A/N: Holy fruits! Could it be? Oh my, yes! The next chapter to Shadows of Yesterday! It's been, what, 4 months? ::sigh:: Writing Beyond the Emerald Green is completely different from writing this, and getting back to the middle of this chapter when I got done was very hard. Timothy had gone on hiatus and was refusing to come back (the evil child ::chuckles::). Well, I forced myself to get through this, and hopefully it's not too messed up toward the end. I decided to give my two wonderful beta readers a rest and I'll finish this story as fast as I can get it typed. If you haven't done so, you may need to backtrack a bit to remember all that's going on by re-reading previous chapters. Otherwise, let's go people! DO review!
Chapter Eleven: The Ancient Forest
"AHHH!"
The flash of red and white teeth was on top of Patrick and clamped tightly on his arm. Timothy fumbled for his wand, pulling it out and trying desperately to distinguish the now swirling mass of struggling bodies next to him.
"Get it off! Get it off! Ow! Ow!" Patrick yelped, unable to use his own magic.
"Hold still! I can't tell where it is to hex it!" Timothy screamed, reaching with his free hand to grab Patrick's shoulder.
"Just hex it! I don't care what you do, just hex- oof!"
A large rock suddenly crashed onto Patrick's head, knocking him out completely and his body went limp.
"Patrick!" Timothy cried, fearing the worst, and still trying desperately to hold an eye on the animal that was still clamped tightly on Patrick's now bloody arm.
Another rock suddenly fell from no where and landed on the beast, knocking it out as well. Timothy went ridged, preparing for another rock attack, when he heard someone shouting:
"Well, did I hit it?"
He craned his head back to peer above him to the light. Someone was leaning over the hole.
"Come now, tell me! Are you alright?" it was a man with a deep, regal voice.
"Er… you hit my… my… brother!" Timothy managed to squeak out to him. "But you also hit the animal too."
"Jolly good! That darn pest of a beast has been prowling through my gardens far too long. Sorry 'bout your brother there, chap. I'll get a rope down, stay put."
The man disappeared, and Timothy looked over to the two unconscious bodies. Patrick was out cold, a large swelling on his head from where the rock hit. His shirtsleeve was red with blood, torn where the animal had locked its teeth around it. The animal itself was laying at his feet, and Timothy then realized exactly what it was.
"A fox?!" he cried dubiously.
"All right down there?!" the man was back.
"My brother's pretty hurt!" Timothy called up to him.
"Just tie the rope 'round him and we'll get him up!"
A thick end of rope fell onto Timothy's lap, and with little hesitation, he crawled over to Patrick and gently- but firmly, tied it around him under his arms.
"OK!" he shouted.
"Alright men, HEAVE!"
With a horrible lurch, Patrick was pulled off the ground and dragged back up the hole. Timothy watched apprehensively, eyeing the still form of the fox next to him. When dirt crumbled onto his head after Patrick was pulled up and out of the hole, the rope dropped back down.
"Your turn, lad!"
Without a moment's hesitation, Timothy tied the rope around himself and gave it a tug. Instantly he was pulled up, however uncomfortably, but away from the dangerous unconscious fox. He kept bumping off the walls, but managed to get up to the top and was grabbed by several hands, pulling him to his feet.
"There yeh be!" said a tall, graying man. He was dressed in fine, elaborate clothing. The men around him wore more simple and dirty attire, obviously servants. The man must have been the lord of the manor.
"T-thank you." Timothy stuttered.
"Sorry 'bout the hole, but it's the only way to get the retched things." The lord said, shaking his head with distaste in the direction of the hole.
Timothy nodded as well, but looked around for Patrick, who was no where to be seen.
"Your big brother has been taken up to my manor for care. S'my fault he's so beat up. You could do with some too, come with me."
Before Timothy could blink, the lord grabbed his shoulders and led him through the large iron gates in the wall up the walk to the enormous manor. As he stepped into the stone foyer, the lord slapped his back hard and laughed at his awe.
"Welcome to Devonshire Manor, my boy! My name is Lord Ceptor, by the way, pardon my late introduction."
"I'm Timothy P- er, Springs. Timothy Springs. My brother is Patrick Springs. Thank you again for getting us out of your hole." Timothy said carefully.
"No problem, my fault you were down there to begin with. Now, just follow Florn up those stairs and he'll get you settled. If you're up to it, I do hope you'd join me for dinner this evening?" He pointed to a man dressed slightly more pristinely than the other servants, who was waiting on the stairs with a blank expression.
"Er… sure, that'd be great, thank you." Timothy said distantly.
Lord Ceptor grinned and pushed him toward the staircase, where Timothy fell into pace behind the servant Florn. The staircase he was ascending then was only one of several large staircases in the manor, and he had to climb three of them before Florn led him silently down a corridor lined with numerous bedroom doors. He stopped at the second one from the end and opened the door.
"Lady Epona insists she tend to your wounds. She will be with you shortly. Should you need anything, just call." Florn said with professional boredom.
"Er… thanks." Timothy stepped inside as Florn closed the door behind him. There was a large, four poster bed covered in rich velvet and a rug on top of the stone floor woven with an intricate pattern. As he stepped closer to look at everything, exhaustion from the day finally caught up to him, and the sight of the large bed was a welcome invitation. He jumped onto the covers and buried his head into the pillow, smelling a mustiness that must have been the result of lack of use. His eyes were drooping with sleep, but before he could loose himself in his languor, Timothy heard the bedroom door open.
"Hello?" called a soft and quiet voice.
"Uh… yes?" Timothy sat up and pulled the curtains around the bed open.
Standing in the doorway was a girl, maybe two years older or so than Timothy. She was slightly taller than he was, with long brown hair and amber colored eyes. In her arms were various bandages and bottles, and when she saw him, she smiled and did not hesitate to come right to the bed's side and pull the curtains apart fully.
"Do you hurt anywhere?" she asked, opening a bottle and dabbing the liquid inside on a piece of cloth.
Timothy opened his mouth to answer, but caught himself staring wordlessly at the girl. She was very pretty, wearing a simple gown that complemented her elegantly. When he didn't respond, she looked at him with proficient concern.
"I take it that was your older brother I tended to just now?" she asked, leaning over to part his bangs and look into his eyes.
"D'er…" Timothy muttered stupidly. The girl laughed.
"That was just about the same answer he gave me, too. My name is Lady Epona, what's yours?"
"Timothy P-Springs." He had to catch himself again.
"Well then, Master Springs, you have a few cuts I can mend. You're big and strong, so you won't mind a little sting, right?"
Timothy shook his head vigorously, as she took the moistened cloth and dabbed the small cuts on his arms and face. He always hated the stinging potions his mother would use when he had serious cuts, but the primitive solution Epona was using packed a punch. He couldn't help but let a few winces and whimpers eddy out.
"There you go," she soothed, ignoring his childish reactions. "Your brother will take longer to heal, but you'll be just fine."
"Thank you." He blushed deeply.
"My father wishes you to join us for dinner. You should wash up and come down when you're ready. Alright?" Lady Epona packed up her things.
He nodded vigorously again and she smiled, leaving his room and shutting the door behind her. Immediately he got up and went to a basin where warm water was sitting with a pitcher full of more. He cleaned himself the best he could, grimacing at the sight of his tattered clothing. Then he remembered his school uniform, which was in a lot better shape from not being worn. Although Timothy never recalled how it got there, his bundle including his uniform robes were sitting at the foot of the bed. He quickly pulled his robes on, smoothing out the wrinkles, and felt his uncle's diary and the large muggle key still safe inside his pockets. After trying to tame his hair without avail, he tentatively left the room and tried to find his way downstairs to the dining hall.
"May I help you, young sir?"
Seemingly out of nowhere, Florn was leaning over him as Timothy began to go down a flight of stairs.
"Er… I was looking for the dining hall, or wherever Lord Ceptor and Lady Epona were going to eat." Timothy said.
"Follow me." Florn quickly led him down the stairs and back through the foyer, leading him into a large hall with a long dining table. At the far end, three plate settings were spread out, and Lord Ceptor was already seated at the head chair.
"Ah! There he is! Come in! Come in, don't be shy! Here, sit right beside me there." Ceptor stood up to shake Timothy's hand, taking a good look at him as well.
"Say, I've never seen such fine clothes. How intriguing! Do tell me who you tailor is." Ceptor sat down.
"My tailor?" Timothy squeaked, remembering with a stab of realization that he was with Muggles- wearing his Hogwarts uniform. It was amazing Ceptor hadn't noticed and begin to shout about demons. "Oh, er… well… my-my parents made it… for me."
"Such creative talent," Ceptor mused, taking up his goblet and taking a swig after one of the servants had poured it full of wine. "You must tell me about yourself, young Timothy. Where are you from?"
Timothy was about to answer when the door opened and Lady Epona stepped into the hall.
"I believe you've met my daughter, Epona?" Ceptor asked.
"Yes, my lord." Timothy answered with what he hoped was the proper respect.
"Good evening, father. Good evening, Timothy." Epona smiled and sat down, servants immediately filling her goblet with wine. It was at that point, smiling stupidly at her, that Timothy realized that his goblet, too, was filled with wine.
"Er… excuse me, but…" he began to point it out, when Ceptor raised his goblet high.
"To our guest, and to the speedy recovery of his elder brother! Here, here!" he cried, taking another swig. Epona did the same, although a little more reservedly. Timothy, however, stared at his goblet doubtfully. If his parents knew he had been drinking wine…
"Well? What's wrong, my boy?"
"I've never had wine before." Timothy answered truthfully.
"Never had wine?! I say, then there's never been a better time to have it now! Go ahead, young man, drink!" Ceptor looked at him intently, while Epona seemed to hide a giggle.
He blushed furiously, and quickly, yet cautiously, took a sip. Never before had he drunk something more bitter. Despite the twisted look that must have been on his face, Ceptor laughed and cuffed him on the back again.
"There you go! Now, my young friend, do tell us where you were headed before running across my fox hole."
"Well er… well, er…" Timothy hadn't a clue on what to say. He couldn't tell the truth, but the thought of lying to this man and his daugther was unnerving.
"You are on a quest, are you not?" Epona asked quietly with a kind smile.
Timothy blinked, astounded.
"Er… yes, yes… we are."
Did Patrick tell her? He thought to himself as Ceptor considered him.
"A quest, eh? Sounds exciting, do tell!"
Timothy groaned… his quest was far from exciting.
"I have to find something, and bring it home." It was partially the truth.
"Oh? And what is it? Maybe I could help." Ceptor leaned closer to him, making Timothy gulp.
"With all due respect, my lord, I'm afraid that that's highly unlikely."
Ceptor frowned, leaning back in his chair.
"Father," Epona said suddenly, calmly turning to him. "Young Master Timothy has had a terrible experience and I believe it is best for him to have rest tonight. Perhaps if you set aside conversation like this for tomorrow, Timothy will be more comfortable."
He looked at her reproachfully before finally nodding and looked at Timothy with a slight smile.
"Quite right, dear daughter. Yes, pardon my encroachment, I apologize. You just eat up and retire early, no worry."
The dinner, however filling and warm it was to Timothy's senses, felt awkward as it was eaten in silence. Ceptor didn't say anything more, and Epona seemed to just stare at Timothy the entire time, only when he looked up did she look away.
As soon as the last bite was taken, Ceptor got up and excused himself politely. Epona didn't seem fazed, however, and offered to call Florn in to take Timothy to his room.
"Thank you," Timothy said, getting up.
"Our pleasure," Epona smiled up at him kindly.
Uncertainly, he did a little bow and followed the silent Florn back up to his room. As tired as he was, Timothy couldn't bring himself to lie down, he was too worked up. How did Lady Epona know he was on a quest? He paced his room uncertainly, his thoughts bouncing around his head.
Night fell and the castle was impossibly more silent than ever, yet Timothy could not keep still. Thinking it best to go check on Patrick, he left his room to go look for him. Yet the castle held more rooms than he could count, and Timothy soon got lost.
"Are you lost, Young Master Springs?"
Epona suddenly appeared behind him, smiling her kind smile. Timothy jumped in surprise, for he hadn't heard her sneak up on him.
"I was… er… I was…" he stammered.
"Looking for something? Your elder brother is in the room next to yours, you know." She grinned.
Timothy looked at her in bewilderment.
"I could have sworn…"
"But that's not what you are looking for, is it?" Epona tilted her head, and her gaze seemed to pass right through him.
"I…" Timothy didn't know what to say.
"You are looking for something very important… important to not only yourself… your family… and the people…" She continued in a mysterious whisper, then her face suddenly became sharp and clear. "I know where it is."
Timothy blinked, staring at her.
"Where what is?" he asked suspiciously.
"Come with me," Epona grabbed his hand and led him out of the castle. She led him out to the back, where some very large and expansive gardens were carefully groomed. The moon was full, its light casting their shadows long across the grounds. Epona stopped at the edge of the furthest garden.
"Where are we?" Timothy asked, peering through the darkness.
"At the edge of the Ancient Forest. You'll find what you need here." She answered quietly.
"How do you know what it is I'm looking for? I never said anything." He tried to look at her.
"Because you look like the man inside the tree." Epona whispered.
Timothy blinked at her.
"The what?"
"You better go now, before my maidens find that I'm missing." She turned to leave. Timothy grabbed her arm before she moved off; her expression made him drop it quickly.
"Sorry. But, er… where do I go?" he asked.
"The big tree. You'll know when you see it." She answered, then walked off. He wasn't sure how, but Timothy lost sight of her almost immediately.
Bet ten Galleons she's a witch. He thought, then he turned and walked into the Ancient Forest.
After a few hours, Timothy started to feel exhausted. He had yet to find any tree that stood out from all the others. Looking around, he felt as if he was back in the woods not far from his grandparents' house in Florida. Only, here, the forest was dark and astonishingly more frightening. Timothy wanted nothing more than to have Patrick by his side. Or, better yet, be back home with his family.
Then another thought hit him. Where was Luna now? Was she all right? Had Crouch found her yet? It distracted him so much that he didn't see what he walked into.
"Ouch!" he cried, for he had walked into another tree. "What is it with me and trees that I have to walk into every single one of them?"
Timothy stood back to see the wooden menace, gingerly touching a long cut that the bark had caused. It was a huge tree. A tree so large, if he tried, he wouldn't be able to wrap his arms around it completely. It was a lot bigger than the others.
"Could this be the tree she was talking about?" he asked out loud. He walked around it, trying to discern what made it so special. Suddenly, as Timothy stepped on an exposed root, the tree began to move. "Yeah, this would be it."
He watched as the enormous tree slid from its base, revealing a dark hole. Even minutes after it had stopped moving, Timothy continued to deliberate whether-or-not to go down inside. He stood there, contemplating everything that had happened to him up to that point, before concluding that this isn't anything more out of the ordinary than he had experienced so far. Making up his mind, Timothy stepped down inside the hole.
Instantly, the dark hole became a bright one. Timothy found himself in a hallway, lit by torches that had magically come to life with fire. Cautiously, he made his way forward, trying to keep the increasing feeling of nervousness inside of himself from overtaking him. Although, somehow, Timothy also felt that this place was not dangerous; that somehow, this place was here for him. This feeling confused him, and he became steadily more confused when he began to come upon some old murals painted faintly on the walls of the hallway.
"Whoa…!" he gasped, looking at a mural of two wizards. One of them wore very exquisite wizarding robes of burgundy and gold. He was tall, with a long white beard. The other was not as tall, with black hair that wasn't as neatly painted. His robes were simple, yet elegant, and despite the differences with each other, both wizards seemed to be very powerful.
Timothy looked at the mural next to it, and the same two wizards were there. This one depicted the tall wizard handing over a golden ax to the black haired wizard. The mural further down showed a completely different scene, showing the black haired wizard cutting down a huge oak tree with the golden ax. After this one, Timothy gasped again, for the next mural had the wizard using the wood from the tree and the golden ax to make what looked like a shield. A crest.
"I can't believe this," Timothy was so happy he was on the verge of tears. "I found it! The crest must be here!"
Overwhelmed with joy, he ran past the rest of the murals, wanting nothing but to get to the end of this long hall and find the end of his long search. Abruptly, the hall ended, and Timothy was yet again confronted with a large wooden door.
The key. The Muggle key! Timothy remembered, fishing through his Hogwarts robes. Sure enough, in one of his pockets he found the old key. Searching over the door, the keyhole was huge- made just for the key.
"Oh yeah, I'm a genius! Thank God! This is almost over!" Timothy could hardly contain himself. Jiggling the old key in his haste, there was a loud click as the lock came undone. He pushed the door open, eager to see the Potter family crest waiting for him. Torchlight flooded the opened room, fell upon the walls… the floor… the large slab at the center, and onto…
A/N: Well, he's back folks! And oh my, aren't I the evil one, torturing him so with this little family crest situation? ::giggles:: Aww, the little Potter is too cute that you can't help but pester him. Now, if I sent his mom on this quest, she'd be going bananas right now. So, let's see, what now? Well, obviously he's got a golden ax! What shall he do with it? You'll have to wait and see!
Orca on the Web: My website is the ultimate way to keep up to date with my stories, as well as learn what other novels you can read besides Harry, earn awards, submit fanart, and learn more about my other fics! Head on over there by clicking
Please Review!
~Orca