Author: Becca the Evil
Title: Serendipity:
Summary: Part three. The…switch. Muwhaha!
Dedication:
I would like to dedicate anything I have written in these past few months to Ebony, a.k.a. AngieJ, because she's cool, an amazing writer, and tremendously fun to talk to.
And plus, she dedicated Ch.9 of Trouble in Paradise to Minizzer, Destiny and the Sade addict in myself. Not to mention "Ode to Beta Readers". She made me warm and fuzzy for weeks. ^_^ Thanks, Eb! Schnoogles!
I would also like to dedicate this to my beta readers. Saskia and Kaccee are dreams. I heart you all!
Disclaimer: A lot of the Cedric depression was inspired by "Drinking Tears" by D.M.P. I have her permission to use a few lines, etc.
I don't own Joanne Rowling's characters, and most other things. Anything you recognize isn't mine.
Ron's nose was pressed against the cold glass in the Hospital Wing. You know…the type of glass outside of hospital rooms with that annoying cross-hatching. There's really no point in those metal wires; they prevent you from seeing your friends or family through the window, and they itch your nose like hell.
But, Ron had one heck of a durable nose. His nose had been through fifteen years of being scrubbed mercilessly. His nose had been through several thousand well placed snowballs, punches and annoying pimples.
It had been magicked away by Gred and Forge on one memorable day when he was seven, and had been painted green by Charlie during his brief Herbology obsession. Bill had pierced Ron's nose while he was sleeping, and even Percy had gotten in on the fun. Ron still hadn't gotten the M&Ms out of his right nostril. Most recently, his nose had been flicked by Hermione's iron nails from hell for suggesting that she was the reason that Harry had passed out on the common room floor.
That was one tough nose.
The crickets that were chirping back in the common room had stopped indefinitely, since I honestly don't know if there are really crickets in England. The only sounds in the waiting room of the Hospital Wing were the tapping of Hermione's impatient foot, Ron's nose sliding down the window, and the rapid turns of Arithmancy: Level 5's pages. Hermione was nearly mutilating the book out of stress and anxiety.
All of a sudden, Madame Pomfrey opened the door. It smashed Ron forcibly into the glass window he was already leaning against. His nose squished.
Thankfully, Ron wasn't a muggle. If he was, well, his nose would probably have has twice as much plastic surgery as Kathy Lee Gifford and Pamela Anderson combined. Madame Pomfrey fixed up Ron's nose in way less time than it would have taken with the most renowned plastic surgeon. Neither scalpel nor burning hot silicon was involved. Hermione collected herself in this two-minute break, and was the first to say anything productive. As usual.
"What happened to Harry? Is he all right?" she asked, feigning ease. "Can we go in and visit him get? It looked like an involuntary spasm, a muggle ailment easily reversed by magic…"
"Hush, child," cooed Madame Pomfrey. "He's just waken up, lucky for you. If you promise to be absolutely quiet, you can come inside."
Hermione and Ron nodded feverently.
Once they were inside the Wing, Hermione whispered audibly, "What happened to him? It couldn't have been a spasm, this seems too serious…"
Madame Pomfrey's faced flashed a peculiar emotion that both Ron and Hermione couldn't place. She seemed thoroughly agitated. "He's just woken up, children." She snapped, smiling nervously.
The nurse led them to Harry, who was tying his shoes. Madame Pomfrey left, leaving the three alone. Harry looked like he always had…messy black hair, round green eyes blinking beneath black glasses, florescent green scar…
Wait! thought both Hermione and Ron, Isn't Harry's scar normal?
Ron felt his ire raise. That little twirp, Ron thought, He gets all the attention! He faints, and his famous scar turns a famous shade of green on his famous, pale forehead, Ron inwardly spat. The Famous Ickle Harry Potter never had to grow up with five older brothers and a little sister, and Harry Potter never got lost in the crowd. Harry Potter stands out, Harry Potter is special, and I'm just his lousy, average sidekick. I want a green scar too!
What came out of Ron's mouth was very different.
"Uh, Harry. Why is your scar glowing?"
Harry gave Ron a sideways look, and touched his forehead testily. He bent his fingers down to eye level, and gawked at green glowing dust. He stared at his fingers as if they were about to jump off of his hand and tap dance across the school campus wearing pink finger-tutus.
Then, quickly as the look came, it was replaced with one of forced passiveness. It was like a mask. Harry too seemed to know something that he wasn't letting on. Harry flashed a carbon copy of Madame Pomfrey's nervous smile, only he was considerable less wrinkly and effeminate. It was that same, annoying, I-Know-Something-You-Don't-Know, Neener-Neener-Nyah-Nyah look.
Hermione gasped, and pointed at Harry. His scar was changing colors again. It flashed through the rainbow, Ron and Hermione staring dumbfounded.
Green, purple, green, blue, pink, red, orange, fuschia, green, yellow, purple, red, pink, blue, orange, yellow, green…
"Holy cows…" Ron stared, dumbfounded. "What's happening?"
"Nothing…nothing," said Harry, looking dazed.
At the word 'nothing', Hermione's inner wheels started churning.
Nothing? Nothing?? What does he think he's playing at! Harry Potter, Dark Arts Target extraordinaire passed out in the common room, and now he's florescent. That is not a nothing situation! His scar is a bloody purple! Hermione cried, inwardly. NOTHING? There is no such thing as nothing! There is always something to have, and nothing doesn't exist. There is always a molecule or two that spoil the whole nothing concept, and nothing is not a valid answer. I spite the word nothing! Nothing is no thing! Harry Potter, this is not NOTHING!
Hermione grabbed Harry by the collar, and dragged him out of the hospital wing. Ron followed, moping.
Harry gets all the attention, he moped.
Once they were out in the hallways, Hermione turned to Harry.
I've seen through his stupid mask, she spat, and I want to know what was happening. Now. There is no way that this is nothing.
"Harold James Potter!" she shrieked. "Tell me what you know, I have had it with you. Don't try and hide things from me!"
Harry gasped in mock fear.
"Oooh, Harry, she used your full name!" Ron played along, putting his hands in the air, signaling surrender.
Hermione tightened her grip on her almost forgotten Arithmancy book.
"Hermione…put the book…down." Harry said this with the air of one talking to a man strapped to a bomb. He held his hands in front of him, smiling while his nervous façade disappeared.
Wheeew! He thought
Hermione's face was now a lovely shade of fuschia, and she was shaking with rage. "Tell me right now, you idiot! And, Ron, you too, stop being a jerk or…"
"Or what," Ron tried.
"OR THIS!" she screeched as she violently pushed Ron and Harry into the nearest room, which happened to be Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She cornered them, screaming obscenties.
**********
The dark was more obscure than black. Light had fled, forced out hours ago, leaving him sitting above the damp unknown.
It was better this way.
This place was his new home. In the damp air, there was a soursweet scent that was both filthy and clean. He could feel cold tingling his skin, and he could hear the soft sounds of whispers. This was his place to keep.
There were plenty of minds to scramble. He could sense them, moving about, laughing. Oh…imagination. It was plentiful, and was his morning coffee and afternoon tea. Playing with imagination was his sport.
He excelled at it.
A mind was coming, he sensed it. It paused, frustrated, and then rushed into his home. Oh, this mind was fully loaded and ready for a new adventure. He smiled, and stepped out into the light, yellow eyes flickering. He held out a thin, dark arm, and grabbed the mind with unearthly strength that shouldn't have come from such a small creature. He lifted the mind up, up, up, up…up into the unknown.
His work was done. Almost. He walked over to the sink, and took a bite of a blueberry. Yes, this was a special adventure for this mind, and he wanted to witness all of it.
*********
Sean picked up his tray of food, and walked carefully over to the table where Nicole, Michelle, and Kevin were sitting. A piece of chocolate cake teetered dangerously as he dropped the tray onto the table. It landed with a loud thunk.
"Hungry?" asked Nicole, as Sean dived headfirst into his pastry and gobbled.
"Mmmhmmmm," he replied, mouth full and syrup dripping from his face.
"Gosh, is there anything you don't eat?" groaned a disgusted Michelle, delicately sipping on a berry smoothie.
"Pliers, " replied Kevin, nonchalantly.
"Washing machines," added Nicole. "Spare tires."
"And that's about it." Kevin took another bite of his croissant. Then, he smothered a piece of chocolate into its crusty depths and chomped.
"Ah." Michelle sighed.
"It was really nice for Bernie to give us all this free food," said Nicole, chewing. "Seeing a Kev ruined his car, leaving us stranded while it rains, the window is ruined and water is leaking in…and that Starving Boy over there gave him new hopes for drive through caffeine rushes."
"And…it's thanks to your monster sarcasm rally, Nicky, that made Sean get defensive," Michelle grinned. "What *is* it with you and those Harry Potter books? Betting Sean wouldn't get into Gridenfore, sheesh." She punctuated this was a playful "L" on her forehead.
"Yea, Nicky," added Kevin. "Your little song took up a whole mega-frikken page of our lives."
"Mmmhmmph," mumbled Sean, mouth full of cakes. "Youthmm obsethed." He spewed crumbs all over Nicole's face. Her mouth formed a tight "o" of indignant shock.
Nicole stood up quickly, glaring at her friends. "You don't get it. You just don't GET it, do you? It's not some stupid book! It's real, and in that world, I have friends who care and understand. You know what, I don't need you and your stupid doubt and pity!" she screamed on the top of her lungs, getting stares from everyone who hadn't evacuated the coffee shop. Then, Nicole stomped off.
"Psycho," whispered Sean, crumbs spraying everywhere.
******
The sun was filtering through the thick trees, a bit of warmth on her shoulders. She was cold, almost drowning in apprehension and anxiety mixed with distinct loathing. How could she have been so stupid? It was just a simple, simple spell, and she had practiced so hard on getting results! Not hard enough, though. He had still gotten away. That boy…he had caused her so much pain, so much torture. He would pay, and she knew it. He would pay dearly for taking so much away from her.
Seven loud bursts shot through the air, as the seven people she was meeting with materialized. They all stood, huddled in the shadows, eyes gleaming. The one person she dreaded and loved at the same time, if he was decidedly a person, was the first to speak.
"Have you completed your task?" asked an ethereal voice. She shrunk into her robes.
"The…the spell was…was conducted. Sir," she stuttered, disappointed with herself.
"And what were the results?" the voice demanded.
"He…" she choked. "He got away, sir."
The man's eyes narrowed into red slits. Two identical spots of ire appeared on his temples as he grabbed the girl by the front of her robes and held her high in the air. She quaked in horror.
"I gave you every opportunity to get him. That boy, that stupid little boy. There's nothing to protect him anymore. His mother's love that ran through his blood and that murdered me, is mine. His luck is mine. And now, the woman he loves is mine…
"Did I not show you what he has done? The selfish little coward, he decieved everyone. He claimed he was working for Good, and that Evil was trying to murder everyone. How wrong he was."
The man set the girl down, and sat next to her on a dry log. His anger faded, and he coaxed the wimpering girl.
"There is no Good, and there is no Bad. There is only Power and those too Weak to seek it. I showed you Power. Power fills you with a long lasting joy that Weakness cannot. When one is Weak, they are empty, full of grief and frustration, unable to compose oneself. Power lifts you, so that you can fly inside and outside. Eternally.
"Love is a marketing tool. Yes, I have loved, as have you. But love is like a ladder. You climb and climb, feeling Powerful and energetic, until you reach the top step. At the top, you think you are flying above the world, and you think that you are the happiest person alive. But all ladders fall.
"When you fall off of the ladder of love, there is nothing to break your fall but the cold hard floor of reality. That rush, that soaring and Powerful feeling is gone, and you are left alone; Weak. The only way to achieve real happiness is through Power, stable Power. Ladders of fickle love are not stable.
"The people you think you love use you. They use your Power, the miniscule Power taken from love. The type of Power that bites back and leaves your heart aching. The mold it until you think you're safe, and then they leave you.
"What was so wrong about wanting Power? Why am I considered evil for it? What is so wrong with wanted to help to world, to save people from pain? I saved you from pain, I helped you when nobody else could. I am not evil.
"Tell me again, child, about the night of the Triwizard Tournament."
The girl, sitting mesmerized on the log, cleared her throat.
"I," she croaked. "I waited in the stands, it seemed like forever. I watched the champions walk into the maze, anxiously. The first time I saw red sparks, I was frantic with worry. My whole heart was wondering about Cedric, who was the only one who understood me. He was the one with whom I danced with during a summer thunderstorm, just barely a month ago. He was sincere, he was honest, he appreciated the beauty of nature.
"I wondered if he would make it out alive."
She choked, and wiped her eyes.
"The sparks weren't Cedric's. My heart rested. My ladder stabilized. I waited for the outcome for what seemed like forever, and once I knew what had happened, I wished I could have waited longer. And longer. At least then I wouldn't have to face it.
"But I did. I saw Cedric's body, borne on Potter's small one. His limp figure, defeated. It was the worst kind of defeat, for it was not merely a loss of the Triwizard Cup. It was a loss of his life. And then, I lost control, and fell off of my ladder.
"Cedric was dead, and all that was left was my heart, full of despair. That's what came with love, huh? Grief and sadness! Where was happiness? Where were the days were I felt myself floating above the ground, smiling? Gone, all gone with Cedric! He was my happiness, and my joy.
"I needed someone to blame for the pain. I needed to know who had caused my grief, and who had killed Cedric."
The etheral man shushed the girl, and spoke. "That's when you met me. I know who's to blame. I was there.
"As the world knows it, I killed Harry Potter's parents. That is a blatant lie, from people who want to destroy me. I wanted to save the world, I wanted to help make the world a better place. I only killed out of defense. Harry Potter has been trying to kill all of his life. He has a heart that wants vengance, and he has a heart that wants my blood shed on the ground.
"That night, I made the Triwizard Cup a portkey. I knew that Potter was cheating and prying clues from people to win the Cup, and I knew that he would viciously destroy anyone in his path. I knew he would use trickery to win the Cup. He had teachers help him. He bribed Cedric into giving him a clue. Potter planned on making himself seem like an unlikely hero. I knew he lied, and I knew he would get the Cup. I needed Potter for one reason, to undo the evil task he did to me. He stripped me of a body, and all I needed was a few drops of his blood.
"Potter had another trick up his sleeve. He brought Cedric along with him to the Portkey, so that Potter could whine to his worshippers that I had tortured them both, and also to have a witness. Cedric was appalled by how Potter spited me, he was appalled by how Potter spited everyone but himself. Potter gave me some of his blood, and then challenged me to a duel to take it back.
"Cedric was not killed by a curse from that duel. Cedric watched as Potter and my wands combined, another trick of Potter's. Then, as Potter tried to snap my wand, Cedric cried out. Cedric was a brave young man, an honest young man. Potter thought Cedric was defying him as a witness and defying him by threatening to tell Dumbledore about how Potter lied to win. Then, Potter killed Cedric, mercilessly. Potter brought back the body to be thought of as a hero. He is nobody's hero. He is nothing."
"You can avenge Cedric. You can bring me Harry Potter."
The man patted the girl on the back, and stood her up. Her short black hair fell out from under her hood. She nodded, wiping away tears.
"I will get him back. I will punish him for what he did. Thank you, Master."
*****
Far away from the forest where eight people met, Nicole stormed angrily down a corridor, heading to the back of Starbucks.
I can't believe it. They don't understand, she thought, clutching her package of blueberries and her Harry Potter book. No one understands me. I wish I could go live with Harry Potter.
Nicole felt a strange click in her mind, like a puzzle sliding into place. She shrugged, unable to place the strange sensation.
She paused, reaching a dead end. The kitchens were ahead of her, and her so-called "friends" behind. She saw two doors next to her, the restrooms.
I have to get away from my "friends" she thought, bitterly. I'm not going back there to "talk".
She peered cautiously into the woman's bathroom.
Nicole was immediately hit with the sensation that she had fallen into a sewer that was the graveyard of thousands of flea infested rats. Yellow and green goo was dripping from the walls, and it reeked of decay.
She shut the door and peered into the men's rooms. For once in her lifetime, she realized that men were a bit cleaner than women. At least there wasn't that putrid smell of death in the men's room.
She made a move to walk inside, but stopped. Kevin and Sean could find her in here. And if she went into the smelly, disease infested women's rooms, Michelle wouldn't dare go inside.
Out of nowhere, she was reminded of a poem.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth...
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
This poem, oh, this poem was an epic. It reminded her of something that Kevin had told her last week. He had said, "I am who I am today because of the choices I made yesterday." But, then again, those words of wisdom were followed by "I know I shouldn't have eaten that bean chilli, gotta go!" Typical guy.
Nicole took the road less taken, and that made all the difference.
***