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Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air
Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair;
Then thrice three times tie up this true love's knot,
And murmur soft: 'She will, or she will not.'
Go burn these poisonous weeds in yon blue fire,
These screech-owl's feathers and this prickling briar,
This cypress gathered at a dead man's grave,
That all they fears and cares an end may have.
Then come you fairies, dance with me a round;
Melt her hard heart with your melodious sound.
In vain are all these charms I can devise;
She hath the art to break them with her eyes.
|Love charms-Thomas Campion|
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Part 16-Orbis et Gravidas
The Night Owl, bar and restaurant...
The Night Owl was a temporary outpost managed by the owners of the Three Broomsticks. It was right inside the cavernous halls of Draco's section and was lit by a large but dim red lamp with additional candles hanging from the ceiling.
It was a notorious pick-up bar, and anyone there was considered fair game. It was the spot where the large numbers of single men and women congregated to have some fun.
Padma hunched over her large glass of Gin and Tonic Water, her eyes bleary. It was obviously not her first glass. She looked down at the plain engagement ring she was wearing. It was burnished gold, with the Weasley family motif emblazoned on it. Inside was the inscription 'Promise of Honour'.
Ron was big on honour.
Padma watched the salty teardrop fall into the drink dispassionately. Her life felt in ruins. Ron had come to her at daybreak, before the start of the battle and showed her his puncture wounds. He had told her what he was.
A vampire.
She felt sick to her stomach, he was not human any more. Padma had always been slightly bigoted about werewolves, giants and vampires. Now her fiance was one of- them. She shivered. His touch had been so desperate and she had just turned away.
"Hallo there, why so low?" A short, twenty year old slid into the chair beside her. He was handsome, with dark gold-brown hair and rugged charm. "I'm Daniel Booth."
Padma felt a spark of interest. "Michael Booth's son?" She referred to the American Minister of Magic.
Daniel chuckled. "The one and only."
"Padma Patil." Daniel's eyebrows lifted.
"Vidya's daughter, right?" Padma flinched and nodded. "She's doing a great job with the school. We met your aunt, Vina, after the Meet of Mages. So, what're you doing her al-" He caught sight of her engagement ring and stopped.
Padma saw his glance and, with a guilty twang, slipped the ring off. "Breaking up with my fiance." She said, matter of factly.
She tossed the ring into the glass of clear gin and watched it sink to the bottom with slight trepidation. Daniel seemed unfazed. "I'm sorry." He said, not sounding at all so.
Padma bit her lip and sighed deeply. Daniel gently placed two fingers over her open lips. "You know, the ancient Romans believed that when you sighed, part of your soul escapes..."
Padma felt his gentle eyes embrace her and she smiled. "It doesn't seem like I have much left..."
"Well then- I guess I'd better give you some of mine..." He bent lower and tilted her face upwards. As he kissed her, Padma felt her back stiffen, but she willed it to relax.
It's over, vampire...
---
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Recording Centre, Coalition Horseshoe...
The band Violet Fire finished their last song and radio transmission was cut. The Lead singer, Violet Farann pushed back her dyed metallic purple hair in anger. She tugged savagely at her delicate black voile and lace minidress, almost rending the fragile beadwork. They had come here to fight for WizardKind, not put up the entertainment. Instead, their ambitious, unscrupulous manager, Tommy Gardner, had fixed a show for them.
"Damn Gardner. May his spells misfire!"
"Vio, r'lax, m'girl." Blaze McAllistair, guitarist, said in his deep bass. He had a faintly scottish accent and was prone to swallowing vowels. He zipped up his expensive, custom-made magically enhanced guitar and slung it over his shoulder. The polished leather covercase contrasted oddly with his torn baggy jeans and black t-shirt with the motto, 'And I should care...why?' emblazoned in sprawly red handwriting on the front.
"Yes, Vi, I straightened Tommy out, remember?" Darrel Farann, drums, the complete opposite of Darrel, intoned. He had a perfect, succinct British accent which went with his appearance. Unlike Blaze's carefully frosted spikes, his hair was brushed back suavely, but a few locks fell in unruly twists accross his forehead. He wore champagne coloured trousers with a white buttoned shirt and navy cricket sweater over it with dark coloured stylish shoes. The shirt was slightly scruffy, giving him the perfect preppie look.
Violet glanced at them and grinned. "Ah, so you told him you didn't need dates for the party tonight, then?"
Blaze crossed his arms and Darrel pursed his lips. Violet laughed mockingly. "So you two are going to get two beautiful, sweet dates who can dance in-" She consulted her watch. "Three hours? This I'd like to see."She slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked out with quick, measured strides. Blaze and Darrel followed, disgruntled. They rounded the corner, almost running to catch up with Violet. Crash!
"Ow, look where the hell you're going!" Ginny Weasley brushed herself off as Darrel helped her up. She looked up at the helping hand and her eyes widened. "Hey, aren't you the drummer of Violet Fire?"
Darrel semi-smiled and then scowled. "Yeah. I'm Darrel Farann." He glanced at Blaze. "This is Blaze McAllistair, he's on the guitar." Ginny held out her hand.
"I'm Ginny Weasley, and this is my friend, Celeste LaSeule." Blaze grinned at Celeste and glanced quickly at Darrel.
"Hey, look, as Dar's apol'gy for knocking y'over, c'n we invit'ya to party tonight?" Blaze asked.
Celeste looked confused. "There's a party tonight?"
"Yah, y'know Countess Czyren, right? Well, she got married and they nev'r had a bash- so they're d'ing it now." He replied. "It's a s'rprise, invitation only."
Darrel nodded. "Yes, most of the invitees are ghosts...just twenty or so real people." He grinned. "She married Draco Malfoy- Lucius Malfoy's son. Do you know him? Stuck up little bugger. Ah well, at least those dead armies of hers are on our side now. I heard Malfoy changed, but how can any man change so much, eh?"
Celeste grimaced. "How indeed..." She whispered.
---
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The Tome of the Trident
The Ascension
The Ascension is when the chosen 'Contenders' for the Trident's role are taken from the mortal plane for the 'Test of the Trident'. Not much is known about this test or the Ascension, as the only witnesses are the Contenders or the Trident themselves, who are sworn to a vow of secrecy. Rumour has it that the test is more of character and moral fibre than actual physical or mental endurance.
After the Test, the Chosen Three are submitted to a secret Ritual, after which the old Trident and the new are bound in a spell. The Chosen Three are then returned to the Mortal Plane- they will take over from the Trident after their deaths or after they pass 100 years of life. Contenders who do not pass the Tests are killed to protect the secret.
The Ascension causes many glitches in the mortal world. There is increased potential for Emotional output, and there is a general increased sensitivity of the race. This is only experienced by WizardKind, and is a manifestation of their collective subconscious knowledge of the great event.
Abnormal numbers of births, deaths and pregnancies occur as WizardKind fortiefies itself against possible destruction and rearrangement of Reality.
Love is a concept supposedly extremely affected by the Ascension, causing imbalance in hormonal levels. These effects are heightened if the mortal plane is under any kind of undue tension or duress.
Other myths about the Ascension include....
---
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The Party Hall, Coalition Horseshoe...
Draco rubbed his gold wedding band thoughtfully as he waited for the last of the guests to appear. He brushed off his black Gucci robes, careful to avoid the glittering spangles on the artfully ripped cuffs and hem. His crystal staff and sword both hung at his side. He recognised the guitarist of Violet Fire and walked forward a few steps.
"Welcome, the guests are right thr-" The words died on his lips as he saw Celeste on his arm. "Celeste."
"Draco." She nodded graciously, but coldly. He hadn't told her the true story, and she-like the others, believed him to be a fickle-natured coward.
Within a second he recovered his composure. "The party is right through there. I will be there shortly. Hello Ginny, Darrel..."
As they walked into the plush hall, Draco placed a clammy hand on his forehead and then brushed his platinum forelocks back. He heard footsteps and turned. "Potter...what the hell are you doing here?" He asked, weakly. "That fool- that woman- didn't invite you, did she?"
Harry smiled as he jogged up the last few stairs and brushed the water of his coat. "Nah. Celeste told us. Don't worry, Parthenope didn't invite any of your friends."
"Good. She told me about this party just in the afternoon." Fleur was right behind him. "Ah, so, broken up with Cho Chang then, are we? Didn't know you had it in you." Draco smiled mockingly. "Come on in, there's a sodding storm outside."
"Ah, no, she broke up with me this-" Harry suddenly gasped and his eyes rolled back. He clutched his scar and fell to his knees.
"Slytherin's Chamber, Potter- what the hell?" Draco pulled him to his feet. Harry pushed him away and took a few steps back.
"It's you Draco." He said, with the air of someone who had suspected it for some time. "At first I thought I was just imagining the pain in my scar when you're around. But it's real- and it's worse now." Harry sounded neither accusing nor condoning.
"Look, Potter, that can't be. Riddle gave you the scar. It isn't a damn Seriously-Evil-Avoid-At-All-Costs Dark Wizard Detector, you know." He snapped. "It only works with Voldemort."
"I don't know that. I've never come into contact with another Dark Wizard." Draco flinched at his indentification as a Dark Wizard. "And this pain is worse that with Voldemort." Harry and Draco were nose to nose, almost ready to fistfight.
Fleur cleared her throat. "Stop eet, boys. Zair is too much testosterone in zis room. It ees just possible zat anyone wiz ze kind of powair You-Know-'Oo 'as- ze dark Sorcerie- can trigger zis pain. Are you okay, mon cher??"
Draco grinned devilishly as Fleur cooed and patted Harry's head. . "That's one up for oestrogen, eh, Potter? Let's go right in- I'll keep a couple of steps behind you."
"Draco, there you are darling!" Parry enveloped him in her arms. Her large onyx-coloured feather boa and the feather hems on her dress were distinctly uncomfortable against his skin. She pulled him into the middle of the room and smiled around. His expression was so distasteful that she elbowed him in the ribs. "We have a deal, loverboy. I wanted a husband, not a statue."
She turned towards the others assembled. Her beautiful voice echoed in the hall and each of her silences was punctuated by the stacatto sound of raindrops. "Sonorous. Welcome, everyone. As you all know, this gathering is to celebrate my rather sudden marriage to Draco Malfoy. But- I also have another announcement to make."
Parthenope coloured slightly and a smug smile played on her lips. "I-um...I'm- pregnant."
---
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Hospital area...
Chaos passed between the pristine white beds with gently sleeping people upon them. The sounds of their pain-induced screaming had ben too much for her, so she had convinced Hermione to do a Sleep Charm on them.
"Are you okay?" Hermione seized Chaos' arm as she stumbled and let go immediately. There was still a crackle of power when anyone touched her skin.
One by one, Chaos touched the heads of the patients. It took hardly a few minutes for her to finish the whole ward. She glanced at Hermione, who was holding her right arm to her chest. "Could you help me with this?" She showed Chaos the sword slash she had received at the previous battle.
"Sure." She replied, touching her forehead. Instantly, Hermione's body gave a convulsive jerk. "Oh Weatherstaff's grave- she's a Mensamage." Chaos tried to pull her fingers from Hermione's forehead. They seemed stuck on her forehead the same way they would if she had touched a high-tension electrical wire.
With one last struggle, Chaos sighed. She let Hermione invade her mind, praying to the great Arlena Weatherstaff that Hermione's mind would be safe. She cursed herself for forgetting that Healers could not perform their role upon MensaMagi, as their mind was too complex and would fracture even the most intelligent MensaMage.
Hermione could feel herself entering Chaos mind. Every memory, every touch was at her fingertips. The power of it seared her mind but she could not stop- like the moth irrestistably drawn towards the fatal flame and consumed in it's very beauty.
A girl of around thirteen or fourteen with dark, brooding black eyes laughed. An easy, carefree sound- a boy with dark brown hair leaned closer. "Beth..." He whispered, as his lips touched hers.
A sudden spark, Hermione could almost feel it. Beth pushed the boy away and screamed- a shrill disbelieving timbre. "Carl? Oh, God..." She backed into the wall. He was lying face down on the floor, gasping for breath and clawing at her. His body convulsed with muscle spasms.
Her father pushed open the Salon door. "Elizabeth Margot Casterleigh! What in Heaven's name did you do to him?!" A short man with hard but even features and a balding scalp bent over the prone figure. "Agnes!" He yelled to the maid. "Call 911!" He turned to her, his eyes sad and heavy.
Elizabeth shrunk further against the doorway, willing herself to merge with the expensive wood. The air around her sparked."Sir- Father, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to..."
Her father strode over, brought his hand back and slapped her right cheek hard. With a yowl of surprise at the pain of touching her skin, he clutched his hand to his chest. Elizabeth glanced fearfully into his wizened face. Surprisingly, there was only resignation in his features. "Elizabeth, I always knew you were abnormal...from the day you were born. Even then- you had the power to kill- even while you were being born. Why can't you just be normal?"
Her Father pulled out a cellphone from his suit pocket. He opened the saved numbers and chose one with obvious distaste. "Hello? This is Sir Roger Casterleigh- Dumbledore told me to contact you if I needed to pass a message to him. Yes- tell him- tell him to come and take her as soon as possible. Stress that please- as soon as possible. Thankyou." He clicked off and slid the phone back into his pocket.
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth, you cannot remain at Casterleigh Hall any longer. You remember that odd old man that you liked? Albus Dumbledore- he came and talked to me when you were born and when you were three. This Albus Dumbledore will take you to a place where there are others like you- like your mother- witches." He seemed lost in reminiscence. Elizabeth seemed too terrified to even react to the news. He glanced at her, a sheen to his eyes. "I'm sorry Elizabeth."
She glanced up and said in a timid voice, "Why, Father? Why must I go?"
He sighed. "You just cause too much chaos."
---
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Draco's chambers, later that night...
Tears ran down Parthenope Czyren's visage. The tears did not seem of sadness, but of surprise and most probably- fury. Draco turned on her, his jaw clenched and his long fingers extended stiffly at his side.
"You engineered this all, didn't you?" His eyes were glazed.
"Draco, please- listen I didn't-"
"You conniving, manipulating, lying little bitch..." The words seemed all the more insulting from his cold, unimpassioned face. "You couldn't have gotten...the way you are unless you planned it...I've only been with you-" He stopped.
"Draco, listen- I didn't plan it...I wouldn't do such a thing. It's my- it's our baby, Draco- how could I? Please- trust me." Draco's eyes crinkled into a mocking glare.
"Trust you? Trust you, Countess Czyren? Please- excuse my derisive laughter. It's just it seems so ironic that you are asking me to trust you. Do you remember what you said to me at Hogwarts- the day you proposed?" His steel eyes bored into her own, searing them with his glance. "Why? Why did you do this to me..."
Parthenope's chest heaved. "Draco- I thought you'd be happy...a child- your child..."
"Parthenope, Parthenope, Parthenope..." He shook his head. "It's not the child that I abhor. It's just knowing that it's yours."
Parry's shoulders slumped, she shrunk into herself as if she were an inflatable doll and his words had punctured her. Her mouth trembled. "You- hate me, then?"
"No." A faint gleam appeared in her eyes. "I loathe you- I detest you...and I loathe and detest you all the more for the fact that you aren't even worth my hatred. May your Friday the Thirteenth be eternal!" He uttered the most maligning, horrifying curse in the Wizarding World. He had wished that Friday the Thirteenth, a day on which no magic could be performed and any magic rebounded with terrible effects upon it's doer, would happen every day for her life.
It was not a true curse, in the sense that it would not come true, but it was the most insulting thing a Wizard could possibly say.
"You won't hate our child...you won't..." The sentence structure was of a statement but the tone was abject, horrified pleading.
"I hate you more for the child, Parry. How can I love the baby when I know it's yours- that it's not Hermiones'. It is a child begot of sin, Parry. I hate you for making me not love my own child."
Parry took a few steps back, and with a solitary backward glance fled down the hallway and into the omenous, stormy night.
---
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Hospital Area...
Chaos saw Hermione's body tense, perspiration dotted her frowning face. She tugged uselessly at her fingers- her body felt heavy and swollen. A thin film had descended over her vision making her actions feel clumsy and inept.
I've got to get her off...she'll be driven insane... She thought dully. A minute passed and she descended into a semi-comatose state.
Suddenly, she felt a chill- a creeping, evil kind of chill. One which isn't caused by cold. The mist in front of her eyes thinned and her mind slowly cleared. She felt herself fall backwards, no more attached to Hermione- at the same time she sensed cold flesh on her arms.
The fingers immediately loosened their grip, Chaos looked up and saw a tall figure with a tear-streaked but strong face. Chaos felt an odd sensation- a liberation from the dull pain of the wounded. Her skin felt normal. Hermione gave a long drawn out moan.
The figure pulled Chaos up and she felt stabbing pains wherever she touched her. "Healer." Parthenope Czyren mumbled.
"You're a necromancer- you drained my power, didn't you? Temporarily of course." Chaos realised- she studied Parry's features for a second. "You're Draco's wife, aren't you?"
Parry's lips twisted to a bitter grimace. "Theoretically." She said. "I don't have time for small talk, Healer. I need you to help me."
"Why should I help you?"
"Because that's what you do. You help." She touched her abdomen and squeezed her eyes shut for a second. "I need you to take my baby."
Chaos looked aghast. "And do what?"
With a wince, Parry indicated the prone figure on the floor. "Give it to the Granger Mudblood."
"Why?"
"I'm not all bad, you know. I do have a certain affinity for the dead- but the living are so tiresome. But most of all, I've always wanted a child. More than you can even imagine...a child who would grow up in the best environment. He'd have his mothers love- and especially- his father's too." Parthenope brushed a tear from her face and gave Chaos a rueful grimace. "My father never loved me. I want my child to know that his parents love- or at least don't hate- each other. I thought I could make Draco love me...foolish...but we cherish our dreams. But if the child is borne of me he will never love it."
Chaos sat down on an empty bed. "But- what will you do?"
"I? I will- move on." Parry glanced at Hermione. "She's waking up..." She strode over quickly, and with almost professional detachment, kicked her squarely in the head. Hermione's body went lax and her face lolled to one side, unconscious. She glanced at Chaos. "Before she wakes up..."
"But-" Parry flicked out her wand and levelled it at the Healer.
"Now, Healer."
---
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Alethias Pool of Truth...
Parthenope stood at the edge Alethias' Pool in Erzmyn Szreil, shivering. Legend had it that those that drowned in its waters would be cleansed of all sin and cloaked with truth. Many had been desperate enough to rely on this slim chance- many had perished.
Parthenope lifted her midnight blue robes a few inches and pulled herself onto the large, jagged rock than overhung the pool. A small wooden sign was hung from a protrusion. In white, uneven chalky letters was written 'Suicide Point'. A fitting name for a dismal place.
She reached the top and gasped with surprise and- horror.
The veiw was beautiful, it seemed like the whole of Greenland lolled underneath due to the high positioning of Erzmyn Szreil. Endless oceans spread like turquoise silk sheets. Parthenope shivered- the beauty of the ocean seemed over-perfect...there was something decidedly odd about it.
The TimeFreeze... She realised. It's made everything- stop. The silken expanse of the ocean had stopped mid-ripple. Not a cloud wafted accross the sky- not a seagull shrilled angry defiance.
Everything just stopped.
Parthenope followed the line of the sky, the area of the TimeFreeze was starkly visible. Inside, it was a tempest-tossed squalor of reddish tinged purple and outside a gentle cyan. Parthenope leaned over and peered into the azure blue water and supressed her hydrophobia. She had always hated still waters- she had never learned to swim. One hand rested on her stomach. The Healer had transferred the beginnings of life already. She felt empty.
The rain, now just a drizzle, beat down on the smooth waters. Slowly, almost ritualistically, Parthenope peeled off her robes, revealing a simple black bodysuit. She set her jangly, large earrings down on the hard rock surface beside her blue shoes. She kept her feet planted firmly on the edge of the precipice and leaned over in slow motion.
She laughed mirthlessly. I never thought I would be one for selfless acts. She thought. I am coming, my minions...
With one graceful movement, she pushed herself off the ledge and sliced through the water. Her very existence was swallowed up- a single ripple and complete stillness.
Not a wave broke, not a cloud stirred- the rain beat down on the smooth waters.
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