Unplottable Island
Chapter 11: Welcome to Hell
By Raquel, who apologizes for the lateness of this chapter.
Laura strode outside, breathing in deep breaths of air, throwing her head back to stare at the stars. Most were hidden by a bar of clouds that obscured the right half of the sky, making the others look extra bright. Laura pulled her hair loose and flopped down in the grass, glad to do nothing but sit and look at the stars, feeling a warm breeze against the frosty grass. Crystal-like clinking came from deep within the woods—the sound of a unicorn's hoofs on the ground.
There. That star was Sirius, and this one—well, Laura had never really remembered it's real name, but she'd always called it Lily, because it was right next to another—James. Twin stars. Maybe not Lily and James, but Tim and Harry. Whatever. She scanned the sky again. A queer bowlike formation was Sagittarius—the archer. Also the centaur. Maybe both—she'd never met a centaur who couldn't hit anything he aimed at first try.
Blue eyes sparked with the reflections of countless stars, lighting her thin, angular face with a mystical light that shadowed her eye pits and left the white of her eyes to glare out. The silver streak in her hair glowed, a reminder of life and the downs as well as the ups. Memory's seeped into her brain, and the starlight in her eyes doubled and spilled out of her blue orbs into streams of light down her face—tears. Laura lowered her head ruefully.
James. Lily. Sirius. This was silly. Stop crying, she commanded herself. And she did—though a few still glistened in streams on her face.
She rolled over. The dark forest lay in front of her, a band of black trees and glowing eyes. Laura shivered and made to go back inside. She wanted to talk to Tim. Harry'd just been to see Sirius, something about he and Tim having odd dreams—odd, that. Sirius had asked Laura if she'd known anything. Of course! She'd been present at their birth, she knew that Harry would have died if one of the skilled wizard doctor's hadn't placed a thin wire of magic connecting their souls. Rather dangerous, but since it had cured Harry and done much for Tim nobody had thought better of it.
Now Laura was having second thoughts. She should break the connection, she knew. They no longer needed it, but it was dangerous. If Tim or Harry died now, so would the other one. If only she knew if breaking the connection would hurt them! Pulling her cloak tighter around her body, she headed for the great doors.
Ssssss—thunk!
Nightshade the centaur galloped out, holding his bow and arrow steady in his human hands. He had the human parts of a twenty-year old with black hair and eyes and skin the color of cocoa, the horse parts of a stallion with black tail and inky body. His eyes darted furtitively around as he scooped the limp woman into his arms. She weighed little.
The muted noise of his hoofs echoed into the woods as he stopped by the tall Dreki guarding the path. "Here is the woman, Boaz. Now, the payment we discussed." He held out a hand for his money.
Boaz just smiled, his face eerie in the starlight. He reached into his bag for a sack and handed it to the centaur. "Here."
Greedily Nightshade yanked the string—and a cloud of foul smelling gas shot into his face. The centaur stumbled, tripped and fell to the ground, gasping for air and retching, heavy stomach muscles heaving as his breath grew shorter, and finally went limp, his poisoned blood trickling down his chin to mingle with the stream flowing beneath the body. Boaz kicked at Nightshade, just to be absolutely sure he was indeed dead, and ran off, carrying a human female in his arms, barely breathing, but alive!
Downstream, a half-giant named Hagrid scooped a bucket full of water from the stream, pouring it into a barrel for breakfast the next morning…
Laura came around in a cell, her hand in front of her face. Which was odd, because she didn't remember having such long nails. Or such large hands. She tried lifting her head off the ground, but a lancelet of pain ricocheted from temple to temple on her head, a billiard ball of pain bouncing from side to side on her skull. Her lips felt dry and tight across her face, which smarted like it had been scrubbed with sand. She was cold and damp and lying on some floor somewhere in great pain. Laura sniffled, wiping her nose on the frayed black robes that had replaced her nice blue ones.
"Hello."
Laura clamped hands over her ears, screwing up her eyes as more pain swept through her head. She rolled over onto her stomach, supporting her head on her hands. It was dark in this tiny room, but there was a steady dripping of water somewhere and a shaft of light through the barred front wall. Through the bars a slender, tall figure was bending to peer at her, amber eyes wide in a golden face with a narrow chin and wide, high cheek bones. Black hair was braided into many tiny braids and knotted at the back of it's head. Slit-pupiled eyes blinked as the face hissed softly, almost gently.
Laura screamed, scrambling away regardless of her aching head and pain-filled body. She put full weight on her right shoulder and collapsed against the back wall, gasping in pain and fright.
A hand covered her mouth firmly. "Shut up, do you want to be killed?" Laura shook her head, pressing her dry lips tightly together. The hand left. It retreated into the lap of it's owner, a tall, skeletal man, with long, dark hair and pit-like eyes shadowed in the dim light.
"Snape!" she exclaimed, then clapped her hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she whispered. "And what is that thing outside?"
Severus Snape looked at her oddly, scrutinizing her face, hair, and—she noted in an annoyed way—her body behind the faded black robe. "Potter?" Nod. "I should have know you'd be here soon. And 'that thing' is a Dreki, it's a she, and her name is Biana. You scared her when you screamed."
Laura maneuvered into a cross-legged position on the cold floor. "What's that supposed to mean? And I am sorry I yelled," she told Biana, who dismissed it with a graceful wave of her hand. "You understand what I'm saying?" she asked, in a sort of wondering way. Biana nodded briskly, seating herself. She wore a bright red dress that swept her ankles—her feet were bare and had clawed toes.
"Of course she does. She just doesn't speak English," Snape said. "I thought you would know that." His tone was condescending, oily. It made Laura want to slap him.
"Unless my memory was affected by whatever knocked me out, I remember that I was best in Transfiguration, Charms, and Astronomy—not Defense Against the Dark Arts or Care of Magical Creatures," Laura snapped.
"In my profession, we learn to work hard at our weak points, not our strong ones."
"Your profession is murderer."
Biana hissed softly, scratching down writing in a slanted, orient script on a worn pad. She held it out.
Stop fighting, you foolish humans. There are other things to be done here beside quibble like dragonets barely out of the shell.
Laura and Snape exchanged glances that clearly read 'Just you wait' and settled back against the wall. The Dreki jumped as a knock on the outside door shook the room. Snape collapsed, staring at the wall blankly. "Do it," he hissed at Laura. "Alert humans frighten them." Laura went limp, noting with another jolt of annoyance that because of the limited room in the cell she was practically on top of Snape. It was wrong, nasty, gross, foul, groudy, vile,—Laura amused herself with her many adjectives for her current feelings of revulsion.
She let her mouth hang slack and left her eyes open the merest crack. The door swung open with another bang that made Laura's head pound.
At first she thought it was a skeleton, but it turned out to be another Dreki with white and silver scales, shorter than Biana and slender as a willow branch, wearing a fine dress of blue-velvet with black-and-silver embroidery all around the hems and long sleeves. Next to Biana's tattered, plain red wool dress, she looked like a princess. She began hissing in Parseltounge to Biana, who answered.
Laura frowned, frustrated. Whether it was the language or the species, the Dreki had very little body language. She couldn't understand a word of their conversation, and there weren't any facial expressions to give it away.
The connection…A voice in her mind whispered. Your connection…
The connection. How stupid of her. She reached inside herself, looking for the pale, thin thread that connected her to the twins. Well, actually just to Tim, but Tim and Harry were connected, so she could get to him if she tried. She gently reached inside Harry's mind—he was asleep, good—and looked around. It appeared to her as a hazy room, not really there physically, with cupboards and boxes, some with their contents strewn about, other's locked up tight. She searched around—only a few were labeled—and stirred a box Sirius had told her about. Parseltounge. Good thing he could speak it—now she could understand it. Dark trait or no, this was useful.
For future reference, she strengthened her connections to both of them. Now the thin threads appeared thicker, a steady golden glow in her mind's eye. Good. She had never been gladder to be related to a pair of such versatile brothers. Too bad this could only be done to family members—people who shared a common ancestor tended to think on the same pattern, making it possible to connect with another's mind. Tim and Harry's connection was a good example, but they didn't know how to use it.
Laura opened her eyes onto the empty hallway. Growling in annoyance, she lurched upright. "Where'd they both go?"
Snape was sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth, his eyes tightly closed. His arms were wrapped around his knees, drawing himself into a small space than Laura thought possible. "What's wrong? What's happening?" Snape still said nothing, just looked frightened. It was beginning to freak Laura out. When had she ever seen him scared, or anything but cool, confident, and removed? "What is it?" she demanded of the other man. "What's going on?"
A hand tapped her shoulder. Laura spun to look at them, and her face was hit by such a force that she spun back around the other way, stumbling and falling, sliding down the wall. She bit back a cry.
"Well, well. Look at the little kitten roar."
Laura muffled a whimper as Lord Voldemort descended upon her, red eyes lit with fury.
