Dark Marks, Orders and Auror's chapter 7.
The Darker Marks: Of Tricks and Beasts.
By Chris
Summary: Harry and Ginny—feared Aurors—close in on their targets. Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettrigrew are among the first to suffer the consequences of opposing the—dark—Order of Auror.
Authors notes: This chapter is a very dark chapter. I've always maintained that this would be a darkfic. But for those of you concerned about this (Regina and No Reply) I just want to say: There are reasons for the things I do. Reasons for the apparent change in Harry. Keep reading and you'll find out the reasons. Trust me, I think you'll like the end... just ride the violence. Oh, and things are not as they seem either (Draco fans, hint-hint!)
Once again, I would like to thank Regina, Rhi, Raven of Death, No Reply, Person and Spitfyre. Your feedback is truly appreciated... You are all my gods... I devote shrines to you... wee little paper shrines.
Warning: Dark fic, rated R for violent situations.
Chapter 7
The Darker Marks: Of Tricks and Beasts.
Lucius Malfoy ran as fast as he could through the masses of trees that surrounded him. His breath rasp, and forced as each gulp of air he took felt like a razor sharp knife which had been thrust unceremoniously deep within his body, into the depths of his lungs. His heart pounded like a jackhammer, and thin layer of perspiration had spread across his usually smug looking face. His pale grey eye's stung as a blasting wind battered against them, his vision blurring as water filled his eye's.
The forest grew darker and more sinister looking with every passing second. The trees seem to grow closer and denser with every step he took, conspiring to slow him down. Gnarled tree roots stuck out of the ground at twisted, odd angles; sharp like ready to grasp talons. They seemed to grow with one purpose and one purpose only: To impale him when he fell. Many trees here bared the scars of werewolves; long and thin scratch marks decorated next to deep bite marks that only seemed to increase the feeling of danger that rose within him. It seemed this was the place he would have to take a stand, and all the signs of the forest around him seemed to signify that it would be he who came off worst.
How Harry had followed him into the forest he didn't know, or in fact, care. Nor did he ponder why he hadn't been able to Apparate away from this place. All that ran across his mind was escape. He had to keep going, if he could make it out of the forest, then perhaps he could escape. He just had to keep running, he knew if he did, he'd escape. The forest may be too thick for him to use a broomstick, but that meant it was too thick for anyone else as well. He had the head start; all he had to do was keep running.
With an angry yelp, his leg caught on a tree root that was hidden in the deep undergrowth—that for a moment felt deep enough to hide him—maybe he could stay there...
No, it wasn't deep enough. As he hit the ground hard with a thud that seemed immensely loud for a fall broken by undergrowth he realised this. Reality came crashing down, shattering the small hope of sanctity there in the knots of plants. He knew if he stayed there too long he would be caught. Lucius scrambled to his feet, once again running on shaky legs, with the smell of blood fresh in the air. A smell that seemed to mix so readily with the already strong stench of damp and mould that infested every inch of the rotting segment within the forbidden forest.
'Luminos,' he whispered holding his wand out in front of him. The tip of his wand, responding to the spell, suddenly poured light into the area of eternally dark forest depths. With a gasp of fear he jumped back; the small glowing ball at the end of his wand had cast sinister looking shadows across the tree just meters in front of him. One of which looked remarkably like a twisted figure of the one he was trying to escape. The shadow watched him crash through the undergrowth in his futile attempt to escape.
Wiping a trail of blood that had run down the side of his face and begun to drip from the bottom of his chin with his sleeve, he made his way to a large clearing one hundred meters up ahead, in which the moon reflected strongly. The silvery light cast dancing shadows of swaying trees as the wind grew stronger. Heavy gales blew his cloak forcefully, and made it harder for him to run, the material whipping fiercely and tangling around a bush. It was becoming harder to keep going now, as his ripped cloak would bare testament to; he knew it would also be harder for his pursuer.
Finally he was clear of the forest, and in the large circular clearing that ran for fifty meters before it met another boarder of trees. Lucius finally realised he would never make it out of the forest. Despite the voice in his head screaming out for him to keep running, he forced himself to stop. He would take a stand thee, in the clearing. If he died running... The family name, Malfoy was more then that. Proud, cunning, devious; it was all these things, and more. He would not die running, with his back turned.
Behind him the crunching of twigs trodden underfoot, and the squelch of damp mud, made him turn with a start.
...Crunch, crunch, CRUNCH...
...Squelch, squelch, SQUELCH...
With each passing second the sounds grew louder.
Out of the woods, walking lazily—almost as though they were allowing Malfoy to make another dash for it, like it was a game—a figure of a person he knew only too well emerged. Lucius knew who it was, both from reports, and from his own past; he already knew only two other people in the world had such a presence about them. Only Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort himself commanded such attention with just their presence.
Dressed in a loose fitting black robe, a large hood hung, hiding the person's face. The figure seemed to glide unnaturally towards him. The winds seemed to pass around him because his cloak didn't flap or billow in the least, yet a bush no more then a meter to his right was nearly blown over. Lucius Malfoy's thoughts immediately changed to the Dementors—which though were his master's natural ally, still inspired fear—and a fresh shudder ran it's way down his spine. The only way one would know this dark figure that approached wasn't a Dementor other then being a lot smaller then the vile hooded creatures was the steady squelch of mud beneath the figures feet; Dementors were as silent as Mer-people through water.
Gripping his wand tightly in his hand and concealing it behind his back, Lucius glanced from his pursuers hand and then to the other mans wand, which was snugly sat deep within his pocket. His eyes flashed again back to the mans hand, Lucius's calculating eye's narrowing, judging how long it would take for him to grab that wand and cast the fatal curse. His own hand clutched tighter still, his fingers grasping his wand so tightly he could feel the blood drain from them, his pale skin turning whiter still.
'Come now, Lucius,' said the other man, with a hint of amusement in his confident voice. He had long since stopped approaching, and had instead taken a stand but ten meters from where Lucius himself stood. It was of course, a typical duelling distance. 'We both know what I am! We both know that I don't need the wand, I keep it only out of habit.'
'I know what you are,' snapped Lucius, still watching the other mans wand. A look of disgust was reflected in the older mans drab grey eyes and didn't look about to leave. 'You will never defeat the dark lord.'
'Silence,' shouted the other man, fiercely; all hint of amusement gone from his voice. 'I am twice what Voldemort is, or could ever be. He has marked me since I was a baby, and yet I have survived to now. Now it is his turn to fear ME! Now I have him, and his followers marked. He will perish this very night.'
'H-How... how,' Lucius challenged, but his voice wavered. It took a few seconds for him to complete his sentence; such was the fear he felt. 'How do you intend to kill your better, Potter,' he finished wildly, looking around in panic for anything that would allow him to escape. Once again, his mind had changed to that of survival, screaming for him to escape. This was however, one of the few times his mind failed to find a way out. He had made his choice, he had chosen to stand.
'Better?' said Harry with a chuckle. 'He who could not kill me as a baby? He who could not kill me as a first year, or a second year, or a fourth? I think not! By morning, I will have him begging at my feet!'
'You will never defeat Lord Voldemort,' said Lucius fiercely. His wand still grasped in the hand held behind his back. He was buying his time, from what he could gather Ginny was not here, that left it to a straight duel. If he cold wait until—if—Harry's attention was focused on something else, then he would escape. His time came sooner then he thought.
'I WILL,' shouted Harry, though a hint of doubt remained. For the slightest moment, Lucius Malfoy was sure a whisper of the same words came from somewhere behind him. He never got the chance to find out though, for at that same moment, seizing his chance, he extended his arm at Harry and shouted, 'Petrificus Totalus.'
Simple, yet effective; a spell not as dangerous, but twice as fast as the fatal Avada Kedavra curse. A ball of green light was sent rocketing towards a shocked looking Harry, who barely had time to open his mouth before it struck. His entire body became rigid, and he collapsed to the floor unable to move even the tips of his fingers. His eyes moved around in their sockets, darting around nervously in an attempt to find Lucius. The moment he saw though, he wished he hadn't. Lucius was walking—stalking would better describe it—as a lion does a wounded zebra, towards Harry. And Harry was completely powerless to stop it happening. He opened his lips to say something, choking though the gritted teeth, 'Don't... please don't.'
With a hearty chuckle, Lucius Malfoy made his way over to the fallen wizard, whose hood had fallen down around his face, allowing Lucius to finally gaze upon the scar that marked the Harry's forehead. Partly hidden by matted, scruffy hair, it was nonetheless easily recognisable as a lightning bolt. The only mark or sign that bared witness to Harry's first defeat of the dark Lord Voldemort. Harry had a rare look of fear that had fought it's way to the surface, despite the Petrificus Totalus spell that had froze him solid.
'So, this is the great Harry Potter,' said Lucius Malfoy with a look of twisted joy. 'I wonder should I take you to Lord Voldemort, or kill you here?'
Now standing over Harry, Lucius ran his wand down first across Harry's forehead, tracing the shape of the scar, and then down the side of his face. Using the wand to hook Harry's chin, he forced the Auror to look him in the eye. 'Tell me, Harry. Tell me, how did you expect to kill Lord Voldemort when you can't even finish me? I will do you a favour, finish you here. What do you say, I'll kill you now, and save you from facing the Dark Lord. I can offer no fairer then that.'
'Don't,' Harry coughed out, his eye's wide and scared looking, almost like that of a trapped animal.
'Goodbye Potter...'
A glint in Lucius's eyes distinctly reflected his victory, waving his wand wildly in the air, he yelled, 'Avada Kedavra.'
Harry felt the beam touch him, the pain that engulfed his own body was beyond describable... Burning. Burning from the inside out, a white hot fire ripped through him, beginning at his forehead, where the spell had hit it spread quickly to the rest of him. From the very tips of his toes, to his insides, nothing went without the burning touch of pain. The pain was complete and unbearable, but lasted just a second. His whole body, every muscle within him—despite the Petrificus Totalus spell—shook violently, such was the intensity of the spell. With a scream of pain and defeat, he slumped still on the cold damp ground!
A loud clapping carried from the other end of the clearing broke the silence that had filled the air after Malfoy's victory. Turning violently, almost as violent as Harry's dying convulsion, Lucius got a glimpse of someone standing at the edge of the wood... but it couldn't be. It couldn't be, but somehow it was, Lucius felt his blood run cold as a cold hateful voice addressed him.
'Very good, Lucius!'
Harry Potter grinned sardonically, his usual vivid-green eye's now jet black and almost maniacal in their stare. It was the look that so many dark wizards feared, that which so many good wizards for that matter, feared. The lightning scar stood out clear as day beneath his dark matted hair, it's symbol, no longer representing 'the-boy-who-lived' or the defeat of Voldemort. It now stood for torture, pain... and death. It now epitomised the Order of Auror during its golden, and most feared years.
Wide eyed, and confused, Lucius didn't have time to think, he pointed his wand at Harry and shouted, 'Avada Ke-' His wand flew from his hand, impaling itself in the mud a few feet away. Looking down at the wand, and quickly back at Harry, he knew death was imminent.
'Go ahead,' said Harry, grinning from ear to ear as though it were a fun game of wizard-chess. 'I bet you don't reach it.'
Lucius looked from Harry—who flicked his hand lazily—and back to the wand... or at least where the wand had been before. Now it was some 10 feet further out of reach, laying flat on the floor next to a petrified looking rat. The disgusting creature stood on two hind legs almost frozen with a Petrificus spell, except, as Lucius could see, it quivered with fear.
'Well would you look at that,' said Harry looking at the wand without noticing the rat. 'It just... moved.'
'Now, now, Harry-' came a second voice, that though Malfoy didn't recognise per say, knew who it must belonged to. Just as spiteful and cold, the woman's voice had a chilling aura to it, which despite the words she said promised pain. From the forest, just as Harry had appeared as from nowhere, a woman—dressed in similar black hooded garments—emerged. Her hood hung loosely around her shoulders, allowing Lucius to catch a glimpse of her mid-length flaming red hair that hung loosely around her unmarked face. This wasn't the most noticeable feature though, a wicked, malevolent grin drew Lucius's attention immediately; his eye's then fell on the woman's livid eye's that held his glance leaving him unable to break contact. '-that wasn't very nice, was it? I keep telling you, you shouldn't play with our victims... At least, not until I'm here!'
'As always, Ginny,' said Harry graciously, 'you are a voice of reason... I'll tell you what,' he said, looking back at Malfoy, no more games. Here have your wand-'
Sure enough, the wand flew into view and hovered mid air in front of Lucius, almost temptingly close. The wizard though made not so much as an attempt to take it.
'What's the matter, Lucius?' said Harry viciously, turning to face Ginny, but keeping one eye trained always on Lucius. 'Ginny, I'm sure Lucius here likes to play games, does he not?'
'Well, he used to,' said Ginny with a smirk. 'I can remember a game he started with a diary and a Basilisk... He liked playing then.'
'I think I recall it,' said Harry vaguely. 'Yes, that was kind of fun... Don't think Ginny appreciated nearly being killed though, Lucius! Nor being used!' he said pointedly. 'I must ask, Malfoy, where has all your spirit gone?'
'You'll die soon enough, Potter. Your little girlfriend too. If not my hand then by another's... You'll never stop us!'
Taking a large golden watch from his pocket, Harry watched the hands move around. 'It doesn't matter,' he announced, ignoring Lucius's outburst. 'I'm sure we'll find something to make him more obliging! In three... two... one...'
Harry took in a large breath of air, and sighed appreciatively as if smelling from a rose in summer's bloom. 'Smell that, Lucius? Death! I love the smell of a fallen dark wizard, don't you?' His eye's glanced at something over Lucius's shoulder, a genuine grin—that was a little to dark for Lucius's liking—forming across Harry's face.
'Like a lamb to the slaughter,' said Ginny. 'Ironic when out first target does our work for us.'
'Though he never was a target,' Harry reminded.
'Fun nonetheless.'
With a growing feeling of dread in his stomach, Lucius turned around, swivelling his head to see what Harry and Ginny were talking about. What he saw, made him almost physically sick, the taste of bile fresh in his mouth. The still figure killed by Lucius's own hand that had been Harry just minutes before, changed. Before his very eye's, the dark matted hair grew lighter, skin tone changed quickly, and the lightning-bolt shaped scar was gone. Now lying in the clearing, rigid and pale was his own son.
'Very easy to control, really, was Draco,' spat Harry. 'Quite pathetic really... and then, you know the rest. You killed your own son, did you hear him begging you not to? Such is the use of Polyjuice potion.'
In a fit of anger, Lucius grabbed the wand that still hung mid air in front of him, and screamed in a strangled sob, 'Avada Keda-'
Almost as though he were hit by the Hogwarts express, Lucius was sent hurtling through the air, hitting the ground with such force his leg shattered with an audible crunch.
'That's the spirit,' said Harry excitedly. 'Now we can have some fun... Ginny has a new spell she wants to try out. I'm sure she would appreciate it greatly if you volunteered to be a dummy-'
Lucius Malfoy just stared, a pale look of pure hatred on his face, he spat venomously, 'Never.'
Harry sighed, 'I thought we were past the "refusal to cooperate" stage? Very well, perhaps if you knew a little more about it. The spell is, well it's going to be an alternative to the "Crucio" spell-'
No sooner had the words left Harry's mouth did the grounded Lucius double up in pain, shouting out in anger as the torture spell engulfed him with such intensity, it made his shattered leg feel as though it were a pleasurable experience next to the pain that overthrew his body at that very moment.
'Oh, I'm so sorry,' Harry laughed maliciously. 'I sometimes forget the power I have... Have to be careful what I say. I meant the Cruciatus spell... Now what was I saying, ah yes... Will you help us? Imperio-'
Lucius suddenly found all pain from his leg and what remained from the aftermaths of the Cruciatus curse, gone completely. All thoughts vanished from his mind, and he felt entirely at peace. Every worry in his body seemed to evaporate like a mourning mist in the early suns beams. It was bliss, to not have to think... to not have to worry... to just pass all the decisions onto someone else...
'...Yes... say yes... Say yes, and the pain will be gone forever... Just say yes,' A voice demanded in his head. It was the voice that chased away the pain and the torment, which banished the confusion and misery; it offered peace.
'No. No, don't-' came a smaller voice in the back of his mind; it was getting weaker. Weaker as it brought with it hazy images of the harsh reality outside. It brought with it pain, and suffering, and the torment by captures. It reminded him of what he'd done, how he'd killed his own son. His very own child. Lucius may not have shared a close relationship with his Draco, but he was his son none the less. He had killed him.
'...You want the pain to be gone, say yes... SAY YES... SAY YES NOW!' the first voice screamed.
'Yes,' said Lucius in a hoarse whisper.
'Very good,' said Harry. 'That wasn't so hard, was it? Ginny, if you would do the honours... Oh, and Lucius, feel free to scream out loud!'
Ginny pulled out her wand, waving it in the air almost as though conducting an orchestra. The magical instrument followed a complicated path, the concentration on Ginny's face all to evident. The woman bit her bottom lip, and the tips of her ears, as happened to all the Weasley's, became gone red. 'Trans-irio-excalibus Skrewt,' she said after the conduction had come to an end.
From the end of her wand came a whisper of thin smoky light, almost colourless, almost unseen in the darkness. The wand continued to dance in the air, and once again, Ginny said the words. Each time a wisp of green smoke left the wand, joining the remnants of the other spells, it became ever more thickly, ever more dense. The ball of smoke could now be made out, emitting it's own glow as it hung just above the wand, it was now a thick green colour, almost like that you would expect to see in a Muggles stereotypical witches cauldron. As one more flicker of smoke joined the rest, it seemed to become saturated, no more smoke could join the rest, it was as close to solid as possible. Needing no more prompting, the smoke suddenly burst with a new colour, the green became deep shades of reds mixed with shadowy blacks. The spell had obviously worked; the smoke began to waft slowly towards Lucius. It slowly, slowly crossed the gap between the red haired witch, and the grounded wizard, almost as though it were not worried with time, it circled at a lazy pace. Every time it circled it closed in, like a dark red hurricane with Lucius standing in the eye of the storm, the gap became smaller, until it touched...
Lucius let out a scream of tortured pain as he felt his insides writhe about, not just moving, but completely rearranging themselves. It felt as if his guts had been torn from his living body, a hand plunging deep within him, and pulling the organ out whole, discarding the rest of his innards with contempt. If it weren't so painful, it would have been nauseating. Disconcerting and confusing it would have felt completely different, he would have felt different; but all he felt was pain... And then... And then, burning. From inside, when he had thought the pain had reached a peak, it was more. White-hot fiery heat from deep, it was noticeably affected the surroundings, the air itself growing hot. If Lucius had been crouching above a puddle, it surely would have evaporated. It was unbearable; all he could do not break down was to grasp deep within the ground. Mud slipped between his fingers as his whole body grew tense, every muscle in his body tightening. A silent choked scream escaped, not even beginning to describe the torture. With the silent screams came blood, choking out the thick red liquid, it began to decorate the surroundings, reds now dominating the ground that had been a mix of browns and greens before.
'Most unexpected, Ginny,' said Harry thoughtfully. 'Is he supposed to be coughing up all that blood?'
'Not really,' said Ginny with an unconcerned shrug.
'What happened?'
'The spell was just supposed to transfigure his liver into a blast-ended Skrewt... The blood's just an unexpected bonus. As a whole, I think it went well,' said Ginny with a smile though a frown quickly followed. 'Well, except the delivery, it was a bit slow for my liking. I'll have to work on that, much too slow... You want him back?'
'Please, if you would Gin.'
'Nor-excalibus,' said Ginny shooting a beam of dark red light at the convulsing wizard. Almost immediately—the cure spell obviously a lot faster on the delievery then the actual curse—Lucius stopped screaming. He stopped doing anything for that matter, apart from to lie still on the cold, bloody ground.
'No, no, no,' said Harry shaking his head. In four strides, he towered over the still for of Lucius. 'This will not do-' Holding his hand over the man he muttered, 'Enervate.'
Lucius sat bolt up, for a moment unsure of where he was; it was as his mind were shrouded in mist... A dark red-black mist that circled like vultures around him... The thought sent shudders down his spine. The only thing he knew for certain was the pain was almost beyond belief. His leg, his insides... all screamed out.
'Oh, good, your back,' said Harry happily.
More memory's came flooding back to Lucius, each as bad as the next. Running for his life... Killing his son, his own son... The spell... the pain. It was too much; Lucius barely reacted to Harry's voice, the memories alone were enough to fill him with dread and fear.
'I'm afraid, as fun as this had been,' said Harry darkly. 'It must end. I have other's whom are in need of my attention... as we speak, Peter Pettrigrew—I'm sure—is on his was to inform Voldemort of your and Draco's unfortunate deaths. He will be next of course...' A pause followed as Harry seemed to be think; debating whether or not to speak. 'Do you wish to know what sign your death shall be marked with?' Without waiting for an answer, Harry said, 'The trickery mark... You, were foolish enough to buy my decoy. You, like your son before you, were stupid enough to walk straight into the trap.' Then drawing his wand he leant forward lowering his voice to a whisper he added, 'I like to use my wand for this spell, it feels so much more... rewarding that way. I'm sure you can appreciate that...' Drawing back so Ginny could once again hear he shouted fiercely, 'Avada Kedavra.'
Lucius's body fell limp, laying in an almost identical fashion to the body of his son except his face and body was decorated with blood, it had been a lot more vicious then Draco's own death. He gladly let the darkness take him, thankful that it was now, at least, in death, over.
'Hegiostious Trick,' shouted Harry and Ginny together. From the end of their wands, two blood red lines of light met in a collisions midway between them, just above Lucius's limp body. In an explosion of more colours, a cloud floated into the air, growing steadily larger, fed from the streams of light from the two wands until towered at least fifty feet wide and fifty feet tall, hanging almost a hundred feet in the air.
There in blood red for the entire world to see was a picture of three people: One stood facing another, wand drawn and ready to kill; while the other figure—who was marked with a lightning bolt—stood unnoticed behind the first, with a wand pointed, ready to finish target.
'The trick sign... one of my favourites,' beamed Harry. 'I think it's time to pay Wormtail a visit.'
Ginny followed with a bounce in her step. 'The beast mark!'
With a nod of agreement, Harry continued. 'I think so. I think the beast mark is very appropriate for dear Wormtail.'
~*~
Over the commotion, a pale winged Crow flew above the village tops, almost invisible in the night sky, the only way anyone would see it was the glitter of dull red; that which reflected from the sky above. Landing across the street from the potion shop, it perched, sat atop a particularly tall building. It's pale grey eye's—that appeared almost dead in the darkness watched dully—stood atop a crooked pale yellow beak, which almost curled into a sneer. Cawing angrily, it jumped with noticeable aggression as it impatiently waited and waited for it's opening. Soon enough, the door across the street opened warily; bright light cast out onto the cobblestone in the street below.
And old hag stepped out timidly, casting her shadow as her body cut out the light from inside. Seeing the mark above seemed to give the woman the encouragement she needed, she took one tentative step at a time and soon found herself watching, transfixed, the red figures above, as people passed all around her shouting and whispering excitedly.
'It's the Mark of Trickery,' a young Wizard with mid-length blond hair exclaimed to his group of friends, straightening his cloak with a look of importance. 'Most viscous, I believe.'
'Not that they don't deserve it, mind,' added a second wizard. 'The Ministry should let Potter-' A few of the Wizards in the group shuddered at the name. '-and You-Know-Who finish each other off. That's what I think... 'Course, they won't be doing that now they know where he is, the Ministry Taskforce should be there already.'
One witch dressed in green—that seemed to be almost black in the night—shook her head disapprovingly. 'The Ministry's spending too many resources on catching Harry Po... Pott... The Two. Should concentrate on one problem at a time.'
'Oh great Merlin... Look,' said a fourth person in the group—this time a short witch—pointing wildly into the air with her wand. A look of horror on her face. 'Look, a second mark... it's "the innocent".'
'That means-' choked the second wizard again.
'An innocent Wizard has been killed in taking down one of the targets,' answered the first wizard who obviously fancied himself as a bit of an expert on the matter. 'One of the seven rules of the Order: Let nothing stop you in your pursuit, but death itself... even killing innocent wizards and witches.'
'Should kill the whole Order after they finish off you-know-who-' said the third. And a murmur of support erupted from the rest.
As that particular group's voice trailed off, fading into the distance, another soon replaced them. The square, which had been borderline deserted since the deaths of the Longbottom's, was now as busy as one would expect in the weeks before the start of Hogwarts school term. The Crow watched everyone pass, each person having a strong opinion on the matter, whether it be that they should stop Potter, or concentrate on Voldemort, each passing person seemed as vocal on the matter as the next. The black bird looked across the square from it's perch to see that the old Hag had joined a group of witches at the end of the street and was frantically telling them exactly whom she thought the first target was.
Opening its huge wings, the crow hoped off its perch, and silently glided to the open house below. With a bounce in it's step, it slipped through the gap, and was in the house, it's nostrils filling with the pungent thick aroma of skunk-root powder, fish peel, and liverwort, and various other countless ingredients that were sold within the shop.
*
Harry walked calmly through the woods, his eye' narrowed, and ears pricked for any sign of Wormtail. His hood, which usually covered his face, now hung around his shoulders so as not to interfere with his senses. Ginny Weasley done the same and the two stepped carefully between roots, so as not to trip and make any extra noise.
'I think he went the other way,' whispered Ginny.
'No,' said Harry just as quietly, shaking his head. 'He's around here. He had time to get back to warn Voldemort.'
'And?' asked Ginny, raising her voice a little.
'If I know Voldemort,' said Harry, an intense look of concentration on his face, 'he would have sent Wormtail back to watch us. He'll be where we are. He's around here... somewhere'
In the distance, above the sound of swaying branches, and rustling leaves, just an echo above the howl of the wind as it swept through the forest, Harry was sure he heard talking. He couldn't have just been imagining it either, as Ginny had stopped still, and was holding her breath, looking to where Harry had heard the sound.
'We haven't got much time,' she said, her eye's narrowed as she continued to listen for signs of voices, or of a scattering rat. 'The Ministry's Special Taskforce is on its way.'
'Alright...' said Harry, trailing of as he thought. 'Alright, we know the Taskforce won't be here until we find Peter, so don't worry about that. Now how do you flush out a rat?'
'I would think that was clear,' said Ginny, pulling her wand out and aiming it at a large rock that lay at the base of a tree. A spell shot from the end of her wand, and struck. Harry watched quietly, eager to see what Ginny was thinking. First, the rock changed colour, the dark, dirty black grew lighter, and lighter, becoming more of a chalk grey. The slime that had covered it grew quickly, taking on an almost fluffy texture until it became recognisable as fur. With a jerk, the rock moved slightly... and then again. Small limbs that only grew larger as the seconds went by propelled the cat along.
'Ginny,' Harry said lightly. 'What would I do without you?'
'Thank me when it flushes out Wormtail,' said Ginny, 'and not a forest vole... I'm not even sure it'll do anything at all other then sit there. It is just a rock after all.'
All became silent, both Ginny and Harry standing deadly still, as the cat, with predatory grace crept through the undergrowth. It was nature at it's most fundamental, predator-prey relationships. The cat's ears twitched slightly as it heard something dart through the undergrowth. Though neither Harry nor Ginny could pinpoint the rodent, the cat was perfectly adept at tracking it. Twisting mid air, with grace that was unrivalled, it pounced at a pile of leaves, just missing. A small brown rat darted into the open before the cat could turn. Crack.
A beam of dull red light escaped Ginny's and wand narrowly missed the rodent, instead hitting the bare ground sending a shower of mud and rocks into the air. Attempts at hitting it with spells were futile; the rat was too small, and far too fast. The rodent was just seconds from more cover, thick and twisted roots that grew from a heavily scarred, almost upturned tree offered the greatest sanctity...
In a flash of white, with sequels, and shrieks of protest, the rat was stopped in it's tracks, the snowy owl having returned from it's mission gripping the frantic rat between it's sharp claws.
'Good girl, Eve,' said Harry, as the owl dropped the rat in his outstretched hand. Swooping in, it landed gracefully on his shoulder, and in much the same way as its mother before it, nuzzled Harry's ear affectionately. The owl watched the rat continue to struggle with greedy eye's, hopping with anticipation of a free meal, it didn't go un-rewarded; it just wasn't the reward it had hoped for.
Ginny took the owl from Harry's shoulder, and fed it a few treats. 'Did you find him?' she asked the owl quietly, whilst Harry changed the rat into it's true form. The owl hooted, in what must have been it's version of 'Yes,' and closed it's eye's as Ginny stroked it's head in just the right place. 'Good! Now go back to where we were staying and wait for us.'
The owl looked slightly annoyed when Ginny stopped petting it, but done as it was told. It gave and angry hoot and flashed it's sharp claws as it flapped past a very frightened looking short, bald man.
'Now Wormtail, I believe we have some business to attend to,' said Harry, his face hidden beneath the hood once again.
It was fear. Knowing who was under the hood, but not being able to see, and not knowing for sure, inspired fear in even the hardiest of wizards and witches. It was a method that Harry and Ginny had built up for years. Everything they had done was designed to bring fear to Dark Wizards. From the Marks they sent up which mimicked Voldemort's own, to the clothes they wore which were not unlike those of the Dementors, it never failed to inspire terror. Even simple spells that deflected wind or rain could be used to great effect... anything that painted an even more supernatural picture.
'No, please. I'll... I'll do anything,' Wormtail begged, pathetically. Kneeling on the floor, his cloak drenched in thick dirty water and even thicker mud. His watery eye's seemed to be even more pronounced then usual, pupils swelling enormously in a look of unmistakable fear. His mouth opened and closed several times, and his eye's twitched.
'Don't do what?' said a voice from beneath the shadow that was rife under the hood. The bald man just gaped in fear, a low-pitched whimper escaping his throat. The two hooded figures, Ginny and Harry, circled the grovelling man, a spiteful edge to their voices whenever the spoke.
'We asked you, DON'T DO WHAT?' said Ginny in a tone that none of her family would have recognised as her own.
'Don't make us ask you again, Peter,' said Harry calmly.
'Please! Please, don't kill me,' whimpered Wormtail, his voice no more then a whisper, that was drowned out by sobs. He crawled around on his hands and knees, barely registering the pain as the twigs and rocks cut into his legs. Instead, he focused on keeping the two in view as they circled him. More mud covered his garments, splattering his face as he slipped, loosing his grip on the floor, and fell completely on his front. Not even realising how drenched he was, he scrambled back to his knees.
'Not kill you?' chuckled Harry, a laugh that was full of malice. 'Why shouldn't we?'
The mans ears picked up, moving, as a rats would when it heard a threat, ready to scatter away like he had done so many times before. But this time, there was nowhere to run. 'Because...' he stuttered, racking his mind for an answer, his voice panicked and rasp. 'Because, we... we have a bond, Harry! Remember the bond? You, you saved me, and...'
'You'll have to do better then that, Wormtail,' said Harry. For the first time since finding, the pathetic excuse for a wizard, he let his hood fall around his shoulders. The sight made the bald man flinch with fear as his eye's focused on the lightning shaped scar on Harry's forehead. Wormtail Whimpered on the floor as the meaning of Harry's words registered. The way he had let Wormtail see his face; it surely meant death.
Turning clumsily to the other person instead, more mud clinging to him in an almost ironic representation of himself, his watery eye's met the woman's. 'Please,' he begged. 'I can tell you where to find You-Know-Who. Please don't kill me, Ginny isn't it? Ginny Weasley, the famous Ginny Weasley... The powerful witch Auror... Please don't kill me.'
The two figures in black met gazes, and nodded in agreement. For a second, Wormtail though he was saved, that they were nodding for him to tell them where Voldemort was. It wasn't though.
'We don't need you to tell us, Peter. We could take the information from you whenever we want,' said Harry, clenching his hand into a fist to emphasis 'take'. Pausing thoughtfully, his eye's bored holes in the mud-covered man on the floor. 'You don't honestly believe you could keep the information from us if we wanted it, do you? We have way's to make you talk. The hardiest Dark Wizard I've met for a long time barely lasted a day with Ginny, you wouldn't last a minute-' Harry stopped circling Wormtail, pausing to think. 'Nonetheless, you did once save us from Voldemort, did you not? If it wasn't for our bond, he would have finished us off the last time we met, back when Ginny and I were just learning of our powers.'
Looking wildly at the two people before him, Wormtail's whimpers died down, as hope filled him. Crawling nearer to the man so he could almost touch him. 'Yes, yes, you remember,' he said pleadingly, 'I saved you, you remember? I saved you both...'
'Don't come any closer, filth,' Harry spat, knocking Wormtail back to the floor, the short man landing on his back, with but a wave of Harry's hand. 'I remember you saved us. You saved us by accident.'
'No,' the other man gasped, his lower lip quivering. 'No it wasn't, it wasn't...'
'You were trying to kill me,' said Harry, and then looking to Ginny, added, 'Trying to kill us.'
'No... No, please,' begged Wormtail, standing up on shaky feet, water that saturated his cloak dribbled to the floor. He held his hands out, open palmed, in an imploring way. 'Please. Please, I saved you. I saved you... Please, there has to be a bond, please.'
'There might be a bond, Wormtail.' Opening his hand so his palm pointed downwards a jagged rock flew into his grasp, so sharp in some places it drew blood. Harry squeezed it tight, and just as with the cat, the rock transfigured only this time into another inanimate object. The sharp edge of the rock becoming extra pronounced as it melted into a knife.
Wormtail flinched at the sight, of the weapon. It's handle was charcoal black, almost as dark as Harry's eye's, the tip shinny and unused was diamond sharp, the wavy edge of the blade meeting in an evil looking point at the very end.
'Wormtail, what's wrong? Don't you trust me? I though surely, if there was a bond you would trust me,' said Harry darkly.
'There can't be a bond. If there was, he would trust you,' reiterated Ginny. 'In that case, we should finish him before the Taskforce arrives.'
'I... I trust you,' Wormtail stuttered, looking evermore fearful and nervous. 'Please... I trust you.'
The short man lowered his hands slowly; his eye's never leaving the knife, until it was thrown to him, landing at his feet. Wormtail didn't dare make a move for it.
'Pick it up, Peter,' Ginny ordered.
Looking at Ginny, and back to Harry, Wormtail's eye's darted wildly. He leant down and with a great deal of apprehension picked the knife up. Holding the blade in his hand, it felt cold, and uncomfortable, not at all like a wand. Wormtail knew, however, if used properly, it was every bit as deadly as a wand. 'Wh-What do I do?'
'Do you renounce Voldemort?' asked Ginny, a look of loathing that matched Harry's at the mention of Voldemort, but no fear whatsoever, just hatred. Blind hatred. 'Do you renounce his way's?'
'Yes,' squeaked Wormtail, his voice sounding so much like the rat he could become. 'Yes, I do, I do... Please, don't kill me.'
'Then get rid of the Mark, Wormtail,' said Harry.
'What,' said Wormtail shrilly, hoping he'd got the wrong end of the stick. His eye's darted from the knife to his arm where a small dull black skull—the Dark Mark—was tattooed onto his skin.
'Cut it off,' said Ginny gleefully. With a crunch of undergrowth, she took a threatening step towards him, an action that was matched by Harry. 'All of it. Cut to the bone, Wormtail.'
Wormtail stared at his arm, seemingly petrified as by a Basilisk. He held the knife in a shaky grip, his watery eye's almost pleading with Harry to stop, but his expression, his silent pleas fell on deaths door. If he didn't cut off the Dark Mark, he would die.
'Wormtail, cut it off,' warned Harry. 'Ginny here can make the pain so much more.' He glanced to the red headed woman with a flicker of a grin. 'How someone so beautiful can cause so much pain is beyond me.'
'It's a gift,' said Ginny flippantly, a similar grin to Harry's flashing across her face, accompanied by a slight blush that was barely recognisable. The redhead then looked daggers at Wormtail, her lips curled in an evil looking smile that sent shivers up the short mans spine. Pulling out a wand, she began to wave it loosely in the air, in what Wormtail immediately recognised as the spell he'd seen her use—with great effect—on Lucius. Green smoke that swept almost like a serpent from the end of her wand began to fill the air, and, soon enough as red-black cloud would surround him, and then... He knew it would be pain.
'Wait,' he whimpered, bringing his hands up to shield himself as he had done minutes earlier with the knife. His watery eye's and pointed nose made him look as pathetic a person as Ginny had ever seen. 'I'll do it... Don't use that spell on me.'
His grip tightened and loosened on the handle as he tried to find the way to best cut the Mark from his arm. There was no way to best butcher yourself, Wormtail soon realised, no way to begin even. Self-preservation is such a strong emotion, but in that moment, it was overshadowed—a very rare occurrence—by terror. With rasp, forced breaths, he brought the knife to his upper wrist, the cool steel pressed against his sweat, and mud covered skin sending further shivers up his spine. A gust of wind swept through the forest, and Wormtail couldn't help but feel the cold even more now. The shivers that continuously ran up and down his spine soon became shudders that swept the whole of his body. Shivering violently, his muscles fought to keep him warm to no effect. Wormtail closed his eye's—watery tears falling from the ducts and down the side of his face as he done so—as he pressed the knife into his skin, moaning in pain through gritted teeeth. The knife didn't need much pressure, the razor sharp blade gliding easily through Wormtail's skin. A flooding warm sensation covered his arm, burning almost, the feeling was accompanied by pain so great the whole of his arm arm convulsed. Slowly, the sticky burning liquid ran a path up his quivering arm to his cleched fist, as gasps of pain echoed through his body.
As the knife finished it's journey, Wormtail opened his eyes, but all he could see was the mass of blood-red liquid that soaked both arms, and mixed with the dirt and mud on his cloak. 'I done it,' Wormtail sobbed, dropping the knife to the floor—where it transfigured back into a rock—before slumping to the ground himself, dissey through loss of blood.
'Now,' announced Harry, watching the shaking wreck of Wormtail with a hint of pity. But the thoughts of who he was, and what he'd done, overwhelemed any such thoughts. This was the man that had sold his parents out. That had framed Harry's godfather, sending him to Azkaban with the Dementors. 'Do exactly what I tell you, Wormtail, and you might live. Don't, and that pain is only the start.'
Wormtail just nodded, still clenching his right arm to stop more blood pouring out.
'The Mark was your link to Voldemort,' said Harry, 'was it not? A nod will surfice.'
The balding man nodded his head in small motions, his face contouring violently as he let out a cry of pain.
'Good.' Harry's plan was finally coming together now that he had killed Voldemort's link to his Anchor. He wasn't as powerful as he had been minutes earlier. But, as Harry knew, Voldemort was still very dangerous. There was a reason he was the most feared wizard in history, and quite possibly, the greatest. In fact, loosing his link to Wormtail might not affect him at all. Harry knew the dark wizard preferred to use his wand whenever he could, and to great effect as the list of the deceased by his own hand bared witness too. 'Where is Voldemort?'
'In a deserted house, the other side of the country,' said Wormtail. Looking all around, as if half expecting his master to jump out from the shadows, he lowered his voice to a whispered. 'The house he grew up in.'
'Riddle mansion?' said Ginny.
Harry nodded, 'The one, and the same.'
Looking back at Wormtail, Harry pulled out a small vile of red liquid that looked like blood. It had the same, thick texture, as blood, the only difference being the vile of liquid bubbled and frothed in it's confines. 'Drink this. Drink it, and the pain will go away,' said Ginny.
'Please,' gasped Wormtail, his eye's bulging from their sockets. 'You said... You said you wouldn't kill me.'
'It's not that, Wormtail,' spat Harry. 'NOW DRINK!'
The short bald man poured the red liquid down his throat, choking slightly as it bubbled and frothed violently. He could feel it travel it's way into his body, the hot, bubbling liquid filling his blood stream, journeying to his arm. With an involuntary jerk of his arm, the gaping wound closed before his very eyes. The wound narrowed to nothing but a small red line, a scar that was the only relic to his history as a Death Eater. As the blood and the wound went, so too did the pain... If it were poison, then at least it was a painless one. 'Th-Thank-you,' he blubbered miserably.
Listening carefully, Harry waited until he heard a howl in the distance, before addressing Wormtail. 'What you just drunk, was healing potion. Healing potion mixed with a most potent Werewolf attractant.' Wormtail spun around wildly, and with great alarm, looking left and right as howls that carried on the wind from all parts of the forest grew louder and closer.
'Within minutes, every Werewolf for miles around, will be here. Your blood-' said Harry looking at Wormtail's blood soaked clothes.
'Your blood will drive them into feeding frenzies like you've never seen before,' finished Ginny.
'But you...' Wormtail began feebly, but couldn't finish, instead, something made him spin around wildly. Trees in the distance were knocked about. Bushes rustled and twigs snapped in all directions. Dark hairy shadows darted about as if circling a perimeter. There were tens of them dozens even. Dozens of werewolves. He could hear them all, but he couldn't see them; as soon as he caught a flash of claws, or a feral growl, they were gone again.
'Here,' said Harry, throwing Wormtail a wand, which the shorter man clumsily caught. Seeing Wormtail look at it with great confusion, Harry explained, 'To defend yourself with, Peter. If you use it, you might live. If you change, you'll be caught for sure.'
'Don't leave me to them, Harry,' said Wormtail in almost a sequel, collapsing at Harry's robes. Another shadow of a beast scurried past disappearing into the night. They were waiting. Waiting until he was alone.
'Run!' said Harry pushing Wormtail away. 'Run, Wormtail, run!'
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Wormtail darted as fast as he could, stumbling through the undergrowth, not once looking back. A pack of werewolves gave chase behind, fast gaining ground. A sea of vicious growls, and snapping jaws accompanied the music of the snapping twigs. Wormtail could almost feel their hot breath on his neck as he dashed through the trees.
Harry and Ginny turned and walked the other way, hearing Wormtail's screams of pain soon after.
'I though he would have lasted longer then that,' said Harry with a shrug. 'You were right. Looks like I owe you, Gin.'
Pulling out his own wand, he and Ginny sent up a blood red cloud. The cloud floated lazily into the air, growing ever larger, it would soon be big enough for everyone at Hogsmead—some twelve miles away—to see. The picture of a beast not unlike a werewolf—that with the blood-red colour of the cloud from which it was made, looked as if it had torn something to pieces—hung proudly in the air for all to see: it was the Beast Mark. Just as when the Trickery mark had hung hours before, Hogsmead came alive with hustle and bustle.
End chapter 7—The Darker Marks: Of Tricks and Beasts.
Well, just two more chapters now people... But they are big, so don't worry.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.