Disclaimer: This story was written by Phee (Pheonixx), her cousin Becca (LordsBecca), and Rosy (Pompom). The plot belongs to Phee, as does Trella, Selene, Demetria, Garzon, Twalvon, and Zephyr. Other Harry Potter characters, such as Harry, Dumbledore or Voldemort, belong to Joanne Kathleen Rowling. We are not trying to steal them, only play with them a little. Joanne shall be relieved to know that we will put her toys back right where we found them, unharmed and safe. Thank you.
Dark Angel
Harry laid on his stomach on the bed, wand held above him, the only light source in the small room besides the moon. He tried to concentrate on his History of Magic book, but pictures of the Triwizard Tournament, the graveyard, and Cedric pushed their way in his mind instead. He shook his head and concentrated on the passage of chapter twelve in Important People and Happenings of the Past.
"Swanhalla Trelavice (more commonly known as the Flower Swan for her love of lilies), the wife of Godric Gryffindor, was the strongest Seer of the time. She predicted in nine-eighty-nine that Godric would be part of a group of magicians trying to make a place in the world for their kind. A few years or so later, Godric, along with Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin created the first school of magic arts, which they then named Hogwarts.
"Swanhalla made many more predictions before her death in the year one thousand, the victim of a terrible sickness. On her deathbed, she stated: "My heir of flowers will not die in vain. Her son shall see through her eyes."
"She spent the rest of her time with her family, saying her good-byes. No one knows what her final words were, though some have claimed that she uttered a single word before she died, which was the name of her favorite flower, lily. To this day, no one is quite sure."
Harry turned the page to see a picture of Swanhalla. She was beautiful, to say the least. Her blood-red, medium length hair was curled at the bottoms, a lock cascading down her front. Behind one ear, tucked into her hair was a simple white lily, the white color standing out from the rich red. She smiled at him and winked. Her eyes glittered like dazzling green jewels, the light reflecting off them just right.
Tiered, Harry decided to continue reading the next day. He said a small spell to extinguish the light, put the book, wand, and his glasses on the bed-side table, and snuggled under his blankets. His last coherent thought was: Swanhalla looks an awful lot like Mum.
*
BOOM! The house shook, affectingly awakening Harry. He quickly sat up, grabbing his glasses and putting them on in the process. Another boom sounded and the house shook again. He looked out the window and he stopped breathing. A dozen or so black robed people were holding wands, yellow, red, and orange lights erupting from the tips. The lights ricocheted of an invisible wall, making blue sparks. Harry guess that was the protective shield that Dumbledore had placed.
He grabbed his own wand and ran out of his room. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were poking their heads out of their doorways. When they saw Harry, Uncle Vernon's face went purple.
"You!" he yelled. "This is all your doing, isn't it?" The booms were coming faster and getting louder. He started for Harry looking like he was going to strangle him. Suddenly, the front door blew apart, it's splinters scattering in the ash and smoke.
"If you value your lives, you'll hide right now!" Harry said urgently. "It's me they want to kill! I don't know what they'll do to you. They don't take kindly to Muggles. So go!" The Dursleys squeaked and went back into their rooms. Harry started slowly down the stairs, his wand in front of him. He tried not to cough in the smoke. He walked into the living room but saw no one. Then-
"Expelliarmus!" Harry's wand shot out of his hand. A robed figure stepped out of the smoke, Harry's wand in their hand. They chuckled.
"So, Potter. We meet again." The oily drawl was familiar. Harry glared.
"Malfoy," he spat. Lucius grinned evilly.
"My master will be very pleased to see you, Potter." Lucius continued as if he never was interrupted. Harry glared at him.
"Why don't you just kill me now? I'm sure your master will be pleased about that too!" he snarled. Lucius frowned.
"Unfortunately, I do not have that happy power. Lord Voldemort wants you delivered to him. Alive."
"I don't give a fuck what you do, Lucius. You'll lose. Whatever you do." Lucius growled, gripping his wand, looking like he wanted to kill Harry there and then. Harry hoped his ploy was working and that Dumbledore and maybe a few hundred Aurors would show up to help.
"Listen, boy," sneered Lucius. "I'd love you kill you now, stuff your body, and mount it on the wall.... But if I do, Voldemort would do the same to me."
"I bet you'd look better that way," Harry said, almost casually. Lucius growled again.
"Crucio!" Harry writhed in pain for what felt like an eternity. The curse was finally lifted, and Harry rose shakily to his feet, still defiant.
"Is that all you can do?" Harry said, wishing vehemently that Dumbledore was there or at least close. A glimmer of realization glimmered briefly in Lucius' eye.
"It won't work, boy. Dumbledore doesn't even know this is happening." That's when Harry felt a pang of panic, but did not let it show on his face.
"Enough talk. I have to complete what my master sent me to do." Lucius took something small out of his pocket and threw it at Harry. "Catch," he said. Harry's Seeker reflexes put him in action and he caught whatever it was. He felt the familiar pull behind his navel and thought, Damn, before plunging into darkness.
*
Harry awoke in a dark and dreary room. He couldn't tell how large the room was; it was too dark. Rats ran across his feet, and the smell of wet stone and rot was strong. As his eyesight adjusted, he scanned the room. He could vaguely make out a tall row of bars and stone walls on either side of him. He could faintly hear the soft dripping of water as it fell from somewhere in the ceiling. He was not in a room, but a dungeon. But where?
His head was stinging, and he reached up to examine it. There was a cut across his brow and it was sticky with dried blood. Obviously they hadn't been gentle when they put him here, whoever 'they' were.
He heard footsteps coming and closed his eyes, faking sleep. There were two of them, one loud, heel clicking against stone, the other soft, barely heard. Someone was sniffling.
He heard them stop at the bars. One spoke.
"Get in there. You have shamed your name. You are lucky our Lord is lenient with you. Your father is not. Expect him." It was female. The other was pushed into the cell and the gate was slammed. A gasped escaped them when they fell. The footsteps went away.
There was silence. Harry could feel, rather than see the person notice them, which was told by another gasp. After a few moments, the person came closer. A small, tentative hand gently moved his head to expose the cut. Slowly, a few fingers brushed it. Harry felt a slight tingle, and the pain was gone. The fingers brushed back the fringe of hair covering his scar, and ever so lightly traced it. The hard pounding, too, stopped. He opened his eyes and sat up quickly. The person jumped back a little and gasped again.
The person was a small, young girl, looking no older than nine. Her dark brown eyes were wide in fright, surprise, and uncertainty. She slowly uncovered her mouth and spoke.
"I'm- I'm sorry. I -I didn't mean to- to wake you."
"That's okay, I wasn't asleep," he said reassuringly. She didn't say anything, just looked warily at him, somewhat frightened. Someone else was coming. She jumped and scrambled away from him, into the shadows.
It was Lucius, along with two, strong-looking Death Eaters.
"Ah, Mister Potter. You're awake. Good. Lord Voldemort is expecting you. Get him." The latter was directed to the other two. The gate opened and the two burly Death Eaters walked in and grabbed either arm, dragging him out. They followed Lucius through a long passageway, down many corridors. They were silent.
They finally came to a stop at a set of tall doors, with a gleaming, jeweled snake surrounding the Dark Mark. Lucius pulled the sleeve of one arm back and pressed his inner-arm to the mark. It flashed briefly. The door then began to open.
Harry was led into a large hall. To his right was a large crowd of black robed and masked figures. To his left, sitting on a throne carved of the deepest mahogany wood, backed with rich green satin, with magnificent jewels of red rubies, clear diamonds, blue sapphires, green emeralds, and purple amethysts, set with hematite, silver and ivory, in all his malicious and evil glory, was Lord Voldemort. Harry was not afraid.
Voldemort, his eyes glowing a deadly red, smiled nastily as Lucius threw Harry on the ground in front of him. He stood up, Harry's wand in his hand.
"My loyal Death Eaters," he started. "Thanks to your efforts, we have finally captured the Potter boy! Even that bumbling fool, Dumbledore, couldn't stop me. With Potter, the world shall finally be mine!" Cheers rang up from the crowd. Voldemort turned to Harry.
"So, Harry, we meet again. This time, you shall not escape. And to make sure of this…" He took Harry's wand between his hands, and snapped it cleanly in half. Harry gasped and fell to his knees as something in him snapped in two, just like his wand. It was painful, a surge of power-backlash washing through him, and he wondered vaguely if that was how Hagrid had felt.
"Anything to say, Harry?" Voldemort goaded. Harry glared at him, teeth bared.
"You're pathetic," he growled. Voldemort's eyes glowed with rage.
"Crucio!" Harry eyes closed in pain, and he bit back a scream. Voldemort finally, after at least two minutes, took in off, and Harry collapsed, his breath ragged.
"You…will…lose," Harry gasped out. Voldemort was furious.
"Put him back. I'll deal with him later." Harry was carried away.
In the back of the hall, away from the crowd of Death Eaters, a lone figure stood, watching everything through beetle black eyes. As Voldemort dismissed them, still filled with fury, the person Apparated to Hogsmead, walked the few miles to Hogwarts, then, already planning on how to get Harry out of there, went to report what he saw.
*
Selene pawed the ground in frustration. A sound of sorrow had, completely without warning, sounded through the forest, and was felt by all who lived there and a few miles around. It had happened only twice before. Once, when the Flower Swan died almost two thousand years before, and a second time on Halloween night, almost fourteen years ago. But the second time was followed by a sound of joy, the fifth since the Flower Swan was born. Serene was very young, so was alive to feel them.
Demetria had sent out many to see if they could find the reason for the unexpected sound, Selene among them. So far, she had no luck, so she decided to visit Flower Pond when she overheard two centaurs talking.
"Mars was unusually bright, last night," said one. "And Venus and Mercury were aligned for the first time in seven hundred years."
"Yes," replied the other. "The Dark Times are now upon us. Let us hope our Phoenix prevails." They galloped away. Selene smiled to herself. Demetria was not going to like this.
A/N: Confusing, yes? It's our first attempt at a fifth year story together. Who knows? Maybe if it turns out good, we'll do a sequel! And yes, there is a reason for the above scene. And there will be more. It's going to be a very important part of the story. La! --Phee, Rosy, and Bex