Chapter 10
The Proving Grounds
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"You're not your family, and you're not who you tell yourself."
"You're not your name."
"You're not your problems."
"You're not your age."
"You are not your hopes."
"You will not be saved."
"We are all going to die, someday."
-from Fight Club, the novel by Chuck Palahniuk
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General Noish strode down the narrow halls of the castle. He was in a foul mood. It was three o'clock in the morning and he had been having a pleasant night's sleep when Lord Voldemort had sent for him. He rose and strapped on his favorite suit of armor, buckling on his sword belt; he didn't want to look unpresentable in front of his master. Now he was wishing he had chosen lighter attire. The autumn air was unusually humid and moisture hung from the dank brick walls at his sides. He raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his eyes, sorely hoping this was important.
He came to the great ebony doors and knocked.
"You may enter," said a voice from within.
Noish pushed on the doors and strode in. What he saw puzzled him. Inside was his master, standing in the center of the room. Lord Voldemort seemed far more youthful animated since the last time Noish had seen him. But what truly vexed him was the three people standing behind Voldemort. There were two young men and one young women. Each of them were stoic and stood straight ahead. They were all dressed in identical black robes. Noish could not tell what age they were. They physically looked no older than fifteen of sixteen, but they radiated an aura that made them seem ancient.
"Thank you for joining us, General Noish," said Voldemort. "You are a witness to the making of history."
"Sir?" asked Noish, not quite comprehending what Voldemort was implying.
"I want you to meet my latest and greatest creation," Voldemort said, turning to face the three people behind them. "These three are my elite. They trained to destroy any obstacle with the swiftest of brutalities. They can and will decimate anything or anyone that stands in my way. I call them the Bejamúnt."
Voldemort turned to look at General Noish. The three wizards were still impassive.
"What do you think?" asked Voldemort.
General Noish stammered. Voldemort could not be serious! How dare he put these children up on such high thrones above him, the greatest of Voldemort's generals.
"I am sorry, Sir," he said, trying to restrain himself. "But I cannot understand this. Are you saying that these children-"
"Children?" asked Voldemort, a smirk beginning to grow on his face. "It seems to me that you do not believe that they are as powerful as I say. Do you doubt me?"
"I do not mean any disrespect, my Lord."
"Oh, but you DO," said Voldemort, pointing an accusing finger at Noish. "You doubt me. You've doubted ever since the day I told you that you wouldn't lead my army. And yes it is still MY ARMY. Do you think that I am blind, or perhaps that I am deaf? I have heard you spreading your own propaganda among the soldiers, saying that I am going screwy in the head, that I am not capable of performing the task ahead." Voldemort's red eyes blazed, his nostrils flaring out. As Noish began to quiver with fear, he could see veins beginning to bulge and pulsate along Voldemort's shaved head and neck. "Well perhaps you need a reminder of who you take commands from. Perhaps you would like a demonstration of the power of the Bejamúnt? JOHNATHAN!"
The young man on the right strode forward. He was black and had a shaven head like his master's. He had a strong build and moved swiftly and agilely. "Yes, my master?"
"Please teach General Noish a lesson in obedience," Voldemort said, not turning to face John, instead keeping his eyes on Noish.
"As you wish," he said.
He removed his robes swiftly, revealing simple black clothing similar to a martial art's uniform. He lifted his arms in front of him. If Noish had been paying attention, he would have noticed the well toned muscles of John's forearms and his bulging biceps. But Noish's attention was centered on the objects in John's hands. In his left he held an ebony black wand. In his right he held a switch blade. With a flick of his wrist, the blade flicked out, shimmering in the low light of the torches in the room. Then something Noish had never expected happened.
Within an instant, where the knife blade had been, and thin column of flame burned. It seemed as if he was wielding a sword of pure flame. Noish stood enchanted by it. Enchantment was soon replaced by fear as the flaming blade swung forward.
Noish leaped back, drawing his own sword. He has a veteran of many battles and was confident in his skills. No childish upstart would best him!
John came at him with quick stabs and thrusts, a flurry of attacks and parries from both parties. They both moved so gracefully and in such harmony that it almost appeared that they were dancing. And they were dancing, a dance of death. Noish was beginning to think that this child wasn't quite as unskilled as he had originally thought. Noish had used his sword to strike down many foes. Now he used it to defend himself.
The battle lasted several minutes, each of the combatants apparently equally matched. But Noish's age was beginning to catch up with him. His attacks were not as frequent and he had more trouble block John's quicker attacks. Noish waited for an opening to strike a lethal blow.
Then Noish had his chance. John unknowingly tripped on a small step leading up to a raised window. Noish swiped at John's head in a wide arc, thinking that he had won. But where his opponents head had once been was no longer there. Noish realized to late that John's "trip" was a feint. John strafed around Noish, just recovering from his ill-placed attacked, and came up behind Noish. He brought his ebony wand up to Noish's back and whispered the words to a spell.
Noish felt a searing pain behind him, first starting at the small of his back, then moving away and over his entire back until he felt a white hot burning sensation throughout his entire body. He cried out in agony and fell to the floor. He heard his charred armor crumble and crack as his hit the stone floor. Looking up, he saw John's face looming down at him, posed to strike. Noish did his best to scramble away, crawling along the floor, desperately trying to flee such a horrific opponent. He crawled until he reached the feet of his master. He stared up at Voldemort.
"Puh…please… master," he said, trying to speak over the pain. "Show mercy."
"Mercy?" said Voldemort, disdain on his face. "Why? I have shown mercy to no one he opposed me. I showed no mercy to the fools who took up arms against me. I showed no mercy to my own parents. What make you think that I would make and exception of you?"
Noish lowered his head and began to sob silently. He heard John walk up behind him.
"Finish him," he heard Voldemort say.
John lifted his flaming sword above him and brought it down on Noish's neck. The searing heat of the blade cauterized the flesh as it passed, leaving no blood in it's wake. The flame of the blade had touched Noish's hair and his head was now adorned with a crown of flaming hair. Noish's head rolled on the floor and the room was filled with the smell of charred flesh and burning hair. Voldemort stood impassively over the body of his fallen general and John took his place again next to Craig and Claire. They had not moved through the entire event.
Noish's hair had finished burning, leaving only a charred and blackened head. Voldemort bent over and picked up Noish's head and the body in either hand and walked slowly over towards the window. Then he threw them out the window. They landed in the courtyard. The body hit with a sickening thud and the head cracked and became even more disfigured from the fall. Voldemort raised his hand and fire rolled off of his fingertips like burning serpents. They coiled around themselves as the moved out towards the ground. When they hit the cobbled pavement, the took on a life of their own, jumping throughout the courtyard, lighting bonfires and lamps, screaming ear-pierced howls as they went. By the time they finished, the entire courtyard was alight with an eerie red glow. The serpents leapt off the ground and returned to their master's hands. The rolled in among themselves into tiny balls of flame. Then into tiny burning embers. And then into darkness and Voldemort clenched his thin hands into fists.
Below, men started to move about, jumping to arms, thinking that the castle was under attack. They stopped in shock as they saw the charred body and decapitated head of General Alec von Noish.
"Look closely at him!" came Voldemort's booming voice. "This is the fate that awaits infidels! You have all sworn loyalty to me, and that is not a vow easily broken! I own each and everyone of you! If you live to see the next day, it is because I allow it! If you do as I say, you will be rewarded. If you disobey, you will be destroyed!"
Voldemort raised his wand and pointed at Noish's corpse. A burst of sparkling green light shot out of the end of the wand and streaked down towards Noish like a meteor. When it hit, Noish's corpse exploded in green flame.
"Let this be a lesson that I will not accept insubordination," said Voldemort. "This is the fate that awaits my enemies."
He turned and walked slowly away from his chambers. As he walked, he could hear the men below chanting his names, shouting oaths of loyalty. Voldemort smiled. He had killed two birds with one stone. Now the soldiers were serve with undying loyalty, and he now knew that his Bejamúnt were ready for the task at hand. Perfect engines of war. He walked until he stood in front of the Bejamúnt.
"Well done," he said as proudly as a father to his son. "You are ready. Now I must with Dumbledore."
The Proving Grounds
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
"You're not your family, and you're not who you tell yourself."
"You're not your name."
"You're not your problems."
"You're not your age."
"You are not your hopes."
"You will not be saved."
"We are all going to die, someday."
-from Fight Club, the novel by Chuck Palahniuk
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
General Noish strode down the narrow halls of the castle. He was in a foul mood. It was three o'clock in the morning and he had been having a pleasant night's sleep when Lord Voldemort had sent for him. He rose and strapped on his favorite suit of armor, buckling on his sword belt; he didn't want to look unpresentable in front of his master. Now he was wishing he had chosen lighter attire. The autumn air was unusually humid and moisture hung from the dank brick walls at his sides. He raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his eyes, sorely hoping this was important.
He came to the great ebony doors and knocked.
"You may enter," said a voice from within.
Noish pushed on the doors and strode in. What he saw puzzled him. Inside was his master, standing in the center of the room. Lord Voldemort seemed far more youthful animated since the last time Noish had seen him. But what truly vexed him was the three people standing behind Voldemort. There were two young men and one young women. Each of them were stoic and stood straight ahead. They were all dressed in identical black robes. Noish could not tell what age they were. They physically looked no older than fifteen of sixteen, but they radiated an aura that made them seem ancient.
"Thank you for joining us, General Noish," said Voldemort. "You are a witness to the making of history."
"Sir?" asked Noish, not quite comprehending what Voldemort was implying.
"I want you to meet my latest and greatest creation," Voldemort said, turning to face the three people behind them. "These three are my elite. They trained to destroy any obstacle with the swiftest of brutalities. They can and will decimate anything or anyone that stands in my way. I call them the Bejamúnt."
Voldemort turned to look at General Noish. The three wizards were still impassive.
"What do you think?" asked Voldemort.
General Noish stammered. Voldemort could not be serious! How dare he put these children up on such high thrones above him, the greatest of Voldemort's generals.
"I am sorry, Sir," he said, trying to restrain himself. "But I cannot understand this. Are you saying that these children-"
"Children?" asked Voldemort, a smirk beginning to grow on his face. "It seems to me that you do not believe that they are as powerful as I say. Do you doubt me?"
"I do not mean any disrespect, my Lord."
"Oh, but you DO," said Voldemort, pointing an accusing finger at Noish. "You doubt me. You've doubted ever since the day I told you that you wouldn't lead my army. And yes it is still MY ARMY. Do you think that I am blind, or perhaps that I am deaf? I have heard you spreading your own propaganda among the soldiers, saying that I am going screwy in the head, that I am not capable of performing the task ahead." Voldemort's red eyes blazed, his nostrils flaring out. As Noish began to quiver with fear, he could see veins beginning to bulge and pulsate along Voldemort's shaved head and neck. "Well perhaps you need a reminder of who you take commands from. Perhaps you would like a demonstration of the power of the Bejamúnt? JOHNATHAN!"
The young man on the right strode forward. He was black and had a shaven head like his master's. He had a strong build and moved swiftly and agilely. "Yes, my master?"
"Please teach General Noish a lesson in obedience," Voldemort said, not turning to face John, instead keeping his eyes on Noish.
"As you wish," he said.
He removed his robes swiftly, revealing simple black clothing similar to a martial art's uniform. He lifted his arms in front of him. If Noish had been paying attention, he would have noticed the well toned muscles of John's forearms and his bulging biceps. But Noish's attention was centered on the objects in John's hands. In his left he held an ebony black wand. In his right he held a switch blade. With a flick of his wrist, the blade flicked out, shimmering in the low light of the torches in the room. Then something Noish had never expected happened.
Within an instant, where the knife blade had been, and thin column of flame burned. It seemed as if he was wielding a sword of pure flame. Noish stood enchanted by it. Enchantment was soon replaced by fear as the flaming blade swung forward.
Noish leaped back, drawing his own sword. He has a veteran of many battles and was confident in his skills. No childish upstart would best him!
John came at him with quick stabs and thrusts, a flurry of attacks and parries from both parties. They both moved so gracefully and in such harmony that it almost appeared that they were dancing. And they were dancing, a dance of death. Noish was beginning to think that this child wasn't quite as unskilled as he had originally thought. Noish had used his sword to strike down many foes. Now he used it to defend himself.
The battle lasted several minutes, each of the combatants apparently equally matched. But Noish's age was beginning to catch up with him. His attacks were not as frequent and he had more trouble block John's quicker attacks. Noish waited for an opening to strike a lethal blow.
Then Noish had his chance. John unknowingly tripped on a small step leading up to a raised window. Noish swiped at John's head in a wide arc, thinking that he had won. But where his opponents head had once been was no longer there. Noish realized to late that John's "trip" was a feint. John strafed around Noish, just recovering from his ill-placed attacked, and came up behind Noish. He brought his ebony wand up to Noish's back and whispered the words to a spell.
Noish felt a searing pain behind him, first starting at the small of his back, then moving away and over his entire back until he felt a white hot burning sensation throughout his entire body. He cried out in agony and fell to the floor. He heard his charred armor crumble and crack as his hit the stone floor. Looking up, he saw John's face looming down at him, posed to strike. Noish did his best to scramble away, crawling along the floor, desperately trying to flee such a horrific opponent. He crawled until he reached the feet of his master. He stared up at Voldemort.
"Puh…please… master," he said, trying to speak over the pain. "Show mercy."
"Mercy?" said Voldemort, disdain on his face. "Why? I have shown mercy to no one he opposed me. I showed no mercy to the fools who took up arms against me. I showed no mercy to my own parents. What make you think that I would make and exception of you?"
Noish lowered his head and began to sob silently. He heard John walk up behind him.
"Finish him," he heard Voldemort say.
John lifted his flaming sword above him and brought it down on Noish's neck. The searing heat of the blade cauterized the flesh as it passed, leaving no blood in it's wake. The flame of the blade had touched Noish's hair and his head was now adorned with a crown of flaming hair. Noish's head rolled on the floor and the room was filled with the smell of charred flesh and burning hair. Voldemort stood impassively over the body of his fallen general and John took his place again next to Craig and Claire. They had not moved through the entire event.
Noish's hair had finished burning, leaving only a charred and blackened head. Voldemort bent over and picked up Noish's head and the body in either hand and walked slowly over towards the window. Then he threw them out the window. They landed in the courtyard. The body hit with a sickening thud and the head cracked and became even more disfigured from the fall. Voldemort raised his hand and fire rolled off of his fingertips like burning serpents. They coiled around themselves as the moved out towards the ground. When they hit the cobbled pavement, the took on a life of their own, jumping throughout the courtyard, lighting bonfires and lamps, screaming ear-pierced howls as they went. By the time they finished, the entire courtyard was alight with an eerie red glow. The serpents leapt off the ground and returned to their master's hands. The rolled in among themselves into tiny balls of flame. Then into tiny burning embers. And then into darkness and Voldemort clenched his thin hands into fists.
Below, men started to move about, jumping to arms, thinking that the castle was under attack. They stopped in shock as they saw the charred body and decapitated head of General Alec von Noish.
"Look closely at him!" came Voldemort's booming voice. "This is the fate that awaits infidels! You have all sworn loyalty to me, and that is not a vow easily broken! I own each and everyone of you! If you live to see the next day, it is because I allow it! If you do as I say, you will be rewarded. If you disobey, you will be destroyed!"
Voldemort raised his wand and pointed at Noish's corpse. A burst of sparkling green light shot out of the end of the wand and streaked down towards Noish like a meteor. When it hit, Noish's corpse exploded in green flame.
"Let this be a lesson that I will not accept insubordination," said Voldemort. "This is the fate that awaits my enemies."
He turned and walked slowly away from his chambers. As he walked, he could hear the men below chanting his names, shouting oaths of loyalty. Voldemort smiled. He had killed two birds with one stone. Now the soldiers were serve with undying loyalty, and he now knew that his Bejamúnt were ready for the task at hand. Perfect engines of war. He walked until he stood in front of the Bejamúnt.
"Well done," he said as proudly as a father to his son. "You are ready. Now I must with Dumbledore."