Golden Elixir, Chapter Twelve
Severus Snape was amused. He was not about to do anything so obvious as smile--after all, the witch at his side certainly needed no encouragement for her outrageous behaviour--but this was a sight he would long cherish when darker thoughts seemed to overwhelm. The four Durmstrang students were closing in, he noticed approvingly, their formation carefully designed to permit no possibility for escape to the quartet from Beauxbatons, who were as yet unaware of the danger that stalked them.
The misty potion cloud that Apollo had sent to hover 'round the heads of the red clad students a few moments before had been effective; their eyes had gone dreamy and their faces softened, which did not greatly improve their heavy features. Nonetheless, it had been obvious that the desired transformation had taken place in their mental priorities. Severus had looked on delightedly as they blinked, looked confused for a moment, and then one of them spied the blue robed boys conducting a careful search nearby. A nudge, a wink and a whisper later, and the Beauxbatons foursome became the prey rather than the hunters, although the silly gits had yet to realise it. Severus, leaning forward in anticipation of the moment when they did, was annoyed to feel Apollo tugging at his sleeve.
"Leave off. This might prove entertaining." He had never thought the day would come when one of her damned love potions would actually amuse him, but he had a feeling that today might be the day.
"Er, Severus . . . no one mentioned any additional . . . complications . . . in the trial, did they?"
Severus, who was busy watching the biggest Durmstrang brute as he grabbed an unsuspecting French boy and disappeared with him into the undergrowth, just shrugged. "Nothing at this carnival of madness would surprise me. Neither school has ever fought fair, although," he added with genuine mirth, "they may wish they had, this time." Etienne looked up from his previous occupation of setting a bush on fire in an attempt, Severus supposed, to flush them out, to find himself jumped by two Durmstrang boys. A fight quickly broke out as they struggled over their prize. Etienne's companions and the third Durmstrang student quickly entered the fray, while panicked screams could be heard from deeper into woods where the other boys had disappeared. Wishing he had some popcorn, Severus settled in more comfortably to enjoy the show.
"So . . .," Apollo once again interrupted his pleasure, "any other problems that do crop up might have nothing to do with the contest?"
"How should I know?," Severus replied testily. He didn't understand why the girl couldn't simply sit still and enjoy the splendid spectacle before them. Etienne, who had been grabbed around the throat by a rough looking Durmstrang lad, was slowly turning purple as his captor's grip became more restrictive; the bigger boy was having to fight to keep his prize from being nabbed by his fellow student, while at the same time keeping his wand hand free to repel the curses being hurled at him by the French duo. "What difference does it make?," Severus responded reasonably. "All the other contestants are currently killing each other--or worse," he smirked as another howl drifted through the air from the bushes. A second later, a distraught and disheveled French boy pelted from the undergrowth right into the middle of the melee, followed quickly by an over-excited Russian. "We'll stay for the show, then hex the winners. In the end, they'll have to call a draw and that should buy us another few days to sort out this mess." It was an excellent plan, he thought smugly, and one that had the added bonus of keeping them away from any rampaging giants. They might actually manage to get out of this with a whole skin after all.
"I don't know that that will be an option, Severus," Apollo replied in a subdued voice. Tearing his eyes away from the hilarity a few yards away, Severus turned to ask her to please stop ruining his fun, only to find a wicked looking arrow hovering a few inches from his abused nose. Following it along the shaft, he discovered with little relief at all that it was still notched on a bow, which was held by a green clad figure with waist length white gold hair.
Severus swallowed and glanced sideways, to see that Apollo was facing a similar situation. Another archer, this time in silver grey, had an arrow pointed firmly at her, while a third neatly relieved them of their wands. The two archers had the slender, delicate beauty gifted to the elvish race, but their companion's features were more prosaic. Not to mention familiar.
"Hallo, Hieronymus. Glad to see you again. Wouldn't mind coming with me for just a moment, would you? A friend wants to ask a few questions."
Severus grimaced. Of course, he thought in resignation. Albus' brother would just HAVE to show up now, wouldn't he? Well, at least it looked like the show was mostly over. Giving one last wistful glance at the pandemonium behind him, which was fast disappearing into the deeper woods as the Beauxbatons students broke away and ran for their lives, he followed Aberforth and a dazed looking Apollo out of the forest.
* * *
Albus and Sophicles trailed the stream of strange creatures through the maze of corridors to the upper levels of Durmstrang, and then into the cold, clear air outside. After the gloom of the interior, the bright sunlight flooding the field in front of him made Albus blink. Perhaps Sophicles' glasses cut the glare somewhat, for he moved forward confidently, Albus following half-blind in his wake. They dodged through the mass of people with difficulty, whose screams as they beheld some of Augusta's more creative endeavours rent the air and soon caused general pandemonium. Luckily, the stampede of the crowd was away from them and their accompanying entourage, which allowed Albus time to adjust his vision without being trampled underfoot. Sophicles, with one chubby hand shielding his eyes, scanned the crowd, flanked on one side by a strange variant on a Fwooper, its orange and green plumage studded with brilliant, iridescent blue feathers that reminded Albus' of a Billywig's, and on the other by a tiny sphinx. The latter's nose was twitching, as if trying to find Augusta's scent on the breeze.
It was the Fwooper that gave a sudden, high-pitched caw, and sped off across the heads of the crowd towards the forest. Sophicles scrabbled after it, his chubby legs covering the ground faster than Albus would have expected. He loped alongside for a dozen yards, before the crowd of witches and wizards in front of them made a sudden turn and began racing back at the castle again. In the confusion that followed, Albus lost sight of Sophicles, received a harsh elbow in the ribs from a passerby, which knocked most of the air from his lungs, and was almost knocked to the ground several times. When the worst of it had passed, Albus looked cautiously around, just in time to be bowled over by a short, dark-haired person who was screaming his name. It took him a few seconds to appreciate that it was Delaia and not another of Augusta's demented experiments, although the girl who grabbed him by the front of his robes did not look much saner.
"Delaia . . .please, I am ecstatic to see you, too, but . . . "
"Oh, come ON!," she cried, managing to drag him to his feet, while glancing back fearfully over her shoulder.
"Delaia," he attempted to assure her, "you don't need to be concerned. I know they look frightful, but most of them are really very . . . " For a moment he couldn't think of quite the right word. Sweet was hardly accurate, yet they certainly seemed to have some type of rapport with Sophicles, and none had actually tried to gouge his eyes out . . . at least not yet. He finally settled for "harmless."
"Oh, then why are they drawing arrows on us?"
Albus glanced towards the forest, wondering what she could possibly mean, when he saw the awe inspiring sight of an elvish army crossing the field towards them with purposeful strides. "My God . . . "
"Come on!," despite appearances, Delaia was quite strong, and without his resistance managed to tow him back towards Durmstrang at a rather fast pace. Near the main wall of the castle they stopped, and Albus saw what had to be another example of Augusta's. handiwork waiting for them in the shadow of an overhanging battlement. "Albus, meet the real Valentin de Plannis. You met once before but you probably don't remember, thanks to Augusta."
The . . . boy . . . or whatever he was, smiled charmingly and gave Albus a proper, if slightly mocking bow. "Nice to meet you. Welcome to hell."
"Shut up, Valentin." Delaia's absent-minded tone didn't match the harshness of her words, and the boy did not seem particularly offended. Albus, deciding that an attempt to understand any of this was probably a wasted effort at the moment, turned to the girl at his side. "The wand?"
"Safe," she briefly tapped her left sleeve, "but not for long. Did you get it?" Albus was confused for an instant, before he realised that she was not talking to him.
Valentin nodded, and produced several large vials from a pocket of his robes. "I assume these are the ones you meant--they were the only ones I saw of the right colour."
Delaia stepped slightly out of the shadow of the castle wall, ignoring with what Albus thought was reckless folly the advancing army, whose measured strides had now covered half the field. As she held one of the vials up to the sunlight, he could see the mixture inside take on a shimmering, golden tone.
"Is that what I think it is?"
Delaia stuffed the vials into a pocket of her robes and shrugged. "I hope so--Apollo said it would work. But whether it does or not is irrelevant if we don't find Severus before . . ., " she nodded at the advancing army.
"Where is he?"
"If we knew that, we wouldn't have a problem, would we?," she replied, with more bite in her tone than she usually reserved for him. "He and Apollo are out there somewhere, taking part in the second Triwizard event. They could be anywhere--but are almost certainly on the OTHER side of that army."
"I could take the wand," Valentin offered. "They're looking for the two of you, not me. Then you could find your friend, and meet up with me later."
Delaia shook her head resolutely. "I am NOT breaking us up again. I keep losing people. We have to stay together and see this through. Besides, Augusta is looking for you. If she found the wand . . . "
Albus shivered along with her, and not entirely from the cold wind that whistled around the wall of the keep. "Show me the wand," he said, his eyes fixed on the fast approaching army. Delaia reluctantly fished it out of her sleeve. Without a wand of his own, Albus wasn't entirely sure this was going to work, but it was worth a try. Concentrating on the warm black stone in front of him, he envisioned a different shape, smaller, golden, round . . . and slowly, the wand began to melt, its contours shifted, and then realigned into a bright gold bracelet with a phoenix-head clasp. He was rather proud of that last touch. "Put it on," he told the stunned girl in front of him, and when she just stood there, gaping at him, he plucked it out of her palm and slipped it over her wrist. It was a tight fit, but he didn't have time to adjust it at the moment.
"You . . . you didn't use a wand," she said, dumbfounded.
Albus was saved from replying by the approach of a golden haired archer, who fixed an arrow on them and instructed them politely, in passable English, not to move. Albus sank back against the stone of the castle walls with a sense of inevitability stealing over him. He had the feeling that a family reunion of sorts was in the offing.
* * *
Apollo regarded the strange scene before her with sincere irritation. The day had started out so well, she lamented to herself, and now these pesky elves had to show up and ruin everything. She and Sev would have won the trial otherwise, she was sure of it--perhaps even the tournament itself, for if no one else managed to get a token, wouldn't they have to declare anyone who did the winner? She was sure she could have managed to acquire at least one measly little token, especially with Beauxbatons and Durmstrang otherwise occupied, but now look at the situation--totally ruined! Severus was still arguing with that gangly brother of Albus's, as if that was going to do any good. Surly he could see that the man had positively no sense of humour? He just kept repeating the same refrain, over and over again, as if he didn't even hear Severus' arguments. Diplomacy was obviously hopeless.
Looking about her, Apollo wondered if there was any point in trying anything. They stood in a circle of elves several deep, just outside the forest's edge. Severus was facing Aberforth and an elf who looked to Apollo just like all the others--young, fair, a bit whimsical of expression, and unutterably dull--but who seemed to have some sort of rank among them. His clothes were a bit more elaborate, she supposed, with tiny embroidered leaves snaking up the borders of his deep green velvet cloak, and an intricate silver brooch clasping it shut in front. She supposed he might be more senior than the others, although with their juvenile faces it was impossible to tell, but it was hard to take anyone seriously who was actually wearing tights. She sighed and fidgeted.
The elves nearest her had swords and long knives, as well as bows slung over their backs. Several had their knives unsheathed, but none seemed to regard her as a threat, and most were not even glancing her way. To those who did, Apollo gave a limpid glance and batted her eyelashes, trying to project a helpless image. This seemed to unnerve them for some reason, and they quickly returned their attention to their leader, although he seemed content to allow Aberforth to carry the conversation. Apollo decided that there was a good chance that she could cause a serious disturbance by breaking a few of the potion vials she had secreted in her robes before the contest, the problem was that she had nothing with which to follow up the disturbance. Aberforth still had her wand--or at least, she assumed so, as she hadn't seen him give it to anyone else--and without it her options for attack, especially against such numbers, were limited. Of course, she supposed it would always be possible to jump Aberforth in the confusion and get their wands back, but even if that worked, she didn't particularly like the odds.
Returning her attention reluctantly to the argument still dragging on, she vaguely hoped Severus was making some headway, but it didn't appear so. He had denied everything, of course, in proper Slytherin fashion, and was so convincing when he swore he had no idea where to find this wand they were so concerned about, that Apollo almost believed him. She beamed at him--he was such a good liar--but then, Severus did everything well, at least everything she'd had a chance to find out about, a thought which led her to more amusing thoughts until she was brought back to the present by the sounds of loud complaints uttered in the voice of her niece. Really, Delaia was a delightful girl, but she had to remember to tell her that a lady doesn't screech.
At least the appearance of Delaia--and good, thought Apollo, she'd finally found Albus--tilted the odds a little more in their favour. Apollo fingered a few vials of really nasty brews while smiling sweetly at the elf next to her; it never hurt to be prepared.
* * *
Delaia was marched alongside Albus to a position in front of Aberforth and the stunning creature beside him. As scared and angry as she was, she found herself responding as always to beauty, and stared in amazement at the elf in front of her as her protests died on her lips. His wide set, large grey eyes regarded her benevolently, and did not seem to mind or indeed to be startled by her gaze. She supposed he must elicit that reaction from humans whenever he came into contact with them, and over thousands of years it had probably become expected. She was so busy noticing the silvery sheen to his long, straight hair and the perfection of his ivory complexion, that she barely remembered where they were until Albus trod rather heavily on one of her feet.
She glanced at him, only to see that he was not regarding her with a happy expression; indeed, he looked quite irritated. She decided to pay a bit more attention to what was going on.
"The wand is dangerous, Albus, surely you can see that?" Aberforth's whiney voice grated on her ears and she glared at him, a gawkish, unlovely figure in comparison to the silvery perfection beside him. You would think that after years of training, some elvish grace would have rubbed off, but apparently not.
"All magical objects CAN be dangerous, Aberforth, whether they are so or not depends entirely on how they are used."
"And you believe that you are better able to decide such a thing than the elders, heirs to the makers of the wand itself? You think rather too highly of yourself, little brother."
Delaia bristled at the sneer in Aberforth's tone, but before she could jump to Albus' defense, a strange yet beautiful voice filled her head. She knew the words it spoke were not French or English, but she understood their meaning all the same.
**The object you carry must return home. It will be cared for and guarded, so that none may misuse its power.**
Delaia was mesmerized, a feeling of warmth and happiness, even of joy spreading through her as a pair of beautiful grey eyes suddenly seemed to dominate her whole field of vision.
**I am Ev'allisor, guardian of the ancient wisdom, keeper of the mysteries of my people. I will carry this burden for you.**
The golden words made perfect sense to Delaia--of course the lovely creature before her should have the wand. Naturally, someone of her few years could not hope to understand its secrets. If she kept it, only more problems would ensue. Why had she not seen it before? Here was the answer to all of their difficulties . . . she just needed to get the bracelet off, and give it to him, and all would be well. The problem, as she soon found, was two-fold: the damned bracelet refused to budge, and Albus, seeing what she was trying to do, dodged between the two elves standing guard over him and grabbed for her arm. He said something, but Delaia couldn't hear him over the singing that filled her mind.
A heavy crash nearby finally broke Delaia's reverie. She looked up, only to see four huge giants come crashing through the forest, accompanied by Augusta on a broomstick, egging them on. "Get me the boy!," she screeched at them, while beginning to throw curses at the ring of elves, who scrambled for their weapons in some degree of fluster. "The talisman is mine--you shall not have it!"
Delaia didn't know if Augusta had put a sound muffling charm on her companions, or if everyone had been so drawn into the discussion that they had not noticed their approach, but the elves seemed as surprised as she. All, that is, except Ev'allisor, whose serene expression never altered. He ignored the screaming witch and roaring giants, the red streaks of curses and the answering volleys of arrows, and moved gracefully towards Delaia. She looked at him with awe and fear mingling in equal parts in her mind. This one, she decided, was simply too much for her. Grabbing Albus by one hand and Valentin by the other, she started to turn and run, which seemed about the only viable option, when a cloud of horrible smelling smoke suddenly reared up all around them.
"Delaia!" She immediately identified the voice as Apollo's, but couldn't tell from what direction it came, as the smoke was making her eyes water and causing a good deal of disorientation. It must be one of Apollo's battle potions, but why had she thrown it at THEM?
"Delaia! Don't shift! I can't find Severus!"
Delaia stumbled in the direction of her aunt's voice, but found instead that she was nose to kneecap with one of the giants, whose cauldron sized hands were making huge swishes through the smoke filled air, searching, she supposed, for Valentin. One of them caught her off guard and she received a glancing blow. She managed to retain hold of Valentin, but not Albus, who disappeared into the swirling mists that had now almost completely covered the scene. "Albus!" She reached out and felt her hand enveloped in a warm grip. It took her a moment to comprehend that it wasn't Albus who drew her close.
** Come with me, Delaia, I will protect you**
* * *
Severus dodged another blow by one of the thrice plagued giants and grabbed Aberforth Dumbledore by his scrawny neck. They went down in a tangle of limbs and were nearly stepped on by a giant, but years of dirty fighting won out over elf-training, and Severus emerged on top. Patting the other man down efficiently, he found his and Apollo's wands in an inside pocket of the strange tunic he wore. Stupifying his opponent with a sincere measure of satisfaction, Severus jumped up and looked around for a certain annoying blond, who he was certain was responsible for the venomous fumes that swirled around, threatening him with unconsciousness. He quickly cast a mental clarity charm, which had less effect than he'd have liked, but it did keep him standing. That fact proved less than fortunate a minute later as Augusta came swooshing by on her broom; none of her hastily thrown spells hit him, but she collided with his shoulder, causing them both to topple to the ground.
His reflexes were just a bit faster than hers, and he rolled out of the way of the Crucio curse she spat at him. He jumped to his feet and spun around to return the favour, when his prey was suddenly enveloped by a swirl of furiously beating wings and outstretched talons. Severus was surprised to identify one of the misbegotten creatures from the experiment room, which in a moment was joined by a whole host of others, who descended on Augusta in a hissing, biting and cawing cloud. Severus regarded the sight before him for a moment, then turned and walked away, pulling a vial out of his pocket as he did so.
* * *
Apollo was frantic. She had thought to help their side out a bit by creating a little disturbance, as Delaia was certainly acting very strangely around that elf lord, but she had not expected this! She should have moved closer to Severus before throwing the potion, she rebuked herself; but who would have thought that the irritating man would just wander off like that? She fought her way through nauseating fumes, desperately wishing the potion wasn't quite so effective, and called his name at regular intervals. She had to find him, and also Apollo, before Delaia did something stupid and time-shifted with Albus. She had never had a chance to talk to her niece about her suspicions of what might happen if that took place, and if pressed too hard, Delaia might well decide that Severus would manage if left behind in her tender care, and shift herself and Albus out of time and possibly out of existence as well.
A comely elf archer appeared in front of her, but before he could so much as make a threat, a huge hand came out of the fog and picked him up. Apollo looked up to see a confused looking giant regarding his captive with doubt--my God, couldn't he tell the difference between Valentin, a grey haired human child, and the flaxen elf in his hands? They truly looked nothing alike. Maybe the smoke was affecting him as well, or possibly he was just stupid. Damn it all, she needed her wand! Fortunately, once the giant decided that this was not the right quarry, he tossed the elf into the limbs of a nearby tree, and Apollo saw him lightly make his way along a sturdy limb to the trunk, whereupon he started to slither towards the ground. Dodging the giant herself, she cast her eyes around again, looking for Albus, Severus, or anyone at all familiar. She finally found someone, but not anyone she wanted to see.
"Oh, finally decided to show up, did you?"
"Well," Sophicles blinked at her from behind his large spectacles. "I'd hate to miss out on all the fun."
"Very funny. Have you seen Severus or Albus? I can't find either of them."
"Watch out." Apollo instinctively ducked as Sophicles stupified several elves who had apparently been creeping up behind her. "I suppose you mean recently," he commented.
Apollo glared at him. She REALLY wished she had a wand. "Yes," she hissed, "as in the last five minutes."
"Sorry, no."
Apollo was about to explain a few facts of life to that infuriating Hufflepuff when he was scooped up by the same very persistent giant, who held him by the back of his robes and brought him up to eye level. Circe, you'd think the beast was half blind or something! Sophicles hung there, several stories above the ground, while Apollo looked around frantically for something soft for him to land on if he was dropped. She somehow doubted he would demonstrate the same tree climbing ability as the elves, and although he could be an incredible annoyance, she had no desire to see him broken in several dozen pieces . . . at least not by anyone else. It was with great relief that a parting came in the potion clouds just then-- was it her imagination or were they starting to dissipate?--and she saw Albus standing a few yards off. He had obviously also seen what happened to Sophicles, and as she made her way towards him, he conjured a large, squashy mattress which he levitated to hover several yards off the ground.
Catching sight of her, Albus tossed her her wand. "Well, don't just stand there, help me!" Really, Apollo thought in irritation as she conjured a second mattress, she might put up with that tone from Severus, but Albus had better learn some manners. Thereafter followed the strangest few minutes Apollo had lived through yet, as she and Albus directed their mattresses to circle around the giant, who was flaying at them as if he thought they might be dangerous weapons of some type. As the hand holding him swept upwards, Sophicles managed to grab hold of the creature's ear and pull himself up to the point where he could find a seat on its shoulders and grab hold of its neck. This seemed to infuriate the giant even more, and with a mighty roar, it took off across the field, trailed by two bobbing mattresses.
"You follow them, I'll find Delaia," Albus told her peremptorily. Apollo narrowed her eyes, but smiled innocently at him. On no account was she going to let him anywhere near Delaia until this mess had been sorted out. Waiting until he'd turned, Apollo hit him with the strongest stunning spell she knew; glancing around, she nonchalantly wrapped him in an invisibility spell and levitated him off to the edge of the forest. Then she took off after the fast receding mattresses.
* * *
Delaia tried to drag her arm away from the grip of the gleaming creature next to her, but it was impossible. For someone who looked so slender, his clasp was like a vise, and no matter how she twisted, she could not break it. The seductive voice still echoed in her mind, but she forced herself to try to concentrate on something else. She needed to find Albus, Severus or Apollo. They HAD to get out of here.
A second later and a beast that looked like a cross between a hippogriff and a dragon--which made, she thought dizzily, one hell of a combination--came winging its way by, and Valentin called something out to it. Delaia didn't need to understand the language to comprehend the implication, for the creature made a sharp turn in the air, almost knocking her over with gusts of air from its great leathery wings, and flew screeching at the elf lord at her side. Delaia ducked and found that her hand had been released. She didn't hesitate, but grabbed Valentin and ran flat out, until she tripped over Albus a second later. He was kneeling in the grass, attempting to revive his brother, who it appeared someone had stupified. It must have been some spell, for even as he came around, Aberforth did not look very alert, a fact that Delaia found rather comforting.
"Uh, oh." As Delaia tried to help Albus hoist his brother to his feet, she heard Valentin's muttered comment and looked behind her. Amazingly enough, the elf she had thought would be busy for some time with the little diversion Valentin had arranged, was coming towards them, his calm expression still in place, but looking a bit more grim than previously. Valentin launched himself at him, screaming back over his shoulder for
Delaia to run and hide. Pulling Albus away from his half-conscious brother, Delaia dragged him backwards, away from the advancing elf. She saw their pursuer lift an elegant white hand, but nothing happened. There was no voice in her mind, and no curses were thrown. Suddenly, however, Albus stood stock still beside her.
"Albus, hurry!" She pulled on his arm, but it did little good. For an instant, she thought he'd been frozen in place by some type of elf trickery, but then she looked in the direction of the castle, and saw his point. There was no reason to run that way, for a whole host of elves were advancing on them from their previous position by the fortress's walls.
Delaia felt the warmth of the bracelet on her wrist, and the heavy weight of the vial in her pocket. She couldn't shift with Albus; if she did, who would stand against Grindlewald, and later Voldemort? It would ruin everything . . . it was then that she had a truly beautiful revelation. Severus! Why, of course, he would still be here, wouldn't he? Together, he and Apollo would be more than a match for anything that happened, and he certainly knew as much about future events as she did. She saw the knowledge of what she intended to do spread across the elf lord's face almost the second it occurred to her. "No!", he cried; it was the first spoken word she'd heard him utter, but he was still too far away to stop her and she knew it. Smiling in triumph, she brought out the vial from inside her robes and smashed it against her arm.
To her great surprise, nothing happened.
Delaia almost immediately understood that Apollo, damn her, had used an unbreakable vial. As she struggled to get the stopper from it, the elf lord put on a spurt of speed and jumped forward, grabbing for her wrist. Delaia finally managed to unstopper the test tube, but at the same moment he slid the bracelet over her hand. She splashed the contents of the vial around, desperately hoping some of the elixir would land on the gold band. She wasn't sure if it had, or if the potion itself was causing the sensations, but she immediately felt the earth spin sickeningly beneath her, and her head felt like it was about to explode with a sudden rush of sights and sounds, none of which made sense. Falling to her knees, Delaia kept reaching out, trying blindly to make contact with the transfigured wand, but nothing came to hand before she disappeared into darkness.
End of Book II
* * *
To Zardi: I really am sorry to leave you hanging about Delaia and Albus, but don't give up hope. Remember, we have the whole third book left to go!
To all: My apologies for the slowness of this update. I've decided that starting book two in the middle of a semester was probably not my brightest idea. A mountain of school work is bogging me down at the moment, so, as this finishes the second book anyway, I've decided to take a break before writing the third. I've already plotted it out, and will be posting it soon, but probably not for a month or so until classes end. See you then!
Severus Snape was amused. He was not about to do anything so obvious as smile--after all, the witch at his side certainly needed no encouragement for her outrageous behaviour--but this was a sight he would long cherish when darker thoughts seemed to overwhelm. The four Durmstrang students were closing in, he noticed approvingly, their formation carefully designed to permit no possibility for escape to the quartet from Beauxbatons, who were as yet unaware of the danger that stalked them.
The misty potion cloud that Apollo had sent to hover 'round the heads of the red clad students a few moments before had been effective; their eyes had gone dreamy and their faces softened, which did not greatly improve their heavy features. Nonetheless, it had been obvious that the desired transformation had taken place in their mental priorities. Severus had looked on delightedly as they blinked, looked confused for a moment, and then one of them spied the blue robed boys conducting a careful search nearby. A nudge, a wink and a whisper later, and the Beauxbatons foursome became the prey rather than the hunters, although the silly gits had yet to realise it. Severus, leaning forward in anticipation of the moment when they did, was annoyed to feel Apollo tugging at his sleeve.
"Leave off. This might prove entertaining." He had never thought the day would come when one of her damned love potions would actually amuse him, but he had a feeling that today might be the day.
"Er, Severus . . . no one mentioned any additional . . . complications . . . in the trial, did they?"
Severus, who was busy watching the biggest Durmstrang brute as he grabbed an unsuspecting French boy and disappeared with him into the undergrowth, just shrugged. "Nothing at this carnival of madness would surprise me. Neither school has ever fought fair, although," he added with genuine mirth, "they may wish they had, this time." Etienne looked up from his previous occupation of setting a bush on fire in an attempt, Severus supposed, to flush them out, to find himself jumped by two Durmstrang boys. A fight quickly broke out as they struggled over their prize. Etienne's companions and the third Durmstrang student quickly entered the fray, while panicked screams could be heard from deeper into woods where the other boys had disappeared. Wishing he had some popcorn, Severus settled in more comfortably to enjoy the show.
"So . . .," Apollo once again interrupted his pleasure, "any other problems that do crop up might have nothing to do with the contest?"
"How should I know?," Severus replied testily. He didn't understand why the girl couldn't simply sit still and enjoy the splendid spectacle before them. Etienne, who had been grabbed around the throat by a rough looking Durmstrang lad, was slowly turning purple as his captor's grip became more restrictive; the bigger boy was having to fight to keep his prize from being nabbed by his fellow student, while at the same time keeping his wand hand free to repel the curses being hurled at him by the French duo. "What difference does it make?," Severus responded reasonably. "All the other contestants are currently killing each other--or worse," he smirked as another howl drifted through the air from the bushes. A second later, a distraught and disheveled French boy pelted from the undergrowth right into the middle of the melee, followed quickly by an over-excited Russian. "We'll stay for the show, then hex the winners. In the end, they'll have to call a draw and that should buy us another few days to sort out this mess." It was an excellent plan, he thought smugly, and one that had the added bonus of keeping them away from any rampaging giants. They might actually manage to get out of this with a whole skin after all.
"I don't know that that will be an option, Severus," Apollo replied in a subdued voice. Tearing his eyes away from the hilarity a few yards away, Severus turned to ask her to please stop ruining his fun, only to find a wicked looking arrow hovering a few inches from his abused nose. Following it along the shaft, he discovered with little relief at all that it was still notched on a bow, which was held by a green clad figure with waist length white gold hair.
Severus swallowed and glanced sideways, to see that Apollo was facing a similar situation. Another archer, this time in silver grey, had an arrow pointed firmly at her, while a third neatly relieved them of their wands. The two archers had the slender, delicate beauty gifted to the elvish race, but their companion's features were more prosaic. Not to mention familiar.
"Hallo, Hieronymus. Glad to see you again. Wouldn't mind coming with me for just a moment, would you? A friend wants to ask a few questions."
Severus grimaced. Of course, he thought in resignation. Albus' brother would just HAVE to show up now, wouldn't he? Well, at least it looked like the show was mostly over. Giving one last wistful glance at the pandemonium behind him, which was fast disappearing into the deeper woods as the Beauxbatons students broke away and ran for their lives, he followed Aberforth and a dazed looking Apollo out of the forest.
* * *
Albus and Sophicles trailed the stream of strange creatures through the maze of corridors to the upper levels of Durmstrang, and then into the cold, clear air outside. After the gloom of the interior, the bright sunlight flooding the field in front of him made Albus blink. Perhaps Sophicles' glasses cut the glare somewhat, for he moved forward confidently, Albus following half-blind in his wake. They dodged through the mass of people with difficulty, whose screams as they beheld some of Augusta's more creative endeavours rent the air and soon caused general pandemonium. Luckily, the stampede of the crowd was away from them and their accompanying entourage, which allowed Albus time to adjust his vision without being trampled underfoot. Sophicles, with one chubby hand shielding his eyes, scanned the crowd, flanked on one side by a strange variant on a Fwooper, its orange and green plumage studded with brilliant, iridescent blue feathers that reminded Albus' of a Billywig's, and on the other by a tiny sphinx. The latter's nose was twitching, as if trying to find Augusta's scent on the breeze.
It was the Fwooper that gave a sudden, high-pitched caw, and sped off across the heads of the crowd towards the forest. Sophicles scrabbled after it, his chubby legs covering the ground faster than Albus would have expected. He loped alongside for a dozen yards, before the crowd of witches and wizards in front of them made a sudden turn and began racing back at the castle again. In the confusion that followed, Albus lost sight of Sophicles, received a harsh elbow in the ribs from a passerby, which knocked most of the air from his lungs, and was almost knocked to the ground several times. When the worst of it had passed, Albus looked cautiously around, just in time to be bowled over by a short, dark-haired person who was screaming his name. It took him a few seconds to appreciate that it was Delaia and not another of Augusta's demented experiments, although the girl who grabbed him by the front of his robes did not look much saner.
"Delaia . . .please, I am ecstatic to see you, too, but . . . "
"Oh, come ON!," she cried, managing to drag him to his feet, while glancing back fearfully over her shoulder.
"Delaia," he attempted to assure her, "you don't need to be concerned. I know they look frightful, but most of them are really very . . . " For a moment he couldn't think of quite the right word. Sweet was hardly accurate, yet they certainly seemed to have some type of rapport with Sophicles, and none had actually tried to gouge his eyes out . . . at least not yet. He finally settled for "harmless."
"Oh, then why are they drawing arrows on us?"
Albus glanced towards the forest, wondering what she could possibly mean, when he saw the awe inspiring sight of an elvish army crossing the field towards them with purposeful strides. "My God . . . "
"Come on!," despite appearances, Delaia was quite strong, and without his resistance managed to tow him back towards Durmstrang at a rather fast pace. Near the main wall of the castle they stopped, and Albus saw what had to be another example of Augusta's. handiwork waiting for them in the shadow of an overhanging battlement. "Albus, meet the real Valentin de Plannis. You met once before but you probably don't remember, thanks to Augusta."
The . . . boy . . . or whatever he was, smiled charmingly and gave Albus a proper, if slightly mocking bow. "Nice to meet you. Welcome to hell."
"Shut up, Valentin." Delaia's absent-minded tone didn't match the harshness of her words, and the boy did not seem particularly offended. Albus, deciding that an attempt to understand any of this was probably a wasted effort at the moment, turned to the girl at his side. "The wand?"
"Safe," she briefly tapped her left sleeve, "but not for long. Did you get it?" Albus was confused for an instant, before he realised that she was not talking to him.
Valentin nodded, and produced several large vials from a pocket of his robes. "I assume these are the ones you meant--they were the only ones I saw of the right colour."
Delaia stepped slightly out of the shadow of the castle wall, ignoring with what Albus thought was reckless folly the advancing army, whose measured strides had now covered half the field. As she held one of the vials up to the sunlight, he could see the mixture inside take on a shimmering, golden tone.
"Is that what I think it is?"
Delaia stuffed the vials into a pocket of her robes and shrugged. "I hope so--Apollo said it would work. But whether it does or not is irrelevant if we don't find Severus before . . ., " she nodded at the advancing army.
"Where is he?"
"If we knew that, we wouldn't have a problem, would we?," she replied, with more bite in her tone than she usually reserved for him. "He and Apollo are out there somewhere, taking part in the second Triwizard event. They could be anywhere--but are almost certainly on the OTHER side of that army."
"I could take the wand," Valentin offered. "They're looking for the two of you, not me. Then you could find your friend, and meet up with me later."
Delaia shook her head resolutely. "I am NOT breaking us up again. I keep losing people. We have to stay together and see this through. Besides, Augusta is looking for you. If she found the wand . . . "
Albus shivered along with her, and not entirely from the cold wind that whistled around the wall of the keep. "Show me the wand," he said, his eyes fixed on the fast approaching army. Delaia reluctantly fished it out of her sleeve. Without a wand of his own, Albus wasn't entirely sure this was going to work, but it was worth a try. Concentrating on the warm black stone in front of him, he envisioned a different shape, smaller, golden, round . . . and slowly, the wand began to melt, its contours shifted, and then realigned into a bright gold bracelet with a phoenix-head clasp. He was rather proud of that last touch. "Put it on," he told the stunned girl in front of him, and when she just stood there, gaping at him, he plucked it out of her palm and slipped it over her wrist. It was a tight fit, but he didn't have time to adjust it at the moment.
"You . . . you didn't use a wand," she said, dumbfounded.
Albus was saved from replying by the approach of a golden haired archer, who fixed an arrow on them and instructed them politely, in passable English, not to move. Albus sank back against the stone of the castle walls with a sense of inevitability stealing over him. He had the feeling that a family reunion of sorts was in the offing.
* * *
Apollo regarded the strange scene before her with sincere irritation. The day had started out so well, she lamented to herself, and now these pesky elves had to show up and ruin everything. She and Sev would have won the trial otherwise, she was sure of it--perhaps even the tournament itself, for if no one else managed to get a token, wouldn't they have to declare anyone who did the winner? She was sure she could have managed to acquire at least one measly little token, especially with Beauxbatons and Durmstrang otherwise occupied, but now look at the situation--totally ruined! Severus was still arguing with that gangly brother of Albus's, as if that was going to do any good. Surly he could see that the man had positively no sense of humour? He just kept repeating the same refrain, over and over again, as if he didn't even hear Severus' arguments. Diplomacy was obviously hopeless.
Looking about her, Apollo wondered if there was any point in trying anything. They stood in a circle of elves several deep, just outside the forest's edge. Severus was facing Aberforth and an elf who looked to Apollo just like all the others--young, fair, a bit whimsical of expression, and unutterably dull--but who seemed to have some sort of rank among them. His clothes were a bit more elaborate, she supposed, with tiny embroidered leaves snaking up the borders of his deep green velvet cloak, and an intricate silver brooch clasping it shut in front. She supposed he might be more senior than the others, although with their juvenile faces it was impossible to tell, but it was hard to take anyone seriously who was actually wearing tights. She sighed and fidgeted.
The elves nearest her had swords and long knives, as well as bows slung over their backs. Several had their knives unsheathed, but none seemed to regard her as a threat, and most were not even glancing her way. To those who did, Apollo gave a limpid glance and batted her eyelashes, trying to project a helpless image. This seemed to unnerve them for some reason, and they quickly returned their attention to their leader, although he seemed content to allow Aberforth to carry the conversation. Apollo decided that there was a good chance that she could cause a serious disturbance by breaking a few of the potion vials she had secreted in her robes before the contest, the problem was that she had nothing with which to follow up the disturbance. Aberforth still had her wand--or at least, she assumed so, as she hadn't seen him give it to anyone else--and without it her options for attack, especially against such numbers, were limited. Of course, she supposed it would always be possible to jump Aberforth in the confusion and get their wands back, but even if that worked, she didn't particularly like the odds.
Returning her attention reluctantly to the argument still dragging on, she vaguely hoped Severus was making some headway, but it didn't appear so. He had denied everything, of course, in proper Slytherin fashion, and was so convincing when he swore he had no idea where to find this wand they were so concerned about, that Apollo almost believed him. She beamed at him--he was such a good liar--but then, Severus did everything well, at least everything she'd had a chance to find out about, a thought which led her to more amusing thoughts until she was brought back to the present by the sounds of loud complaints uttered in the voice of her niece. Really, Delaia was a delightful girl, but she had to remember to tell her that a lady doesn't screech.
At least the appearance of Delaia--and good, thought Apollo, she'd finally found Albus--tilted the odds a little more in their favour. Apollo fingered a few vials of really nasty brews while smiling sweetly at the elf next to her; it never hurt to be prepared.
* * *
Delaia was marched alongside Albus to a position in front of Aberforth and the stunning creature beside him. As scared and angry as she was, she found herself responding as always to beauty, and stared in amazement at the elf in front of her as her protests died on her lips. His wide set, large grey eyes regarded her benevolently, and did not seem to mind or indeed to be startled by her gaze. She supposed he must elicit that reaction from humans whenever he came into contact with them, and over thousands of years it had probably become expected. She was so busy noticing the silvery sheen to his long, straight hair and the perfection of his ivory complexion, that she barely remembered where they were until Albus trod rather heavily on one of her feet.
She glanced at him, only to see that he was not regarding her with a happy expression; indeed, he looked quite irritated. She decided to pay a bit more attention to what was going on.
"The wand is dangerous, Albus, surely you can see that?" Aberforth's whiney voice grated on her ears and she glared at him, a gawkish, unlovely figure in comparison to the silvery perfection beside him. You would think that after years of training, some elvish grace would have rubbed off, but apparently not.
"All magical objects CAN be dangerous, Aberforth, whether they are so or not depends entirely on how they are used."
"And you believe that you are better able to decide such a thing than the elders, heirs to the makers of the wand itself? You think rather too highly of yourself, little brother."
Delaia bristled at the sneer in Aberforth's tone, but before she could jump to Albus' defense, a strange yet beautiful voice filled her head. She knew the words it spoke were not French or English, but she understood their meaning all the same.
**The object you carry must return home. It will be cared for and guarded, so that none may misuse its power.**
Delaia was mesmerized, a feeling of warmth and happiness, even of joy spreading through her as a pair of beautiful grey eyes suddenly seemed to dominate her whole field of vision.
**I am Ev'allisor, guardian of the ancient wisdom, keeper of the mysteries of my people. I will carry this burden for you.**
The golden words made perfect sense to Delaia--of course the lovely creature before her should have the wand. Naturally, someone of her few years could not hope to understand its secrets. If she kept it, only more problems would ensue. Why had she not seen it before? Here was the answer to all of their difficulties . . . she just needed to get the bracelet off, and give it to him, and all would be well. The problem, as she soon found, was two-fold: the damned bracelet refused to budge, and Albus, seeing what she was trying to do, dodged between the two elves standing guard over him and grabbed for her arm. He said something, but Delaia couldn't hear him over the singing that filled her mind.
A heavy crash nearby finally broke Delaia's reverie. She looked up, only to see four huge giants come crashing through the forest, accompanied by Augusta on a broomstick, egging them on. "Get me the boy!," she screeched at them, while beginning to throw curses at the ring of elves, who scrambled for their weapons in some degree of fluster. "The talisman is mine--you shall not have it!"
Delaia didn't know if Augusta had put a sound muffling charm on her companions, or if everyone had been so drawn into the discussion that they had not noticed their approach, but the elves seemed as surprised as she. All, that is, except Ev'allisor, whose serene expression never altered. He ignored the screaming witch and roaring giants, the red streaks of curses and the answering volleys of arrows, and moved gracefully towards Delaia. She looked at him with awe and fear mingling in equal parts in her mind. This one, she decided, was simply too much for her. Grabbing Albus by one hand and Valentin by the other, she started to turn and run, which seemed about the only viable option, when a cloud of horrible smelling smoke suddenly reared up all around them.
"Delaia!" She immediately identified the voice as Apollo's, but couldn't tell from what direction it came, as the smoke was making her eyes water and causing a good deal of disorientation. It must be one of Apollo's battle potions, but why had she thrown it at THEM?
"Delaia! Don't shift! I can't find Severus!"
Delaia stumbled in the direction of her aunt's voice, but found instead that she was nose to kneecap with one of the giants, whose cauldron sized hands were making huge swishes through the smoke filled air, searching, she supposed, for Valentin. One of them caught her off guard and she received a glancing blow. She managed to retain hold of Valentin, but not Albus, who disappeared into the swirling mists that had now almost completely covered the scene. "Albus!" She reached out and felt her hand enveloped in a warm grip. It took her a moment to comprehend that it wasn't Albus who drew her close.
** Come with me, Delaia, I will protect you**
* * *
Severus dodged another blow by one of the thrice plagued giants and grabbed Aberforth Dumbledore by his scrawny neck. They went down in a tangle of limbs and were nearly stepped on by a giant, but years of dirty fighting won out over elf-training, and Severus emerged on top. Patting the other man down efficiently, he found his and Apollo's wands in an inside pocket of the strange tunic he wore. Stupifying his opponent with a sincere measure of satisfaction, Severus jumped up and looked around for a certain annoying blond, who he was certain was responsible for the venomous fumes that swirled around, threatening him with unconsciousness. He quickly cast a mental clarity charm, which had less effect than he'd have liked, but it did keep him standing. That fact proved less than fortunate a minute later as Augusta came swooshing by on her broom; none of her hastily thrown spells hit him, but she collided with his shoulder, causing them both to topple to the ground.
His reflexes were just a bit faster than hers, and he rolled out of the way of the Crucio curse she spat at him. He jumped to his feet and spun around to return the favour, when his prey was suddenly enveloped by a swirl of furiously beating wings and outstretched talons. Severus was surprised to identify one of the misbegotten creatures from the experiment room, which in a moment was joined by a whole host of others, who descended on Augusta in a hissing, biting and cawing cloud. Severus regarded the sight before him for a moment, then turned and walked away, pulling a vial out of his pocket as he did so.
* * *
Apollo was frantic. She had thought to help their side out a bit by creating a little disturbance, as Delaia was certainly acting very strangely around that elf lord, but she had not expected this! She should have moved closer to Severus before throwing the potion, she rebuked herself; but who would have thought that the irritating man would just wander off like that? She fought her way through nauseating fumes, desperately wishing the potion wasn't quite so effective, and called his name at regular intervals. She had to find him, and also Apollo, before Delaia did something stupid and time-shifted with Albus. She had never had a chance to talk to her niece about her suspicions of what might happen if that took place, and if pressed too hard, Delaia might well decide that Severus would manage if left behind in her tender care, and shift herself and Albus out of time and possibly out of existence as well.
A comely elf archer appeared in front of her, but before he could so much as make a threat, a huge hand came out of the fog and picked him up. Apollo looked up to see a confused looking giant regarding his captive with doubt--my God, couldn't he tell the difference between Valentin, a grey haired human child, and the flaxen elf in his hands? They truly looked nothing alike. Maybe the smoke was affecting him as well, or possibly he was just stupid. Damn it all, she needed her wand! Fortunately, once the giant decided that this was not the right quarry, he tossed the elf into the limbs of a nearby tree, and Apollo saw him lightly make his way along a sturdy limb to the trunk, whereupon he started to slither towards the ground. Dodging the giant herself, she cast her eyes around again, looking for Albus, Severus, or anyone at all familiar. She finally found someone, but not anyone she wanted to see.
"Oh, finally decided to show up, did you?"
"Well," Sophicles blinked at her from behind his large spectacles. "I'd hate to miss out on all the fun."
"Very funny. Have you seen Severus or Albus? I can't find either of them."
"Watch out." Apollo instinctively ducked as Sophicles stupified several elves who had apparently been creeping up behind her. "I suppose you mean recently," he commented.
Apollo glared at him. She REALLY wished she had a wand. "Yes," she hissed, "as in the last five minutes."
"Sorry, no."
Apollo was about to explain a few facts of life to that infuriating Hufflepuff when he was scooped up by the same very persistent giant, who held him by the back of his robes and brought him up to eye level. Circe, you'd think the beast was half blind or something! Sophicles hung there, several stories above the ground, while Apollo looked around frantically for something soft for him to land on if he was dropped. She somehow doubted he would demonstrate the same tree climbing ability as the elves, and although he could be an incredible annoyance, she had no desire to see him broken in several dozen pieces . . . at least not by anyone else. It was with great relief that a parting came in the potion clouds just then-- was it her imagination or were they starting to dissipate?--and she saw Albus standing a few yards off. He had obviously also seen what happened to Sophicles, and as she made her way towards him, he conjured a large, squashy mattress which he levitated to hover several yards off the ground.
Catching sight of her, Albus tossed her her wand. "Well, don't just stand there, help me!" Really, Apollo thought in irritation as she conjured a second mattress, she might put up with that tone from Severus, but Albus had better learn some manners. Thereafter followed the strangest few minutes Apollo had lived through yet, as she and Albus directed their mattresses to circle around the giant, who was flaying at them as if he thought they might be dangerous weapons of some type. As the hand holding him swept upwards, Sophicles managed to grab hold of the creature's ear and pull himself up to the point where he could find a seat on its shoulders and grab hold of its neck. This seemed to infuriate the giant even more, and with a mighty roar, it took off across the field, trailed by two bobbing mattresses.
"You follow them, I'll find Delaia," Albus told her peremptorily. Apollo narrowed her eyes, but smiled innocently at him. On no account was she going to let him anywhere near Delaia until this mess had been sorted out. Waiting until he'd turned, Apollo hit him with the strongest stunning spell she knew; glancing around, she nonchalantly wrapped him in an invisibility spell and levitated him off to the edge of the forest. Then she took off after the fast receding mattresses.
* * *
Delaia tried to drag her arm away from the grip of the gleaming creature next to her, but it was impossible. For someone who looked so slender, his clasp was like a vise, and no matter how she twisted, she could not break it. The seductive voice still echoed in her mind, but she forced herself to try to concentrate on something else. She needed to find Albus, Severus or Apollo. They HAD to get out of here.
A second later and a beast that looked like a cross between a hippogriff and a dragon--which made, she thought dizzily, one hell of a combination--came winging its way by, and Valentin called something out to it. Delaia didn't need to understand the language to comprehend the implication, for the creature made a sharp turn in the air, almost knocking her over with gusts of air from its great leathery wings, and flew screeching at the elf lord at her side. Delaia ducked and found that her hand had been released. She didn't hesitate, but grabbed Valentin and ran flat out, until she tripped over Albus a second later. He was kneeling in the grass, attempting to revive his brother, who it appeared someone had stupified. It must have been some spell, for even as he came around, Aberforth did not look very alert, a fact that Delaia found rather comforting.
"Uh, oh." As Delaia tried to help Albus hoist his brother to his feet, she heard Valentin's muttered comment and looked behind her. Amazingly enough, the elf she had thought would be busy for some time with the little diversion Valentin had arranged, was coming towards them, his calm expression still in place, but looking a bit more grim than previously. Valentin launched himself at him, screaming back over his shoulder for
Delaia to run and hide. Pulling Albus away from his half-conscious brother, Delaia dragged him backwards, away from the advancing elf. She saw their pursuer lift an elegant white hand, but nothing happened. There was no voice in her mind, and no curses were thrown. Suddenly, however, Albus stood stock still beside her.
"Albus, hurry!" She pulled on his arm, but it did little good. For an instant, she thought he'd been frozen in place by some type of elf trickery, but then she looked in the direction of the castle, and saw his point. There was no reason to run that way, for a whole host of elves were advancing on them from their previous position by the fortress's walls.
Delaia felt the warmth of the bracelet on her wrist, and the heavy weight of the vial in her pocket. She couldn't shift with Albus; if she did, who would stand against Grindlewald, and later Voldemort? It would ruin everything . . . it was then that she had a truly beautiful revelation. Severus! Why, of course, he would still be here, wouldn't he? Together, he and Apollo would be more than a match for anything that happened, and he certainly knew as much about future events as she did. She saw the knowledge of what she intended to do spread across the elf lord's face almost the second it occurred to her. "No!", he cried; it was the first spoken word she'd heard him utter, but he was still too far away to stop her and she knew it. Smiling in triumph, she brought out the vial from inside her robes and smashed it against her arm.
To her great surprise, nothing happened.
Delaia almost immediately understood that Apollo, damn her, had used an unbreakable vial. As she struggled to get the stopper from it, the elf lord put on a spurt of speed and jumped forward, grabbing for her wrist. Delaia finally managed to unstopper the test tube, but at the same moment he slid the bracelet over her hand. She splashed the contents of the vial around, desperately hoping some of the elixir would land on the gold band. She wasn't sure if it had, or if the potion itself was causing the sensations, but she immediately felt the earth spin sickeningly beneath her, and her head felt like it was about to explode with a sudden rush of sights and sounds, none of which made sense. Falling to her knees, Delaia kept reaching out, trying blindly to make contact with the transfigured wand, but nothing came to hand before she disappeared into darkness.
End of Book II
* * *
To Zardi: I really am sorry to leave you hanging about Delaia and Albus, but don't give up hope. Remember, we have the whole third book left to go!
To all: My apologies for the slowness of this update. I've decided that starting book two in the middle of a semester was probably not my brightest idea. A mountain of school work is bogging me down at the moment, so, as this finishes the second book anyway, I've decided to take a break before writing the third. I've already plotted it out, and will be posting it soon, but probably not for a month or so until classes end. See you then!