it was like she was clinging to life. She knew it had nothing to do with the loss of her husband or brother-in-law, but more from the wound that had been inflicted on her side. When she returned, no amount of normal magical healing seemed to close the wound or stop the bleeding and Dobby had to be summoned to perform what magic he could. According to Bellatrix, it had been from the very man who fought the Dark Lord who had inflicted this wound upon her. It seemed Skeeter had indeed downplayed the accomplishments of the rest of Potter's companions to paint the boy in a more heroic light.
Bella wheezed a bit as a hand moved to cover her still wounded side. "We have new orders from the Dark Lord."
"The Dark Lord has returned?" Narcissa asked.
"Only briefly before leaving again," Bellatrix replied as her brow scrunched up. "We are to go to the cellar and follow to where he has gone. Gather what things you kgn-need." Bellatrix winced at that last part as the pain in her side flared back up for a brief second. "Hurry, Cissy."
"You expect me to leave?" Narcissa was more offended than anything. She did not have that hideous brand on her forearm, she was not a part of the same crowd as her husband and sister. "Leave and go where? What of Lucius? Merlin, what of Draco?! You expect me to just up and leave without knowing what has become of either of them?"
Bellatrix's lip curled from either a burst of pain or irritation. "If your husband has not returned, he has likely met the same fate as my own." She did not sound sorry in the least. "As for Draco, if the boy is smart he will know not to get caught and wait until we've returned. Now hurry. Some of the others have already gone through."
"Bella, you cannot expect me to comply with that. I have no idea where the Dark Lord has gone or for how long we would even be there. If Draco is alive, he'll need me."
"Kch!" Bellatrix elicited a mix between a hiss and a scoff. "The Aurors are probably on their way here now, you know. If Lucius is dead, this will be one of the first places they search. Do you really want me to tell you stories about Azkaban, dear Cissy?"
"No more than you already have, Bella."
"The dementors would probably love visiting your cell, Cissy," Bellatrix continued. "The more you would hold out hope to see your son again, the more they would feed off of you. You'd be a shallow husk sitting in the corner waiting patiently for the chance to see him again before finally-,"
"-Enough, Bella!" she finally yelled. "I know what would happen. You have your orders from the Dark Lord; follow them. I'll... I'll just be a while." She could see Bellatrix narrow her gaze, but behind the furrowed brow and suspicious glance, there was also an understanding from her sister.
"Very well then. Don't take too long to say goodbye to a house and all the... sentimental value it must hold. Have that house elf help you pack if it suits you. I'll be waiting in the cellar." Bellatrix hobbled out of the room, closing the door behind her. She must have really been injured, she usually slammed any door she entered or exited through. It was a habit she had had ever since they were kids actually and it saddened her to see it lacking.
They really had grown apart later in life, neither really saw much of the other after they were both married and then there was the business of Bellatrix being locked up in Azkaban for over a decade. While Bellatrix had always been a bit of a spitfire when they were younger, she had only gotten more wild as the years passed. She wasn't deaf to some of the stories Lucius had told her about what her sister had done, she knew what she was capable of, but what worried her the most was the unwavering dedication her sister had for the Dark Lord.
Being a Slytherin as well, they were always taught not to be blind sheep followers like Hufflepuff's or Gryffindor's and to actually think about their actions and be ambitious. So when the Dark Lord preached of the importance of blood purity, she knew exactly why her sister would be so eager to follow a man as charismatic as that. The downside to it being, Bellatrix also had a Slytherin ambition, many Death Eaters did and the Dark Lord was not one to share power easily. Her sister was more a tool than anything, a valuable one, but not above being disposed of when the job was done.
She barely knew the Dark Lord personally, only acting as courteous and proper as she could when he was at their manor. He had her sister's complete trust and confidence and her husband's, not so much trust, but his backing. Even with that, their plan still failed. He had done more harm for them than good and while she did not wish misfortune on her husband or sister, she could wish whatever she wanted on the Dark Lord for what had happened because of his involvement. Bellatrix was scarred for life, her husband was missing, possibly even dead, their funds were running low, and Draco was probably confused out of his mind.
Maybe it was for the best if she just leave now. Not to wherever the Dark Lord wanted them to go, but to where she knew her son to be at the moment. Hogwarts probably looked worst than when the Quidditch World Cup was held, but who cares how the place looks as long as Draco was still alive. She could summon Dobby right now and have him take her out of here.
"Do-," she called out before an audible crack! sounded in the room. Narcissa almost drew her wand in defense before she recognized the shape to be that of the floppy-eared house elf. Strange, Dobby had always been quick to respond, but he was always fully called before appearing. "Dobby? What is the meaning of this?"
The elf bowed his head which caused his ears to flop with his motion. "Dobby is sorry for interrupting, but Mistress wanted Dobby to let her know if anything has changed with the wards."
"The wards?" she repeated. "What business about the wards, Dobby? Tell me."
"Dobby's magic felt one of the wards go down, Mistress. Someone is at the gate trying to get into the manor."
Aurors was the first thought. They had probably found Lucius' body and put two and two together and were on their way to raid the house. She asked, "Which ward was it, Dobby?"
"Mistress, it was the one you put up yourself." The elf fidgeted with his hands like he had said something that insulted the strength of her magic. "Dobby came to tell you straight away, Mistress. Dobby thought you might want to know."
"That ward shouldn't have broken so easily," Narcissa said more to herself than to the nervous house elf. "That ward was a Black family secret. The only one who could have undone it so quickly would be..." another Black. She seriously doubted it was her other sister so the only one it could be was-, "Sirius."
She could almost feel it in the air. It was like a protective dome had been shattered and invisible droplets of rain were falling down upon them right now. "Dobby!" she shouted to the house elf. "Hurry and-!"
Kabrackk!
From downstairs, it sounded like the front door had been blown to pieces by a high powered bombarda curse or one of those muggle... what was the word - cannons. Footsteps could be heard next, no doubt some lingering Death Eaters or a few of Greyback's packmates. She could hear the voice of one wizard shouting, saying the words of that unforgivable curse.
"Avadaaaghhh!" the curse was interrupted mid-word as the spell turned into a cry of despair as the castor was met with an unforeseen fate which was punctuated by a loud clang! The sound of something metal rang loud across the floor.
It didn't end there though. She could hear spells being thrown around, some voices belonged to the Death Eaters which still lingered around her home, not yet making for the cellar as instructed, and others sounded foreign to her; probably the team of Aurors that were here at the moment. Some voices did sound incredibly young though, maybe Draco's age if she had to put an age to them. But if she listened hard enough, she could hear the voice of her cousin, Sirius Black down there among them as well.
Then there was the sound of more metal, more screams from the Death Eaters. The screams began to die down - literally, and the sounds of footsteps began to disperse. some sounded like they were moving further away, notably the heaviest of the set which brought some comfort. The others, they were coming up the stairs, heading straight for her room.
"Dobby!" she turned to the frightened elf once again. "Get us out of here, Dobby! Take us to Hogs-!" the door rattled, they must be attempting to force their way in. No spell was ever uttered, but the doors still flew open like a strong gust of air had pushed them back. Narcissa still held her wand, ready to either drop it or surrender it if she thought it might spare her life if she feigned ignorance to the whole affair.
But standing in the now open doorway was no group of Aurors; they couldn't be, not with the way they were dressed. Two blondes, one female with a dagger at her hip and the other male with a billowing cloak and thin sword; a teenager who could pass for a missing Weasley child, and a young woman with a sword that had fresh blood on the tip. It was only by closer inspection that Narcissa realized that it was the Sword of Gryffindor. Her eyes widened. That could only mean one thing.
The blonde youth was the first to say something. "Your mastery of sensing od has progressed far, Lady Farnese. Miss. Schierke would be most impressed."
"Yeah," the Weasley child doppelganger agreed. "How'd you know this lady would be here?"
The blonde girl seemed a bit flustered from the praise but kept her composure almost like one born from a higher standard like herself. "It was not too difficult. Her od felt similar to how her son's felt when we saw him." Her words almost made Narcissa's heart skip a beat.
"W-who are you all?" Narcissa finally demanded, seeing none of them try to make an aggressive move toward her. "How do you know my son?!" it was hard to keep the emotion out of her voice. But, Narcissa looked over to the one with Gryffindor's Sword, if they were with Potter, they would know what had become of Draco.
It was the woman with the sword who answered. "You're his mother, aren't you?"
"Yes, of course, I'm his mother. And you all, you're with the Potter boy. You were there at the battle. Tell me then. Tell me what happened to Draco!" she was willing to do what they wanted. They could leave her here or take her into custody, she didn't care, just so long as they gave her an answer before they did.
The woman with the sword regarded her in a way that Narcissa recognized as only a mother could. Her dark eyes weren't exactly warm at the moment, but there was something there. She spoke again. "Your son is why we're here."
Guts snarled as more blood went flying into the air and on the side of his face. Dragonslayer cut down another wizard who stood in their way as he led them to where both Harry and Schierke confirmed an unnatural energy was flowing from; down in the cellar. Leave it to someone who calls himself the "Dark Lord" to put some weird magical item in a cellar.
With Guts in the lead, Harry and Schierke brought up the middle with the former providing spellwork to repel hostile wizards and the latter uttering protective spells quietly as they proceded. Sirius was in the back of the formation, keeping an eye for any further signs of attack and lending his own magic in neutralizing any Death Eaters that they came across. He had also come in handy when it came to taking down some of the wards around the manor.
Apparently, Sirius was the cousin of the lady of the manor so any spells she might have used as wards, he probably knew how to get around them. The rest of them, Harry, Schierke, and even Farnese had pitched in to bring down the wards. Now it was all a manner of getting down to where the two mages had felt an influx in magic. There were supposed to be several od signatures down there but were vanishing all of a sudden. Casca and the rest could handle everything upstairs with the lady, let him deal with the most dangerous part of the house.
"Just down these stairs," Schierke said to him after Harry had used magic to send a barrage of tiles at one final Death Eater. "There is only one other od signature down there and the anomaly as well. Once we're down there, I can tell you for certain what it is." Guts sent her a silent nod over his shoulder as they cleared the stairs two at a time. At the bottom, the came upon a closed door.
"Not exactly the overwhelming," Sirius dryly remarked as he eyed the door. He readied his wand. "A good spell should-," Guts leveled Dragonslayer in front of him and thrust it forward, knocking it clear off the hinges. "That works as well."
Before they could take a step past the threshold, a jet of green light came flying in their direction. Guts raised his sword to absorb it, but it flew higher and hit the ceiling. Whoever had sent it clearly couldn't aim to their fullest at the moment. Sirius moved to the side and fired his own spell toward the unseen assailant. There was a flash of light followed by a small explosion.
"Aagh!" a woman screamed.
Guts made ready to go in. "The two of you keep behind me." Guts fought off the urge to listen to the negative presence in his head as he moved past the threshold. The rest followed after him.
There, standing near one of the walls of the cellar by what appeared to be an arch drawn with runes leading to a near blinding white light was one of the witches from the other night. Her tangled dark-hair seemed more disheveled than before as she leaned against the wall. Her eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness of the cellar could be sharper than any dagger and they seemed especially dangerous when they saw Guts and Sirius.
She sent another jet of light their way and Sirius sent one back to her in return. Both spells missed their intended targets but Bellatrix rolled in front of the runic archway. She took a step back, letting her body be enveloped by the light. Sirius made ready to fire another spell after her, but before her head and arm disappeared fully, she cast one last spell, this one not aimed at any of them. Instead, she fired it at the side of the arch.
The runes reacted with a violent, pulsating glow and Guts felt a tingle run down his spine. Three sets of voices rang out as all three magic users put their energy forward to projecting a magical shield in front of them and Guts. They did it just in time as the entire cellar was cast into a blinding glow and what felt like a whirlwind picking up around them before a final gust shot out not penetrating the shield, but putting enough force behind that the castors had to put forth an additional amount of concentration. It concluded with a fading light and a ringing in Guts' ears.
"Merlin's blue beard," Sirius said as he took in the damage that had been done. "What did she do?"
"Schierke," Guts looked over to the young witch. "Any ideas?"
The wall where the runes had been was still intact, but it looked like it had a cannonball explode next to it as it was now charred black. The runic symbols were still there, but the glow had completely faded, probably unable to be used again.
She reached her staff out and began tracing the pattern that had been drawn by the runes. "They had created a pathway of some kind," she answered. "The lingering sense of magic is both familiar and new." She examined further, feeling for further magical energy. "Wait. Wait a minute, this is..."
"Schierke?" Harry walked next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"They..." she continued, "They made a pathway to Midland."
"What?" Guts asked, his sense of foreboding rising.
"I felt it," Schierke continued. "The feeling of magic that felt familiar, it was the energy from Midland. That witch and probably a few others are there right now."
"Voldemort probably is as well," Harry concluded.
Leave it to an apostle to make its way to where Griffith was. It did make sense in some capacity. If Voldemort was an apostle, he would have to have made a deal with the God Hand previous. and with Griffith creating a whole army of apostles, why not have one who could perform magic?
"Well isn't that a kick off the broom," Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "We come here to put an end to Voldemort and the Death Eaters only to have them give us the slip."
"We never expected it to be easy," Guts said as he rested Dragonslayer on his back. "It's still a struggle, always has been." But it was frustrating. They would have to return to Midland at one point and now a direct gate to it had just been destroyed. Looks like they would have to rely on the old bonehead to get them back then once they got in contact with him. His eye darted back over to now ruined gateway. They would be back, and when they were, they would enter their final fight.
A week had passed since the raid they conducted at the manor. It certainly hadn't been what Harry had been expecting, but he had grown to know that nothing was ever really as it seemed and expecting one thing to go exactly as planned was a high improbability. Still, some good had come out of it all. The lady of the manor, Sirius' cousin was reunited with her son, the boy who came forward and told them where the Death Eaters were hiding.
Her husband was still alive as well and was allowed to see her and his son before Madam Bones took him away to be arrested. Narcissa and her son were put under what could be called house arrest, but with every nook and cranny of their house being torn apart for further evidence, they would be staying at Hogwarts for however long it was deemed necessary. They probably wouldn't be able to return to their old manor as most of their assets had been seized, but Sirus said they would be left enough money to support themselves. The house elf that had been with them had also been taken from them but was offered a job in the Hogwarts kitchen which he eagerly accepted.
But for now, Harry wasn't trying to concentrate on thoughts like that, he was trying to look more for a happy memory. It wasn't because he was an optimist, but because it was the next step for learning this particular magical spell. Ever since the battle, Harry thought about those creatures known as dementors that could suck out a person's soul given the chance. No creature existed like that back in Midland, but now that Voldemort was there, it was possible he had brought some of those things with him as well. If he did, Harry wanted to be prepared.
Sirius and Lupin had been more than willing to show not only him but Schierke as well the spell needed to repel those creatures. Even if they never needed it to repel Dementors, the charm could still be used to deliver messages to people. That would be useful in case the hairs they used for thought transference ever got removed.
"Expecto..." Harry muttered as he held his staff in front of him. Schierke stood off to his right, following his movements.
"Keep trying," Sirius said as he leaned against the rail of the ship. "If it makes you feel any better, you're doing better than most your age."
"Better than you, you mean," Lupin corrected as he too watched their progress. Roderick had no doubt about them after the battle and gave them permission to come aboard when it suited them. The captain was over by Farnese who was also progressing her magical art. Schierke and Harry both decided that with her advancement, it was time for her to get a staff of her own.
As an act of compassion, Roderick had offered her to use the wood from the figurehead of the ship. "Are you sure this is alright?" Farnese asked as Serpico worked on carving some wood for her to work with.
"This is a warship, taking damage is to be expected," Roderick replied with a smile on his face. "What sort of betrothed would I be if I didn't let you take what was mine to use?"
"...Yes, well, thank you, Roderick."
"Think nothing of it," he told her. "Just be sure to think of Lith's navy whenever you use that staff. It'll be part of the sea after all."
Harry was happy for her. Not just because she was growing in magic, but because she seemed to be growing used to Roderick as well. Of course, if he ever found out the captain ever hurt Farnese in any way, he'd hex him into oblivion after Casca or Serpico had done what they had to do. But he felt that wouldn't be the case. Roderick seemed far too genuine to actually be a deceitful guy.
"Expecto Patronum," Schierke said the incarnation again.
"Expecto Patronum," Harry repeated again, his eyes following the white mist that trailed from his staff.
"What were you thinking of?" Schierke asked, her mist still looking feeble.
"Just how far Farnese has come along, I guess," Harry really hadn't had a solid idea in mind.
"Ah," she looked over to their pupil who was carving the wood with Serpico's assistance. "Yeah, she really has."
"What memory are you thinking of?" Harry asked her in turn.
"Oh, just..." her face seemed to heat up, "the first time I tried honey."
Ivalera floated over. "Really, Schierke? Honey? What about when you got me as your best friend?" the pink elf smiled proudly.
"Yes... that's right." She looked unsure, not that Ivalera noticed.
What is it? Harry mentally asked.
'I tried that first, it didn't work either. But if I tell her that she'll get upset and you know how she gets.'
That seemed to be something Schierke was struggling with. She had no shortage of good memories from her time with Flora, it probably had to do with how magic worked in this world as opposed to Midland.
"Well, at least you know what shape it'll take when you do finally figure it out," Harry tried to inspire her through curiosity.
It worked. She looked over to him with large, curious eyes. "Yes? Go on."
"An owl."
She looked almost deadpan. "Really? Care to explain?"
"I don't think there's any real need." He smiled as he went back to practicing his own spellwork again.
"Hmph." In an attempt to almost prove him wrong, she seemed more focused than ever as she too went over the incarnation given to them.
Harry repeated the spell over and over, his eyes trailing the whisps of white smoke as it trailed out of his staff. What would his look like when it finally took a shape? He had been able to talk to snakes before, would it be a snake? Maybe not. A snake had never been an animal he was too attached to, he felt no personal connection with a snake and he knew no inner animal that acted as a guide. But his green eyes still followed the white as it looked to grow bigger with his determination. If he kept at it, it looked...
Done.
At last, she had finished it. Her blue eyes seemed to shine as she took in her handiwork and what she had created. Her wedding dress was finally done. Charlotte admired the look of it as she held it up in front of the mirror. She had a real desire to incorporate Griffith's signature hawk design in her dress so she sewed wing designs on the shoulders and back pattern. The bottom of the dress was long and almost held a feather appearance to it like a swan resting upon a lake.
Charlotte had tried to make the corset and side design avian in appearance as well, but she found that it had been too difficult to pull off let alone sew the design. Instead, it held an almost rib-bone or skeletal design. It strangely did not bother her as much as she thought it would and she had to have faith that Griffith would not care about a design that didn't fully match.
Granted, the wedding day was still a ways off, but her dress was done. It was done and she had done it herself. All that was left now was to walk down the aisle on that day and become Griffith's queen. The thought made her feel anxious, anxious for what was to come and... anxious for a reason unknown to her.
A/N: Happy Halloween! Sorry for the long wait for the chapter, everyone in my family got sick at once, I came down with pink eye and had this cough that made it impossible to just write this. But I'm better now and hope to have the next one out much sooner. Thank you for reading.