"Wormtail?" Harry choked. He sat upright instantaneously, causing small woodland animals to scurry away in fright. His heart racing, he looked pleadingly at Bav. Surely there was a mistake. She couldn't mean Pettigrew. The Pettigrew that-he didn't even want to think about it. Rehashing that hideous night….
"Yes," The mare confirmed. "He told me there were great things, if only I should follow him. Made no sense. I think he knew me for what I was, though. He just kept telling me to come with him, because if I did I would have power. Liked to talk about that a lot, power, he did. Seemed to think it was more important. 'There is no right or wrong,' it was like his mantra 'only power and those to weak to see it'. So after awhile I gave in. You must remember I had no home, any idea where my family was, so I so I had to stop protesting his wishes. And than-" A shudder ran through her silken flank. "And than he rode me."
Perichrysos got up and quickly scampered in front of Bav. She lay with her head down, like Lunadusk before. He snorted indignation. "What do you mean, he rode you?" It was the first time they had heard him use English. His voice was deep, and weary, from some ordeal long ago. He prodded the mare with his hoof, and she eventually met his gaze with her sad eyes.
"He just rode me. To his Master."
"Master? Are you sure?" Ron asked her, anxious. He leaned forward and Harry saw moonlight flicker on him and Harry was sure of it, he was holding hands with Hermione. He had more important things to think about, though, now.
"To Voldemort." She nodded solemnly.
"Don't use his name!" Ron immediately chided, forgetting whose presence he was in.
"And why not?" The retired racer said.
"It's not-right." He fumbled for words to express his anger.
"And why not?" She repeated.
"Because-because-" Ron was stumped.
"Because you are so terrified of him that you quiver at the sound of his name. As a great man once said, 'Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.' And he was right."
"You know about that?" Harry said, astonished. Dumbledore had said that to him secretly, in a private conversation.
Nonplused, the blood-bay blinked. "Of course."
"How-" Harry didn't get to finish his question, before Bav shushed him.
"Hush. I have a yarn to get on with. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Voldermort," Ron flinched, "nasty man, he is. Man! Hurumph. Man indeed." She peevishly flicked a fly off her back before carrying on. "He enslaved me. Burned the Mark into me." She moved to reveal the skull and snake on her underbelly. "And than he said that if I didn't go to Hogwarts and somehow get the three of you for him he'd kill me."
"He didn't!" Cried out an outraged Hermione.
"What else?" Harry ignored Hermione's outburst. "What else do you remember? Where did Petti-Wormtail take you? What did it look like?"
"I was getting to that." She insisted. "He just leapt on my back and ordered me to run. And I couldn't stop. I was using my fastest gait, and I couldn't stop. It was like I was under a spell. Come to think of it, I probably was. I ran for days-I have very high endurance, as a Magiquine, but I was still tired beyond imagining when I could come to a halt. I would have died right there, had I not been frightened beyond my wits. We were in a dense, dark forest. Somewhere in Europe, I think, because I didn't cross any rivers or straits or anything. It was hard to see. So here I was with a rat man, in more ways than one, waiting to see the most feared wizard in history."
"What did you do?" Cut off Harry, who was rather caught up in her story.
"Well, Voldemort came." Ron winced. "And, just like I told you, he scored me-" she showed them the Mark again, "and imprisoned me. I had no choice. None! I had to obey him. I was released and I came here."
Harry scrambled away from his new friend. He stood up on shaky legs. "Are you saying-are you saying-that you are here to take me to Voldemort?" He was terrified. Ice-cold fear froze him.
"No! No, please no." Her horsy eyes unusually bright, she got to her feet and came to Harry's side. She lay her arched neck on Harry's broad shoulder, in a sign of forgiveness. He gave in, patting her glossy neck and combing her shining mane with his fingers. "I won't go back to him. I can't. And I would never turn you in to him. Now, Perichrysos and His Highness have similar occurrences to tell you of."
She motioned to Per and he reluctantly spoke. "I was born Perichrysos IV, esteemed great-great-great-grandson of the most honorable Perichrysos. Perichrysos was the wingless cousin of Pegasus, and he passed his talent down through the generations. From this you may infer that mine is the flying ability."
"Wow…" Breathed Hermione.
Per resumed his narrative. "I was signed into the cavalry while I was approximately a teenager in human standards. I saw more death, more traumas, more crippling destruction than you can fathom. I wasn't even the heavy breed of horse expected for combat. I would just have to make do. I fared fairly well in battle-I have the good health of Magiquine, which coincides with my ability, quite like Bavierdage and her endurance. I, like Bav again, had to leave. I lived the life of a scavenger, when I was captured by the Dark Lord himself."
"That's it?" Harry said without thinking.
"I told you Per doesn't like to talk. Not in your language, anyway." The mare reminded him. "If he will allow me, however, I shall elaborate."
Perichrysos shook his head fervently, spraying his mane out like sea foam.
"Per!" She pushed him with her words.
"They don't have to know." He said, eyes suddenly so old it was hard to think he had ever been young. She backed off.
"I didn't think-" She began to apologize.
"That is obvious." Per curtly said. Harry had the oddest feeling of dejä vouz.
Lunadusk glumly spoke up. "I am inclined to show you what-who-I am now, I presume. Very well."
"Please tell us," Hermione pleaded, turning her mahogany eyes on him.
"Fine. I am a prince." He groused, looking surly.
"Crisis," Harry heard Ron mutter.
"I am next in line to be King of the Magiquine. I don't want to be. I want to have fun! I want to live before I die. Ruling is just so stuffy. So I took off. They're searching for me now, though they haven't located me." There was a nearly indistinguishable note of pride in his voice. Ron was still looking spiteful, and Harry was sure he knew why. Lunadusk could have had anything he fancied as a prince, yet he chose to throw it away, and Ron being the poorest person Harry knew, he empathized with him on how hard it must be to listen to that.
"One thing still bothers me," Hermione said, before Per could round on Lunadusk with another lecture about the throne, "Bav, with all due respect, you were so much-meaner before you talked. To us, I mean." Hermione shifted, light from the fire catching her eyes and staying, illuminating her amber pupils briefly. Wind whistled in the south, and Harry vaguely noticed a bite of sharp cold. A squirrel nearby was tittering angrily to something, and a distant sparrow was voicing his melodic opinions to the world.
"Ah, yes. Well, you must understand, I used to collaborate with true horses. Racehorses, at that. At the time I only knew them-and racehorses often go very bitter, what with being whipped and pushed all day. I taught myself how to act like them, so as to conceal myself even more. I kept that act up, should I meet any humans. You'll see it's not really my way." The strong mare explained, chewing on a mouthful of grass thoughtfully. The moon overhead drifted lazily behind thick hazes of cloud, and Harry heard Ron draw in a steady breath beside him. There wasn't any marring civilization around here-he liked that.
"So is that it, than?" Harry broke the silence, dusting sand from the soil off his shirt with one hand, purposely not eyeing Hermione and Ron. Bav raised a horsy eyebrow at him.
"Yes, that's it." She tartly answered, and Hermione covered a smile with her hand.
Something occurred to Harry. He met the racer's gaze once more. "If you were ordered to capture me-and Hermione and Ron-and you don't really want to-how come you came here in the first place?" The question nagged at him, partly because the reply could be horrendously terrible or just the opposite.
The big horse hesitated. Lunadusk gave what seemed to be a frown, though it was hard to tell. Perichrysos did not interfere, merely turning his head to look at Bav. "I," she said slowly, with obvious regret in her tone, and not looking at her audience, "can't say."
